Remembering Bob Roesler, ‘old school’ in all the right ways

Not long after I learned that former Times-Picayune executive sports editor Bob Roesler had passed away at the age of 93, I phoned a relative of his to share some war stories.

“No one can accuse Bob of not preparing his family and friends for this moment,” joked Bob’s nephew, Bill Haber.

We guffawed like two schoolboys, knowing Bob had played the “overtime game” of his life, living well beyond the life expectancy of most people with Alzheimer’s.

I use Haber’s well-intended one-liner to set the tone for what will be celebration of the life and times of Bob Roesler before family and friends at The Parkway.

Bob died Monday evening after a length battle with Alzheimer’s. His service and interment were held Friday along with a memorial for close family and friends at The Parkway Bakery.

Bob retired in 1994 after an accomplished “been-there-done-that” career as sportswriter/columnist/sports editor extraordinaire with The T-P, a colorful career that commenced in 1949.

During that time at the newspaper, Bob wore many hats, performed many functions and basically served as captain of an “Animal House-like” sports department from 1964 to ’95, the last 15 years following the merger of The T-P and States-Item.

He covered everything from soup to nuts right up to the very end of his employment, and left behind a huge void in the office and on Page 1 of sports. I remember going to the office the day after he was honored at a luncheon at Commander’s Palace and seeing the empty corner where he had conducted business for so many years.

I remember opening up the sports pages and not seeing his familiar Sunday “Mail Bag” column and his in-week commentary.

It was a sobering reminder that everyone is replaceable, no matter how important or invaluable we think we are. Bob may have been gone but the presses keep rolling, night after night. Life indeed stops for no one.

And we have felt Bob’s absence ever since, on the sports pages, in the community, all around our beloved town.

No one loved this city more than Bob Roesler. No one cared more about how others nationwide perceived New Orleans than Bob Roesler. He oozed Big Easy from sea to shining sea and proudly defended Her at every turn.

He was an iconic sports face of the city, a self-appointed ambassador constantly espousing everything good this city has to offer.

I always felt that if Bob didn’t know about it in New Orleans than it probably hadn’t happened yet. He was one of the most well-connected, well respected and trusted sportswriters in the city, region and around the country. I always wanted his black book because it contained the names of valuable sources and resources from every walk of life in political, sports and business circles.

He could break bread with sports league commissioners, mayors, local boxers and hot walkers at the Fair Grounds.

There is a reason why Bob could open doors in the sports, business and political worlds and not get them slammed in his face. His ability to score scoops and deliver breaking news was uncanny.

Simply, people trusted Bob, and he valued their trust.

Bob forgot more about how the political/sports landscape of our city works than I’ll ever begin to know. He was plugged in, had his finger on the pulse and always had its best interest at heart.

He was a friend and mentor to many, including me, almost from the time I joined up in 1977. He was tough minded, demanding and unafraid to speak his mind on the sports pages. He had his share of critics and haters. It came with the territory. But he also had his fair share of devoted fans who hung on his every word. He defended in print the little man, those who couldn’t defend themselves and were less fortunate than others.

He was not a wordsmith and cared little about turning a colorful phrase. Rather he based his longstanding success and longevity on substance, accuracy and making a deadline. I can still hear him remind staffers “not to Red Smith it.”

In a nutshell, Bob was “old school” in every way. He would not have fit well in our high tech and social media world.

And that’s OK. Nor would I.

He lived in a different time when Tweets, threads and posts didn’t matter, when being right meant more than being first. Make no mistake, Bob Roesler was one of a kind and belongs on our city’s Mt. Rushmore of media legends, along with Pete Finney, Buddy D, Hap and Jim Henderson, among others.

Bob Roesler has been missed all these years and will continue to be missed for years to come.

In conclusion, I will borrow a word he often used in his dispatches: ‘Nuf said.

There’s nothing more to say except — Rest in peace, Bob Roesler.

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