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Dentist Arthur Julian Goldberg a man of many parts, passions
By Emma Brown
Sunday, April 18, 2010
At a bar near Farragut Square in 1971, Arthur Goldberg laid eyes on Linda Raskin, a legal secretary with long dark hair.
He asked if he could buy her a drink. She said no. He asked her to dance. She refused.
But he did get her phone number. Five months later, they were married.
"He promised me that life would never be boring," Linda Goldberg said. "And he has been totally right."
Dr. Goldberg, a Rockville dentist who dug fossils in his free time and had an abiding admiration for Sherlock Holmes,
Wyatt Earp and old Corvettes, died of congestive heart failure March 21. He was 67
He was unbothered by the unexpected, a useful trait for someone enamored of old cars. Once he traded dental work
for a 1979 Ford Pinto station wagon. The Pinto broke down en route to Florida on a family vacation, and no rental cars
were available. So he walked into a car dealership and bought the owner's Cadillac.
Another time, driving with his wife through Pennsylvania, Dr. Goldberg was startled by a 1947 American LaFrance
firetruck by the side of the road. He bought it on the spot and drove it home.
He couldn't help himself.
It was not the only time that a companion ended up driving home alone, following Dr. Goldberg in one of his purchases.
"That's what you always had to worry about on these trips with him," said Bruce Ballentine, a longtime friend who
traveled with Dr. Goldberg across the American West.
Dr. Goldberg's collection of more than 30 antique automobiles and horse-drawn carriages and sleighs was arranged in
an outbuilding on his farm near Frederick. With the vehicles were mannequins in period dress.
A 1909 prison wagon from the Yuma, Ariz., territorial prison held a stripe-shirted jailbird. A lady in gloves and a fur
coat sat in the front seat of a 1915 Detroit Electric. A 1968 Pontiac LeMans convertible was set up as if parked at a
drive-in movie, with a carhop wearing something skimpy and two mannequins intertwined in the back seat.
"He wanted everything mise-en-scene, appropriate for the scene," said Gilman Grave, another longtime friend. "I got
the feeling that Arthur was larger than life and wanted to live many lives."
Given the choice, Dr. Goldberg might have lived during the era of gunslinging vigilantes and cattle rustlers.
His infatuation with the Old West began with his purchase at auction of a pair of leather chaps and an old watch. The
chaps had been worn by the legendary sharpshooter and show woman Annie Oakley; the watch belonged to Bat
Masterson, an Old West icon who made a living as a buffalo hunter, sheriff and gambler
.
Dr. Goldberg read voraciously about the West and traveled to the places where its history had been made. He was
particularly fond of Tombstone, Ariz., where Earp and Doc Holliday battled outlaws in the gunfight at the O.K. Corral,
and he built a copy of Tombstone's Boothill Graveyard, right down to the epitaphs on the graves, at his farm.
The headstones lay not far from another facsimile of a Western landmark, Judge Roy Bean's courthouse in West Texas.
Dr. Goldberg co-founded the national Wild West History Association. He was known for regaling patients at Rockville
Dental Center, where he practiced from 1971 to 2009, with stories about the lawmen and outlaws of the frontier.
"He used to run behind a lot," said Linda Goldberg, who ran the business side of the practice during their 38 years of
marriage. "He'd do dentistry for half the appointment and the other half was history lessons."
In addition to his wife, survivors include two sons, Jason Goldberg of Potomac and Clayton Goldberg of Boyds; a
sister, Linda Burka of the District; and four grandchildren.
Arthur Julian Goldberg was a native of the District and a 1960 graduate of Calvin Coolidge High School. He
graduated from the University of Maryland in 1964 and received a degree in dentistry from Georgetown University in
1968. He went on to serve in the Navy for two years, treating military personnel and local civilians in Vietnam.
After returning home and launching his practice, he learned from his stepfather how to rezone and sell farmland. The
two of them were instrumental in the development of the Sully Road area near Dulles Airport. Later, Dr. Goldberg
developed Spring Ridge, a project of 1,900 residential and commercial units, on the eastern side of Frederick County.
He lived in Rockville, where for years he drove a 1974 Cadillac Eldorado convertible in the Memorial Day parade,
carrying the city's mayor and his family.
He refused to read fiction, with the exception of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories. Dr. Goldberg
marveled at Holmes, and in his Rockville home, the dentist created an imitation of the detective's fictional 19th-century
sitting room.
The dentist traveled farther back in time each Friday, when he volunteered his fine-tuned fine-motor skills at the
Smithsonian Institution's fossil-preparation lab.
An amateur paleontologist whose home was full of fossils and rocks he'd dug himself, he liked the feeling of being the
first person to see the remains of a millions-of-years-old critter.
"When we were out West, he'd travel with a little pick hammer," Linda Goldberg said. "He loved the thrill."
By Emma Brown
Sunday, April 18, 2010
At a bar near Farragut Square in 1971, Arthur Goldberg laid eyes on Linda Raskin, a legal secretary with long dark hair.
He asked if he could buy her a drink. She said no. He asked her to dance. She refused.
But he did get her phone number. Five months later, they were married.
"He promised me that life would never be boring," Linda Goldberg said. "And he has been totally right."
Dr. Goldberg, a Rockville dentist who dug fossils in his free time and had an abiding admiration for Sherlock Holmes,
Wyatt Earp and old Corvettes, died of congestive heart failure March 21. He was 67
He was unbothered by the unexpected, a useful trait for someone enamored of old cars. Once he traded dental work
for a 1979 Ford Pinto station wagon. The Pinto broke down en route to Florida on a family vacation, and no rental cars
were available. So he walked into a car dealership and bought the owner's Cadillac.
Another time, driving with his wife through Pennsylvania, Dr. Goldberg was startled by a 1947 American LaFrance
firetruck by the side of the road. He bought it on the spot and drove it home.
He couldn't help himself.
It was not the only time that a companion ended up driving home alone, following Dr. Goldberg in one of his purchases.
"That's what you always had to worry about on these trips with him," said Bruce Ballentine, a longtime friend who
traveled with Dr. Goldberg across the American West.
Dr. Goldberg's collection of more than 30 antique automobiles and horse-drawn carriages and sleighs was arranged in
an outbuilding on his farm near Frederick. With the vehicles were mannequins in period dress.
A 1909 prison wagon from the Yuma, Ariz., territorial prison held a stripe-shirted jailbird. A lady in gloves and a fur
coat sat in the front seat of a 1915 Detroit Electric. A 1968 Pontiac LeMans convertible was set up as if parked at a
drive-in movie, with a carhop wearing something skimpy and two mannequins intertwined in the back seat.
"He wanted everything mise-en-scene, appropriate for the scene," said Gilman Grave, another longtime friend. "I got
the feeling that Arthur was larger than life and wanted to live many lives."
Given the choice, Dr. Goldberg might have lived during the era of gunslinging vigilantes and cattle rustlers.
His infatuation with the Old West began with his purchase at auction of a pair of leather chaps and an old watch. The
chaps had been worn by the legendary sharpshooter and show woman Annie Oakley; the watch belonged to Bat
Masterson, an Old West icon who made a living as a buffalo hunter, sheriff and gambler
.
Dr. Goldberg read voraciously about the West and traveled to the places where its history had been made. He was
particularly fond of Tombstone, Ariz., where Earp and Doc Holliday battled outlaws in the gunfight at the O.K. Corral,
and he built a copy of Tombstone's Boothill Graveyard, right down to the epitaphs on the graves, at his farm.
The headstones lay not far from another facsimile of a Western landmark, Judge Roy Bean's courthouse in West Texas.
Dr. Goldberg co-founded the national Wild West History Association. He was known for regaling patients at Rockville
Dental Center, where he practiced from 1971 to 2009, with stories about the lawmen and outlaws of the frontier.
"He used to run behind a lot," said Linda Goldberg, who ran the business side of the practice during their 38 years of
marriage. "He'd do dentistry for half the appointment and the other half was history lessons."
In addition to his wife, survivors include two sons, Jason Goldberg of Potomac and Clayton Goldberg of Boyds; a
sister, Linda Burka of the District; and four grandchildren.
Arthur Julian Goldberg was a native of the District and a 1960 graduate of Calvin Coolidge High School. He
graduated from the University of Maryland in 1964 and received a degree in dentistry from Georgetown University in
1968. He went on to serve in the Navy for two years, treating military personnel and local civilians in Vietnam.
After returning home and launching his practice, he learned from his stepfather how to rezone and sell farmland. The
two of them were instrumental in the development of the Sully Road area near Dulles Airport. Later, Dr. Goldberg
developed Spring Ridge, a project of 1,900 residential and commercial units, on the eastern side of Frederick County.
He lived in Rockville, where for years he drove a 1974 Cadillac Eldorado convertible in the Memorial Day parade,
carrying the city's mayor and his family.
He refused to read fiction, with the exception of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories. Dr. Goldberg
marveled at Holmes, and in his Rockville home, the dentist created an imitation of the detective's fictional 19th-century
sitting room.
The dentist traveled farther back in time each Friday, when he volunteered his fine-tuned fine-motor skills at the
Smithsonian Institution's fossil-preparation lab.
An amateur paleontologist whose home was full of fossils and rocks he'd dug himself, he liked the feeling of being the
first person to see the remains of a millions-of-years-old critter.
"When we were out West, he'd travel with a little pick hammer," Linda Goldberg said. "He loved the thrill."
Arthur Goldberg stands near the copy
of Judge Roy Bean's courthouse he
built on his farm. (Family Photo)
of Judge Roy Bean's courthouse he
built on his farm. (Family Photo)
Arthur Goldberg and his wife, Linda,
at his reproduction of Boothill
Graveyard. (Family Photo)
at his reproduction of Boothill
Graveyard. (Family Photo)