Lorne Robb, the “Legend of Churchill”
Albert Laurence Robb was born on January 22, 1933, one of a set of twins born to Mary Agnes and William Roy Robb, of Dropmore Manitoba. Predeceased by his parents, his twin brother Clarence, his brother Alvin and sister Kay, he is survived by his youngest sister Irene. Irene is my mother.
He never liked the name Albert, and the childlike cadence of Laurence and Clarence eventually gave way to “Lorne”. As a kid I called him Uncle Laurence; in recent years Uncle Lorne. In speaking with his doctors, nurses, pharmacist, and others over the past year, I’ve said “His legal name is Albert Laurence Robb, but he goes by Lorne”. The nurses at Victoria Hospital wrote “Lorne” on his chart, and you could see he appreciated the familiarity, and informality, that represented. Lorne passed away on May 12, 2019 at the age of 86.
Lorne was an accomplished accounting professional, with impressive careers in banking and as Financial/Administrative Officer for the Town and Port of Churchill. He was active in his communities in sports and fundraising — specifically with the Fort Prince of Wales Masonic Lodge. He “retired” in 1991, and moved to Winnipeg several years later; joining the Commissionaires and providing security services to the Canadian Grain Commission and the Canadian Air Forces Base 17 Wing, among others. And though he’d spent most of his professional life away from family in places as diverse as Kingston, Jamaica, Port William, Ontario, and Churchill, Manitoba, he became a welcomed member of the Peters family. He attended Christmas and Easter events and birthday parties. And although he’d engage in polite conversation, most often he’d find a chair and just listen to the loud banter of the extended Peters family from a distance.
We celebrated with him on his 80th birthday with dinner at the Spaghetti factory, and he treasured our gift of a Winnipeg Jets sweater.
He lived alone; a “confirmed bachelor” as they say, and had done so as long as I can remember. His visits to Winnipeg were infrequent, and both my sister Bonnie and I thought of him as a swinging bachelor, with charm along the lines of a young Pierre Elliott Trudeau.
I got to know him a little better in the summer of 1975, when he found work for me at a garage in Churchill. The 6 weeks I spent there was in high contrast to life at home. I wondered how he could live for so long in such a place. But I could see that he kept very busy; he owned Hudson Motors and was town administrator. He left me alone for the last week to go on a business trip to Ottawa, and I had never felt so isolated, so removed from society. I was so glad to return home; he remained in Churchill though to his retirement in 1991.
After suffering a stroke 3 years ago, and with illness slowing him down, I convinced Lorne to sell his car and rely on me for rides to the doctor, and grocery shopping. I would see him once a month or so. But as his needs increased, those monthly visits became weekly, then daily, and sometimes 2 or 3 times in one day. I saw him at his most vulnerable, but his only complaint is that he felt he was being, in his words, a “pest”. But we had become pretty close at that point, and I learned a lot about his character through the process. He was resilient. He was determined. Most of all, he was frustrated. As was I, trying to help him navigate the healthcare system through to his final days.
For the past week I have been reflecting on his life, and what I perceived to be his comparative loneliness. I thought of his Churchill years, and actually found a Facebook group, a community billboard of sorts, to which I posted the sad news of his death. Within 2 days the post was flooded with over 40 messages of sympathy, with personal stories of his friendliness and service to the community. The descriptions included “kind soul”, “the whole town knew him”, and “he was a legend in Churchill”. So maybe he hadn’t let such a lonely life after all! I even found out that he’d volunteered in the mid 60’s at Churchill’s first and fledgling TV station — hosting live music shows and even playing “Uncle Lorne” on a children’s TV show. He never spoke of this.
Lorne was a humble man, but he accomplished much in his life. And in his prime he was unstoppable. He kept many awards of achievement and citizenship, but he did not display them — I only found them while packing up his apartment this past week. Perhaps most telling of his accomplishments was his membership in the Fort Prince of Wales Masonic Lodge, where he ascended to the highest rank of Master Mason. I donated a box of certificates and ceremonial paraphernalia to the Masonic Lodge in Winnipeg this week, to which their archivist replied “Your uncle would have been considered very highly in the organization, like a CEO”. And after a fairly lengthy chat about Lorne’s life in Churchill, he said. “Your uncle may have lived alone, but I can guarantee you he wasn’t lonely. He had many brothers”.
On my last visit with Lorne, the day before he passed, he was alert and animated, but could not muster the breath to speak. He tried to express something, but just shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes when he was unable to do so. I am sure he was trying to say that he knew he was dying, and that it would be OK. He waved goodbye as we left, with a slight smile on his face.
Good bye Uncle Lorne. You will be missed, and fondly remembered by many.
