Bob Calabrese strode in to the Heffernan Auditorium at Billerica Memorial High School last April, as he had done many times in the last 25 years, ready to see the school’s latest musical production, “Beauty and the Beast.”
Three years into his retirement, he was still as committed to the students as ever. Whether perched at the top row of the Hallenborg ice rink, rooting on the hockey teams, or in the end zone at the annual Thanksgiving Day football game against the Chelmsford Lions, when a group of Billerica students was working hard for something and serving their community, he was there, in the background, supporting the kids he loved so much.
On this night, he was ready to see a show. His new wife at his side, he walked down the aisle in his trademark short, uneven stride, looking as he always did; debonair, professional, in slacks, dress shirt, and sweater vest. He took his seat in the back of the room, trying not to draw attention to himself.
At intermission, I rushed to the back of the auditorium to say hello. “Hey, Joey, how’s school,” he asked. “Finished,” I replied, proudly. “Really! Are you going to graduate school,” he asked. “That’s what I finished,” I said. “I got my masters degree from Boston University.” “God,” he quipped, “Has it been that long?”
We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes. He told me how much he was enjoying retirement. As we went our separate ways, I remember telling him to take it easy and not to work too hard. As he walked away, it never occurred to me that I would never speak to him again.
Calabrese died suddenly Friday at his home at the age of 63, shocking many in the town. The cause of death has not been released. Services are scheduled for Monday and Tuesday.
I first met Dr. Calabrese in 2001 as a high school sophomore involved in the school’s annual spring musical and later as the student representative to the Billerica School Committee from 2001 to 2003.
That year the music department put on a production of “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying,” a satire about a mild-mannered mail room clerk, who uses the advice found in an outrageous self-help book to climb the corporate ladder of the World Wide Wicket Company.
The show’s veteran director, Susanne Robertson, was in search for someone of local fame to play the part of the narrator. A part originally played by legendary newsman Walter Cronkite.
Robertson immediately asked Calabrese and he agreed, telling her he had finally achieved his career’s long goal of taking part in a BMHS musical production. I will never forget the shocked whispers of some in the audience on opening night when is unmistakeable, baritone, New York drawl filled the auditorium named in honor of his predecessor.
When Robertson offered him the chance to take a bow at the curtain call, he politely declined. As always, he didn’t want to take the spotlight off the kids.
Our paths crossed again later that fall when I was elected as a non-voting member of the school committee. A week into my first term, Al Qaeda perpetrated their attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, and I quickly learned what Calabrese was all about. “How did everyone at school handle it,” he asked with genuine concern in expression and tone.
Later that year, after the murder of BMHS Senior Michael Donovan, Calabrese reached out to me, and told me to let him know if there was anything he could do to help. He was as determined as anyone to help get the high school through one of the toughest years in its history.
This was the side of Bob Calabrese that many never saw. To many, Calabrese was the man whose signature was at the bottom of their child’s report card, or the guy who went to town meeting twice a year and asked for money. But behind the budget spreadsheets and the hard-to-understand educational jargon was a man deeply committed to this community and its students, a commitment he kept until the day he died.
Like any school superintendent, Calabrese certainly faced his share of criticism, some of it justifiable, some not. But the thing that made him so good at his job was that he understood that in a town as big as Billerica, he couldn’t make everybody happy all of the time. So, when faced with an important decision, he didn’t think about political considerations or making friends. He did what he thought was in the best interest of the students, and then he moved on.
But no matter what your opinion of him. No one could ever question his commitment to this community. He moved here from New York in 1984. His sons, Peter and Chris, graduated from BMHS, (Chris, was valedictorian of his class.) and he remained here after he retired, volunteering for the Billerica Scholarship Foundation and the Boys and Girls Club. And it is here where he will be laid to rest on Tuesday just a short distance from his office.
Perhaps the saddest part about his passing is that even after 25 years of public life as a member of this community, he still had so much more to give the citizens of Billerica, and we still had so much to learn from him, about giving back, about the importance of a well-rounded public education, and about commitment.
