MICHAEL S. ROBBINS - Eulogy by Louise Robbins
MICHAEL S. ROBBINS
June 4, 1940 Chicago,
Il - 12/12/2012 Los Angeles, CA
Thank you all for being here. We very much
appreciate your support.
Mike’s brother Jeff and I collaborated to tell you a
little about Mike.
Mike was born in Chicago on June 4, 1940 to Esther
and Jerry Robbins. Jeff was born 5 years later.
Chicago winters did not agree with his mother who
suffered from arthritis. Her doctor told her she
needed to be in a warmer climate and so, in 1947
when Mike was 7 his parents moved the family to the
southwest, where the desert air would, presumably,
help Esther. They had looked for housing in Phoenix
and Tucson but it was after the war and housing was
scarce. Douglas AZ was the only place they could
find to live. Unfortunately, Mike’s dad still
worked in Chicago, commuting back to Douglas
whenever time and money allowed. This left Esther,
who didn’t drive, alone in a strange place with two
young children. Mike recalled Douglas AZ for many
years as a truly god-forsaken place. The family
moved to Los Angeles when Mike was 8.
They stayed in a hotel in Santa Monica while looking
for a place to live. The problem was that few
landlords would rent to a couple with children. So,
they found a little 1000 sq. ft. house to buy on
Bellingham Avenue in North Hollywood in the San
Fernando Valley, the fifth house of 200 being built.
In the undeveloped area around them, Mike and Jeff
saw snakes, tortoises, and jack rabbits. Early on,
it actually snowed enough to make a snowman. Mike
loved it! He rode his bike everywhere, watching the
construction and enjoying the wide open spaces. I’m
sure he learned much of what he knew about building
and fixing things by watching those houses going up.
Mike loved construction all his life. After his
surgeries, he would walk with Jeff on our street
(where there was construction on 3 different houses
at the same time.) Mike would start up conversations
with the contractors and the workers. He always
wanted to know how and why something was done and
usually came up with a better way of doing it.
While growing up near Laurel Canyon and Strathern,
there were no telephones, no sidewalks. Esther still
didn’t drive, and Jeff’s allergy doctor was on
Wilshire Blvd. very near where we’ve lived since
1971. They would walk to Laurel Canyon, take the
Asbury Bus Line to the Pacific Electric station
where the track crossed Lankershim (the station is
still there), take the train to Hollywood and
Highland and then go by bus to the doctor. Often,
they would then go back up to Hollywood Blvd. take
the PE streetcar downtown, do some shopping (all the
major department stores were downtown then), and
wind up at their dad’s factory at 7th and Los
Angeles. Mike and Jeff liked to look down from the
5th story window and watch the big red cars of the
Long Beach Line coming out of the PE building. Then
their dad would drive them home. Mike always pointed
out the steam locomotives to Jeff as they crossed
Laurel Canyon back into the valley, both impressed
by the clouds of steam and the noise as these trains
crossed the road in front of them. They made this
trek 3 times a week for 7 years.
Mike went to San Fernando Junior High school and
found himself the victim of the local bullies.
Always the problem solver, he learned to avoid them
by hanging out with the teachers on the yard at
lunchtime. But when Jeff was threatened, Mike got on
his bike to face the bullies and protect his little
brother. The bullying is probably one of the reasons
the family moved out of the valley.
They lived in the Pico/Robertson area for many
years. One of the stories Mike used to tell might
give you a slightly different view of the Mike
Robbins you knew: conservative in his dress, serious
about his work, but certainly not mischievous. Well,
maybe...Mike and his family lived in the upper level
of a duplex. The woman downstairs had her television
on from the moment she walked in the door until she
went to bed. Apparently it was loud enough to drive
the Robbins crazy. They asked her to turn it down
but to no avail. So Mike, angelic Mike, found that
the wire for her aerial ran right by one of their
windows. It was one of those double wires and he cut
one side and a few inches away cut the other.
Needless to say, her television stopped working and
Mike got the last laugh when the TV serviceman
arrived and took her television to the shop for
repairs. He could be devious, our Mike.
Unfortunately, the repairman ultimately figured out
the problem, but Mike was still one step ahead of
him. He created some electronic gizmo that caused
only static to come out of the downstairs TV. It
went back to the shop!
Mike was always interested in electronics and for
his birthday would get money to buy electronic parts
for something he was making. His father would drive
him to the hardware store, and Mike would go in to
get what he needed. Jerry was not too thrilled when
Mike would get back in the car with a little bag of
nuts and bolts and wires that he’d spent the entire
present on. For many years, when Mike would go to
buy something that cost a little more than usual, he
could hear his father saying, “What do you need it
for?”
At age 12, Mike helped repair television sets (and,
as we know, he later used his knowledge to stop them
from working!) and went on calls with the TV
repairman earning money during Christmas vacation.
He could figure out how to fix just about anything.
As teenager he worked at Figart’s, a
hardware/electronics supply store in the Carthay
Circle neighborhood. He was young, but he knew his
stuff and was given adult responsibilities there.
When the owner retired, he offered to sell the
store to Mike. We considered it but decided the
retail life wasn’t for us.
Mike’s high school experience was centered on the
Radio Club and his mentor, Jack Brown, and his good
friends Arnie Sillman, Larry Weide, and Howard
Carlin. Upon his graduation from high school, Mike
received several academic awards, including the Bank
of America award.
He graduated from Hamilton and went on to UCLA where
he was a physics major. Let’s just say that physics
really wasn’t his forte, but Mike always claimed
that his diploma looked just like everyone else’s.
At UCLA Mike was a photographer for the Daily Bruin,
photographing sporting and special events, getting
a photo of Senator John Kennedy when he spoke at
Royce Hall. Mike was always very proud of that
picture.
While in college and living on Point View Street in
Los Angeles, Mike heard screaming one day from the
car wash on the corner. He could see that a customer
had been caught between two cars. He ran across the
street and, to keep people who didn’t know what they
were doing from putting a tourniquet on the injured
man, Mike wrapped the his bloody, broken leg,
putting pressure on the bleeding until the
paramedics arrived. He started to get up, to turn
the man over to the paramedics, but they said, he
was doing a great job. When they did take over, Mike
went home and passed out!
Mike, the quiet joker, left a note for his parents
early one morning, telling them he was going with a
friend to test for the military. He had no intention
of joining up (his heart murmur wouldn’t have passed
muster) but, being Mike, he thought the process
would be interesting. He nearly gave his parents a
heart attack!
Speaking of pranks, one evening, he loaned Jeff his
car (a '55 Chevy) so Jeff could go to his
girlfriend's house. Mike must have followed Jeff
there and, while Jeff was inside the house, Mike
moved the car across the street from where Jeff had
parked it.
Jeff remembers being tortured (along with scores of
other people, probably a few in this room) with
Mike’s rendition of Charlie and the MTA.
Early in his career, Mike almost went to
Alaska to work. The company hired several young
graduates but had no assignments or training for
them. All of that would begin in Alaska when they
got there. While waiting, Mike did a lot of reading.
He also visited Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm
many times. But he got fed up with not doing
anything at work for several months. When he said he
was quitting, he was told he couldn’t because the
next month’s paychecks were already on the books.
When he said he wasn’t coming in anymore, they said
that they would still have to pay him and they did!
Had he gone to Alaska, he would have been there
during a major earthquake. Timing is everything!
Mike then worked a short time for Mattel designing
electronic toys. That was fun for a while. Then he
had an interesting job offer in Chicago, where he
moved over Thanksgiving weekend, 1963. He lasted all
of four months. Winter in Chicago was not Mike’s
thing. He found it too cold outside and way too warm
inside. He would go outside in the morning in his
robe and start the car and turn on the heater. He’d
go back inside, shower, get dressed, have breakfast,
and then go outside again and lift the ice off the
windshield. Returning to Southern California seemed
like a good idea.
Always loving to travel, Mike and his friend Arnie
Sillman made a trip out of Mike’s return to LA,
first going east, then coming back west, driving
thousands of miles. Jeff met them in Wyoming. Jeff
recalls that both Mike and Arnie were always
wonderful about taking him along. Mike never seemed
to exclude Jeff from any activity.
For Jeff, Mike was one of the greatest teachers and
motivators that he ever had. In the valley, he
included Jeff in building an American Flyer train
layout in the garage. Later, he bought Jeff his
first locomotive kit which got Jeff started in model
railroading. He gave him his first two cameras and
taught him the basics of photography. He taught Jeff
how to travel and how to camp. He was always
supportive of Jeff’s interests. When Jeff began to
discover classical music, Mike made sure Jeff had a
decent speaker and amp to listen on. Helping Jeff
with his novel, Mike spent hours on technical
support. He gave love and expertise whenever he
helped people and never asked for anything in
return. Mike's love of the national parks was
Jeff’s inspiration for his lifelong interest in them
as well.
So Mike returned to LA from Chicago to pursue yet
another job. Do you remember those “wind-up doll”
jokes? I believe it was his friend now Rabbi Douglas
Krantz who referred to Mike as the Mike Robbins
doll. You wind him up and he quits. But Mike was
really never one who liked working for others so he
decided to be his own boss. He started the Dynatron
Co. which made, what else, electronic widgets. This
was when I came into the picture (it was late
winter, 1970.) Mike proudly showed me his workshop
on Robertson Blvd. I was 20 years old and duly
impressed.
Mike and I had met at his brother’s wedding in 1967.
But I was just out of high school and he was a
college graduate in business for himself. Not a
whole lot in common...yet. We met again at Jeff’s
father-in-law’s funeral in February, 1970. Not
knowing too many people at the funeral, I hung out
with the Robbins and sat with Mike during the
service. I remember him asking me what my major was
in college. When I told him history, he observed
“that and a dime will get you a cup of coffee.”
(Based on my salary as a teacher, he wasn’t too far
off!)
We went out the next weekend: We saw Mason Williams
at the Troubadour and went to Nibbler’s for dessert.
Both he and the server looked at me oddly when I
ordered chocolate layer cake and non-fat milk. “Why
bother?” he asked. “Why waste the calories?” I
replied.
Mike took me hiking at Vasquez Rocks the next day. I
should have known the outdoors would be a big part
of our life when, on the way home, he stopped at a
shoe store and bought me hiking boots! (On our
second date!)
Just three weeks later, Mike proposed. His friend
Howard accused him of robbing the cradle (I was
almost 21 and he was almost 30). But we were in love
and were married in August of the same year, 1970.
Not exactly a long engagement, but it seems to have
worked out. We had our 42 anniversary this past
summer. I guess he was a keeper!
Ours was a loving, peaceful marriage (neither one of
us liked to argue). A former sitter for our boys,
now a friend, emailed me the other day after hearing
of Mike’s death. Alan wrote that our family was
often his salvation and reality-check when life at
home as “out of touch.” He went on to say “You
probably don’t realize how often I have reflected on
yours and Mike’s relationship over the years as a
guidepost for the way to live a healthy and
beautiful life. I will carry that with me forever.”
Mike introduced me to Camp Wolverton in Sequoia
National Park the year we were married. It was
October 31. We left late (I had school, he had
work.) We drove up a very dark Highway 99 listening
to Orson Welles’ “War of the Worlds.” It was the
perfect, spooky setting for the story. We stayed
upstairs in the camp lodge that weekend. It was
already too cold to camp out. And so I was
introduced to the other love of Mikes’ life: Camp
Wolverton. Mike had been the camp director for the
boy scout camp for many summers and had worked with
the most incredible group of guys over the years.
Mike was a natural born leader: he was a problem
solver and decision maker and mentor. He loved
everything about the camp and the people he felt
privileged to work with. Many became lifelong
friends who have enriched both our lives.
To give you an idea of the impact Mike had on at
least one Wolverton alumni, I received this email
from Daniel Silpa:
|
“Mike made a profound impact on
my life. I was headed toward the world of
hooliganism and petty crimes. His influence
helped turn me toward a more sensible use of my
life. I am an Emergency Medicine physician.
There are several thousand people who are alive
because of my clinical practice over the years.
Mike's influence on me helped make this outcome
possible.
During the funeral, I will be on
duty in the Emergency Room. I will remember
Mike by doing my job caring for sick and injured
people.”
Love,
Danny Silpa
|
I
don’t think that Mike, ever modest, was ever aware
of the impact he had on so many lives.
Scott started going to Wolverton at 6 months, Andrew
at 1 year. We spent many summers camping as a family
there and with the kids’ friends. In recent years,
Mike eagerly awaited the work weekends at the
beginning of the summer when first the old staff
(and then their families) would meet back at camp to
spruce up the place. There were times the work was
extensive and Mike would realize he wasn’t 20 years
old anymore, but he gloried in the chance to talk to
old friends, find out what people were up to and
reminisce about the camp. I think a little bit of
Mike died when the camp was closed by the park
service this past year. It had been the only boy
scout camp in a national park and the park service
had decided it wanted the land. It had been such an
integral part of his existence for so long, it was
heartbreaking to know all those wonderful times
would never take place there again.
Mike was working for a company called Phasecom when
an incredible opportunity arose in 1981: One of the
partners was Israeli and had been in the States for
20 some-odd years. He was ready to go back to Israel
and wanted a business to run there. Mike was asked
to go ahead of Ari and set up an electronics firm in
Jerusalem. Scott was almost 8 and Andrew 2 1/2 when
we packed our bags (lots of them) and flew to Israel
to live in Jerusalem for 6 months. It was quite the
experience. Both our sets of parents came to visit
and stayed with us in our apartment. We were given a
car to use and boy did we use it! Work closed early
on Fridays (Shabbat) and we would take off every
weekend, exploring the country.
I
remember one such weekend trip. We’d gone to Eilat
and were enjoying the beach. Scott had found friends
to play with. I was watching Andrew on some play
equipment (donated, by the way by Eilat’s sister
city Beverly Hills) when I turned and saw Mike and
another man standing at the water’s edge talking to
each other. But the odd thing was they were standing
side by side, looking out at the water as they
spoke. When asked what they were looking at, Mike
told me the topless Scandinavian women had just
bounced into the water and the two men were waiting
for them to bounce back out! They were not
disappointed.
Mike knew the Israel project would be a dead-end in
terms of his job in LA, but it was such an
incredible opportunity to live in another country
that he decided to go for it. We never regretted the
decision.
As a family we traveled all around California by car
and explored Washington DC and Boston, where the
boys got fed up with our interest in Colonial
America. I guess Mike and I did overdo the Colonial
cemeteries. (For some reason, the kids were not
impressed.)
It was in Washington DC that we looked up Mike’s
patent for the infrared extension system at the
Library of Congress as well as his book on
electronic clocks and watches. While at Zantech,
Mike had three more patents registered in his name:
a background music controller, an interference
resistant infrared extension system, and a remote
control unit integrator console. (Please don’t ask
me what any of these did!) Mike wound up working at
Xantech for about 25 years. (So much for the Mike
Robbins doll, Douglas!)
Mike loved being retired. He could sit at the
computer to his heart’s content, emailing, surfing
the WEB, learning things, working on his family’s
genealogy. He read book after book, almost
exclusively non-fiction. He was the perennial
student, always seeking answers to questions that
had no limits as to subject. He was a bit of a
Renaissance man in that respect, interested in
everything around him. Logical, organized (in his
way), analytical, Mike was a can-do person, a
problem solver, a thinker outside the box. He was
smart. He was articulate. The month-long trips he
planned for us to Eastern Europe, Great Britain,
Alaska and across the US were absolutely incredible.
Mike shared a love of trains with his brother, Jeff.
Much to the relief of the wives (who didn’t share
their husband’s rabid interest), Mike and Jeff (who
was also retired) would take off on trips exploring
old train stations and train museums. Jeff loved the
train trips w/Mike. He was great to travel with
because he was interested in everything. Also, he
always asked the right technical questions gaining
them access by other proud train buffs to places the
general public never got to see. Even after his
first brain surgery, he and Jeff had their eyes out
on several train museums they had missed.
Mike loved his sons and was always so very proud of
them. He was a wonderful father, interested in all
they did and spending lot of time with them. As
Scott and Andrew grew up, he was involved with them
in Boy Scouts, was there to root for them at their
soccer and baseball games, he helped with homework,
and loved traveling with them. He made sure parent
teacher conferences were in the evening so he could
attend. Mike took the boys backpacking in Sequoia
National Park; their love of the park was especially
gratifying for him. When Scott had a decrepit jeep
towed home, Mike helped him rebuild it. That crazy
car nearly killed Scott, but that’s another story.
Mike was the consummate teacher: he knew so much and
wanted to share it all with his kids. Scott, Andrew:
Dad was so proud of you as adults. You are both
successful, confident men, loving husbands to your
soul mates Shannon and Kate and wonderful fathers to
our beautiful grandsons, Jack, Max, Noah, and
George. I like to think your dad had something to do
with that. Dad loved that you wanted to spend time
with us, that you looked forward to being with
family. That was so important to him. And to me.
In October we moved Mike to Shalom Garden, a
wonderful board and care about a mile and a half
from the house. The staff there was attentive and
loving, and it became my second home.
I
know it was time for Mike to go. The Mike we knew
and loved had been gone for months. But after 42
wonderful years, it’s very hard to say goodbye. I
would have liked to see him glow with pride at his
sons’ future accomplishments. I would have liked him
to see our grandchildren grow. I would have liked to
have grown old with him. But this was not to be.
Mike: loving husband, father, brother, grandfather,
uncle, friend...rest in peace. We loved you and we
will miss you very much.
Louise Robbins
