Robert “Bob” Crouch
Robert “Bob” Crouch died on June 11, 2025, surrounded by the love and devotion of friends and family.
He was preceded in death by his parents, Bob and Mary Crouch and his beloved Aunt Geneva.
He is survived by his brother, Al (Judy) Crouch and niece, Nicole (Michael) Rainey, of Brunswick, Ga.; nephew Albert (Stacee) Crouch of St. Mary’s, Ga.; and many cousins from Winchester, Tn., to Pine Bluff, La.
The first of two children, Bob was born on Dec. 3, 1949, in Nuremburg, Germany. As the son of an Army colonel, he grew up on Army bases from Tennessee to Kansas, from Virginia to Georgia. While growing up, Bob enjoyed reading, exploring photography, and golfing with his brother and father. After graduating from high school, he enrolled in the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, but his college education was interrupted when he was drafted into the U.S. Army in 1972. While enlisted, he travelled to Germany, an experience which contributed to his curiosity about the world, the people who populate it, and his place in it. After he was discharged in 1974, he returned to Knoxville to continue at the university but soon left school to work in the original Copper Cellar Restaurant on Cumberland Avenue.
During his lengthy career with the Cellar, he dedicated his life to the hospitality industry, beginning as a cook at the Cellar on Cumberland then moving to the Copper Cellar/Cappuccino’s restaurant on Kingston Pike where he became general manager, a position he held for 40 years. He gathered untold friends during his tenure there, culled from both guests and employees. Dubbed the “Mayor of Kingston Pike” due to his wit, congeniality, and presence in the restaurant, he became well-known in the Knoxville community even being featured in caricature in a print advertisement for American Express.
A lifelong reader, closeted writer, and grammar fanatic, his enjoyment of conversation and the talent to offer a finely crafted tale reflect his respect and love of words. Through the years, while supervising staff at the Cellar, he repeated admonishments, “Do not say, ‘Bye, bye,’” and suggestions, “Start your day by making your bed,” but also offered steadfast support for employees’ growth in school, career, or personal relationships. After a debilitating disappointment in later life, he exhibited the same resilience he respected in others when his antiquated flip phone died, and he replaced it with a phone that received texts that he may have never read but certainly did not return. An unwavering Tennessee fan, he was a familiar figure, in his orange polo and navy sweater vest, smiling and greeting friend or stranger in his gruff, distinctive voice, “How about them Vols?”.
Bob’s most treasured quality was his intuitive ability to be the type of friend most needed at a particular time. He always showed up when it mattered most whether that meant loading a moving van in the middle of the night or holding a hand and wiping a tear without asking questions. That’s how he spent his life: loving and looking out for family – the one he was born to and the one he cultivated through the years. He will be forever remembered with deepest gratitude for walking beside us for a while along our way.