Robert Burrows was much more than a high school English teacher in a small city. He had the dramatic aura of a John Barrymore (without the drinking) and the dedication to his students of a Mr. Chips. He produced high school plays and musicals and directed the choir of his Congregational church.

His classes were rigorous and every senior in them was required to produce a large notebook of the year's work. They groaned under his assignments but found that when they went on to college they were grateful for their experience in organizing and writing papers which put them ahead of other freshmen. Burrows' English assignments were made such a priority that many of his fellow faculty members resented the fact that their class work was neglected as a result. East High School was in the more affluent section of the city and as a result he was able to lead groups of 25 - 30 students to England annually with the assistance of some parents as chaperones. On one trip his admiring pupils went together and brought him a gentleman's cape that he adored. He wore this with a dashing air on his daily walks to school. He lived six blocks away and seldom drove his car.

Robert lived in two worlds: one, dedicated to his teaching and many interests and the second, living like an English gentleman. His square white frame house had a center stair, living room and kitchen down and three bedrooms and a bath up. It was not modernized, but he had additions made off the living room for a music room that was centered by a grand piano under which books and National Geographic magazines had been piled. The inner wall held closets and behind the doors were shelves packed with sets of beautiful antique china. Low shelves below the windows overflowed with books.

Another door from the living room led to his garden room down three pot-lined steps and furnished with a settee and crowded with so many plants the room could only be used as a pass-through to the kitchen. The last addition made to his home was an upstairs room in the back of the house that he called the morning room. It was surrounded by windows on three sides that had glass shelves fitted with just a small part of his antique pressed glass collection.

He was an insatiable collector. In addition to books, the pressed glass, the plants and fine china, he collected walking sticks, hats, oil laps, linens, ironstone ware, brass candlesticks and antique furniture. The staircase was narrowed since it was filled with books on each side.

He was a charming guest as an extra man for cocktail and dinner parties and was part of many families of his students for Christmas and Thanksgiving celebrations. On his walks around the neighborhood he would often stop by for a cup of tea and interesting chat. When he retired from teaching he found a new audience for history lectures given under the auspices of the university for adults at various venues. These classes prevailed upon him for a number of years to conduct tours to Britain as he had done with his high school classes.

Robert Burrows planned his trips to Britain meticulously and for his adult groups these tours had to be varied for there were a large number of repeaters. One winter he spent a lot of evenings at our house discussing possible itineraries with us as Dan had large British AA maps and enjoyed helping with planning. We were not interested in a group tour. Robert would research and plan the tour and then contact a travel agency in London who would make the reservations, arrange the bus transportation and supply a British tour guide. Just a month before his latest trip was to leave, he suffered a severe stroke and was hospitalized for a long period of time. All plans were in place and so the tour went on with one couple acting as informal leaders in his place.

We spent a lot of time visiting him in the hospital as we would pick up his mail and take it to him every two or three days. There were many magazines and I urged him to pass them on to the hospital when he had read them but he always wanted them to be taken home to add to his large accumulation there. He was a member of a history book club and these arrived monthly although he could have refused the regular selection. These he seldom opened but sent them home. We had the keys to his house and would bring him items that he needed. He always knew exactly what he had and could explain where it could be found. After he returned from the hospital we were one of the couples on the life line device that he wore to summon help in case of emergency. His only family were a brother and a sister who lived in distant parts of the state and with whom he seemed to be on distant terms. He had diabetes as did his brother and was not really attentive to his care and diet.

Robert asked us to take him to his cabin on the North Shore of Lake Superior about twenty miles away. There was no road into the property and we had to park along the highway and assist him down a flight of rickety steps to the path to the cabin. He wanted to pick up part of his collection of oil lamps that were there. It was a primitive place without electricity or running water and neglected from his enforced absence. Eventually he sold it for his medical expenses; in addition his lifestyle must have strained his resources. He continued to attend estate sales and antique shows and buy without restraint.

He was hospitalized again for his diabetes and had to have one leg amputated below the knee. This meant that he had to have full time live in care. Even then he insisted on being taken by wheelchair to any garage sales that were in the neighborhood. He had many devoted friends to support him.

Our responsibilities were lessened and finally our relationship was ended because of a book. He owned a garden book that I admired, in fact, I had a copy of the book myself and it was a few years out of print. I was worried about his finances and wanted to buy the book as a gift for a friend. He offered to lend me the book, but absolutely refused to part with it for any price or reason. Of all the hundreds of books that he owned and in consideration of the attentions that we had given over recent years, I was offended that he would not extend this small favor. Thus sadly we parted company with a remarkable character.

Amy Core
May 20, 2005