Robert Ray Michelotti

It’s not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust, sweat, blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again & again, because there is no effort without error & shortcoming...who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; who at worst, if he fails, he fails while daring greatly..."

Obituary

Robert “Bob” Ray Michelotti left the arena on August 25, 2024, passing away peacefully in Atlanta, Georgia with my Mom and his wife of 42 years, Marcie (née Auton), by his side. He was the beloved father of Chase Michelotti (Kelley) and Victoria Weinfeld (Alán); proud grandfather of Anderson and Theo Weinfeld; son of the late Ray and Jeanne Michelotti; brother to Francine Marquis (Gary); dog dad to his best friend, Winston; and friend to many.

Dad was born on October 26, 1947, in Pittsburg, California. He attended Liberty High School where he was a star athlete and a three-sport varsity letterman in football, basketball and baseball and was even drafted by the Phillies after high school. His mother, Jeanne, discouraged him from a career in professional sports and insisted that he go to college, so he went on to play ball at Sacramento State University. He earned a Bachelor’s Degree in Police Science and put it to good use when he took a job in 1971 as a Narcotics Agent in San Francisco with the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs (BNDD), which would later become the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA).

It was in San Francisco where he met Mom. Mom had many suitors, but she always told me she chose to marry Dad because he was the best boyfriend she ever had. She had never met anyone quite like him–a cowboy-wannabe who worked summers on his family’s ranch and who regularly wore his cowboy hat and boots that he’d trade in for a three-piece suit when he went down to the courthouse to testify against drug lords. She was charmed by his Catholic altar boy past, his chivalry, sense of humor, excellent taste in food, and love of the ballet and symphony. My favorite story from their early days of dating is how Dad went to watch her perform in the Berkeley Ballet’s Nutcracker 17 times in a row. Years later, he would attend many performances of his own children dancing in The Nutcracker and without fail he’d always tear up during the Grand Pas de Deux. Despite what his resume might convey, he was deeply sentimental.

Dad faithfully served our Nation and the American people for 32 years as a career Special Agent for the DEA. Some of his best stories came from those early days working undercover on the streets of San Francisco–like when he busted The Eagles and one of country's most notorious motorcycle gangs. From there he transferred to DEA field offices in Atlanta and Jacksonville, DEA Headquarters in Washington D.C. and ultimately retired in 2003 in Tampa, Florida as Assistant Special Agent in Charge (ASAC) of the Tampa District Office. 

Dad’s favorite thing to do was tell stories from his glory days working undercover. Those who spent time with Dad often heard the same stories over and over again. Mom, Chase and I would roll our eyes having to hear them for the hundredth time, but to his credit, they were great stories that would leave people in disbelief about the things he had witnessed. While surely there was entertainment value to his career, the demands of the job were often devastating, and Dad endured stress beyond what most of us experience in our civilian lines of work. He witnessed some truly tragic things on the job, and most profoundly his partner was killed in the line of duty a week before I was born. Sadly, after he retired from the DEA, his later years were troubled and he made some life-altering mistakes. To sidestep these issues would not be honest or fair to those of us who dealt with them. But like his favorite quote from Theodore Roosevelt says, it’s not the critic who counts, and these flaws do not diminish all of the goodness in him–most notably the amazing father, dependable husband and consummate provider that he was. Being a dad was the constant bright spot in his life and by far the role he excelled at most. He adored Chase and me. We were his proudest achievements and he always made us feel that way.

Eventually Dad’s DEA stories gave way to stories about his kids. He loved to tell people that he had a son at Virginia Tech and a daughter at Dartmouth. He did absolutely everything he could to help us attend the colleges of our dreams. To this day we feel immense gratitude to him and to Mom for the sacrifice they made to support our education. Chase fondly recalls the roadtrip he took with Dad up to Blacksburg to move into his freshman year dorm. When Chase drove him to the airport to fly home, it was an oddly quiet car ride. Chase was excited for his new adventure, but it suddenly hit him - he was now totally on his own. Dad sensed his nervousness, and when Chase got out of the car and handed Dad his bag, he brushed it aside and with tears in his eyes pulled him in for a hug and said, "I love you, son. You know I'm only a phone call away and I can be here whenever you need me."

Dad had a voracious passion for sports - especially his kids sports and their teams. He never missed a single track meet or wrestling match. He was so invested in our athletic pursuits and no doubt some of the happiest years of his life were watching Chase wrestle and watching me run. One memory that will always stay with me is when Dad came to my final track meet during my senior year of college. I had a particularly disappointing race and was so sad to end my athletic career on a low note. He found me sulking under a tree behind the track and with tears in his eyes he scooped me up into a big hug, held me tight and told me he couldn’t possibly be any more proud of me. Chase tells a similar story about losing his last wrestling match. Dad found him outside the gym sobbing in his singlet, wiped his tears away and held him close. Dad understood victory and defeat better than anybody we knew. He was our biggest champion.

Even after Chase and I graduated, Dad remained a devoted fan of the Hokies and the Big Green—and he dutifully adopted his daughter-in-law Kelley’s favorite Longhorns and his son-in-law Alán’s alma mater, Tulane, as new teams to add to his watch list. He’d regularly call all of us to see if we were following various games, matches or meets. He found so much joy in sports, and it was a key hobby he shared with Mom. Dad also loved to fish, watch the food network and was an avid home chef, always buying new kitchen gadgets and printing out new recipes to try. He especially loved to grill and made excellent ribs that were always the first thing I requested when I'd come home–that and boiled peanuts, and there would always be a huge pot on the stove waiting for me when I walked in. I loved sitting around the kitchen shelling peanuts, drinking beer, laughing together and answering all of Dad's silly questions about the goings-on of my life.

Dad faced death and his mortality as he did his life - face on and with a bit of irreverence. Whenever I would get on his case about being healthy he’d shoo me away and say, “When the big man upstairs turns the page and my name’s on it, it’s my time to go.” Fittingly, Dad didn’t want a memorial service. His final wish was for his ashes to be scattered at the Michelotti Cabin outside of Tahoe. He loved his family's cabin, and it's where he taught Chase and me how to fish. We will take him there, cast a line and say a toast in his honor.

"I’ve finished life’s chores assigned to me, So put me on a boat headed out to sea. Please send along my fishing pole, For I’ve been invited to the fishin’ hole."

Safe passage and tight lines, Dad. We love you forever.

Love,
Voo & Chase

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