Bob was always quite pleasant with me whether at a show or on the phone–perhaps he recognized a fellow son-of-a-bitch when he saw one and liked me for it. Who knows. He didn’t treat my staff with the same respect, however. One by one they announced that they would not deal with him on the phone. Finally, I was the only one who would take Bob’s calls. This is over the span of 30 years and quite a few employees!

Nonetheless, he was one of a kind and we owe him a substantial debt of gratitude for his contributions to the field of Civil War literature. Thanks, Bob. (I only regret never having met Mary–she must be a saint!)
SWS

He also had a heart of gold and a side that few knew. When he paid especially close attention to my infant daughter many years ago (she attended many conferences with us in baby seats, strollers, etc.) I was amazed at his gentleness. It was then I learned from someone that Bob and Mary had lost a child or two in infancy. They never had any more.

Bob took in people down on their luck, fed them, gave them jobs packing books, and was often ripped off in the process–but that was Bob. “These people need help,” he told me once. “Who the hell is going to give them a chance if I don’t?”

The stories he told me (and others told me about him) are priceless. The Indian women story, the monkey and the toothbrush, the early days on Jerry Russell’s bus tours, and of course the Hustler color-adujustment tale–I am laughing as a type just thinking about them. And of course there was the time he and Gil made a trip out west to sell books. On the way home in the desert (they took a short cut) they stopped and climbed out to relieve themselves. Gil locked the keys in the truck–and then lost them. Can you not see Bob chasing Gil around the truck in the middle of nowhere threatening to kill him? Four hour later in 110 degree heat a good samaritan finally found them.

I owe Bob a larger debt than most since I have been publishing books since the early 1990s. He was never hesitant to give me good advice when I called to ask him a question. All of us should pick up our favorite Morningside book, fill a glass, lift it high, and tip our hat in respect.

Finally, Bob sent me a Xmas card just a few weeks ago in which he wrote that he and Mary were looking forward to the knee replacment and sale of the business so they could spend a few well earned years just rocking on a Missouri porch. They will never get that chance.

I think there is a moral in that sad story, don’t you?

Bob, I miss you already. God’s speed on your journey.

tps

Mike

Always loved getting Mr Younger on the phone when I placed an order with Morningside. Almost always turned into a half hour bull session on the War or publishing that was priceless.