Lloyd Robertson spent more than four decades telling other people鈥檚 stories without thinking anyone would be interested in his own.
The longest-serving national TV news anchor in Canadian history had a 鈥渇ront-row seat鈥� to nearly every major event of the modern era, including the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the moon landing, and the 9-11 attacks.
He鈥檚 interviewed a succession of prime ministers, from Lester B. Pearson to Stephen Harper, members of the Royal Family, the first man in space, Yuri Gagarin, and an impressive roster of other historic figures.
Both the Conservative and Liberal parties have tried to woo him into the world of politics over the years, and there was even an offer of a Senate seat 鈥� all rebuffed.
But whenever one of his colleagues suggested he write a book about his 41 years in the anchor chair, first at CBC and then CTV, Robertson simply shook his head.
鈥淔or a long time I paid no attention to it,鈥� the face of CTV National News for 35 years said in an interview. 鈥淭hen I thought: Who would be interested anyway?鈥�
Robertson, 78, eventually decided to give it a try, telling himself that he was writing just another story about 鈥渁 person who just happens to be me.鈥�
The result is a revealing memoir, The Kind of Life It鈥檚 Been, which goes on sale Oct. 16.
From his early start at a local radio station in his hometown of Stratford, Ont., to becoming one of the most recognizable voices in Canadian broadcasting and a recipient of the Order of Canada, Robertson鈥檚 book details the pivotal moments of his lustrous career and private life.
Although he passed the National News torch to Lisa LaFlamme in September 2011, Robertson continues hosting and reporting for CTV鈥檚 current affairs program, W5. Writing The Kind of Life It鈥檚 Been 鈥� a nod to his famous nightly signoff, 鈥淎nd that鈥檚 the kind of day it鈥檚 been鈥� 鈥� took up much of his time last year.
Growing up in a working-class family as the youngest of his father鈥檚 10 children 鈥� eight of them from a previous marriage 鈥� Robertson was mesmerized by the world of radio and the escape it offered.
His father George, a machinist鈥檚 helper at the Canadian National Railway鈥檚 repair shops in Stratford, was raising his youngest son in his 60s, when his health was beginning to decline.
Robertson鈥檚 mother Lilly suffered from devastating mental health disorders and was frequently in psychiatric institutions. As a last resort, doctors suggested she undergo a lobotomy, a mainstream procedure in the 1940s that has since been discredited as inhumane.
The lobotomy helped stabilize Lilly鈥檚 unpredictable mood swings and obsessive-compulsive behaviour, but 鈥渇lat-lined her emotionally,鈥� Robertson said.
He was 14 years old at the time.
鈥淪he has haunted me all of my life,鈥� Robertson said. 鈥淲hen you鈥檙e the child of a mentally ill patient, you鈥檙e always looking for something in yourself.鈥�
At a time when mentally ill people were 鈥渢reated as subhuman,鈥� Robertson said his father understood 鈥渢hat this was an illness like all other illnesses and he really talked to me about that.鈥�
鈥淚 could not accept that until later in life,鈥� Robertson said. 鈥淎nd gradually鈥 really developed a sense of compassion for her.鈥�
But growing up, Robertson never discussed his mother鈥檚 struggles.
Instead, he hung out at the local radio station as a youngster until the manager told him to leave because the announcers wanted to bring in their girlfriends and throw back a few beers. A few years later, as a teenager, Robertson was invited back for his first gig as a radio operator.
鈥淚 always had a fascination with radio because radio would transport me into a world of the imagination,鈥� he said. 鈥淵ou had that sense that this was a huge world that you could inhabit, which was much brighter and better than the world you lived in every day.鈥�
鈥淪o when I got the chance to be a part of it -- wow, I chased that flag.鈥�
In front of the camera and in focus
A couple of other radio jobs, including one as an announcer for the CBC in Windsor, Ont., followed, allowing Robertson to hone his skills and soak up the knowledge from veterans in the business.
A new medium -- television -- started popping up in Canadian households and Robertson quickly learned how to merge his distinctive radio voice with an on-camera persona.
鈥淚 always observed other people doing these things鈥nd I would try to adapt to my style the techniques I learned from them,鈥� he said.
It took some time to get used to the 鈥渞uddy鈥� TV makeup and the hot studio lights that melted it off his face, but Robertson was soon developing his own rapport with viewers.
鈥淚n news鈥ou had to kind of be the best at what you were on the air,鈥� he said. 鈥淏ut you couldn鈥檛 be anyone else. You couldn鈥檛 be an actor, because the audience would catch on to that.鈥�
Robertson moved to Toronto in 1962 to work at the hub of CBC operations and eventually began reading the nightly national news.
By then, he was married to his high school sweetheart Nancy, and the couple had started a family that would eventually include four daughters, including a set of twins.
But while his family life was flourishing, Robertson found himself entangled in what he called a鈥淏yzantine bureaucratic structure鈥� at the CBC.
Union rules prevented news readers from writing and editing broadcast copy 鈥� something Robertson believed was necessary for a well-rounded journalist. His requests for more editorial input over the years were rejected.
Combined with an 鈥渦gly鈥� CBC strike in 1972 that further poisoned the work environment, Robertson began to unravel. He was diagnosed with nervous exhaustion and spent a day at a mental health facility, where he briefly believed that his mother鈥檚 genes had finally caught up with him.
Robertson said that terrifying thought motivated him to work through his issues and get better before anyone barely noticed that something was amiss.
But strife at the CBC continued. When Robertson was offered the opportunity to co-host CTV National News with Harvey Kirck, he took the job after much soul-searching.
A fresh beginning at CTV News
Robertson began a new chapter of his career with CTV in 1976, eventually becoming the chief anchor and senior editor of the top-rated nightly newscast, which allowed him to write and make daily editorial decisions.
Despite his troubles at the CBC, Robertson makes it clear in his book that the national broadcaster is an integral part of Canadian identity and an important player in the business.
Throughout the years, Robertson has witnessed seismic changes in the media landscape.
When he first started out, newsrooms were all-boys clubs and female voices were not deemed authoritative enough to deliver the news.
Robertson never believed that gender had anything to do with journalistic ability and welcomed female trailblazers in the field such as Pamela Wallin and Sandie Rinaldo.
鈥淚t鈥檚 about who is capable, dedicated and smart,鈥� he said.
Robertson also notes the emergence of the 鈥�500-channel universe鈥� and proliferation of social media networks that now serve as news feeds for a new generation of information consumers.
Twitter and Facebook may be valuable tools for reporters, but the fundamentals of journalism have not changed, Robertson said.
鈥淭here will always be a role for traditional media鈥nd impartial storytellers,鈥� he said.
Since hosting his last newscast, Robertson has had the occasional urge to jump back into his old chair.
Although he misses his colleagues and, sometimes, the rhythm of a busy news day, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 miss being there at 11 o鈥檆lock every night,鈥� he said.
鈥淲hat鈥檚 nice now is going home and saying: 鈥極h, I can go to bed and watch the news.鈥欌��
