4 — Family

Links: Links: The The Bob Harris Bob Harris Story Story

– FAMILY – Family

Daddy & “Deedles” Daddy & “Deedles” at the Jersey Shore at the Jersey Shore —1950 —1950 WITH the war over and Bob’s wartime service completed, the newlyweds set about establishing themselves in a dramatically transformed America. After more than twelve years in office, the patrician, New York-born, Harvard-educatedWith the war over and Bob’s wartime service completed, the newlyweds set about establishing themselves in a dramatically transformed America. After more than 12 years in office, the patrician, New York-born, Harvard-educated fdr was gone, FDR was gone, replaced as president by a blunt-speaking former haberdasher from replaced as president by a blunt-speaking former haberdasher from Independence, Missouri— Independence, Missouri—Harry S. Truman. Truman took office upon Roosevelt’s sudden Harry S. Truman. Truman took office upon Roosevelt’s sudden death in April 1945 unaware death in April 1945 unaware that the US had developed an atomic bomb. He told reporters, that the u.s. had developed an atomic bomb. He told reporters, “I felt like the moon, the stars, “I felt like the moon, the stars, and all the planets had fallen on me.” One of his momentous and all the planets had fallen on me.” One of his momentous decisions as chief executive was to decisions as chief executive was to employ nuclear weapons against Japan. In later years, critics employ nuclear weapons against Japan. In later years, critics savaged him for his actions, yet his savaged him for his actions, yet his decisiveness undoubtedly saved hundreds of thousands of decisiveness undoubtedly saved hundreds of thousands of lives. Truman rarely dodged a fight lives. Truman rarely dodged a fight and liked to tell people The buck stops here. He presided and liked to tell people “The buck stops here.” He presided over American affairs for the first over American affairs for the first seven years of Bob’s and Dol’s life together, orchestrating seven years of Bob and Dol’s married life together, orchestrating such landmark measures as the such landmark measures as the GI Bill that addressed the problems of soldiers adjusting togi Bill that addressed the problems of soldiers adjusting to civilian life and the Marshall Plan civilian life and the Marshall Plan that enabled war-torn Europe to rebuild. that enabled war-torn Europe to rebuild. When Bob rejoined Westinghouse, the company transferred him from Boston to Hartford, Connecticut. “It was around the first of the year, 1946,” Bob tells us. “We lived in the Hartford Hotel for about a month, until we found a better place to live.” Dol carries on with their story: “Then we moved to West Hartford. We had a room in West Hartford, and that’s where Doreen was born. February 12, 1947. That was the year, a year and a half after we were married.” “We didn’t have a home, we boarded,” she goes on, “with a schoolteacher, George Halford. He had a big house at 49 South Main in West Hartford right across the street from the high school. We had a bedroom and a little room for a nursery. We shared the living room and kitchen with another couple. Would you believe it, the guy was a conscientious objector!”

When Bob rejoined Westinghouse, the company transferred him from Boston to Hartford, Connecticut. “It was around the first of the year, 1946,” Bob tells us. “We lived in the Hartford Hotel for about a month, until we found a better place to live.” Dol carries on with their story: “Then we moved to West Hartford. We had a room in West Hartford, and that’s where Doreen was born. February 12, 1947. That was the year, a year and a half after we were married.” “We didn’t have a home, we boarded,” she goes on, “with a schoolteacher, George Halford. He had a big house at 49 South Main in West Hartford right across the street from the high school. We had a bedroom and a little room for a nursery. We shared the living room and kitchen with another couple. Would you believe it, the guy was a conscientious objector!” Bob and Dol were facing a problem endemic to newlywed couples in the postwar years: There was little or no housing to be found anywhere. During the war, the American economy had flourished while meeting the demands of wartime production. But America’s resources had been put to use turning out the matérial demanded by armies at war: tanks,

Bob and Dol were facing a problem endemic to newlywed couples in the postwar years: There was little -to-no housing to be found anywhere. During the war, the American economy had flourished while meeting the demands of wartime production. But America’s resources had been put to use turning out the matériel demanded by armies at war: tanks,

Doreen outside of 49 South Main, West Hartford —1948

ships, planes, munitions, uniforms, food, and more. Precious little investment was made in new housing starts from 1941 through 1945. By the time Bob and Dol—and hundreds of thousands of other couples just like them—were in the market for their first homes, there were none to be had. Peace was of course welcomed, but it brought in its train a host of new challenges.

“There weren’t any homes, there weren’t any apartments,” Dol goes on to say. “There wasn’t anyplace to live. A lot of couples were living with their families. Oh, yes. Most of them were. We would go to [Bob’s] house every weekend. We’d take the train from Hartford down to Norwalk. We belonged to the country club. We played golf. Tell them how much the country club cost for us because you were a veteran.”

Baby Doreen —1948

Bob takes up the challenge: “Before the war my father had a family membership with the country club there in Norwalk, and that’s where I learned to play golf. I was club champion there, in the Shorehaven Golf Club. So they made an offer to returning vets that I couldn’t refuse even though we lived in Hartford which is 75 miles away. I even remember how much it was. For a year’s membership at an exclusive country club it was forty-five dollars!…We went down every weekend and played. We could play tennis and golf and go swimming.” “We moved out of the boarding house and into a nice garden apartment in West Hartford,” Bob goes on to say. “We thought we were in seventh heaven. The apartments were at 27 Arnold Way. Our rent—we couldn’t buy—was $105 a month. Two bedrooms, one bath, living room, dinette, kitchen. On the second floor. Brand new. It was great. And that’s where Nancy was born, June 23, 1950.” “I loved that place,” Dol exclaims. “It was our own home. We finally had some privacy. That was something, to be on our own at last.” For the first few years after the war, it was nearly impossible to buy a car. There were long waiting lists at all of the dealerships, and the few cars that did come in were snapped up at once. “I had a sales territory with Westinghouse,” Bob relates, “but no car. I asked my boss, ‘Where’s my car?’ He said, ‘We don’t have one for you. You find one, and we’ll pay for it.’ So I

Bob takes up the challenge: “Before the war my father had a family membership with the country club there in Norwalk, and that’s where I learned to play golf. I was club champion there, in the Shorehaven Golf Club. So they made an offer to returning vets that I couldn’t refuse even though we lived in Hartford, which is 75 miles away. I even remember how much it was. For a year’s membership at an exclusive country club it was 45 dollars!…We went down every weekend and played. We could play tennis and golf and go swimming.” “We moved out of the boarding house and into a nice garden apartment in West Hartford,” Bob goes on to say. “We thought we were in seventh heaven. The apartments were at 27 Arnold Way. Our rent—we couldn’t buy—was $105 a month. Two bedrooms, one bath, living room, dinette, kitchen. On the second floor. Brand new. It was great. And that’s where Nancy was born, June 23, 1950.” “I loved that place,” Dol exclaims. “It was our own home. We finally had some privacy. That was something, to be on our own at last.”

went to all the so-called dealers and they put me on their For the first few years after the war, it was nearly impossible lists. ‘When will I get a car?’ I’d ask, and they’d all tell me to buy a car. There were long waiting lists at all of the ‘We don’t know, maybe in six or eight months.’ Here I was dealerships, and the few cars that did come in were snapped running around my sales territory in northern Connecticut up at once. riding trolley cars, buses, trains. Sometimes I’d hitchhike. It wasn’t very efficient, as you can well imagine. One day I told my father about my problem. He was division manager for a major utility in southwest Connecticut and had a fleet of cars under him. He told me, ‘Let me see what I can do.’ A week later I went down to Norwalk and picked up a new car,

“I had a sales territory with Westinghouse,” Bob relates, “but no car. I asked my boss, ‘Where’s my car?’ He said, ‘We don’t have one for you. You find one, and we’ll pay for it.’ So I went to all the so-called dealers and they put me on their lists. ‘When will I get a car?’ I’d ask, and they’d all tell me ‘We don’t know, maybe in six or eight months.’ Here I was running around my sales territory in northern Connecticut riding trolley cars, buses, trains. Sometimes I’d hitchhike. It wasn’t very efficient, as you can well imagine. One day I told my father about my problem. He was division manager for a major utility in southwest Connecticut and had a fleet of cars under him. He told me, ‘Let me see what I can do.’ A week later I went down to Norwalk and picked up a new car,

Doreen & Nancy outside 27 Arnold Way, W. Hartford —1950Doreen & Nancy outside 27 Arnold Way, W. Hartford —1950

a Ford sedan. It had wooden bumpers front and rear. A lot of little things were missing, but it ran. I was just happy to have a car to drive. It made life a lot easier.”

Bob’s work at Westinghouse prospered, and in 1950 he and Dol were able to purchase their first house, a Cape Codstyle home they had built on Westover Terrace in Simsbury, Connecticut.

“It was farther out,” Bob remembers. “We paid 15 grand for it. The builder was John Cosmos. It was a great spot. We were with people our own age. The kids in the neighborhood were all the same age. Everything was brand new: the flowers, the landscaping, lots of stuff. Every weekend, the men would work on their lawns. We’d have another truck load of topsoil brought in every year. We were always outside doing something with that house. Those years were wonderful!”

“We stayed there,” Bob continues, “until I was offered a promotion to go to work at the Westinghouse Lamp Division headquarters in Bloomfield, New Jersey. That promotion pulled me out of the field and put me on a pedestal.”

Like his father before him, Bob was moving up the corporate ladder. The downside of his advancement was that it required a move to New Jersey. Initially, Bob lived in a hotel in New Jersey and searched for a place for the family to live on his time off, while Dol stayed in Simsbury with Doreen and Nancy. On weekends, she would visit Bob and they would go åout together looking for a place to live. It did not help that she was pregnant at the time with Rob. One hot summer

Bob as a civilian —1946

Westinghouse’s finest marketeer —1957Westinghouse’s finest marketeer —1957

night she broke down crying and said, “Bob, we can’t do this anymore!”

Finally, they found an apartment at 20 Constantine Place in Summit, New Jersey. Bob returned to Simsbury one last time and loaded his family into the car. All four Harrises—Bob, Dol, Doreen, and Nancy—cried as they drove away from Simsbury on their way to a new life.

Bob describes what life was like there: “A brook ran underneath our apartment. When it rained, the basement floor got really wet and you could hear the frogs croaking. The biggest thing I remember was Dol being pregnant, with this fat round belly, climbing through the kitchen window into the back yard. You see, we lived on the first floor and had no back door. Everyone on the first floor did it. It was easy. I don’t know what the people upstairs did!”

It was while they were living in their new apartment in Summit that Robert Mowe Harris Junior was born on 28 September 1955. Bob and Dol’s trip to the hospital that night was quite an adventure: “Remember,” Bob says to Dol with a chuckle, “I took you to the wrong door. There was a lot of construction, and it was dark. So I went to the new door and it wasn’t open. We climbed over this huge hole in the ground by walking across a narrow wooden plank. You could hardly see! Rob was born early in the morning, 3 or 4 am. I remember taking the girls to the hospital to see the new baby and proud mother. They wouldn’t let the children into your room, so we stood out in the middle of the parking lot and waved up at you.” Bob at last had the son he wanted. Dol was happy, too, both for a healthy boy and for the fact there would be no more children to raise. “I told Dol ‘That’s it. Now we can quit,’” Bob remembers. “And Dol said, ‘Good! Three’s enough!’”

Suitable housing was still at a premium, even 10 years after the war had ended, and for nearly a year Bob and Dol searched in vain for a house to buy. At a party one evening at the home of some friends—Bob and Betty Zenker—someone mentioned to Bob and Dol that they knew another

Doreen in front of 111 Mountain View Ave., Summit —1956

couple who were about to move and wanted to sell their house. Were Dol and Bob interested? Yes and sort of.

“Bob wasn’t crazy about it,” Dol reveals, “but I wanted our own place with our own yard. We had two young girls and a baby. We needed more room.”

“The guy who was selling it wanted 20 Gs for it,” Bob says. “I was buying it with a VA/GI mortgage, and the government had to inspect the place before they’d approve the loan. They took a look and told me, ‘We can only give you a loan for 19 thousand.’ So I went to the seller and offered to give him a thousand bucks under the table to seal the deal. Instead, he threw in the dining room rug for a grand, and that made the sale for $20,000 proper.”

Talking about his new job, Bob admits that “I was a little disappointed when I got to Bloomfield and discovered how small a raise they gave me. Then I found out that my new boss, Charley Erb, did that to everybody. I started out in New Jersey as something called ‘a staff assistant,’ but it was a supervisory job, and that was important to me. It was the only way to rise above the crowd and get ahead.”

“Things moved fast after that,” Bob adds. “Soon they made me tba Sales Manager for the whole country. ‘tba’ stands for tires, batteries and accessories. We catered to the oil companies—they had service stations, sold batteries, lamps, etcetera. I dealt with oil companies all across the country: Skelly Oil in Kansas City, Union Oil in California, Pure Oil in Chicago, Standard Oil in Ohio,

12 Dale Drive, Summit —1960

Kentucky, and Texas, Esso in New York. That’s when I started traveling, because I had to see all of these people.”

About this time, after much searching, Bob and Dol found the house where they would live until after retirement, an expansive six bedroom home at 12 Dale Drive in Summit. At last they settled into their true home.

Bob’s advancement up through the ranks at Westinghouse continued unabated. “In 1957 I was made sales manager of miniature and sealed beam lamps. The company was always thinking along product lines. I was always telling them to think in terms of markets. They didn’t get off the product

line kick until the early 1960s. All this time I was telling my boss, ‘Why don’t we say manufacturing market or commercial/industrial markets or consumer markets?’”

“Miniature lamps/sealed lamps —that was considered to be an unprofitable side of the business,” Bob continues, “so I didn’t want to stay in that. You’ll always be ignored if you’re not making money. I got my wish and was made assistant large lamp marketing manager. I didn’t report to the marketing manager, but I had to deal with him. He was a nothing. I went to my boss and said, ‘I can’t work with this guy. He’s not a company man.’”

“After that,” Bob goes on, “I was promoted to sales manager of special accounts, which included selling lamps to our competitors. That was very interesting. I got the chance to meet with the competition. Not General Electric, though. ge wouldn’t buy anything from us. And we wouldn’t buy anything from them. That would have been 1963 or 1964.”

With Bob busy at Westinghouse, Dol devoted herself to raising her brood. She recalls a time when Doreen entered baby Rob in a contest at a local carnival: “She came back and was so excited,” Dol tells us. “Rob won the prize for longest eyelashes! Doreen adored Rob.”

At Christmas Dol and Bob continued a Harris tradition that dated back to his growing-up years in Connecticut. “The Harris family always gave the kids pajamas at Christmas,” Bob says. “When I was a kid, we’d hear a knock on the door. We kids would run to the door and open it, and there’d be

Nancy, Dol, & Doreen —1951 wrapped packages for all the children left on the doorstep by Santa Claus. We never saw Santa, but my Dad would always say something like, ‘There he goes! Didn’t you see him? He just flew behind those trees!’ Those presents were always pjs. That’s how we got our bedclothes. And we did the same thing with our kids, with Dee and Nancy and Robby. They always got their pajamas at Christmas that way.”

In New Jersey, Bob and Dol continued to indulge in their love for the game of golf. They joined the Canoe Brook Golf Club and played every chance they could. They both involved themselves in the club’s operations and served on many committees and in many positions. And they encouraged their children to play.

At Westinghouse, Bob’s “big break” came in 1965 when the company made him Regional Sales Manager for the northeast United States. “I was responsible for selling all of Westinghouse’s lamp product lines,” Bob explains. “I had 30 salesmen and five district managers all reporting to me. That’s when I had to go to New York. My new office was in the PanAm Building. We didn’t have to move, thank goodness. That was one of the reasons I loved the job—I didn’t have to move the family. I commuted to work by train on the Delaware-Lackawanna Line. It was an hourand-ahalf each way. I’d get a lot of paperwork done on the train.”

“I traveled the Northeast, New York, the New England states, but I didn’t have a company car. Regional managers were not allowed to have cars. District managers and salesmen had cars. When I went somewhere, they were supposed to pick me up and take me wherever I needed to go. I didn’t like it, and neither did the other regional managers. So, about a year later, at a company meeting, we got together and made a play to get our own cars. We didn’t want to have to depend on underlings. We were sincere. We told our boss that we thought that the company would benefit, and that we were being discriminated against. He turned around and talked

Young Robby Harris (middle) with friends —1961 to a vice president, and that same day we got our wish. They told us to go get cars for ourselves. I got a white car, a Chevy or Ford or Plymouth. Something like that. I don’t remember which make. But I had a car. So I drove to the city an awful lot, but not regularly.”

In November 1965, while working in the PanAm Building, Bob was involved in “The Night the Lights Went Out” when the entire Northeastern Seaboard lost power. By then, electricity was an everyday part of American life. (You could

say that the lifelong electrification crusade carried on by Bob’s father Ned had succeeded.) Post-World War II prosperity remade the American home into a palace of electric consumption. Electric appliances had become commonplace, purchased partly in response to widespread promotional efforts by manufacturers and utilities. American offices and factories had also been transformed by electricity. Manufacturing facilities relied more and more on electricity to increase production. And, by the 1960s, engineers and architects began sealing off buildings from the outdoors, constructing mechanical environments—like that in the PanAm Building—solely controlled by electric power.

On November 9, 1965, just as the 5:00 o’clock rush hour was starting, the entire Northeast area of the United States and large parts of Canada went dark. From Buffalo to the eastern border of New Hampshire and from New York City to Ontario, a massive power outage struck without warning. Trains were stuck between subway stops. People were trapped in elevators. Failed traffic signals stopped traffic dead. In less than an hour, tens of millions of people were plunged into darkness. New York City was especially hard hit, due to its reliance on electricity to run nearly everything. Office workers, about to leave for their homes in the suburbs, were forced to find shelter in their offices or on benches in Grand Central Station. Theaters closed for the night. Thousands of stranded travelers were forced to sleep in hotel lobbies. Nearly 10,000 commuters were inprisoned on subway cars, unable to escape the darkened tunnels. By midnight, the Transit Authority began sending food and coffee to those trapped underground.

The PanAm Building, New York (today the MetLife Building)

Bob describes the problems he faced: “With me in the PanAm Building office was my assistant Bill Robertson. We soon learned that we couldn’t work in the dark. We searched the offices and located a candle. With candlelight, we continued to work on our budget, but by 8 o’clock we were tired and hungry. With a battery-operated radio we could keep track of what was happening in the city. We finally decided that the chance of getting our power restored was not good. So, from the 25th floor, we started down the stairs. Remember, no electricity, no elevators. Bill led the way with me holding on to his shoulder. It was so tedious that by the time we reached the mezzanine our knees were shaking. We hastened to a nearby bar for martinis. The bar was packed 10-deep around two waiters. We had the martinis passed back to us. I don’t think we ever sent money forward to pay for the drinks.

“After a couple of cocktails, we split company, and I walked down 42nd Street to the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Here was chaos. People were spread all over the terminal— stretched out on the floors, leaning against the walls, even sitting on the stalled escalators to the buses. I literally crawled over those half-asleep commuters to reach my bus to Newark. I arrived home in Summit sometime after midnight. In those days we didn’t have cell phones, so I couldn’t call Dol. Was that ever an experience!”

Despite the confusion and disarray, New Yorkers spent the night in peace helping each other, much like they did in the aftermath of the World Trade Center disaster. Some directed traffic. Others assisted the New York Fire Department as they rescued stranded subway passengers. The next morning, almost 14 hours after the massive blackout struck New York, power was restored citywide.

It took six days to locate the cause. Investigators eventually determined that a single faulty relay at a power station in Ontario, Canada had set in motion an escalating sequence of events that led to the blackout. The system of power transmission invented by George Westinghouse eight decades earlier faced its greatest challenge that day. In the aftermath, numerous changes and improvements were made to the power system in the hope that a similar disaster could be averted in the future. Like Pearl Harbor, D-day, jfk’s assassination, the moon-landing, and, more recently, 9–11, “The Night the Lights Went Out” will forever be remembered by the people who lived through it.

Mustang Dolly (“You’d better slow your Mustang down…”) —1967

A year or so later, Bob’s boss came down with cancer and had to have his voice box removed. Bob’s superiors called him in and offered him the stricken man’s job. “I said ‘Not if it’s because of his condition,’” Bob says emphatically. “My boss answered, ‘You’ve got the job. You deserve it.’ So that’s how I became General Sales Manager. I was responsible for everything, the tbas, the lamp people, everything. They all reported to me. But I didn’t want to lose my company car. My boss told me to name a man to take my old job. So I

named someone, but my boss didn’t like my choice. Because of that, we made it a temporary appointment. His replacement was temporary, too. I was able to keep my car! They didn’t want to give it to a temporary appointee. After six months, he asked ‘Where’s my car?’ Finally, I had to give back my car. I thought it was a perk. I wanted to keep it, but I couldn’t.”

About this time, Bob bought Dol her first car, a yellow Ford Mustang. “It was always in the shop having something done to it,” Bob says. “After I gave up the company car, I bought a Buick for myself, and that was our family car.”

Major changes began to take place at Westinghouse corporate headquarters. Bob’s longtime mentor was replaced, but Bob continued to advance. “I was made Marketing Manager. Now I had everybody in the country working for me. And I mean everybody. Customer service, warehousing, traffic, order desk, contract service, administration—everybody. I had 600 people working for me. I was the big wheel in marketing. But I wasn’t a vp. Our divisions had vice presidents, but not us. And we were corporate. We had power over them. It was a constant source of arguments.”

Life at Westinghouse consisted of more than just sparring over power and prestige. On occasion, humor worked its way into Bob’s routine. One day he found on his desk a pay check from Westinghouse for a penny—one red cent. He wrote a memo to the executive vice president saying that it was no wonder the company was not making any money when they did things this way. His boss wrote back, “They overpaid you.”

Bob & Dol —1961

“I told him later ‘That wasn’t a very nice thing to do,’” Bob says. “He answered me, ‘You’ve got to learn to take a joke.’”

Their extended families played a major role in Bob and Dol’s lives. Reunions were frequent and warm. The children of Ned and Dora Harris soon had broods of their own, and the numbers of cousins and nieces and nephews just kept getting larger. As well, Bob and Dol enjoyed taking their three children to the New Jersey shore. They were frequent visitors to Beach Haven, Barnegat Bay, Ship Bottom, and environs.

The children progressed quickly with their educations, all three attending Summit Junior High School and Summit High School. Sooner than Bob and Dol thought possible, their fledglings grew up and began to graduate and move on.

Doreen was the first to fly away when she enrolled at Green Mountain College in Poultney, Vermont in 1965. After two years, she moved on to the University of Colorado in Boulder and afterwards made a life for herself “out West.”

Nancy graduated from high school in 1968, went to Cazenovia College in Upstate New York for two years, then finished at Wheelock College in Boston. She became an elementary school teacher in New Jersey and married William “Burf” Magenheimer.

Rob finished high school in 1973 and continued with his studies at Franklin Pierce College in New Hampshire. After two years at Franklin Pierce, he decided he wanted to go to a bigger school with a good library and chose a much larger

Bob & Rob at Franklin Pierce College —1974

school, Syracuse University. Once he completed his bachelor’s degree, he determined that he wanted to go to graduate school. At Syracuse again, he earned his masters degree and, for a time, thought about continuing on with a doctorate. Instead, he entered the business world and ended up moving to Seattle in 1980. After a few years working with what was then known as Northwest Center for the Retarded as their director of marketing, he launched his own import business, Pacific Market International, which he sold in 2021.

Daughter Nancy —1991 In the late 1970s, Bob began working with a consultant out of Pittsburgh on a plan to reorganize Westinghouse’s Lamp Division. “They wanted to reorganize my division, and I was the guy they picked to represent the division in the reorganization discussions because they knew I was nearing retirement. Then they picked a guy out of corporate headquarters in Pittsburgh to work with us, someone from the staff that dealt with my division, the Lamp Division. So I acted as the consultant on reorganizing the marketing side of the lamp division. And as we tried to imagine what the new structure would be like, we created a position we laughingly called ‘The Big Guy in the Sky.’ He was the guy that was going to run everything, that was going to make all of these things happen. The man from corporate kept saying ‘Bob, when you get up there…Please, that’s not what I’m here for.’

When we finally presented the plan, my boss got pushed aside. They said they liked the plan. The next thing I knew, they’re introducing the changes and I’m not the Big Guy in the Sky. I went to my boss and asked, “What’s happening?’ He told me, ‘Don’t take this as discrimination, but you’re going to retire in a year-anda-half. You can understand why no one wants someone who’s leaving in a year or so to take this job.’ The guy who got the job was the guy from corporate headquarters that I’d been working with all this time, Bob Cappali. I could understand their thinking, but I didn’t like it. My boss said to me, ‘You reorganized this, what job do you want?’ I decided to become consumer products general manager. By now I was getting stock options and other benefits like that, but when I became gm I lost my options. I’d been downgraded!”

A sample testamonial letter from when Bob retired —1981A typical testamonial letter from when Bob retired —1981 Bob continues his story: “That reorganization took place in 1979-1980. I was to retire in 1981. I thought I was going to continue on as a consultant. We talked about it and agreed to it. For five years. Then they changed their minds and said I couldn’t. Westinghouse’s chairman had just retired at 65, and I would have to do the same. I had no choice.” Bob continues his story: “That reorganization took place in 1979–80. I was to retire in 1981. I thought I was going to continue on as a consultant. We talked about it and agreed to it. For five years. Then they changed their minds and said I couldn’t. Westinghouse’s chairman had just retired at 65, and I would have to do the same. I had no choice.” In July 1981 Bob retired from Westinghouse. The company threw a lavish party, and scores of letters arrived from friends and colleagues acknowledging his leadership and contributions. Bob set about enjoying retirement with Dol. For the next two decades they devoted themselves to travel, to golf and, eventually, to four dearly-loved grandchildren. In July 1981, Bob retired from Westinghouse. The company threw a lavish party, and scores of letters arrived from friends and colleagues acknowledging his leadership and contributions. Bob set about enjoying retirement with Dol. For the next two decades, they devoted themselves to travel, to golf and, eventually, to four dearly-loved grandchildren. Ten months earlier—on 5 September 1980—Doreen had Ten months earlier—on 5 September 1980—Doreen had given birth to Bob’s and Dol’s first grandchild, Alison. On 30 August 1986 Rob and Jody followed suit with a daughter, Jayme. In 1989 paydirt was struck twice. On 1 May Nancy gave birth to daughter Lyndsay, while on 21 given birth to Bob’s and Dol’s first grandchild, Alison. On 30 August 1986, Rob and Jody followed suit with a daughter, Jayme. In 1989 paydirt was struck twice. On 1 May, Nancy gave birth to daughter Lyndsay, while on 21 October, Rob and Jody welcomed Becky into this world. October Rob and Jody welcomed Becky into this world.At the time that Links was originally written over the summer Today Bob and Dol live in a spacious, comfortable home on a golf course in an upscale retirement community in Stuart, Florida, a mile or so inland from the Atlantic Ocean. The aftereffects of a stroke keep Bob from playing golf, but he continues to drive a golf cart for his golfing buddies, keeping score and dispensing good cheer. Dol plays golf regularly with her gal friends, and the game remains a common topic of conversation around the dinner table. Through their enclosed back porch windows they can easily spy foursomes working their way down the course. and fall of 2001, Bob and Dol lived in a spacious, comfortable home on a golf course in the upscale retirement community in Stuart, Florida, a mile or so inland from the Atlantic Ocean. By then, the aftereffects of a stroke kept Bob from playing golf, but he continued to drive a cart for his golfing buddies—keeping score and dispensing good cheer while Dol played golf regularly with her gal friends.The game remained a common topic of conversation around the dinner table. Through their enclosed back porch windows, they they could easily spy foursomes working their way down the course.

Christmas and New Years remained busy family times for them, and every year the children and grandchildren appeared in Stuart to fill the house on Brandywine Way in Mariners Shores with shouts of laughter. For some years, Bob and Dol made an annual summer pilgrimage to Seattle to visit Rob and Jayme and Becky and, since 1998, Doreen and Alison.

In 1998, Rob arranged for Bob to work at the U.S. Open Championship held at Sahalee Country Club east of Lake Sammamish. Bob’s many years of service as an official at Canoe Brook in New Jersey served him well that week.

Bob’s sisters Janet and Elaine and brother Paul all lived with their spouses in South Florida within comfortable driving distance of Stuart. Every few years, the descendants of Ned and Dora Harris met for a reunion, and the number of their offspring continues to grow and grow, as new generations are born.

Well over a century has passed since Ned Harris’s birth. He left a lasting legacy, one carried on for many years by son Bob and daughter-in-law Dol, and now passed on by them to their children and grandchildren. The links between the generations endure—from the Lost Generation of Ned and Dora Harris, through the Greatest Generation of the Grand Ones, to the Baby Boomer Generation of Doreen and Nancy and Rob, to the Generation X of Alison, to the Millenial Generation of Jayme and Lyndsay and Becky, and, of late, on to the Alpha Generation—each generation inextricably linked to the others in spirit and blood and history. For, truth is, the Bob Harris Story is a never-ending tale that surely will be continued.

Bob & Dol in Jamaica —1953

Links: Links: The The Bob Harris Bob Harris Story Story

In the 8 December 1921 edition of Printer’s Ink, Fred R. Barnard wrote that “One look is worth a thousand words.” In the 10 March 1927 edition of that same journal, he changed the wording to “One picture is worth a thousand words.” Barnard later remarked that he called it "a Chinese Proverb so that people would take it seriously.” If we accept this measurement of a picture’s worth, then here follow forty-eight thousand words in the form of forty-eight pictures drawn from the life of Bob Harris. In the 8 December 1921 edition of Printer’s Ink, Fred R. Barnard wrote that “One look is worth a thousand words.” In the 10 March 1927 edition of that same journal, he changed the wording to “One picture is worth a thousand words.” Barnard later remarked that he called it “a Chinese Proverb so that people would take it seriously.” If we accept this measurement of a picture’s worth, then here follow forty-eight thousand words in the form of forty-eight pictures drawn from the life of Bob Harris.

– PICTURES – Pictures

Billy & Ned Harris Billy & Ned Harris —1918 —1918 Top Left: Harris home on St. JohnTop Left: Harris home on St. John Street in Norwalk —2000Street in Norwalk —2000

Top Right: Top Right: Dorothy in 1918Dorothy in 1918

Left: 1936 Parade at ORMILeft: 1936 Parade at ORMI

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Dee & daughter Alison —2000Dee & daughter Alison —2000

Granddaughter Alison at the Victoria, B.C. Marathon —2000Granddaughter Alison at the Victoria, bc Marathon —2000 Alison & Jayme at Alison’s graduation from UPS —2001Alison & Jayme at Alison’s graduation from ups —2001

Jayme, Grandad & Becky —2000Jayme, Grandad & Becky —2000

Jayme on her 14th birthday —2000Jayme on her 14th birthday —2000 Jayme —2001Jayme —2001

Granddaughter Lyndsay —2000Granddaughter Lyndsay —2000 Lyndsay, Nancy (her mom) & Alison —2000Lyndsay, Nancy (her mom) & Alison —2000

Burf & Nancy Magenheimer —2000Burf & Nancy Magenheimer —2000

Jayme & her sister Becky —1995Jayme & Becky —1995 Becky with her dad Rob —2000 The Grand Ones with Jayme & Becky —2000Becky with her dad, Rob —2000 Granddaughter Becky —2000Granddaughter Becky —2000

The Grand Ones with Jayme & Becky —2000

Our 3 children (Rob, Doreen & Nancy) —2000The Grand Ones’s progeny: Rob, Doreen & Nancy —2000

50th Anniversary: The Grand Ones & their brood —199550th Anniversary: The Grand Ones & their brood —1995 The whole family —Christmas, 2000The whole family —Christmas, 2000

The Harris clan —1997The Harris clan—1997

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Bob & daughter Nancy —2000Bob & daughter Nancy —2000

Rob & Daddy Bob —2000Rob & Daddy Bob —2000 Dee, Becky, Bob, Dol, Jayme & Rob —1998Dee, Becky, Bob, Dol, Jayme & Rob —1998

Bob with his two daughters —1998Bob with Nancy & Doreen —1998

Doreen’s graduation picture from Summit High School —June, 1965

Nancy’s graduation picture from Summit High School —June, 1968

Doreen’s graduation picture from Rob’s graduation picture from Summit High School —June, 1965 Summit High School —June, 1973

Nancy’s graduation picture from Summit High School —June, 1968

Rob’s graduation picture from Summit High School —June, 1973

Rob & Jody with Becky & Jayme —1991Rob & Jody with Becky & Jayme —1991 Granddaughter Ali & daughter Doreen —2000

Burf & Nancy —1998Burf & Nancy —1998 Granddaughter Ali & daughter Doreen —2000

Doreen & Rob tripping the light fantastic —1999Doreen & Rob tripping the light fantastic —1999

Rob, Jayme & Becky —1998Rob, Jayme & Becky —1998

Rob the golfer —2001Rob the golfer —2001 Nancy at Bob & Dol’s 50th Anniversary —1995Nancy at Rob & Dol’s 50th Anniversary —1995 Nancy’s pals: Huey Lewis & the NewsNancy’s pals: Huey Lewis & the News

Harris Clan Reunion —1959Harris Clan Reunion —1959

The RMs & WAs – Dol, Bob, Betty & Bill —1966 Brothers Paul, Bob & Bill —1985

The RMs & WAs: Dol, Bob, Betty & Bill —1996 The siblings: Dodie, Bob, Bill, Bud, Elaine, Janet & Paul —1959

Brothers Paul, Bob & Bill —1985 The siblings: Dodie, Bob, Bill, Bud, Elaine, Janet & Paul —1959

The Grand Ones —1997The Grand Ones —1997

Links: Generations

Twenty eventful years have passed since the original publication of Links: The Bob Harris Story. The “Great Ones” have both passed, and new generations have made their appearance, beginning exciting new chapters in the expanding family saga. Look for their stories to be told in print in 2023. The following images offer glimpses of what is to come. Enjoy!