Remembering Robert (the) Bruce

Most of us knew Robert as the first, and, many would say, pre-eminent agent for actors in New Zealand. A good proportion of us knew him as a Fight and Stunt Choreographer, and knew that this skill originated from his younger days as a wrestler who travelled the world and played the baddie in the ring on TV. But not many knew until his funeral a couple of weeks ago that he was christened John Young, and that “Robert (the) Bruce” was at first a ‘stage’ name for "On the Mat".

I was a newbie trainee director at Auckland’s Mercury Theatre in 1977/78 when I first met this gentle giant. At the point of giving the wrestling game away - “It’s broken every bone in my body,” he told me, “but it’s taken me all over the world” - he was looking for a new, perhaps easier, life. He’d been brought in to choreograph some fight sequences for Peter Shaffer’s play "The Royal Hunt of the Sun" - or was it Robert Bolt’s play about the Bolsheviks in Russia, "State of Revolution"? Or both? Anyway, it being the way of live theatre, Robert found himself also playing the occasional soldier/guard/ruffian as well - less money spent by the company on cast numbers and more money in his pocket, I guess - a good arrangement for both! I recall him having about three words, delivered in an incongruous, out-of-context Scottish lilt…

As the trainee director, I also had to wear bit-part and walk-on costumes at times. And so I found myself sitting next to Robert at the make-up bench in the dank, dark, underground, almost dirt-floor bunker under the stage that passed for a Green Room in that lovely old building (tragic that it’s used for another kind of ritual now), and teaching him how to put on stage make-up - the old-fashioned heavy pancake type needed for that size of auditorium.

Pretty soon after, Robert founded the “Ugly Agency”, as it was known then. As the poster I still treasure (though more than a little battered, I confess) indicates, it started out as an agency for all kinds of performers and not just the “beautiful”. We knew it as a stunties and quirkies agency, rather than the more traditional business into which it evolved gradually and quite naturally. Look at him in the centre of the poster on the front page - the thickest black hair and beard ever!

Robert had a reputation for being a hard-nosed business man - hard, but fair - but I suspect I would not want to have ever been on the wrong side with him! But in my dealings with him in the days (long ago) when I still did a bit of acting in between “proper” film jobs, and over the intervening years when I was a First AD and he was doing fight work, he was always a delight to have on set - no fuss, quietly efficient and effective, always tailoring the work to the actors’ capabilities, yet always making them look good.

More recently, when I’ve been drawn back into a bit of live theatre directing between film jobs, I’ve sometimes encountered him at lunchtime in the Middle East Café in Wellesley St West. I’d heard he was almost a daily regular there, but for some reason I couldn’t really imagine it… But perching on the high bar-stool seat beside him - feeling very average in size beside the big bear! - was eerily reminiscent of sitting beside him in that make-up room in the bowels of the Mercury…

As the funeral notice in the paper said: “Counter One will never be the same.”

Tony F.

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Sioux Macdonald

What a twisted world we live in. You were such a fit, strong, magnificent man. Such a gentle giant of a man. My association with you was mainly in the mid-nineties, prior to me getting married and having a child, and these commitments meant we no longer met at 5 am most mornings of the year. The good old days saw the Clive Green Gym in Newmarket open its doors extra early for the very keen, who needed to work out before our work commitments.

For Kevin Smith, that was before his days on Xena; for me, before my hours at Communicado, and later at Filmcrews; and for Temuera and Lance Revell, before their busy work schedules too. You were a man who mentored me, telling me being a girl shouldn’t hold me back. You taught me how to box (I had a prowler hanging around my house, and you thought I should show I wasn’t scared of him!); you taught me how to lift weights ‘properly’; and I also learnt that, with such cool men standing at my weights bench, just how possible it was to push an extra 20 kg’s when you were all there watching!

I remember thinking of you especially that day in February 2002, when news spread of Kevin’s death in China. That news broke my heart, but particularly I remember feeling so crushed for you. He was your close, close friend, and everything changed that day.

I am sad that you are no longer here, looking after your actors/actresses, looking after other young ‘girls’ who need to learn how to protect themselves like you did with me. I am sad for Gabby; but I am kind of grateful that you are now in a place where you and Kev can wrestle in the clouds, and you are reunited with your wife after all these years. I know they will make the transition for you a fun one.

And, thanks for all those early mornings at the gym. You’ve no idea what they meant to me.

Sally Meiklejohn

Robert was a very good friend of the Guild. During all my time involved in Guild and wider screen industry affairs Robert was one of the people I would run things past when they were controversial, tricky, political, etc (which, as we all know, would be quite often).

Robert was always a great touchstone - he cared deeply about the industry, about people, and was always principled, astute and kind - but no fool! His personal integrity made him someone one could trust and rely on and he will really be missed. It was apparent at the funeral that so many people valued his insights and counsel.

Incidentally, I met an old school friend at the funeral - she’d known Robert for over 30 years - met him at the gym just after her husband suddenly left her with their 3 small boys and went overseas. She was devastated. Robert offered her his support as soon as he heard her news, then for years he would ring her every Monday morning to see if she needed anything, if the boys were okay, etc. Nothing was too much trouble... He was a wonderful father figure for the boys (they’re adults now, with their own families) and they loved him dearly.

It’s a shame that she didn’t talk about that at the funeral - it’s not her to do that - but it would have shown yet another wonderful side of Robert.

No wonder it was such a wonderful funeral - it had it all - humour, such sadness, drama, music, and dogs howling along with the bagpipes!

Cheers**.**

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Stuart Dryburgh

You couldn’t not like Robert. Almost a cuddly bear kinda thing.

I know in his role as actor’s agent his clients adored him.

But, watching him explain, and then demonstrate Glasgow-style street fighting to Tem Morrison on the set of ‘Once Were Warriors’ - well, it just might be the scariest damn thing I have ever seen!

God speed, Robert. We will miss you.

Brooklyn, NY.