My Town Monday: So Long, Mr. Hunker
You never know who will touch your life and how. You just don’t know how one action will touch the lives of those around you.
Twenty-two years ago, we went for a drive in the Village of Peninsula. We had been thinking of moving our studio from an industrial building in the city where the temperature was a constant 57ºF all winter and 89ºF all summer. In the Village, we saw many vacant buildings, and and weed strewn parking lots. The Towpath trail wasn’t completed. We know. We tried to take a walk on it. It was impassable.
I jotted down a telephone number that was listed on a sign in front of one of the vacant buildings, and called it the next day. We had been thinking about one particular building, but the man who met us had different ideas. He drove a small car, not at all new; and an ornament of a jumping horse graced the hood. He showed us a building that had housed a sailing shop. The previous owner had left things in a state of disarray: debris was strewn all over the place, there were holes in the walls. And the walls were all painted a dark brown. 1970’s harvest gold paisley carpet covered the floors. It was quite a site.
But the feeling of the place was right. We saw beyond the disarray, and envisioned a place where we could work and bring our then less than year old daughter. And it was close to home. We didn’t feel that we could move a studio and a business until after the Christmas holidays—we had orders to fill, shows in which to participate, and our studio open house to complete. The man told us he’d hold the building for us until after the holidays. He thought that the Village needed what we had to offer. He saw us more clearly than we did, and believed in the spirit of what we wanted to do before we were sure what it was.
Robert Hunker was a complex and interesting man. He owned many of the buildings in the Village and had the foresight to put them in an historic trust. He knew the value of historic buildings and worked to preserve them. He was equally passionate about horses, hence the hood ornament that appeared on every car he owned. He frequently invited our daughter to ride her horse on property that he owned in the southern part of the state.
Bob was the kind of guy who you either liked or……. you didn’t. And he had strong opinions—lots of them. We always got along with him. We treated him with respect and care and he responded in kind. When our daughters were little, he’d come in to see them, asking, “How’s my girlfriends?” He’d gently hold them, walking them around the space, as they pulled on his beard.
When the Village held its Harry Potter Fest, Bob volunteered to play Dumbledore at the End of Term Banquet. He was a generous and gracious host.
Bob Hunker died last Monday at age 82. He leaves a legacy of history, of restoration, of valuing things that should be saved just because they should. Bob was a visionary, seeing the Village as it is today and how it could be in the future, treasuring the rich history that created this place and the feeling it holds. He loved this Village and the beautiful Cuyahoga Valley National Park in which it sits.
The Village of Peninsula, population 601, gently resisting change since 1827.
Travis Erwin is the cruise director of the My Town Monday ship. You can visit his site for links to other MTM Marauders’ sites around the world.
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rudeek said,
March 29, 2009 @ 8:06 pm
I’m sorry for your town’s loss. He sounds like an interesting character.
Mary said,
March 29, 2009 @ 11:38 pm
What a wonderful memorial to Mr. Hunker. I will remember him with you as your story reminds me that many people make the tapestry of our lives all the more richer.
Hattie said,
March 29, 2009 @ 11:47 pm
What a difference good people at the local level make. How foresighted Mr. Hunker was to see the potential for betterment of the Village of Peninsula that your young family represented. This is so inspiring.
OldOldLady Of The Hills said,
March 30, 2009 @ 4:28 am
Bob sounds like he was an incredibly special man and his love and care of History, especially in regard to your dear town is just fantastic. I LOVE that he “Got” what you all were about and saved that building for you….A True Visionary, as you said.
Barrie Summy said,
March 30, 2009 @ 5:33 am
How good of you to write about Bob. This post gives us yet a different perspective of your town.
Travis Erwin said,
March 30, 2009 @ 7:06 am
Sorry to hear of his passing but a fine tribute on your part.
Cat B said,
March 30, 2009 @ 8:52 am
What a wonderful story, Debra. It’s so interesting how these turning points in our lives occur. And so nice that Bob became a part of your family.
Patti Abbott said,
March 30, 2009 @ 9:07 am
In a small town, everyone must share his death. Sad but wonderful.
gerry rosser said,
March 30, 2009 @ 9:08 am
Thanks for that story.
There’s a landowner in the little town where my Honey and her Daughter have their store (rubber stamping and scrapbooking). He owns a lot of the downtown buildings and rents them out as though he’d rather not (although for rent signs are displayed). He charges excessive rents, he offers only “take it or leave it” leases which he will not negotiate. He owns so many of the small downtown’s storefronts that people almost have to deal with him. His gouging has probably closed more small businesses in town than the current economic downturn.
When the current lease expires, Honey and Daughter are going to either find premises not owned by this guy, or close up shop. They’ve been in business about 7 years, and probably have survived longer than 90 plus percent of other small businesses started at the same time, not just in town but in the country. I’m very proud of them.
teeni said,
March 30, 2009 @ 10:19 am
What a wonderful tribute to a very special character. Someone like that definitely deserves to be remembered and this was a nice way to do it. I’m sorry for the loss he leaves behind.
LarramieG said,
March 30, 2009 @ 1:19 pm
A lovely tribute to one of the Village’s living legends. I know you’ll keep his story alive.
gary dobbs/jack martin said,
March 30, 2009 @ 3:54 pm
It’s great that you’ve recorded this here
Barbara Martin said,
March 30, 2009 @ 8:42 pm
This is a lovely tribute you have provided to Robert Hunker by keeping his ideals alive by writing about them.
Linda McLaughlin said,
March 30, 2009 @ 8:49 pm
What a lovely tribute to a special man. I’m so glad you found him all those years ago. Every town needs a Mr. Hunker.
Lana said,
March 30, 2009 @ 10:24 pm
Bob sounded like quite the man. I’m sure he’s missed.
Sepiru Chris said,
March 31, 2009 @ 12:45 am
Dear Debra,
No one can read your posts without knowing the connection that you have with your town.
I would have said you were born there but, on reflection, few loves match the convert’s.
Regardless, your sense of place is palpable.
Losing someone who:
touches your life tangentially and yet deeply,
sees more in you than you saw yourself, on their first glimpse, and
is separate and apart (whether through age or opinions or background) yet intimately involved
is upsetting for so many complicated, interwoven reasons.
I imagine that all of us have been blessed with men and women like this in our lives, and it appears certain that you were open to this engagement, which not all people are.
(From your tribute, I presume this is the case.)
It sounds like Robert provided not only a beautiful, burnished, glaze to your town but also a substantial, solid mix suitable for making lasting wares.
Your efforts, here, extend his memory and remembrance.
Great piece this week. I am sure it will survive bisquing and glazing and that those who knew Robert Hunker will continue to know him well when they visit.
Tschuess,
Chris
Mark said,
April 7, 2009 @ 4:19 pm
My wife and are idebted to Mr. Hunker for the way he has always been there for us since we moved into Peninsula 6 years ago. The words above described him so perfectly. Thanks for sharing. Mr. Hunker will be sorely missed, but his memory will live on in all that is and will ne Peninsula.