Aug. 13, 2008

Right now, I’m getting ready for a day that I will never forget. I have had two occasions in the past to deliver eulogies for colleagues who had passed away off the job, and I remember each of those in crystal clear detail. So I know that Friday will be no different, as I say goodbye to my friend of 17 years, District Chief Bob Leek.  As most of you will know by now, Bob died in the line of duty on Sunday, Aug. 10, at the Sunrise Propane fire.

When I was first assigned to the Fire Academy, on my first day as an acting training officer in fact, Bob introduced himself to me, welcomed me to the team and offered his assistance to me in any way. In the years that we worked together I came to know that he never made such offers lightly or out of mere courtesy. Much has already been written this week about Bob’s character but I will repeat it anyway. He was a man of high intelligence. He had an uncanny ability to take complex technical and organizational problems and break them down to their component parts until each was a clear-cut question of yes/no, up/down, black/white. Later on, this unique trait would earn him the nickname “Binary Bob”, which I suspect he rather enjoyed although he feigned annoyance. As my acting district chief for about five years, Bob proved himself to be invaluable as a right-hand-man, confidante, sounding board and consultant. Whenever I was to be off on assignment or vacation, Bob would meet with me in advance for a briefing on what projects were on the go, which staff were tasked with which assignments and what results or deliverables were expected. Upon my return I would receive an itemized report on those same items as well as anything that had come up in the interim. In short, Bob was everything you would hope for in a co-worker and colleague.

How and when Bob got into paintball I don’t exactly remember, but with his military background and his technical expertise the world was never quite the same. I remember he was showing me how he had modified one of his paintball guns to automatically reload and fire faster than the original design. I understood at first but eventually had to just nod and agree. Several months later I was at my desk on a phone call when he appeared at the door in full paintball gear, looking like a cross between Darth Vader and Rambo, raised his gun and fired air at me “bap-bap-bap-bap-bap”. We were doing some training with a neighbouring fire department at the time, and its yellow aerial was in our training ground. So I asked Bob to load up and we went outside and attempted to paint the aerial red, like all respectable fire trucks.  All of this was done while respecting all relevant safety protocols, of course.

One of my favourite memories of Bob was the time we went to a pre-season NFL game at the Dome, and received these plastic buckets courtesy of Budweiser. The idea was to get your picture on the Jumbotron wearing the Budweiser bucket on your head, and you would get prizes from the Bud girls. So, we did. We didn’t win anything, but at one point Bob looked at me and said “I don’t know about me, but you look ridiculous.”  There’s no comeback to that. He scored first.

Bob left my group at the Academy in 2001 to work on emergency planning. This was the perfect environment for him, and he was the perfect selection to take the helm of that important function in 2006. The adage that “failure to plan is a plan for failure” could well have been tattooed on the back of Bob’s hand. His exemplary attention to detail and extraordinary focus served as a model for his team. He relished the active nature of his job and the opportunity to serve in a support role at major incidents. In was in this capacity that Bob was at the scene on Sunday, surveying damage to homes in the vicinity of the explosions. Certainly he has left us too soon, but I am also certain that he was having a good day.

Bob Leek was one of the good guys. He will be missed. He is already missed.