Back to results In memoriam : Robert Bruce 1943-2009 Robert was a man of obvious physical strength, but he had an inner strength that was even more powerful. He was a man who considered things, reached a decision and stuck by it. He was a man of his word. He had an economy of words when it came to doing business, you didn’t need to spend hours in discussion to reach an outcome, but his humour, his manners, his good will were always evident in his communication. I remember being bemused in the ’70s when the former wrestler became a talent representative and started the Robert Bruce Ugly Agency, but I found out pretty quickly that he was a good man to deal with. We did business for over 30 years, during which time Robert was a stunt coordinator, fight arranger, and talent agent. He was also someone who had a rational perception of the business as it went through its various ups and downs. The personal relationships he had with many of his clients were really unique, and I think many of those clients will find it hard to replicate that state. We will all miss him. – John Barnett Robert started the agency business in New Zealand and set the professional wheel going between producers, directors and agencies, something we are grateful for. He was a man of integrity and honour who stood up for what he believed in – may the professional ethics that Robert set for this industry remain. I had huge respect for you, Robert, and you will be very greatly missed in this industry. Our deep sympathies to Gabriella, your family, friends, associates and your clients. Rest in peace. – Karen Kay I’d just like to thank Robert Bruce for putting me out of my misery, seeing as I won’t have to wait another 27 years for him to ring. I guess I wasn’t one of his top-shelf mates, more of a coast-is-clear companion, invited round late of a Friday afternoon when everyone else had gone home. The incumbent All Black loose trio seemed to take priority in discussion, with Robert being of the persuasion a great number 8 ought to have lost part of his scrotum on some foreign field. We’d met when he’d taught me how to lose a fight in a toilet in one of those early films one is reluctant to put on one’s resume. He turned into a gentle giant but he wasn’t so gentle back then. But I knew how to lose a fight in a toilet so he took me on. Woe betide anyone with the temerity to have crossed big Kev, that was a sure sign to be off the mailing list, especially if you were Russell Crowe. Robert’s baritone brogue down the other end of the line usually meant the chance of poverty being staved albeit briefly, so it was soothing to take a leaf from Dudley Moore who rang Peter Cook after hearing of his demise just to hear that voice on the answerphone. I rang the office phone several times in the nights after Robert died, just to hear, “All our lines are busy, but if you’d like to leave your message, we’ll get back to you at nine.” Yeah, sorry Donna, that muffled sob down the end of the line was probably mine, but I’ll wait for that nine, whenever that may be. I felt honoured that he planned to visit me up in the Far North recently, but that was because “some focker up yer way dragged a dog along behind his ute, and I’m gonna deal to him in the same way.” But at least I’ll know what’s up if I see a driverless ute with a guy being dragged howling behind, No 8 wire attached to his scrotum... It’s just some dead Scotsman havin’ a laugh. Thanks again mate. – Peter Tait Robert, 29 years ago you helped me cast my first movie, The Scarecrow, when none of us had ever done anything like that before. You were always gracious, helpful, and a hard-ass when you needed to be. Your daunting physical presence never stopped you being graceful both physically and socially, and I loved doing business with you. You will always remain in my heart and memory. – Sam Pillsbury Robert Bruce, perhaps the greatest agent in the NZ entertainment industry, died suddenly in the early hours of Monday 2 March, after a short illness. It will be a while before the industry realises just how big a gap his passing will leave. To call Robert an agent is to belittle what he did for, and with, this industry he loved and supported with passion, dedication and selflessness, for nearly 30 years. He was my representative for more than 26 of those years. I’d like to thank him. I grew up with Robert on the tele, wrestling in On the Mat, with Ernie Leonard calling the blows ringside for the NZBC. He was known as Robert the Bruce and he always wore black. He and King Curtis were the villains, but Robert was the most exciting wrestler to watch. Fiercer and more technical than any of them. Later I met him in the flesh, so to speak – dauntingly huge in his first tiny office above Samoa House on Karangahape Road – and he agreed to become my agent. But I had some doubts – his operation was called The ugly Agency, and he specialised in folk who looked like thugs, skivvies and right dodgy bastards. I was a “highly trained thespia”’, for God’s sake – but fortunately I quickly realised that no one was going to mess with my agent! Robert turned out to be a giant in many ways. He was a towering figure of sense and honesty in the industry, but so much more to so many others. He was an agent, a trusted friend, a sportsman, a fighter, a true son of Scotland, a wrestler from Musselburgh, a bouncer, a music lover, a comic, a connoisseur, a gifted storyteller and raconteur, and a prodigious eater from time to time. And he always maintained a great love for the tiny seaside town of Tobermory where his grandfather was the lighthouse keeper. That lighthouse and name we see on the gable of his office villa today. And he was one of the foundation stones of the modern film and entertainment industry. Few know what enormous commitments Robert made to this industry as a whole. He argued and fought for minimum wages alongside Actor’s Equity for years, and fought for sanity and parity in an industry known for outrageous demands and behaviours – on both sides. Without Robert’s input we would be a much sadder and smaller industry. Once Were Warriors broke new ground here and led to something of a breakthrough for Kiwi film internationally, but few acknowledged that much of that was due to Robert. Without his training, Tem could not have given us Jake the Muss. Without his expertise those fight sequences would not have had the clout and validity that opened LA’s doors to other actors like Cliff Curtis, Karl Urban and the Martins – Henderson and Csokas. Hercules and Xena, and more, again owe a huge debt to Robert’s expertise, training, fight choreography, and encouragement. Kevin Sorbo and Kevin Smith trained fastidiously with Robert throughout those series, bringing them both to a peak of physical condition that looked magnificent on screen, and much of the commercial success of those shows is due to the pumped look that Robert’s training and skill imparted. Robert always worked with a sense of calm, and was respected and cared for by everyone he had dealings with, professionally and personally. But he was an implacable opponent if you crossed him, or when he knew he was right. If Robert said he would do something – it got done – unconditionally. His way. For years I’ve felt that I was enabled in this biz, because alongside me was a big man with a big heart and an unflinching honesty and strength who would tolerate stupidity from no one. He was a terrific sounding board, but if he felt you were being unreasonable he’d go quiet, and just give a single nod, and then look at you, and wait for you to realise you were being a prat. He would never say you were wrong, but would wait for the ‘actor’ to subside back into being human. And that look in his eye never let you stay stupid for long... In Robert’s office, he has always had the same two chairs. These chairs looked comfortable and inviting. They weren’t. You sat so low in them that you felt like a child looking up at the principal. With high sides it was impossible to rest your arms on them and if you kept them inside you’d be squashed thin with shoulders up round your ears. They had mean, hard and pointy arms so you couldn’t perch either. You either stood, or lounged waaay back in these horrible padded boxes and tried to appear cool, but Rob would look at you until you realised you looked like a complete nonce. This kept meetings short, without the need for a word from Robert – you got in, talked the biz, and got out. Subtle but unmistakable, polite but cruelly effective. But Robert could also be sentimental too, gentler than anyone, and a great comfort when the chips were down. He helped and nurtured many of us through tough times, family dramas and personal hardships. He worked tirelessly for the SPCA, and made himself available for those with special needs. He took llamas in to sick kids in Starship, with predictable results. He played Santa for the Riding for the Disabled kids every year. And Robert also had the greatest sense of humour, with a wealth of appalling and wonderful stories. On many an occasion I have gone home aching from laughter at the antics he so eloquently described in his strong Scot’s brogue. At every opening night, he was there, indomitable, leather jacketed and with the beautiful Gabrielle by his side. He’d amble by and clasp you in a hug that could stun an ox, and growl, “Mate, that was great, just great, I loved it. Fantastic work mate, rrrreally good.” Robert Bruce was ‘good people’, and so many people are going to miss him – the gym community, the wrestlers, the stars, the singers and presenters and dancers, the producers, the directors, the kids he nurtured and fostered, the friends, the families, and the people who had the great fortune to work with him – even the animals at the SPCA. Thank you Robert, from the bottom of our hearts, you made us better people, mate. Say hi to Kev and Lynn and Becky. E mihi ana ki nga tupuna Ratou I toro nga ara I te mata whenua I waihotia a ratou korero purakau Hei whakaaro mo nga whakatupuranga. The ancestors are acknowledged They blazed pathways across the face of the land To leave their legends for generations to understand. Rest in peace Rob. – Peter Elliot I can’t remember when I first met Robert Bruce, but it was a long, long time ago in a faraway land where men lived by ideals of love and loyalty and gentleness and fair dealing. And I think he greeted me with a hug – in fact, I’m sure that he did, because Robert always began and ended every conversation with a small human moment and the openness of his kind heart. I could and will say that Robert was always a consummately professional stunt coordinator and actor agent and negotiator and a member of our industry who loved our industry and the opportunity and the life and the creation that is what we build together. Take that as read. I can and will say that I have forgiven Robert for always being much taller than me. And I will very much miss the gentleness of a gentleman, a gentle man, who completely understood why you would get up at 3am to let an old dog out for a pee – and yet his favourite wrestling moves were the ‘Glasgow kiss’ headbutt and the ‘caber toss’... all executed by a man wearing a kilt. I will miss you Robert but, whenever I hear a dog howl, I will think of you and smile. Here’s a poem written by another Robert Bruce who lives in Portland, Oregon. “That bitch” will get us all but how exciting to know that Robert Bruce and Allen Guilford will be waiting there to show us around. Death That bitch I know she’ll get me in the end But if I play my cards right and Almighty God allows it at least I’ll be ready for her when she puts on that little black dress and appears ready to dance in my doorway – Chloe Smith © Copyright Onfilm magazine April 2009 All material appearing is copyright and cannot be reproduced without prior permission of the publisher. Please contact the copyright officer: Ph 0-9-845 5114, Email copyright@mediaweb.co.nz.	Username Password Keep me logged in on this computer Forgotten your password? Enter your email address and we will email your password to you:

In memoriam : Robert Bruce 1943-2009

Robert was a man of obvious physical strength, but he had an inner strength that was even more powerful.
He was a man who considered things, reached a decision and stuck by it. He was a man of his word.
He had an economy of words when it came to doing business, you didn’t need to spend hours in discussion to reach an outcome, but his humour, his manners, his good will were always evident in his communication.
I remember being bemused in the ’70s when the former wrestler became a talent representative and started the Robert Bruce Ugly Agency, but I found out pretty quickly that he was a good man to deal with.
We did business for over 30 years, during which time Robert was a stunt coordinator, fight arranger, and talent agent. He was also someone who had a rational perception of the business as it went through its various ups and downs.
The personal relationships he had with many of his clients were really unique, and I think many of those clients will find it hard to replicate that state.
We will all miss him. – John Barnett

Robert started the agency business in New Zealand and set the professional wheel going between producers, directors and agencies, something we are grateful for.
He was a man of integrity and honour who stood up for what he believed in – may the professional ethics that Robert set for this industry remain.
I had huge respect for you, Robert, and you will be very greatly missed in this industry.
Our deep sympathies to Gabriella, your family, friends, associates and your clients. Rest in peace. – Karen Kay

I’d just like to thank Robert Bruce for putting me out of my misery, seeing as I won’t have to wait another 27 years for him to ring.
I guess I wasn’t one of his top-shelf mates, more of a coast-is-clear companion, invited round late of a Friday afternoon when everyone else had gone home. The incumbent All Black loose trio seemed to take priority in discussion, with Robert being of the persuasion a great number 8 ought to have lost part of his scrotum on some foreign field.
We’d met when he’d taught me how to lose a fight in a toilet in one of those early films one is reluctant to put on one’s resume. He turned into a gentle giant but he wasn’t so gentle back then. But I knew how to lose a fight in a toilet so he took me on.
Woe betide anyone with the temerity to have crossed big Kev, that was a sure sign to be off the mailing list, especially if you were Russell Crowe.
Robert’s baritone brogue down the other end of the line usually meant the chance of poverty being staved albeit briefly, so it was soothing to take a leaf from Dudley Moore who rang Peter Cook after hearing of his demise just to hear that voice on
the answerphone. I rang the office phone several times in the nights after Robert
died, just to hear, “All our lines are busy, but if you’d like to leave your message, we’ll get back to you at nine.” Yeah, sorry Donna, that muffled sob down the end of the line was probably mine, but I’ll wait for that nine, whenever that may be.
I felt honoured that he planned to visit me up in the Far North recently, but that was because “some focker up yer way dragged a dog along behind his ute, and I’m gonna deal to him in the same way.”
But at least I’ll know what’s up if I see a driverless ute with a guy being dragged howling behind, No 8 wire attached to his scrotum... It’s just some dead Scotsman havin’ a laugh.
Thanks again mate. – Peter Tait

Robert, 29 years ago you helped me cast my first movie, The Scarecrow, when none of us had ever done anything like that before.
You were always gracious, helpful, and a hard-ass when you needed to be. Your daunting physical presence never stopped you being graceful both physically and socially, and I loved doing business with you. You will always remain in my heart and memory. – Sam Pillsbury

Robert Bruce, perhaps the greatest agent in the NZ entertainment industry, died suddenly in the early hours of Monday 2 March, after a short illness.
It will be a while before the industry realises just how big a gap his passing will leave.
To call Robert an agent is to belittle what he did for, and with, this industry he loved and supported with passion, dedication and selflessness, for nearly 30 years.
He was my representative for more than 26 of those years. I’d like to thank him.
I grew up with Robert on the tele, wrestling in On the Mat, with Ernie Leonard calling the blows ringside for the NZBC. He was known as Robert the Bruce and he always wore black. He and King Curtis were the villains, but Robert was the most exciting wrestler to watch. Fiercer and more technical than any of them.
Later I met him in the flesh, so to speak – dauntingly huge in his first tiny office above Samoa House on Karangahape Road – and he agreed to become my agent.
But I had some doubts – his operation was called The ugly Agency, and he specialised in folk who looked like thugs, skivvies and right dodgy bastards.
I was a “highly trained thespia”’, for God’s sake – but fortunately I quickly realised that no one was going to mess with my agent!
Robert turned out to be a giant in many ways.
He was a towering figure of sense and honesty in the industry, but so much more to so many others.
He was an agent, a trusted friend, a sportsman, a fighter, a true son of Scotland, a wrestler from Musselburgh, a bouncer, a music lover, a comic, a connoisseur, a gifted storyteller and raconteur, and a prodigious eater from time to time. And he always maintained a great love for the tiny seaside town of Tobermory where his grandfather was the lighthouse keeper.
That lighthouse and name we see on the gable of his office villa today.
And he was one of the foundation stones of the modern film and entertainment industry.
Few know what enormous commitments Robert made to this industry as a whole.
He argued and fought for minimum wages alongside Actor’s Equity for years, and fought for sanity and parity in an industry known for outrageous demands and behaviours – on both sides.
Without Robert’s input we would be a much sadder and smaller industry.
Once Were Warriors broke new ground here and led to something of a breakthrough for Kiwi film internationally, but few acknowledged that much of that was due to Robert.
Without his training, Tem could not have given us Jake the Muss.
Without his expertise those fight sequences would not have had the clout and validity that opened LA’s doors to other actors like Cliff Curtis, Karl Urban and the Martins – Henderson and Csokas.
Hercules and Xena, and more, again owe a huge debt to Robert’s expertise, training, fight choreography, and encouragement.
Kevin Sorbo and Kevin Smith trained fastidiously with Robert throughout those series, bringing them both to a peak of physical condition that looked magnificent on screen, and much of the commercial success of those shows is due to the pumped look that Robert’s training and skill imparted.
Robert always worked with a sense of calm, and was respected and cared for by everyone he had dealings with, professionally and personally.
But he was an implacable opponent if you crossed him, or when he knew he was right.
If Robert said he would do something – it got done – unconditionally. His way.
For years I’ve felt that I was enabled in this biz, because alongside me was a big man with a big heart and an unflinching honesty and strength who would tolerate stupidity from no one.
He was a terrific sounding board, but if he felt you were being unreasonable he’d go quiet, and just give a single nod, and then look at you, and wait for you to realise you were being a prat.
He would never say you were wrong, but would wait for the ‘actor’ to subside back into being human. And that look in his eye never let you stay stupid for long...
In Robert’s office, he has always had the same two chairs.
These chairs looked comfortable and inviting. They weren’t.
You sat so low in them that you felt like a child looking up at the principal.
With high sides it was impossible to rest your arms on them and if you kept them inside you’d be squashed thin with shoulders up round your ears.
They had mean, hard and pointy arms so you couldn’t perch either. You either stood, or lounged waaay back in these horrible padded boxes and tried to appear cool, but Rob would look at you until you realised you looked like a complete nonce.
This kept meetings short, without the need for a word from Robert – you got in, talked the biz, and got out. Subtle but unmistakable, polite but cruelly effective.
But Robert could also be sentimental too, gentler than anyone, and a great comfort when the chips were down. He helped and nurtured many of us through tough times, family dramas and personal hardships.
He worked tirelessly for the SPCA, and made himself available for those with special needs. He took llamas in to sick kids in Starship, with predictable results.
He played Santa for the Riding for the Disabled kids every year.
And Robert also had the greatest sense of humour, with a wealth of appalling and wonderful stories. On many an occasion I have gone home aching from laughter at the antics he so eloquently described in his strong Scot’s brogue.
At every opening night, he was there, indomitable, leather jacketed and with the beautiful Gabrielle by his side. He’d amble by and clasp you in a hug that could
stun an ox, and growl, “Mate, that was
great, just great, I loved it. Fantastic
work mate, rrrreally good.”
Robert Bruce was ‘good people’, and so many people are going to miss him – the gym community, the wrestlers, the stars, the singers and presenters and dancers, the producers, the directors, the kids he nurtured and fostered, the friends, the families, and the people who had the great fortune to work with him – even the animals at the SPCA.
Thank you Robert, from the bottom of our hearts, you made us better people, mate.
Say hi to Kev and Lynn and Becky.
E mihi ana ki nga tupuna
Ratou I toro nga ara I te mata whenua
I waihotia a ratou korero purakau
Hei whakaaro mo nga whakatupuranga.
The ancestors are acknowledged
They blazed pathways across the face of the land
To leave their legends
for generations to understand.
Rest in peace Rob. – Peter Elliot

I can’t remember when I first met Robert Bruce, but it was a long, long time ago in a faraway land where men lived by ideals of love and loyalty and gentleness and fair dealing.
And I think he greeted me with a hug – in fact, I’m sure that he did, because Robert always began and ended every conversation with a small human moment and the openness of his kind heart.
I could and will say that Robert was always a consummately professional stunt coordinator and actor agent and negotiator and a member of our industry who loved our industry and the opportunity and the life and the creation that is what we build together.
Take that as read.
I can and will say that I have forgiven Robert for always being much taller than me.
And I will very much miss the gentleness of a gentleman, a gentle man, who completely understood why you would get up at 3am to let an old dog out for a pee – and yet his favourite wrestling moves were the ‘Glasgow kiss’ headbutt and the ‘caber toss’... all executed by a man wearing a kilt.
I will miss you Robert but, whenever I hear a dog howl, I will think of you and smile.
Here’s a poem written by another Robert Bruce who lives in Portland, Oregon.
“That bitch” will get us all but how exciting to know that Robert Bruce and Allen Guilford will be waiting there to show us around.

Death

That bitch

I know she’ll get me in the end

But if I play my cards right
and Almighty God allows it
at least I’ll be ready for her
when she puts on
that little black dress
and appears
ready to dance
in
my
doorway – Chloe Smith

© Copyright Onfilm magazine April 2009

All material appearing is copyright and cannot be reproduced without prior permission of the publisher.

Please contact the copyright officer: Ph 0-9-845 5114, Email copyright@mediaweb.co.nz.

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In memoriam : Robert Bruce 1943-2009