It takes all kinds to populate the passing human circus, and Bobbie Walker, in his wife's words, was "one of a kind."

With his burly frame, long hair and flowing goatee, he resembled a ZZ Top stand-in. He wore at least seven earrings in one ear, at least four in the other. A skyscraper elevator installer whose body was carpeted with tattoos, he doled out business cards that identified him as the "Illustrated Elevator Man."

Family photo (ENLARGE)

Robert 'Bobbie' Walker, whose business card called himself 'The Illustrated Elevator Man,' once bought a hearse to park in his neighborhood with a skeleton inside.

When neighbors complained about cars parked in his Norcross yard, he bought a late-model hearse, parked it at the end of the cul-de-sac and left it there for years, keeping the insurance and registration current so it was always legal.

He dropped a top-hat-wearing skeleton he dubbed "Lucky Freddy" in the driver's seat. During summers, he put Freddy on the roof in a beach chair. At Christmas, he decorated the hearse with racing lights.

He knew the title, year, band and band members of seemingly every rock 'n'roll song recorded since the 1960s. He amassed more than 400 vinyl albums.

He also collected dragons. And masks. And skulls. Lots of skulls.

"After I moved in, I had him get rid of several of the skulls. I couldn't handle 120 of them in the same room," says Michelle Kennell-Walker, his wife of 12 years. "To me, one or two, fine. But 127? He got rid of maybe 50."

Robert "Bobbie" Walker died at home Aug. 2 from cardiac arrest after a long bout with a lung infection. He was 51. The body was cremated. A memorial service will be held Oct. 25 at Mrs. Walker's Norcross home. Arrangements are by Crowell Brothers Peachtree Chapel Funeral Home, Norcross.

Mr. Walker was born in Brooklyn, N.Y., and moved with his family to Valley Cottage, N.Y. He was smart but free-wheeling, even as a kid, since anyone can remember.

"Bob was always one of the most intelligent people you'll ever see, but he never had any ambition to do the kinds of things that were socially typical of someone like that," said boyhood friend Jon Charles. "He was one of those guys who lives for the moment. Anything for the excitement or thrill."

Mr. Walker followed his parents to metro Atlanta, where he and his father built the house he lived in the rest of his life. He also followed his father into the elevator business. He worked on a number of high-rise projects, including the 47-story BellSouth Building in Atlanta and the 64-story Transco Tower in Houston. He also worked in Saudi Arabia.

It was during that time he started to accumulate tattoos, which eventually covered nearly every part of his body, except for a patch on his back. He saved that for something special. It was never filled.

Otherwise, he wasn't choosy.

"He'd get anything," said Dan Spratlin, who tattooed him a few times in his Mableton parlor. Spratlin now runs a piercing shop in Austell, but is still known as Dr. Tatu.

"Back in the '70s, he told me sometimes he'd go into a tattoo shop and just ask the guy, 'You have a tattoo you really want to do?' The guy would say, 'I'm really wanting to do a tiger,' and he'd say, 'Give it to me right here.' He knew the guy would do a jam-up job."

But Mr. Walker's eccentricities and intimidating, biker-dude looks (though he didn't ride a motorcyle) camouflaged a gentle, generous, friend-for-life soul, those close to him say.

Mrs. Kennell-Walker said her favorite pastime was to walk behind her husband as he strolled through a mall.

"To watch the people turn their heads and stare," she said. "The kids were the best. They'd ask if they could talk to him, see his tattoos, and their parents would be going, 'No, no, no!' He was a nonconformist with a passion.

"And thank God," she added. "It makes the world go 'round. Sometimes I think we've become very complacent in our lives and need a little color to make us think and believe in something different. He provided that."

Survivors also include a sister, Karen Lehto of Pinehurst, N.C.