This tribute to Bob appeared recently in a monthly publication called "Inside" which is delivered "to over 100,000 readers living in Sacramento's older, established neighborhoods.

Big Man, Bigger Heart

Remembering Bobby Biko for his undying goodwill toward others

By Cecily Hastings

If you’re lucky, you are blessed with a few friends who add joy and dimension to your life. The recent unexpected passing of a dear friend of mine at age 68 is a reminder of just how much one person’s positive attitude can bring to the lives of others.

I met Bob Biko about five years ago when my friend Rita Gibson asked me to substitute for a Saturday-morning mixed-doubles tennis group in Carmichael. Rita was going on vacation for two weeks and assured me that I would fit into the group and that I would appreciate meeting Bob (or Bobby as he was known) in particular.

When I walked onto the court, Bobby stood tall (he was 6 foot 4), smiled broadly and cheerfully introduced himself as Tall Fat. I love an irreverent sense of humor. So I knew this was going to be fun when he explained, “My daddy always said that if I was going to be a little slow and a little fat, it was good that I was tall.”

The other players that day were Debbie Skalisky and Joe McKuskie, and they, too, were charming and fun. Learning of my profession, Bobby quickly nicknamed me The Publisher.

That morning, Joe accidentally hit me pretty hard squarely in the chest with a tennis ball—twice—and I knew he felt bad. But I assured them all it was no problem. We all had a laugh the next week when I returned, despite having gotten what they called a couple of “triple nipple” hits. Joe brought me a rose to apologize.

When an injury sidelined Rita a few months later, I gladly accepted the permanent Saturday-morning 7:30 a.m. play date at Sheffield Park. Bobby started and kept the Saturday group alive in the area for more than 30 years. It had been a men’s group until about six years ago, when his friend Rita asked to play and brought in Debbie. Bobby agreed, then always said it was far more fun playing with gals. Over the years, more than a dozen men and women played with the group, whose regulars now include Jack Emerson, Scot Crocker and Bob Tilley.

The group plays year-round and in all conditions except pouring rain, so I adjusted to playing even on cold, damp, dark winter mornings. The regular players and the subs were all fun and upbeat, but none more so than Bobby, who seemed never to be in a foul mood. He was a ray of sunshine wherever he went.

Over the years, Bobby’s life story unfolded. He was a real talker—even during games. He was so bighearted, witty, kind and joyous that even repeated stories and jokes were funny no matter how many times he told them.

But he was also an astute listener and picked up on the details of the lives and interests of others, always offering his compliments, comments and opinions. When sharing a difference of opinion, he delivered it with a smile and left you to seriously consider his point.

Bobby was raised in Sacramento and enjoyed a rich and rewarding career, starting as a teen at Jumbo Markets, then as a wine salesperson for the distributing company Lovotti Brothers. He retired after a long and successful career working for Lovotti in many capacities. More recently, he was a vice president at Northern California Collection Service, which we do business with.

While any employer would have been lucky to have Bobby on its staff, what truly made Bobby a mensch was his work outside of his job.

He was a 30-plus-year member of Sacramento Rotary Club and served on many nonprofit boards, including the local March of Dimes. He lent his time and energy to help many more charitable causes than I even know or can list. His longtime friend, former restaurateur Horace Wulff, said Bobby especially enjoyed working on wine and food selection for charity fundraising dinners. He used his resources and expertise to enhance value so that there was more money to donate to the causes.

Bobby loved food and wine and knew them both exceptionally well. He traveled the world’s wine regions to learn more, then came home to prepare gourmet meals for his own family each day.

Bobby was married to Linda for 34 years, and they have a 30-year-old daughter, Brooke. He met Linda—a schoolteacher who had just moved here from Washington state—while working at Jumbo Market. Always resourceful, he lifted her phone number off her check to ask her on a date. His description of Linda, whom I met a few years ago, was perfect. “She gave Audrey Hepburn a run for her money in the looks department,” he’d say. When I first met her, I could have picked her out of a crowd with that description. Bobby’s stories about his beloved wife and daughter were such a joy. And while it helped us get to know them, those stories also spoke volumes about him.

Mark LaLiberte, a former tennis-group player whose father was Bobby’s friend, told me that Bobby helped mentor him into a sales career in 1990. He said Bobby did the same for many others, too. Last year, I introduced writer Duffy Kelly as a sub to our group, and she and Bobby quickly bonded as they both had similar enthusiastic personalities. When I had an opening for an ad sales person last summer, he encouraged Duffy to pursue it and coached her as she started with us just this past fall. “His attention and advice meant so much to me entering a new career that he had so much success in,” Duffy told me the other day.

There are some people—we all know who they are—who make us better people. Bobby would be top on that list. Another tennis player made a visor for Bobby embroidered with the words “Crap Talker” to poke fun at his habit of ramping up his talking during the game whenever he was losing. Poignantly, I cannot recall many harsh words Bobby ever had for anyone, and he knew more people than anyone else I knew. The worst thing he’d say of someone was “I’m no fan,” and then he’d move on. What a great reminder to be charitable to others with whom you may disagree.

Six months ago, Bobby suffered a bout of Bell’s palsy, a form of facial paralysis resulting in the inability to control the muscles on one side of the face. But it didn’t seem to get him down. He just shrugged it off and said, “My only problem is that I have to drink wine with a straw, and I now only have half of my salesman’s smile to work with!”

Our son Alex recently told my husband and me about a book he was reading called “First Impressions.” Alex described the three most important things to remember when you first meet someone: your physical presence (confident body language, firm handshake and eye contact), sharing a glimpse of your experience in a way that intrigues others to know more, and quickly finding something in common with the other person. After listening to this, Jim and I looked at each other and said the same thing at the same time: “Bobby Biko.”

As his daughter recently reminded me, Bobby loved being a big fish in a little pond. Despite the grief of his loved ones, life will go on without him. But those of us who knew and felt his undying goodness should continue to actively enrich those around us in his memory. Bobby was the embodiment of the importance of loving and supporting one other. May we all be so blessed.