Editor’s Opinion Ed Ballam
By the time you read this editorial, the passing of Bobby Halton will be old news. We will have all gone through the seven steps of grieving and we’ll be long on the way to acceptance and moving on.
Bobby died on December 19, and I am writing this when the news and emotions are fresh and raw. Bobby was a towering figure in the fire service, iconic. Even to work with him was a privilege. To call him a friend and a boss was an honor of a lifetime. There are probably 40,000 fire chiefs in the United States. There’s only one editor in chief at a time for the Clarion Events Fire Group, and there will only ever be one Chief Bobby Halton.
Although I only worked with Bobby for a couple of years, I had known him for many years before that. Even though we worked for competing publications, we were always cordial and respected each other’s position. I know when I interviewed for the position I have now, it was done via Zoom because of COVID-19 precautions, and the minute Bobby saw me on the screen, he said, “Oh, I know you. We’re good. As far as I am concerned, you’ve got the job.” And that was it—I was working for Bobby.
Among the first e-mail exchanges I had with Bobby after he hired me was sharing photos of cars in our respective collections. I sent him photos of a special little British car I’ve owned forever, and he sent me photos of his national award-winning gleaming red 1965 Mustang. We both shared a love of automobiles, and occasionally I’d get random calls or texts from Bobby solely to talk about cars. I was eating breakfast out with my wife one Saturday morning and my phone rang—it was Bobby. I immediately answered, thinking something was critically wrong with the Web site or the magazine had an issue. Nope. “Hey, buddy, how ya doing? Tell me about that Model T Ford you bought. Send me some pictures. I am with some friends, and they don’t believe me about the deal you got.” That was it. No shop talk. No magazine talk. Just his way of making a connection.
Bobby was the type of guy you rarely heard from, professionally, as long as you were doing your job to expectations or better. He was a hands-off boss, which I greatly appreciated. But he wasn’t afraid to let you know when you fell short of expectations. I only saw that side of him once, and his bark was a lot worse than his bite.
- Bobby Halton, Fire Engineering Editor in Chief, Passes Away
- Indianapolis (IN) Fire Department Releases Tribute Video to Bobby Halton
- Bobby Halton Archives
Bobby had a way about him—pick good people for the job and let them do it. I understand that’s how he operated as a fire chief too. Make sure your people are well trained, have the equipment they need, and get out of the way. There’s a lot to be said about that management style.
To say Bobby was an opinionated conservative would be a gross understatement. He was passionate and knowledgeable about all things political. Some would call him a strong cup of tea. Unabashed, or his term “unapologetic patriot,” is appropriate to describe Bobby. He loved busting my chops about my far more liberal and Democratic leanings and took every opportunity he could to point out something he thought boneheaded left-leaning liberals were doing in government and the world. It was a form of teasing that could rub some people the wrong way, but I knew Bobby relished in teasing and expected nothing less than me pushing back on his right-wing conservative views. It was our way of connecting. “Even though you’re on the wrong team, I love you, man,” Bobby often said to me.
Bobby exuded confidence and charisma like no one else I’ve met. It was that magnetism and charm that allowed him to become a towering figure and influencer in the nation’s fire service and, indeed, the world. He inspired many to purse the profession and often offered words of encouragement or challenge coins to rookies who were thrilled just to shake his hand or to meet him. He was a real celebrity in the fire service. Once at dinner, a fan sat at our table, just to be in Bobby’s presence. He didn’t want to join us for dinner; his girlfriend was waiting in the pickup truck, but it seemed like his life was forever changed just to be in Bobby’s glow for five minutes.
Even I was in awe of Bobby at times, and I am no rookie in the fire service. Earlier this year, some things went sideways with my fire department and I sought Bobby’s counsel. I was facing some very tough choices and Bobby offered sound counsel and uplifting and inspiring words that moved me to tears, knowing that I had done my best and I should still hold my head proud with honor.
It’s that confidence that I will miss most about Bobby. Even though I know he faced daunting health concerns, he never wavered in his optimistic outlook and indefatigable spirit and love of the fire service.
It won’t be easy to move beyond the loss of Bobby, but move forward we must. His legacy will live on through our work and our efforts to take the lessons he taught us and incorporate them in our lives every day.
So, Bobby, rest easy. We’ve got it from here.
