
After he spent nearly eight decades working multiple jobs and testing out countless hobbies, Bob Hickly finally found where he was most at peace: building wooden violins at his home.
It was a passion born from an unlikely source. The then-Covington resident in 2016 traveled to his home state of Pennsylvania alongside his wife, Jo, a fellow Keystone State native. They were there to visit her cousin, who happened to repair and build large bass instruments. Bob was soon flooded with inspiration, as he delved deeper into woodworking—an art he had been practicing since 2007. "He said, 'I think I could build something like that,'" Jo remembered. The couple married in August 2018, then moved to Newborn some four years later. All the while, Bob honed his skills as a craftsman. However, he felt basses might serve as too significant of a project to undertake, so he started to build wooden violins instead.
"I want people to have something to remember me by." — Bob Hickly
"It gives me peace and harmony," Bob said over the phone just a few days before his death on May 15 at the age of 83. In addition to his wife, he is survived by a brother, five children and four grandchildren. Hickly, who was born in Pittsburgh on Nov. 6, 1942, was preceded in death by his parents, William Paul and Agnes, and his brother, Donald. "Those who knew Bob will remember him as a man of quiet strength, steady character and genuine kindness," his obituary read. "He valued loyalty, honesty and perseverance, and he carried himself with a dignity that earned the respect of all who crossed his path. He was a man who believed in doing things the right way, and he set an example for others through both his words and his actions."

Bob started his woodworking journey by building cups and bowls, then eventually moved on to large furniture pieces. During the last decade of his life, he completed 10 violins and two violas. He kept most of the instruments, choosing to build them mostly for his own pleasure. Bob gave away others as gifts. He could not pick a favorite. "I want people to have something to remember me by," Bob said. Barbara Thayer was the recipient of one of his violins, a piece she now treasures even more.
"Once my husband passed away in 2018," Thayer said, "we became really good friends." She met Bob roughly 20 years ago. Thayer and her husband, Gary, owned a motorcycle shop in McDonough and helped him repair a trike that had been involved in an accident. "I told him one day that he would have to give me one [of his violins]," she said. "They were hanging on the wall, and he told me to pick out one." Thayer still has the violin displayed in her home. "It means a lot to me," she said, "because my buddy made it."

Bob moved to Georgia in 1960 by way of the United States Army, which stationed him at Fort McPherson in Atlanta. He retired from military service as a Major in 1987, then worked at Golden State Foods. Bob was also a Master Mason and a member of the Golden Fleece Lodge No. 6, the American Legion and the Veterans of Foreign Wars. Woodworking provided him with a means through which to explore his creative side.

Although each project provided its own tests and difficulties, Bob pointed out his favorite part of the process without much hesitation: the quietness afforded by the shop behind his home in Newborn. The most difficult aspect was "thinking it was going to be easy," he said. Unfortunately, Bob was forced to give up woodworking when he became ill in September, but he always held onto his memories by displaying his craftsmanship around his shop and home. Bob estimated that each violin took around 180 hours—the equivalent of more than seven days—to complete. They included intricate details like grooves and traditional curves that required measurements as small as millimeters on thin pieces of wood.
“It was amazing to watch him take a block of wood and take it down so thin, not paper thin but [thin enough that] it sounds hollow when you tap on it," Jo said. "He scraped a little bit at a time. It's hard to believe it goes from a block of wood that was two inches thick.”



