About a month ago on a Sunday, I encountered Bobby Hinckley at Katz’s Bagels. For the past 20 years, we had maintained the tradition of meeting there nearly every Sunday morning. He appeared unwell and acknowledged it. “I’m pretty sick,” he conveyed to me. “The doctors can’t figure out exactly what’s wrong with my liver.” As we had done countless times before, we shook hands and exchanged high fives. I observed him exit Katz’s and turn back to say, “Let’s hope I can see you next week.” Despite his deteriorating condition, Bobby’s smile remained intact as he approached the end of his life. Though gravely ill, he neither sought pity nor voiced complaints about his circumstances. Bobby passed away on Saturday at age 54. His death triggered profound emotional responses throughout the city among those who had known him – reflecting on both who he had been and who he had become. In his younger years and well into adulthood, Bobby Hinckley lived as a wild man. He was forthright about this, admitting it regularly during our Sunday meetings at Katz’s when we’d shake hands and reminisce about earlier times. He had done everything. He had lived through it all. Many mistakes marked his path, which he openly acknowledged and genuinely regretted. Yet over the last 20-25 years, Bobby Hinckley became an example to follow. He elevated his own life and rescued countless others from destruction. His influence helped many more reclaim sobriety and mental clarity. When he was ascending, Bobby was a commanding presence in this city in multiple respects. Physically, he was a very large and imposing figure. He possessed tremendous strength and an inclination toward confrontation. At Chelsea High School, he played football – and opponents learned quickly that being lined up against Bobby Hinckley meant getting hit with tremendous force, a reality he seemed to relish, making it worse for those on the receiving end. Throughout his adult years, Bobby remained a fighter and heavy drinker, engaging in other behaviors that clouded his judgment. He worked as an iron worker and professional welder. The demanding profession only hardened him further. He worked with intensity. He partied with equal fervor. Anger defined him during his years of active use. Crossing him, insulting him, or making a joke he didn’t find amusing was unwise. Then transformation arrived, and Bobby abandoned that life entirely. He reformed completely. He rebuilt himself – and people came to recognize him as fundamentally changed, as a better man, as someone perpetually ready to help others. He married Marylou Flamingo and fathered a son, Robert, III. Throughout all his phases, he remained devoted to his family, most profoundly to his wife and son, whom he cherished deeply – and for whom his passing will be devastating. They were his everything – and he was theirs. Bobby Hinckley had no desire to die. He cherished life. He took satisfaction in his existence and the man he had become. Bobby Hinckley was a content man and a good, good guy.
Appreciation – Robert Hinckley, Jr.
