Robert Gillis
Published in The Foxboro Reporter July 2000


{Note: After Bon Shea read the advance copy of this column before it was published, he said, “Thanks for the advance copy, what a job you did on my life, I could almost like the guy you wrote about... Gods blessings. Yours in friendship, Bob.”}

He is a gentleman and a gentle man. He is gregarious and friendly, speaks in a slightly raspy voice, has a surprisingly biting sense of humor, a sharp wit, and is one of the best people I know. He is a friend to all of Foxboro.

His name is Bob Shea, and he is about to embark on a cross-country journey.

I met Bob when he called me a few years back to tell me that my wife Sue had been nominated for the Grange’s “Citizen of the year” award. At the ceremony, I met this remarkable man and instantly liked him. He is no-nonsense but amiable, generous, and downright silly sometimes. He knows the history and people of Foxboro well and can share stories of decades ago as easily as he catches up on current news.

A devoted family man, he has five children, and many grandchildren and great grandchildren. He is also close to his mother, who is 96 and doing well. His travels often take him to see them, and he always returns with pictures and stories to share.

He’s lived a rich and interesting life. He grew up in Rosedale New York, and has a great love for his original home town, a placed he describes as, “As near perfect a town as I have seen in all my travels.”

He continues, “We were lucky to grow up and spend our childhood in a friendly little town, with warm loving parents, and wonderful neighbors.”

Rosedale was home to many children Bob’s age, and he recalls days of stick ball, shooting marbles, roller skating, hide & seek, two wheelers, and scooters. He fondly remembers the penny candy at Rodman’s Candy Store. The Sunrise drive-in. Picking tomatoes for twelve cents a bushel at Hoeffners. Cooperman’s Drug Store with the soda fountain.

“We grew up in an international environment; at supper time you could walk down the street and catch the aroma of every nationality cooking in the kitchen. Everyone’s house was a safe house for children, and hardly anyone locked their doors.”

His stories are a tapestry of names and events from long ago, of a much more innocent time and friendlier people. Bob speaks of all the senior citizens living with their families—no one went to a rest home back then—and the multigenerational families under one roof. Everyone knew everyone.

He reminisces about the town baseball team, the Rosedale Americans, managed for a time by his father. P.S. 138 and the teachers back then. The boy with polio who showed tremendous determination and learned to walk with a limp.

With a touch of melancholy, he speaks of the friends who returned from World War II with terrible injuries and wounds, and those who died fighting overseas.

Bob also served his country during the war, and many of his stories revolve around those extraordinary years. One such tale takes place in a small town called White Fish Montana. His troop train had arrived in White Fish for a stop-over and crew rotation. The train would be there for several hours, so Bob disembarked and found a little place on the side of the road to get a bite to eat.

“Hey Soldier!” the friendly crowd greeted him as he entered. They welcomed him, and the owner immediately told his staff to get the young man in uniform something to eat, and then invited the girls to dance with him. They assured him they would let him know when the train’s relief crew arrived, so he wouldn’t be AWOL.

Another story. One morning after the war ended, Bob was in California. He’d missed the trolley that would take him to his base, so he set out on foot and tried to hitch a ride.

As he made his way down the road, a car slowed and a good looking man and woman called out, “Hey, soldier, where are you going?” Bob explained where he was headed, and the gentlemen beckoned him to get into the car. They had a wonderful ride and a lively conversation, and at his destination Bob thanked the driver, whose name happened to be Clark Gable.

In 1988, Bob sent out a letter to every Rosedale resident he remembered, suggesting a get-together he called “the Rosedale Roundup.” Thanks to his efforts, hundreds of people gathered on Long Island for an event Bob described as “a love in.” The reunion was so successful—and each successive year drew more participants—that Bob turned over the reunion responsibilities to a full committee! The 13th Rosedale Roundup is in a few weeks. It’s expected to be the largest yet.

Closer to the present, Bob has made his home in Foxboro for the past thirty years. He has served it well and shows no signs of slowing down. He’s been past master of the Grange, and an active member for years. He’s one of the originators of the Foxboro Farm Stand for the needy. He was twice president of the Elder Gram—the predecessor to what later became the Council on Aging. He has assisted the Knights of Columbus repeatedly with their Tootsie Roll drive. He’s helped scare people at the Jaycee haunted house. He created a program that brought gladiolas to the elderly. He’s associated with or has been a member of the American Legion, Knights of Columbus, Saint Alban’s Masonic Lodge, and the Shriners. He was a driving force in the “Save our Sports” program that helped raise $40.000 for the Ahern School.

This past Founder’s Day, he took a beautiful picture of the Normandy Farms Float, framed it, and presented it to them. Recently, he stopped at Sue’s concession stand with pizza.

These days, Bob is about to embark on a journey that many of us can only dream of taking—a trip across America. He stopped by my house recently and gave me the tour of the large RV he’s purchased—it’s fully functional, sleeps eight, and has all the comforts of home.

As we talked, Bob explained that on his upcoming months-long journey, rather than sticking with the usual tourist spots and highways, he plans a leisurely, round-a-bout trip that will not only take him to see his family and to this year’s Rosedale roundup, but through the South Dakota reservations, Mount Rushmore, the Oregon Trail, the Badlands, and of course, a little town in Montana called White Fish. He even plans to pan for gold, and adds, “With the price of gas I better find some very big nuggets.”

Bob also plans to get to know the people at each of his stops, to seek out other Grange members and Knights of Columbus along the way, as well as taking the opportunity to talk to people across the nation.

His journey will be remarkable, not because of the places he will visit, but the people whose lives he will touch.

For a man who has lived such a remarkable life, the adventure is still to come.