Robert Henry Feys

What a duty to put into words, a man like Robert H. Feys; one who could pour a drink, make women of all ages blush and a grown man cry with laughter, faster than his ’95 Harley Softail Custom Motorcycle could zip down Lakeshore, on a clear sunny day. With his pedal to the metal every day since November 27th, 1948, his spirit and fervor underestimated & outran his engine, in all that he did. Bob passed away peacefully on April 24th 2026, after a walkoff Tigers win, in the presence of his loving friends & family.

Like a well-measured captain and coke, he was the unyielding mixture of spicy & sweet. His mentality so assured- it could jolt you, if you were a stranger. Not one to overthink his first impression to others, he could be mistaken as brash to the naked eye. Though he kept no strangers for long, this facade quickly melted away, by the warmth of his ability to connect with people in both a brainy and heartfelt way.

Bob was a man who could relate to people of every age. Children describe him as funny, thoughtful, loving and always there for the occasional dum-dum or Cheeto. He was accepting & willing to listen. His magnetic personality, unobtrusively generous spirit, calming advice, infectious laugh and incredible storytelling leaves a deep & irreplaceable hole in our spirit and in our community.

As a proud & stubborn Belgian, he is preceded in death by his parents Genevieve & Henry Feys, charismatic brother to Virginia (Danny) Florance, he loved his childhood on Beaconsfield with friends from high school still reliving their mischievous youth to this day. He spent his teenage years at the Grosse Pointe Damman Hardware Store on Kercheval, where he worked for his father. He was a boastful graduate of “The High” in Grosse Pointe Farms and went on to become a patriotic U.S. Army Vietnam vet-receiving combat metals, a purple heart and time spent healing at Walter Reed Hospital. Bob demonstrated integrity and servitude as a loving father and caretaker to his son David Feys, who predeceased him.

Bob was a motivated baseball coach, little league enthusiast, GP women’s softball supporter-both in sponsorships & with libations after a win. An avid golfer as well, (turns out barkeep hours weren’t so bad) and provided much opportunity to win a few holes and a few favors along the way. And later, as his long game retreated, his short game took the green with Vietnam sniper-like accuracy.

As an enthusiastic bachelor, he experienced great happiness & heartbreak over the years, grateful for it all. Bob saw women like Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones, “Graceless lady you know who I am, you know I can't let you slide through my hands”. He saw every woman like they were on a runway-treating them like the most significant person to ever strut into his life. He enjoyed reassuring every female that, yes, their outfit was, in fact perfect. With his loud broadcast of “Woah! Woah! Woah!” with every night out. A lesson for the husbands.

As everyone’s “best friend”, he treasured deeply, his devoted cast of companions from all the vibrant chapters of his life and was so loved in return that some friends would curate special, (intentionally crisp), batches of Belgian cookies, “for the bar”, but mostly just for him.

Bob loved his role as Grandpa to Colleen (Mike) Kiehl and Logan (Jeffrey Flanagan) Feys, Great-grandfather to Anna, Charlotte & Margaret Kiehl. He was a dependable uncle to Steven (Dawn) Scott, Great-Uncle to Ava & Ella Scott. He will be missed for his hugs and contagious excitement with each visit.

No grass grew under his feet, even in retirement, he enjoyed vacations that called for cowboy boots and dancing to rock & roll. He especially treasured a comfortable seat at The Gormely Home each night; where he served as a bonus grandfather to Louie & Lexie and was kept vivacious, by their revolving door of loyal friends and late-night pool parties. Or maybe they were kept vivacious by him.

His most lasting legacy, will likely be the unassuming impact he made in our community, as the barkeeper of The Rustic Cabins in Grosse Pointe Park for 35+ years. Rarely closed, and often enjoyed like a daily multi-vitamin, he was surrounded by “The Rusketeers” and a secret society collection of men, who meet to discuss and ponder the highs & lows of life. He deep rooted the community in tradition with his bartenders, including on Christmas Eve where “regulars” meet for a quick hug and cookie exchange, only to close the bar just before mass.

If Bob’s car was parked at ‘the cabins’, the therapist was IN. Though he kept no hours, refused no service, and collected no co-pay, he was the remedy for many. Have a problem-look for his car-walk right in-the therapist will see you now. Have a hidden wound or a predicament? He’d mend it with a laugh, a hand-hold or an enticement, a hug & kiss, dum-dum sucker or a bag of chips, dish out a compliment, or a retaliation suggestion (mostly in jest & always for a laugh), he’d find you a solution, a jukebox penance, a confidence boost and a drink on the house. Once your troubles were eased-he’d walk you to your car and say “see you soon kiddo”. The air about him would prescribe a tonic that suggested, ‘that other guy deserved it’ or ‘you’re enough as you are’, simply because he listened. He was often surer of a person, than they are of themselves. A kind of confidence only years of life can lend.

He leaves an indelible mark and an empty seat at the bar, never to be filled. His laughter will echo against the walls of that century old clubhouse. We are all better because of his existence.

Thank a patriot and tip your bartenders.

Visitation will be held on Saturday, May 2nd at 9:30am followed by the funeral mass at 10:30am at St. Clare of Montefalco at 1401 Whittier Rd, Grosse Pointe Park, MI 48230

In lieu of flowers, please consider making a donation to The Vietnam Veterans of America at www.vva154.com or by calling 586-776-9810.