Cliver

August 9th, 2011 / 4:02 am

The communications community lost one of its true greats last week with the death of Clive Hobson, a long-time client and dear friend of mine going back almost 20 years.

We met during the early 1990s, when he was in charge of public relations at the now defunct Tee-Comm Electronics, which was an early pioneer of direct-to-home satellite television in my native Canada. I was then working at Hill & Knowlton in Toronto, and he was one of the friendliest and most considerate customers I’ve ever worked with. It was then that I learned of his contagious mirth, a field of gravity that attracted people to him as a vital centre of social attention.

Indeed, even though he was earlier a journalist (in my favourite medium of radio), it was in meeting and greeting the public that I saw him truly excel. Clive was a networker extraordinaire: not the kind who coldly connects their contacts because they want something, but the sort of fellow who enjoyed the spontaneous warmth of friends just for the sheer pleasure of it all.

This is not to say that he liked everyone equally.

His spot-on critiques of the imperfections of others could be very funny and devastatingly accurate. His sense of the absurd was second to none, and he loved laughing with and at friends whom he would lampoon good-naturedly (in my case it was an alleged penchant for what he termed “shameless self-promotion”).

Nobody would tar Clive with that brush.

Quite the contrary, he was more modest than most in our profession and never took himself too seriously. Sometimes I feared if he didn’t sell himself more aggressively when he was looking for new career opportunities, he might limit his chances, but in business he kept pulling rabbits out of the hat over the years.

Certainly he helped do that for Environics Communications when, in August 1994, I was one of the co-founders of this North American PR agency. The high-flying Tee-Comm became among our first clients and soon our largest source of revenue at a critical juncture in the young life of the fledgling firm.

Clive was an unflagging champion of Environics from that point forward, and he helped grow the relationship with Tee-Comm’s Expressvu in Canada and its AlphaStar subsidiary in the United States. Inasmuch as his client-side support helped power the old firm forward, I think it’s safe to say — and I’m forever grateful for it — that his confidence and encouragement played a critical role in my career advance, especially my first international role in the New York area from 1995.

Despite his British accent and love for the rugged Canadian outdoors, Clive admired the success of America and thoroughly enjoyed his time in the United States. We travelled together to several events in the U.S. (“boondoggles” he called some of these), most memorably trade shows at Las Vegas, where the extent of his love for branded merchandise and PR tsotchkes was on ample display. Pens, coats, flashing buttons, USB keys, hats, mugs, T-shirts, and even snow globes…you name it, and he branded them with the logo of the day.

While he was no self-promoter, he excelled in the promotion of others, and of course that’s what we corporate communicators are supposed to be fundamentally good at in the first place.

Every company he served got great media coverage. His experience as a journalist going back to covering the Munich Olympics in 1972 gave him gravitas as an old pro. He lived in the present moment with an open mind and a youthful vigor; this gave him excellent connectivity with young media and he kept relentlessly up-to-date.

Despite Clive’s skepticism concerning digital media, he was appointed communications chief at Yahoo! Canada (not an easy feat for someone born in 1948) and I used to quite enjoy his boasting that he was the oldest employee in the company.

I’ve commented about Clive a lot professionally, but personally I also owe him a debt of gratitude. My life has not been without its complications and challenges, and he was always a trusted source of big brotherly advice and supportive counsel over the years at moments when it mattered most.

I’m going to miss Clive and his fire…not just for life, but actually the massive bonfires we used to build on his beloved five acres in Milton, Ontario. He called these mighty blazes “conflagrations,” and we always looked forward to these with relish.

Four seasons of the year, including on sub-zero winter nights, igniting one of these fires in the fresh Canadian air gave us pure joy and now, for me, the signature memory of our friendship.

Categories: friends
comments(7) Tags: cliver

7 Responses to “Cliver”

Josh Cobden says:

August 9, 2011 at 10:37 am

Bob: thank you for writing and sharing such a terrific tribute to the late, great Clive Hobson. He deserves all of your glowing words, and more. I also had the pleasure of Clive’s company in both personal and professional settings, and his ability to marry the two is a hallmark. While I unfortunately never got to experience one of your “conflagrations” in Milton, I will never forget the night when, out with Clive at a bar in Vancouver, I casually tossed my jacket onto a neighboring table as we settled in for a few beverages…where it landed on a small candle. About half a beer later, the jacket erupted in flames. A quick-thinking server snatched it up and threw it the glasswasher behind the bar. Once the flames were extinguished, Clive insisted I put on the smoldering, semi-burned “smoking jacket” and wear it for the rest of the night. Which I did. This episode became known as “the great jacket conflagration”. Perhaps a pre-cursor to the infernos you enjoyed years later in Milton?
Bruce MacLellan says:

August 9, 2011 at 7:25 pm

Bob,
Your comments about Clive are accurate and insightful. Clive was indeed a great friend of Environics. People might have been deceived by his often playful manner — he always delivered great results and expected no less from his partners. He showed us that getting results didn’t have to be in conflict with having fun. He also had a keen eye for talent and knew how to build winning teams. I feel fortunate to have been on a few of them with him.
Bob Brehl says:

August 10, 2011 at 9:39 am

Nicely put, Robert. He was one of the good guys. I can still hear that laugh of his; it always added energy to the room.
Mary Beth Denomy says:

August 11, 2011 at 8:08 pm

One of my favourite memories of Clive was attending the famous “Winston Churchill Dinners”. He looked dapper in his tuxedo and his energy just added to the over-the-top festivities at our young table. He is an original and he will be missed.
Yvon Desautels says:

August 18, 2011 at 1:04 am

Thank you Bob for this great piece on our common friend. I was having dinner this evening with Bruce who shared with me this sad news. To me, Clive was the perfect example of professionalism and joie de vivre!
Donna Trella says:

August 21, 2011 at 11:17 am

Thank you for your heartfelt words regarding Clive’s career and the personal friendship you had with him. I remember the picture well. I was with him at your going away get together. I remember the red sweater. I had bought it for him but a week earlier…saw it and knew he would look smashing in it.
Bob, I loved…still love Clive very much. Much of what we had especially in the early days was private. But remained a gentle and filled with mutual adoration for each other. I think I gave him a good love. I know he did me and rarely did a day go by that I did not tell him as much. His last words to me were “‘love you!” And then he was gone in less that 10 hours. I know a Celebration is being planned to honor Clive’s life sometime late October/November. Maybe we will see you there. He talked to me so much about you. Indeed you were an important friend.
Paul Morrison says:

November 11, 2011 at 1:57 pm

I only recently learned of Clive’s passing in the recent issue of Ski Canada Magazine. It was Clive who gave me my first work as a photographer in that same magazine over thirty years ago now. As others have mentioned, Clive knew how to enjoy himself but always brought the entire group in to the fun. I’m still laughing quietly to myself about the ’smoking jacket conflagration’. I always felt that one day Clive’s and my paths would cross again. The realization that this cannot happen saddens me deeply. To all his friends who have shared their stories of Clive in the years since we lost contact, I’d like to thank you.