Robert Allan Baime, November 27, 1938, to May 5, 2024

On May 5, we lost our brilliant and fearless father, grandfather and husband, a man who lived life on his terms with integrity and lifelong devotion to his family. Bob embodied contradictions. He was conservative, with a deep respect for tradition and family; at the same time, he balked against authority, often bent the rules, and chided others for playing it safe. He was unfailingly generous and kind to his friends and family but unafraid to be confrontational, even combative in defense of his family and his principles.

Bob was born in Newark, New Jersey on November 27, 1938, to Albert Baime and Mildred (Davis) Baime, and was raised in South Orange and Maplewood with his sister Susan, and brother David. He and his brother had a deep and abiding friendship. Bob was David's protector at school, and he bragged that nobody messed with his younger (and smaller) brother. He called David (lovingly) the absent-minded professor for his brilliant legal mind (he was the youngest trial judge ever appointed to New Jersey's (Superior Court) and his somewhat distracted demeanor.

At a young age, Bob fell in love with two things that would fuel the enduring passions of his life: the internal combustion engine and the sea. He took apart his first car at 13 and never looked back. Throughout his life he owned, drove, and raced motorcycles and exotic cars. A family joke was citing the multiple sessions of driving school Bob attended as an adult to avoid getting speeding points put on his driver's license. He loved being on two wheels as well; one of our most indelible images of Bob is of him seated on his Penton motorcycle in his leathers, ready to begin a 100-mile enduro race through the forests of New Jersey with his wife's scarf tied around his neck for good luck.

Childhood summers spent fishing along the Jersey shore with his father lit a spark that never extinguished. The sea was his true home. His favorite book, Moby Dick best explained how he felt about being on the water:

"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet. . . then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can."

He always said he should have been a submarine captain or a naval engineer, but as a Jewish kid growing up in suburban New Jersey in the 1950s, a traditional professional life was expected and after graduating from Cornell University and Law school, Bob went to work at the Essex County New Jersey prosecutor's office and the United States Attorney's office under Robert F Kennedy. Bob's law career was a colorful one: his prosecutorial work coincided with a time of great social unrest, and his stories of the Newark riots, organized crime families, and the judges and journalists involved in New Jersey's political machine fascinated his family. Bob proved himself a brilliant courtroom attorney whose eloquence and intelligence were always on display, and he applied them to great effect during many high-profile cases, including United States v. Musto. Bob then moved into corporate bankruptcy, working at several prominent New Jersey law firms, culminating in a partnership at Dechert LLP in New York City. He loved that his daughters Karen and Rachel followed him into the family profession.

He was proud of his legal success and accolades, but it was outside of work that he lived his best life, and he decided very early that he would not subdue his inner explorer or sacrifice a rich family life for even greater professional success. In 1972, he moved his family to rural Chester, New Jersey, to escape the confines of suburban life, and in 1976, he and Carlene designed the house that would become our family home, his sanctuary, and the site of many epic neighborhood parties.

In 1975, he built a vacation home in the Florida Keys, a place he chose for the outlaw character, which spoke to his heart and invigorated the adventurer that was at the root of his identity. He bought a used Cadillac limousine to ferry his family down to Key West, where they indulged in memorable feasts at the Half Shell Raw Bar and Louie's Backyard. Over the course of thirty years, the Keys home was the gathering spot for family and friends and all sorts of interesting characters: Keys locals and other oddballs. There was no one more generous than Bob. He shared his home and his possessions unstintingly with his extended family, his friends, and his children's friends.

His time in the Keys reconnected him with his early love of boats and the ocean, and soon he purchased a 41-foot Bristol sailboat that became his home away from home throughout his life. Moonfleet carried him and his family to legendary trips through the Bahamas and the Caribbean, along the Maine Coast and, triumphantly, carried him and his crew across the Atlantic Ocean during the ARC race.

The love he had for his family was boundless and unwavering. Getting up at 5:30, returning home at 7:30, and spending hours in between battling other attorneys and defending clients, all of it was done to give his family the best life possible. His children were his pride and joy and he supported and encouraged their unique gifts and qualities and watched with admiration as they made their way in the world. With his first wife Dorothy, he had three beautiful daughters, Robin, Karen, and Jennifer, and though the marriage didn't last, they partnered to raise these three wonderful women.

In 1971, he met his soulmate, Carlene, whose son and daughter from her previous marriage became his children in the fullest sense. Not once in his life did he ever make Melissa and Doug feel that they were anything less than his children. He and Carlene shared so many adventures: raising their new daughter, Rachel, bicycling in Quebec, riding their Suzuki motorcycles together, and traveling around the world. He adored Carlene and always told his son how he couldn't believe that this beautiful, smart, blond New Englander fell in love with him. Their children were blessed to witness their love and to see the little things that showed what it meant to devote yourself to another. They made space for their relationship and nurtured it: every night after he returned home, they shared Carlene's exquisite gourmet dinners by the fire (after sending the children away to their rooms), a stack of their favorite records playing on the stereo.

He loved this country and often quoted his immigrant Russian grandfather, who arrived in this country penniless at the turn of the previous century, a man who began delivering automobile tires by hand to car dealers around Newark and eventually built a successful tire business. "Only in America," he would say. "Only in America." All of us are beneficiaries of his grandfather, who seized an opportunity and persevered to establish a prosperous family. Bob admired people who fought for America and honored Carlene's father, Carl, who was killed in World War II. He regretted that he never had the chance to serve his country.

He was also fiercely proud of his Jewish heritage and of the contributions the Jewish people made to every facet of Western Civilization. During his young adulthood, he would not have been welcome at certain Cornell fraternities, law firms, banks, and country clubs, and though not religious, Bob made sure that his children were ever aware of the prejudices that still exist and told them to remain vigilant to the rising tide of persecution. Bob was clear-eyed about the world; he understood history and that all things recur. He often quoted these words from Yeats' apocalyptic poem, The Second Coming: "And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, /Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"

He was so proud of his 14 grandchildren and, whenever possible, attended their sporting and school events and celebrated their many achievements. Recently, he joyfully cheered on his granddaughter Mia at her track events, watched his grandsons Angus, Jesse, Vincent, and Sam on the soccer field, the baseball diamond, and in the hockey rink, and followed his grandson John, who played football at Syracuse University. To all his grandchildren, Captain Pop Pop was larger than life and his exploits legendary.

In retirement, he never surrendered his values or compromised on what for him constituted a rich and fulfilling life. He split his time between Kittery Point, Maine and Sarasota, Florida (where he lived on his sailboat for much of the year) so he would never be more than a few steps from his boat and the sea.

He cruised the Gulf of Mexico and the Maine coast, often with his daughter Rachel, who inherited his nautical yearnings. He took motorcycle rides with his son on the back roads of Southern Maine, visited his daughter Robin, a passionate equestrian, at horse farms in Florida and Virginia, served as the Commodore of the Bird Key Yacht Club in Sarasota, and was a member of The Sarasota Yacht Club and the Portsmouth, New Hampshire Yacht Club.

He taught us so much: that the sacrifices you must make for your family are non-negotiable and not to be afraid to make enemies in support of your ideals and convictions. He taught us to be guided by reason and critical thought, to understand history and to value language and literature; he taught us not to let fear prevent us from living with passion and intention.

Bob would not want us to sugarcoat: the last few months were hard, as he lost the ability to do the things that gave his life meaning. But as is often the case, through the crucible of pain and suffering, the light shone through. His children gathered at his home in Maine many times in the last few months, re-kindled their relationships, leaned on one another, and shared memories of a life well-lived. His daughter Rachel cooked him his favorite meals, and we stood watch and supported Bob during his last days.

We will hold him in our hearts every day, and we will think of him sailing into the teeth of the storm—because that is where the strongest winds are. He will have his favorite playlist on the stereo—Bob Dylan; The Grateful Dead; Jimmy Buffet and Warren Zevon--just daring the storm to knock him over. Sail on, sailor. We love you.

Bob is survived by his wife of 52 years, Carlene Baime of Kittery; his children: Robin Baime Feldman and her husband Roger of Washington, D.C.; Douglas Forman and his wife Alison of Eliot, Maine; Karen Kleiman and her husband Joe of Mequon, Wisconsin; Melissa Forman of Santa Monica California; Jennifer Sweetwood of Essex Fells, New Jersey; and Rachel Baime and her husband Michael of Andover, Massachusetts.

His beloved grandchildren are Alexandra, William, and Elizabeth Feldman; Benjamin and Carly Kleiman; John and Theodore Sweetwood; Mia, Vincent, and Samuel Giaimo; Angus and Jesse Forman; and Sarah and Eliza Tiles.

He is also survived by his sister, Susan Neuman, his nephew, A.J. Baime (whose books about automobile racing and history delighted him), and his niece, Abigail Miller.

Bob shared his life with countless friends who we remember at this time.

He is predeceased by his brother, Hon. David S. Baime.