Those of you who knew Bob understand that he was not the most patient man in the world... and so began his life. 

Bob, in his impatience, was born on the steps of a maternity home in Oradell, N.J. on February 10, 1933.  He spent his early days living in a funeral home, there in Oradell, owned by his parents, Herman and Johanna.  Somewhere on this web site is a photo of that funeral home - if you look very carefully you will see a little guy about six months old, sitting on the railing.  That’s our Bob! 

Growing up Bob was a little wild and not overly disciplined.  He wanted to do things his way - that never changed.  Book learning didn’t interest him, but show him how to use a new tool, or how to build something and he would learn instantly, and probably tell the instructor of a better way to do it.  As a matter of fact he did have to teach a wood shop teacher how to use a new machine brought into class.  It remained in the crate until Bob convinced the teacher to let him open it and set it up.  For the rest of the semester Bob was the only student allowed to use.  I don’t remember exactly what kind of machine it was - only that he loved to tell the story. 

I don’t know much about Bob’s late teens or very early twenties - only that he met and married Sandra Fairlamb and they had a terrific son, Bob Jr.  I didn’t meet him until 1956 while they were in the process of divorcing.  I was trying to sell my 1946 Ford Convertible, so his cousin Cliff brought him over to look at it.  I sold the car and kept Bob.  We hit it off right away - and about a year later I discovered he had a photo of me hanging in his delivery truck (His job at the time was delivering furniture for Packard-Bamberger).  He told people I was his girlfriend six months before we had even met.  I said it was destiny, he said he just knew what he wanted.  We married in 1958.  We lived a darn good life, never rich, but very wealthy in other ways and certainly never bored.  How could I be bored living with the infamous Big Bob.  One never knew what each day would bring, but that’s a number of different stories.  Two terrific things life brought were our daughter, Robin and our son, Thomas - add big brother, Bob, Jr. - we had a good family, not perfect, but we were happy. 

Just before Robin was born in 1962, Bob left Packard’s and joined Bergen Welding and Supply in Hackensack, N.J. where he put his vast talents and knowledge to use.  Eventually this small company was sold to Compressed Gas, Inc. and Bob continued to manage it, until they decided to send him to manage a newly purchased shop in Wood-Ridge.  He was never really happy there and decided to retire in 1995.  But, believe me, he never stopped working!  For eight years we owned a shop called “Things”, with collectibles, some antiques and lots of fun junk.  As well as selling, Bob became very active in repairing many antiques for dealers, pinball machines and pachinkos, old time gas engines, toys, etc.  He loved it - he was in his element - could pick and choose the jobs he wanted and refuse any that bored him.  Even after we closed the shop, just before Hurricane Floyd, Bob continued to take on all sorts of jobs, including many for Rolls Royce Coachworks.  He was very happy doing what he loved! 

Bob was loved and respected by many people - for his honesty, his abilities, his near genius in analyzing mechanical problems and fixing them, his very talented hands.  He had a rather unusual sense of humor and thoroughly enjoyed sitting around, drinking beers and swapping stories. 

To all who care, Bob Seitz, Sr. was a good man, who loved well and was very loved, who adored his grandchildren, Patricia, Gabrielle and Damian, and who was adored by me, his wife Patt, for fifty years and still is.  So many of us miss him and know there will never be another like him.  If you agree, or even if you don’t, sign on to this web site and tell your story about Bob.  We really want to hear from you. 

 Here are a few anecdotes that come to mind……..

• One day, the road department in town decided to rebuild the curbs in front of some houses on our street.  That would have been fine, except they covered part of our driveway entrance and re-did half of the pathway to the front door.  Unfortunately the new half was approximately four inches higher than the old.

• Well, Bob got home from work, and was steaming when he came through the door.  Those of you who knew him know that when he steamed he was going to BLOW, and blow he did.  He went down to the basement and I heard the garage door open.

• Naturally, I was holding my breath, until I heard a lot of yelling out front.  I ran out, to see Bob swinging a very large sledge hammer totally destroying the curb.  The road department men were yelling, someone called the police, and when they showed up they were joined by the Mayor, some Councilmen, the Chief of Police and various other people.  I just stood there and watched.  The Chief asked me to stop him and I said, “He has a very large hammer, if you want him stopped, you do it!”.

• Well, Bob did stop and very quietly said, “There now, rebuild it properly.  If you don’t I’ll just knock it down again.”  He turned, walked back into the house and sat down to dinner.  Although he had been threatened with arrest, he was never charged with anything.

• There was a fire down in the landfill between the railroad and river behind our house.  The smoke was terrible, frightening everyone on the block, including Bob’s stepfather.  He couldn’t breathe and at first thought his house was on fire.  We were all very upset, especially when we learned it was being cause by the DPW burning green branches they had picked up following a storm.  The Fire Department had already told them not to and that they would not be involved. The DPW, learning they had to handle it themselves, ran hoses from hydrants on our street, down our driveway (flooding it), across the railroad tracks - and proceeded to make the smoke worse.  Bob sat in our yard, kind of leaning against a baseball bat, watching men run through the yard to the landfill.  Then some of them came back up only to reappear in a bit with cups of coffee, and down through the yard again.  Bob was getting angrier by the minute.  Finally he called to one of the men and asked what they thought they were doing running through private property without permission, laying a leaky hose and flooding our yard and acting as though they had every right to do this.  He said that they could have asked for permission, or run the hose from River Edge Road and gone out that way to get their coffee.   He then demanded they remove the hoses and get the hell off his property.  They ran! Bob and I had to go out.  While we were gone a DPW man came to the door.  Robin said he kind of sneaked up to the door, and asked if Bob was home.  When Robin said no he told her they wanted to remove the hoses.  She advised them to do it quickly, since we didn’t intend to be gone long.  It gave her quite a laugh watching them hurriedly pull the hoses up the drive, not even rolling them up, just to get off the property as fast a possible.  It also gave us a laugh when we got home.

• The next day I was up the hill at a local candy store and luncheonette.  As I chatted with the owner we overheard two women at the counter talking.  The one asked if the other had heard about the terrible thing that had happened the day before, down on Park Avenue.  Naturally, my ears perked up, living on Park Avenue and all.  I asked what had happened.  They told me that a nasty man had chased two DPW guys down the street with a baseball bat and put both of them in the hospital.  I just stared at them for a second, then told them their gossip was crap.  I said the man with the bat was leaning on it, never raised it and certainly never chased anyone down the street.  They responded, saying I didn’t know what I was talking about.  Their faces went white when I told them the man was my husband, Bob, and I had been there all the time.  I also said that if I heard that ridiculous story again they would find out what nasty really was.  Bob actually got to love his reputation as a dangerous man and loved to repeat the story at every opportunity.