So Long Dickie-Doo

The sun is not as bright, the laughs are not as loud, and the smiles are not as wide in Sister Bay today.

Dick Daubner, one of the village’s most beloved personalities, died in his home June 29 at the age of 65.

Michelle Daubner with her dad, Dick Daubner, smiling as usual. Dick Daubner died Friday at the age of 65.

Dick wasn’t one of the owners of the Sister Bay Bowl, but for years many customers, including myself, thought that he was. That’s because when Dickie-doo was behind the bar, the room was his.

A “What’ll ya have?” from Dick was a Sister Bay salutation.

When I first stepped behind the bar to sling beers and Manhattan’s at The Bowl in 2004, Dick had already left to take his shot at Maxwelton Braes. I quickly learned what big shoes lingered – shoes that made my feet look like a child’s.

“Where’s Dick tonight?” was a common question, even years after he stopped bartending on those packed Friday nights.

Outside The Bowl you always knew when Dick entered the room, not because he was loud and obnoxious, but because he had friends everywhere and as soon as he stepped through the door one of them was sure to holler “Dickie-doo!”

Then you’d hear that unmistakable voice, always sounding like it was smothered in a head cold, respond with a big laugh and a “Heeeyyy there (insert name of one of a thousand friends here)!”

“He probably knows more people up here than anyone,” said his good friend Dick Wegman. “He was so unpretentious, just one of the nicest guys that walked the face of the earth.”

Dick loved his family and he loved following the athletic teams of his alma mater, Gibraltar High School. He loved Sunday boat rides to the island and grabbing dinner with his wife and closest friends.

And he loved to tell stories from his familiar perch on a coveted barstool at the bubble of the end of the bar at The Bowl.

That’s the place where, more often than not, I knew I could find him on a Friday night finishing up a perch plate and laughing with his wife Sharon, or over the lunch hour catching up on the latest news.

When I needed perspective on a story I always knew I could find it on the stools of The Bowl. It’s where anecdotes, secrets, and something close to the truth hang out. Over the years, Dick provided me with plenty of each.

He’d help me figure out who the best bowlers were and whether a 1963 high school basketball team would have beaten one from 2007. He could give you the backstory at the root of local politics and plenty of small-town background one could never print. And he was great for a “you know who you should talk to about that is…” – one of the most valuable sentences a reporter could hear.

Some nights the conversation would take a lot of starts and stops, interrupted by so many friends and family swinging around the bar to say hello.

But I didn’t mind waiting around if Dick was there.

“Get him one on me will ya?” was a phrase familiar to anyone who knew Dick well. He was so generous that Wegman wondered how they ever made any money at The Bowl when he was bartending.

“On a big Friday night if he was bartending he might take in like $12,” Wegman joked.

So I’d sit there and let him buy me a beer – maybe two – of course, as people came by to slap him on the back and shake his hand. He’d look over his shoulder to see who was there and upon recognition you’d get a “Oh hi-ya! How are ya!”

Everyone got a big hello from Dickie-doo. If Dick wasn’t happy to see you, you had to be some kind of a jerk.

It wasn’t that Dick held court rattling off jokes, cracking on his buddies, or preaching on the news of the day. There was something much more simple about him.

There was nice, and then there was Dick Daubner nice.

An imperfectly perfect smile almost always graced his face, whether he was behind the bar, bowling, or bouncing around JJ’s playing the polka cello late on a Fall Fest Sunday.

Over the years I’ve had to say goodbye to many friends and community members on these pages. In doing so I try in some way to add up accomplishments, associations, and the things people had a hand in building.

I could list those for Dick, but it seems wholly inadequate. They don’t do much to measure a man whose impact was tied so closely to the feeling he gave so many. In the wake of his passing there are so many people young and old who are heartbroken.

When he passed away on Friday he left behind his wife Sharon, his sons Jason (Tori) and Michael (Meghan), daughter Michelle, and his brother Ron (Lynn). He left behind his granddaughters Sarah and Emma, mother-in-law Rita, and a huge extended family.

And he left Sister Bay with a host of great memories – big laughs, little kindnesses, great parties, and an introduction to one of the weirdest instruments you’ll ever hear.

Above everything he leaves hundreds of lives much better for having had him in them.

So long Dickie-doo. We miss you already.

Dick Daubner Memorial Mass

A memorial mass will be held Thursday, July 5 at St. Rosalia’s Catholic Church in Sister Bay at 10 am. Following the mass a celebration of life and sharing of stories will be held at the Sister Bay Bowl until 2 pm. In lieu of flowers, a memorial fund will be established in Dick’s name.