LIBERTY, Ind. – The crowd gathered slowly, congregating under the large trees on the Union County courthouse square. The sun worked to break through the cloud cover and a man was setting up rows of folding chairs on the closely cut lawn, the chairs facing a metal marker that was covered with a large cloth.
On a quiet Saturday afternoon in June, Bob Jenkins was coming home.
He traveled far from this, his hometown. It was the answer to a trivia question whenever one of the most significant and beloved members of the motorsports media community was discussed. Where did Bob come from? Liberty, Ind., population 2,000. Give or take.
Bob left us in August 2021, a valiant fight not enough to stave off the ravages of brain cancer. Cancer also claimed Pam, Bob’s wife of 44 years, nine years earlier. All of this after Bob successfully defeated colon cancer some 30 years before.
The daunting medical challenges of his life could never dim his bright, sunny personality. The story of Bob’s career can be summed up like this: He was the perfect guy at the perfect time in the perfect place. At his core, Bob was a heartfelt and dedicated fan of racing. Just as he began his broadcast career, a new network — ESPN — decided to make motorsports a cornerstone of its programming. Who better to anchor the broadcasts than Bob, with his passion and enthusiasm underpinning every groundbreaking broadcast?
With his fellow pioneer Larry Nuber at his side, the duo introduced racing to an unprecedented television audience. NASCAR, Indy cars, dirt racing … suddenly the sport was exposed to a vast number of people on Sunday afternoons and Thursday nights and whenever. It was an enormous moment for auto racing, and the voices of Bob and Larry played an outsized role in forever changing not just motorsports broadcasting, but the sport itself.
Bob’s career spanned more than 40 years, touching an untold number of people. They immediately came to love his gentle, kind demeanor, and his good nature. Bob had the rare ability to project himself through the camera, off the satellite and into our home with the essence of his personality intact. That sounds simple but it isn’t; it’s not easy to convey one’s true self through the filters of technology.
People felt like they knew Bob because they did. The man you saw and heard on television was exactly the same person known by Bob’s closest friends. He was genuine and authentic, and those traits always carried the moment.
He became a bona fide icon in motorsports. Everyone agreed Bob was a big shot. Everyone, that is, except Bob. Across four decades, he perpetually pushed away any sense of celebrity. “I’m just a race fan,” he would say. “What’s the big deal?”
In the constant conflict between humility and ego, Bob’s humility always had the edge.
That’s one of the reasons people gathered here today, and the man was setting up so many chairs. Although it’s been almost two years since we last heard Bob’s voice, people remember him. More importantly, they want to remember him.
At the appointed time the officials with IRMA — The Indiana Racing Memorial Ass’ n — stepped to the microphone and said a few words about Bob. Several of Bob’s friends and colleagues were on hand to offer tributes.
The prevailing theme of their words was love. Love for a man whose life was defined by kindness and humility and genuine goodness. A man who made those around him better. A man whose friendship was something to be treasured.
When the words had finished, they gathered around the marker and removed the cover. There was the beautiful plaque, gleaming and proud, bearing testimony of a man who made a significant impact on American auto racing.
There were pictures taken and handshakes and reminiscing. There were family members, friends, fans and people who walked over just to see what was going on at the courthouse.
The sun came out and the leaves overhead fluttered in the warm breeze. After a little while the man started gathering up the chairs and people slowly filtered away. A few went across the street to the church where a reception was held with lemonade and cookies and more reminiscing.
Then, the people were all gone. There was nothing but the courthouse lawn, and the sunshine, and the leaves fluttering in the wind. And the marker, tall and straight with gold letters proudly telling the story of a man who left here long ago and made his mark upon the world.
Traffic on the state highway stopped at the light before proceeding on. People across the way sat on their porch and the lady up the street was tending to her roses and a man was cutting his lawn. The heartbeat of the little town echoed in the sounds that drifted about.
It was a good day to remember Bob Jenkins. His was a life worth remembering.
THIS ARTICLE IS REPOSTED FROM THE June 19 EDITION OF SPEED SPORT INSIDER
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