My Friend, Bob

ANDREW PRATT

I first met my friend Bob in 1981 when I worked at Island Blue Print. My wife Julie and I had moved to the Island from Vancouver about 1980 to start our family, much like Bob and Lorna had. I had started my professional design career doing design and layout at Georgia Straight in Vancouver, so when we moved here, I naturally picked up a Monday Magazine and scanned the masthead, where all the names of the folks who did the paper are listed. The designer was the name I was interested in—Bob Fehr. Cool. I thought he must be cool because I’d like his job. I knew him before he knew me.

But I was working at Island Blue—and when he came in to pick up Letraset, wax, and #10 blades—I already knew him by name. He was serious and busy—like I said, he was pretty cool.

I got busy with my own design and illustration career and I lost touch with him, but around 2006—I had landed a job at the government as manager for communications design—his name came up when we were looking for a new designer, and I called him to come in for a chat.

I knew he had been at Monday so he could handle a challenging work environment, he would have a solid grounding in design and be used to big deadlines. Creating a over a thousand magazine covers—a cover that compelled you to pick it up and think it will be worth reading—week after week—was an awesome achievement. I knew I wanted him on our team. At that time we were part of the Premier’s Office and my boss told me we could never hire him because being from Monday, which was a left-wing communist anarchist rag critical of the government, he would be viewed as a left-wing communist anarchist. I told them Bob didn’t write the stuff, only made it look great—basically the same as we did.

His talent and experience was impressive—creative design, artistic with photographic experience, computer and software expert, with a dedicated work ethic—and so fast. He became an integral part of our design team, which I considered the most professional and experienced in the city. And this is the time I really got to know the man I came to love and respect.

We had a lot in common—we both sketched our way through school drawing cars and hot rods, we liked Rat Fink, had listened to similar music and had similar (counter) cultural experiences growing up. We both have kids about the same age—and we’ve both been with our high school sweethearts—well… since high school. About 40 years?!

At work, Bob really enjoyed being part of a creative team, and he admired the work of his fellow designers—but was deferential and humble about his own great work. He enjoyed the conversations and debates and Bob provided a stable, experienced and thoughtful presence. He preferred just a small amount of art direction—you just planted a seed and Bob would always exceed expectations. And he was so fast it was difficult to assign another project before he was done. Although, he would use this time to learn something new or analyze the software we use—and then inform the group of a new or faster way to do something we never knew about. He actually took a process that would take us three days to do, and reduced it to a few hours. Bob turned it into a breeze. No problem.

Bob figured ways to automate tasks and improve productivity. He saved us time and money. He produced a ton of stuff for the Olympics—his design vocabulary allowed him to contribute on websites, animation and video, complicated print projects, displays, anything. Over the years he supported his teammates with his knowledge and expertise freely. He cared about people and showed genuine interest in their lives. His work and output was impressive but he didn’t like to take credit and was uncomfortable with praise.

When he fell ill, he did part-time from home but determinedly, and heroically, worked to return to full time. We could tell he was burdened but it hardly affected his work and he did not complain about what he was going through. He wasn’t comfortable with people knowing at work, or being the subject of discussion or sympathy, actually many people did not even know he was ill. He was courageous, brave and incredibly strong—and continued to play his role on the team.

One of his last projects—which was significant—was to take an illogical and idiosyncratic piece of software, (Microsoft’s Word)—and create a series of suites of document templates for government to use throughout the province to produce professional-looking documents—these will be used for a long long time and save a lot of time and money. And he did this while distracted by the effects of his treatments and his illness. He complained about working with Word—but not about the project or how he may have felt.

Bob was not a self-promoter or one to blow his own horn so when we discovered one of his bigger achievements—he made like it was no big deal. But a huge part of his legacy will also be the Winkel. This is his winkel, one of many toys he invented and designed. But this one is a multiple award-winner, and perennial number one seller for the giant Manhattan Toys—they’ve sold almost a half a million Winkels—and it’s loved by babies and parents around the world. it’s entertained and been and chewed by hundreds of thousands of gummy li'l babies, making them smile and keeping them happy. There is Bob.

Bob appreciated well made, well crafted or well designed things. He was fascinated by huge engineering projects and enjoyed analyzing the design and processes. He was an architectural designer and fine craftsman himself—influenced by his father, performing many renovations—and exacting additions to his own home. He could figure out almost anything.

Bob was an excellent chef, and enjoyed good wine. He discovered single-malt, and enjoyed tasting sips with friends. He loved music—like me, Bob played guitar. Well, Bob was better than me—I know 3 chords and he knew 4 or 5. But we both loved the guitars though. His taste in music was excellent, including exceptional artists out of the mainstream. Old school and very new school as well—influenced by Alistair? Callum?

But the music of U2 was a favourite—I’d say “hey, it’s a beautiful day” and he’d say, “don’t let it slip away”.

Artist, photographer, designer.

Engineer, craftsman and inventor.

Computer and systems expert, wine connoisseur and fine chef.

Dog whisperer (Jet?), devoted Father, teacher, coach and sports fan.

Life-long dedicated partner and soul mate.

And a good friend.

We all miss Bob and we are all richer for knowing him.