On August 23, 1929, Robert Pagel made his grand entrance and the world has never been the same. In Bob's company, each entrance was grand, marked by his bonhomie and natural positioning at stage center. You could not have missed him.

As a young man of 17, he joined the Army, where his energy and dedication to excellence propelled him to the rank of Master Sargent within three years. He loved food, becoming an accomplished chef after attending culinary school, when his career launched as Head of Mess Halls, VIP Mess Halls and personal chef to several Generals. His booming voice sent kitchen staff scurrying and he soon developed a reputation for serving the best food in the Army. He hated waste and he hated sloppiness and permitted neither.

Bob experienced combat in Korea and Vietnam, events he never forgot but spoke of seldom, unless some hapless bystander began to complain of discomfort. Then Bob, with Master Sargent volume, would respond, "Cold? Miserable? Let me tell you, young man, you don't know what cold is! I spent a year in a foxhole in Korea, freezing to death, covered with lice, eating K Rations, and trying not to get killed. Bullets flying, lying in the mud, and huddling over a can of Sterno, so as not to freeze to death. Don't complain to me!"

Bob's efficiency and seemingly effortless management was on full display at Ft. Leonard Wood in 1970, where Neil Wortley, Cox Hospital Administrator, was a guest. In a picnic setting, 900 guests were served excellent fare, prompting Mr. Wortley to offer the position of Cox's Director of Food Services to Bob, a position he held for 15 years. He oversaw all food service operations and developed a stellar reputation for providing superlative, elegant food, served on large or small scale. In 1985, Mercy Hospital (then St. John's) recruited him as their Director of Food Services, where he daily created a diverse, delicious menu for hospital staff and local folk, who flocked to the hospital cafeteria.

In 1990, retirement beckoned, and Bob indulged his passions: fishing, bird hunting, gardening, and preparing celebratory meals for family and friends. "You're only as good as your last meal; every chef knows that!"

He undertook each activity with full energy and the deep conviction that his way was the North Star. Few argued. Beneath the sometimes gruff exterior was a warm-hearted, brilliantly funny guy, with a near-genius, unstudied delivery. When Bob told stories, all of which featured himself as the hero, his audience became helpless with laughter. The contradictory sentences he sometimes delivered will live forever among his family members who will miss him deeply and forever. "Mowing the lawn doesn't take all that long, but it sure can be time consuming."

He loved dogs and had many throughout his long life: hunting dogs, English bulldogs, and more; yet, none so adored as a black lab named Dottie. She was the only one allowed to sit in the front seat of his immaculate car. They tooled around Springfield often, making daily trips to Sam's where Bob was a great favorite. He knew everyone by name, inquired after their families, shared a funny story and left folks laughing as he rolled on. Life felt big after a visit with Bob.

He was a loving grandfather to Erin Pagel and Kara Pagel and a wonderful stepfather Quimbie McCaffee, Naedrie Bonucchi and Geri Godber. He is survived by his wife, Melissa; sons, Roger and Ted Pagel; and daughter, Ursula Pagel Shoemaker. Surviving brothers are Raymond Pagel and Harold Pagel.