What will we do without Bob?Robert “Bob” Howard Stanley, scholar, professor, lawyer, musician, singer, collector, coffee roaster, pipe smoker, and almost-award-winning chili maker, died on August 16, 2021.
He would have wanted us to raise a glass of scotch in his memory—preferably a smoky, peaty single malt—though whether to drink it neat, with a splash of water, or on the rocks he would leave to you.
Bob would want us to also toast the biggest loves of his life: his accomplished younger brother and best buddy, Bill; his beautiful and accomplished cousin, Nancy; her lovable husband Fred; Bob’s dear, loyal friend and protégé, Lori Weber; and his constant feline companion, the dapper Mr. Fella. He would also want us to acknowledge others who passed from his life too early: his talented and musical parents, James and Ruth Stanley, his cousins Jan and Jim, his best friends Robert “Bob” Ross and Edward Bacciocco, Jr., his dogs Cocoa and Jenna, and his cat Pumpkin.
And he would want us to remind them (the loves of his life) that even though he is no longer physically present, he expects you to keep close his deepest secrets including his grade school and high school shenanigans--because even though Bill and Nancy report that Bob was considered a “Brainiac” by all—it is clear that he was never above a bit of fun.
One look at any of his yearbook photos reveals what we all knew or suspected about young Bob: he was uncannily smart, undoubtedly mischievous, rock-star handsome, and, even then, never failed to rock the sideburns, tousled hair, and too-cool-for school glasses and button-down, long-sleeve cotton shirts, that was his unforgettable signature look to the end.
Although Bob’s “look” leaned toward California casual—and certainly none have ever reported catching him in a velvet smoking jacket—he had the classic sensibilities of a renaissance man with refined and rarified tastes in tobacco, scotch, cars, coffee, food, books, film, and music. However, his pleasure was as much about deep learning and understanding these things as it was in consuming them. It wasn’t enough for Bob to enjoy a good cup of coffee; he researched the history of coffee; perfected the ultimate roast (of course, he roasted his own beans); experimented for years until he achieved the precise water temperature, grind, and bean-to-water ratio to achieve the perfect pour. He was like this with all the things he loved. He was a collector, curator, connoisseur, aficionado, gourmand, bon vivant, epicurean, and sophisticated.
Those fancy words are not, though, the ones Bob would have used to describe himself; call him a “bon vivant” and his likely reaction would be a visual show of exasperation—his fingertips to each side of his forehead, and his big head bowed and shaking slowly side-to-side as if to say “no, no, no,” followed by an exaggerated exhale that sounded like something between a “pfft” and a raspberry.
Certainly, his fancy education (philosophy BA, law degree, history Ph.D.), erudition, and eloquence was revealed when delivering a lecture, a diatribe against some idiot politician, or in a protest letter to university administration (of which there were many over the years). Perhaps his humility was due to his Midwest upbringing in Independence and Liberty, Missouri and Lawrence, Kansas. Much like his childhood neighbor, President Harry S Truman, Bob’s inclination was to prefer plain words and creative, earthy sayings--indeed, he even used now and then one of Harry’s lesser known cautionary sayings: “Never kick a turd on a hot day.”
We imagine Bob would more readily accept this more straightforward description of himself: “Bob was a gentleman and a scholar.”
And what a gentleman he was: kind, generous, loyal, empathetic, sympathetic, and just. From his early years and throughout his life, he was a champion of the underdog and a fighter of the good fight. As a law student, he successfully battled administration to eliminate grueling numerous back-to-back three-hour exams. As a senior professor, he reformed the department’s tenure process, ensuring that generations of junior faculty secured their jobs through a more just and transparent process. He advocated for a CSU statewide catastrophic leaves donation program that, once enacted, allowed thousands of gravely ill CSU employees to receive donated sick time from their peers. And he committed himself to delivering the same high-quality education he himself received; believing that if he brought his best to the classroom, students would (and did) rise to the occasion.
As a scholar, Bob accomplished the inconceivable. He wrote a
captivating,
rousing, page-turner of a book on the history of the federal income tax. Published by Oxford Press, it is described by reviewers as a “tour de force” and a “chilling” account of how the federal tax law was created by centrists to maintain the economic status quo of the rich while quelling the dissent of the masses.
Even with all the well-deserved accolades for his written scholarship, his best political analysis was saved for happy hour and dinner parties with family and friends. His riffs on political and social issues were always thought-provoking, astute, and above all funny. Bob would want us to remember that he could find humor in the most mundane, ridiculous, or perturbing political news of the day. Admittedly, his humor--and the humor of those he most admired--could be dark, mordant, and sarcastic. But it could also be light, silly, and playful. His comic sensibilities were truly democratic, ranging from the high-brow to low-brow to everything in between.
How much we will miss those clippings he posted on his campus office door from the
New Yorker,
Far Side,
Calvin and Hobbes, and
Doonesbury. We’ll miss the daily satirical pieces he forwarded from
The Borowitz Report or
The Onion. And we will miss all those times we gathered to watch the Bill Mahr Show, the Daily Show, or Comedy Central, always with good stiff drinks to shore us up for the painful truths embedded in the comedy.
In all those years, there may have been only one political event that Bob could not eventually find humor in: the day America elected the 45th president. As he said that day and for many more to come: “I can’t joke about this.” But in all other times, Bob would find ways to make us—and himself—laugh at the absurdity of life and politics, focusing his homespun putdowns on “the dumb dumbs” (mainly politicians), wisecracking that “their eyes are just a little too big” and “they were playing checkers when everyone else was playing chess.”
Bob laughed often and unreservedly. There are probably none among us who could ever forget his distinctive, deep-bass laugh. But perhaps Bob’s most unforgettable characteristics were his capacity for love, magnanimity, compassion, and loyalty.
As one of his friends said recently, “To be loved by Bob is to be loved unconditionally.” His family and friends all recognize the truth in that simple but profound declaration.
He was our greatest admirer, our biggest cheerleader, our most devoted advocate. We saw this so clearly in his love for his younger brother, Bill, and his cousin Nancy (“Nance”). He was deeply proud of Bill and his accomplishments as a professor of music, professional musician, and undoubtedly, one of the “greatest trombone players on either side of the Rockies.” Of cousin Nancy, whom Bob viewed as a sister, he bragged about her beauty, kindness, career success, two brilliant children, Laurel and Lee, and, above all, her whip-smart intelligence, especially in deciding to marry Fred, “the nicest man in the world.” He loved Bill and Nancy so much that he allowed them in his house two decades before inviting anyone else.
Bob did not think his family and friends were perfect. He saw our flaws but generously chose to ignore them or embrace them as that special something that made each of us unique. As one friend put it, “Bob seemed to believe that I had super powers and he almost made me believe it, too.”
For those of us lucky enough to have been loved by Bob, we will never forget the experience. We are all left wondering: what will we do without Bob?
Bob's Memorial Fund
