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‘The best kind of lawyer’ and former councillor Bob Mayer dies aged 71

Lawyer and former city councillor Bob Mayer died April 5 at the age of 71 after battling cancer for most of the last two years. It’s often considered in poor taste to define a man by his work these days.
Bob Mayer, longest-serving lawyer in Northern Manitoba and former Thompson councillor, died April 5.
Bob Mayer, longest-serving lawyer in Northern Manitoba and former Thompson councillor, died April 5.

Lawyer and former city councillor Bob Mayer died April 5 at the age of 71 after battling cancer for most of the last two years.

It’s often considered in poor taste to define a man by his work these days. Few, however, become lawyers only to shun the label thereafter, and Mayer’s chosen profession was integral to his contributions both in Thompson and in Northern Manitoba as a whole. Mayer first came to Thompson along with three other fellow graduates from the University of Manitoba: future law firm partner Richard Whidden, and future judges Jack Drapack and Charles Newcomb. Since his arrival, Mayer lived a life that could only fit in the boundless space of the north, and is recognized as Northern Manitoba’s longest-serving lawyer.

David Gray, currently a Crown prosecutor in Thompson, handled several civil litigation files against Mayer during his time in private practice, both prior to moving to Thompson and during. He described Mayer, with great emphasis, as “the best kind of lawyer: he was a person who was vigorous in his defence of his client’s position, he was knowledgeable about the law, he worked extremely hard, and he was honourable.”

Describing Mayer as an “ardent defender of the north,” Gray recalled Mayer’s legal advocacy for his adopted region through his own experience, in a dispute over a position taken by Mayer on behalf of his client, one which Mayer was prepared to take to court: “He said, ‘We’ll see you up here,’ knowing that in many cases, counsel weren’t prepared to come to Northern Manitoba to go through the machinations of resolving a case. He made people understand the north much better than they would have.”

Mayer was also integral to what was once called The Loophole Society, the definitive weekly forum hosted every Thursday night where Thompson’s lawyers eat, drink, and be merry. “Bob was the king of that table,” Gray said.

The Loophole Society reinforced the collegial nature of the bar in Northern Manitoba, a culture that Mayer took great pride in. Amongst a community of only 50 lawyers in Northern Manitoba, Mayer held it paramount that the phrase “learned friend” was more than a formality: “We had an expression,” said Gray. “‘It’s hard to stay mad at someone you have a beer with.’ He reminded us as lawyers that however intensely we feel about a case, however we think another lawyer has done us wrong, we’re all part of the same profession, and we all need to deal with each other with dignity and respect.”

Mayer extended this sense of community well into every aspect of community living: he had sat on a number of councils and boards of directors, including Manitoba Liquor & Lotteries, the Manitoba Telephone System and the Public Utilities Board in addition to serving as a councillor. Wherever the north had a vested interest to defend, Mayer would be on the front lines, ensuring the north would continue to grow and become a better place. By the time he was first elected to Thompson’s council in 1977, Mayer’s impact was already palpable, and four short years later, he would be named a Manitoba Queens Counsel (QC). Adrian De Groot, who worked side by-side with Mayer throughout Mayer’s nine-year tenure in on the council, noted that of all the councillors he served with, none proved a more formidable presence in the council than him: “‘Benjamin Franklin wrote, ‘Words may show a man’s wit, but actions his meaning.’ Bob always displayed his wit, and at the same time was there to be part of the drive for action. I can honestly say that it was both a challenge and a pleasure to serve with someone like Bob Mayer.” 

De Groot recalled that among Mayer’s greatest achievements in council was the toppling of the “canned TV” cable service which Thompson had received until the end of the 1970s: television programming recorded from broadcast television, shipped north, and broadcast locally a week later. Mayer was part of a delegation that had petitioned to the CRTC to cancel the current service provider’s license, and stage a new bid for live, real-time northern cable TV.

Al Adams also served on council during Mayer’s last term: “Bob was an extremely hard-working councilman. He was a deep thinker and a bit of a visionary, in being able to see things coming down the road that we didn’t. I feel like a lot of that came from his background in the legal field. I didn’t always agree with Bob, but I knew where he stood, and that was comforting.”

Adams noted that he and Mayer had lobbied the city to buy back the unused land that had been sitting stagnant and undeveloped for years. “We were able to buy back some of the property that was held up in limbo behind the City Centre Mall, and you can see that has come to play, even though a lot of folks were up in arms when we bought back that land.” The seemingly small detail continues to have reverberations for entrepreneurs seeking land for development in Thompson.

Mayer was also a staunch NDP supporter, and helped former MP Rod Murphy re-establish the Churchill riding as an NDP stronghold; Mayer and Murphy had been friends well before the latter ran for the seat,  and Mayer campaigned with Murphy every year since: “He called me cannon fodder,” Murphy said laughing. Murphy believed it was Mayer’s sense of social justice that drew him to the left-wing party: “We grew up in the ’60s, and that’s what everyone was looking at: human rights, changing the world, and Bob was part of that movement. I was part of that movement.”

It has already been mentioned that Mayer remains the longest-serving lawyer in northern Manitoba. What compelled such an exceptional individual to bond so strongly with the north? Of those who answered, two unanimous reasons emerged.

When Mayer wasn’t fighting for the north’s prosperity, he was playing in it: Mayer was an avid outdoorsman, a skier by winter, the silhouette of his iconic pipe against the white snow was an unmistakable sight. But Mayer’s greatest passion was canoeing, prowling the north’s vast waterways. Though Mayer had been recognized as the more cautious paddler, he was paddling with his son well into 2015, after his initial diagnosis with lung cancer. “There’s no question that he shouldn’t have done it,” Murphy confessed, “But he did it.”

But while Mayer spent much time deep in the boreal backcountry, it was the constant presence and easy access of wilderness that appealed to Mayer as well. Gray notes, “In 20 minutes, he could be in a place that was perfect for him.”

But wilderness is found across Canada. Everyone agreed, first and foremost, that it was the nature of the community that kept him here. “The ability,” as Adams put it, “to just walk down the street, talk to your neighbours and friends, and be at ease. You don’t get that sense in larger centres.”

Gray agreed: “He liked being a big fish in a small pond. He looked around from time to time, though I don’t think he ever seriously considered moving, and he never saw a place better to live, raise a family, and practise law than Thompson.”

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