Harold “Butch” Avery Robbins, Jr, 70, of Sterling, CT transitioned to his Heavenly Home on May 9, 2019 after a Butch-style fight – strong, long, difficult and DETERMINED. We didn't call him Standing Bear for nothing!
Butch was born the first son to Harold Avery Robbins, Sr. and Goldie Ada Willcox Robbins on September 13, 1948. Brother to 11 siblings: Goldie, Bernardine, John, Winfield, Rupert, Vickie, Cathy, Freddie, Debbie, Tina and Rickie, they were raised in a small cottage on a farm where they all learned a lot about living and a little 'bout love. Despite their large size, this clan has always, and continues to, stick together like glue! Butch carried himself like a rough and tough pioneer and he learned many hard lessons through his childhood. He withstood the consequences of his actions like the rock-solid man he was. He had a streak of stubborn that would fill the Grand Canyon and then some! John Wayne would say “Life is tough, but it's tougher when you're stupid.” Butch learned a lot from The Duke and eventually adopted Mr. Wayne’s philosophy - “Tomorrow hopes we have learned something from yesterday.” And learn Butch did. Being kicked out of school for raising cain didn’t stop his curious mind and desire to learn.
The good-looking bad boy found the love of his life, Deborah Ann Muller, at 14 years of age and she just 12. At 17, he learned he’d be a father and this thickheaded man joined forces with his soulmate to battle the state and win their permission to marry her. On July 2, 1966, he married his chosen young bride of 15, and they experienced many adventures throughout their near 53 years of marriage. And they said it wouldn’t last?! Johnny and June had nothing on Butch and Deb!
Despite his tough-guy exterior, there is real evidence that he was a loving and caring person. There are countless stories of how he helped the people of his community, his family and friends. He was a small-town guy with a big world heart.
He was an accomplished auto body man and mechanic at multiple shops, including his own Precision Auto Body. A perfectionist in his trade, he was well-known for his quality work, around the tri-state area and among antique car collectors. He never met a car he couldn’t fix. And if he did, he’d stomp on the hood, roof and trunk and deem it a lemon! Yes, that really happened. Once. The antique cars he lovingly restored won multiple trophies for their flawless paint jobs and mirror-like finishes. He worked with many friends and a few idiots (“there’s more of them than there are of us!”) – but he didn’t discriminate – he’d teach anybody if they were willing to learn. They need only understand one rule: Butch was always right. In fact, he was the only sane bastard left (his words, not ours)! After retiring from the auto body field, ever the entrepreneur and opportunist, he started excavating. He was a certified welder, self-taught architect, sturdy builder, ample plumber and electrician. There was literally no job he could not tackle!
Butch never met a rule he couldn’t break. He was all about common sense, but his sense wasn’t necessarily common. Nonetheless, he managed to come out of most situations smelling like a rose... except those few nights he “napped” at the “local shelter”, courtesy of a run-in with the law. Don’t be fooled by the rule breaking – he was a disciplined and generous man who would give you the shirt (unbuttoned ¾ of the way down) off his back if he knew you were down-and-out and felt you were worthy. And then he’d expect you to take good care of it and pass it on to someone else in need when the time was right.
For 20 years he led the party of all parties as the Clambake Master. Gobs of people came and saw, ate and drank, played and swam, rode and sang. He worked hard throughout the day to get the food ready and then he got serious about emptying the Bud Lite keg. His favorite part? Listening to his wife and favorite Songbird belting out tunes. He knew she had a gift the world needed to hear and was her partner in her DJ business until they retired in 2013. Those who know him well know he loved the business more than she did!
From 4/30/19 to 5/4/19, Butch took his last risky adventure in Gypsy, the RV he called home, with his ever-loyal wife and his daughter, Debi Robbins Cwynar Miller. Gypsy carried him from Florida to Connecticut. True to form, the trip was not without the need for mechanical tweaks. No matter – he was determined to make it back to Connecticut and the land he was so proud to own and called HOME. And home he was!
Butch had a much longer life than he ever dreamed – but still too short for his to-do list. For the record, he NEVER gave in. He fought valiantly for every last opportunity to fix another thing, teach another skill, drink another beer. By his count, he lived to be 71. His debate with God about the counting of birthdays would be a hoot to hear!
Butch leaves behind a helluva lot of mechanical things and cherished car parts that his family will inventory and ensure find subsequent ownership with a worthy person. It might take a few decades.
In addition to his devoted wife and pride-and-joy "Fatstuff" (aka his daughter - yes, he really called her in from playing outside by howling FATSTUFF through the neighborhood), he leaves behind a beloved son-in-law he called son – Douglas R. R. Miller - and his treasured grandsons, Zackary and Ryan. They made a sudden softy of this rugged man, for a short while anyway. Then he blinked and it was time to teach them to ride ATVs, build things, fix things, shoot guns and to fill their ears with inappropriate comments. Top-of-the-line genes produced a top-of-the-line daughter and grandsons, according to him. Others he leaves on the Earthly side are his beloved siblings and countless nieces, nephews, cousins, in-laws and cherished friends.
Upon sliding into his Heavenly Home, he’ll join his favorite partner-in-crime, Jack “Guy” VanHorn – his chosen brother and legal brother-in-law, confidante and fellow antique car lover. This is sure to be followed immediately by a reunion with his brother Rup and nephew Rup for a hunting excursion that will no doubt involve raising some hell. Butch will be stealthily avoiding the wrath of his Mom and Dad while engaging in the above tomfoolery. When he’s had his share of laughs and fill of “Butch Lite”, he’ll look them up and check in on them to make sure they have what they need. Butch was also predeceased by a tribe of aunts, uncles, cousins and comrades.
We’ve given thought to establishing a Go-Fund-Me account for Anheuser-Busch as we want to ensure to help them keep their love alive for future Butches to enjoy and we know their revenue stream has been dented the size of a 3-window coupe (Butch's dream car). All you import beer drinkers, you might consider switching to Bud Lite. In honor of Butch - buy American!
Calling hours to celebrate Butch and to relive all his shenanigans will be held from 3 pm to 6 pm at Dinoto’s Funeral Home, 17 Pearl Street, Mystic, CT on Saturday, May 18, 2019 followed by a private family burial and one helluva target-shooting party.
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” ~ John Wayne