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Memories Of Buzzard Bob Bishop

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By STEVE OTTO

sotto@tampatrib.com

Published: September 30, 2009

The calls would come about once a week.

"Have you seen what they are doing down in Ruskin?" he might ask, usually naming a place far enough out of town for a road trip that would include lunch.

More often than not, the call would be about a person. "Hey Steve, I've got this woman you need to meet. Let's get together for lunch." He wouldn't tell me who that person was. He never did. I think he just enjoyed being there to catch my reaction at whatever character he had uncovered.

In a sense he was a Renaissance man, curious about everything.

That was Buzzard Bob.

Bob Bishop, who died last week, would have a good laugh at the idea anyone would call him a Renaissance man. He certainly didn't know everything there is to know. It's not like he would spend hours holed away in some library.

In fact, he would rather have been out in the park doing what he loved best: feeding the ducks and the squirrels.

But he was one of those people who are just nosy. They drive by something that looks odd or interesting, and it gnaws at them until they find out what it is. I think that's why we hit it off. He figured that, being a newspaper person, I not only would be as curious as he was, but have a good excuse to check it out.

Anchors aweigh

Bishop seemed to have an uncommon number of interests, from the county's educational system to the white squirrels of Brevard, North Carolina. He also happened to be a retired Navy man and a big cheese in the Navy League, so whenever a Navy ship was anywhere close to Tampa Bay, he would figure out a way for the two of us to go out and get onboard.

I can't remember the number of times it would be long before daylight and we would be standing at some pier waiting for the small boat that would take us out to the incoming Navy ship.

Buzzard Bob

The Frau and I had met Bishop years ago when he was our financial planner, working in one of those downtown office towers.

One afternoon, Bishop and I meandered over to one of the office windows 30 stories up, overlooking the Big Guava, and, sure enough, two birds were perched just outside staring back at us. It turned out he already had done a little research and told me they were turkey vultures.

Not only that, he said, he had talked to turkey vulture experts and knew where they came from and where they went.

Apparently, he said, the buzzards arrive every year in late October and leave in March. They make their way to Hinckley, Ohio, not too far from Cleveland, and the people of Hinckley throw a Buzzards Return festival.

Bishop figured that if Hinckley can have a buzzard festival at one end, then Tampa needed to have its own celebration.

Not being one to mess around, he rented the Tampa Club, on top of a downtown tower, invited a hundred or so of his friends, then dressed in a buzzard outfit. Everyone who showed up got their own beaks.

For some reason unknown to Bishop and me, the Buzzards Return to Tampa idea didn't take off. Bishop never gave up, and every fall reminds me that the buzzards are on their way and to look to the skies.

I will, and every time I do I will think of Buzzard Bob Bishop.

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