The Maine fishing legend known as ‘Mr. Trout’ has died at 96

By V. Paul Reynolds

Maine fishing writer Robert “Bob” Leeman, known to many as “Mr. Trout,” passed away Aug. 5 at a Bangor elder care facility. He was 96.

Leeman wrote a fishing column for the Northwoods Sporting Journal for nearly two decades. His debut as an outdoor writer came about a half century ago when he began writing a column called “Wildlife Corner” for a Bangor newspaper, which he believed was the Penobscot Observer. 

Over the years, Bob and I cultivated a friendship. We were just acquaintances before he, a widower, married my son’s mother-in-law. Over the years , Bob and I fished together, shared family times together, and hosted a weekly Sunday night radio program Maine Outdoors together. I also helped him produce his three wonderful fishing books, “Trolling Flies for Trout & Salmon,” “The Salesman Angler” and “Fishing Brooks and Streams.”

Bob lived to fish his favorite trout streams from his old Radisson canoe with his buddy, Bob Cusk. He also loved Grand Lake Stream near Princeton and spent many hours there, either on the stream or telling fish stories on the Pine Tree Store’s Liar’s Bench. 

When he was not on the water, there was nothing — I mean nothing — Bob would rather do than talk about fishing. He placed great value on Maine’s fishing heritage and promoted it by teaching fly tying at church, helping friends and strangers find the right fly-fishing gear and organizing an annual pilgrimage to his cherished Grand Lake Stream. We dubbed the group the Woolly Bugger Gang, and the name stuck. 

Amazingly, right up until his passing, Bob always walked with a bounce in his step. I asked him about that once, and he credited his light-footedness to tap dancing lessons he took as a kid. 

If you met Bob for the first time, he would smile, shake your hand and invariably say, “Hello, Leeman’s the name, fishin’s my game.” And he was not kidding. 

Fishing was his life. Chasing trout was his thing. 

As a young traveling seed salesman, he spent his spare time on the road not in bars but on trout streams from Calais to Fort Kent. 

He was a consummate fly tier. He had almost as many fly rods and reels as he did new shirts. Bob had a shirt fetish. 

When Bob wasn’t looking, his ex-wife, Alice, would hand down some of his surplus L.L.Bean shirts to me. I often wore them around him intentionally, just to flaunt them. He never even noticed. 

As editor of dozens of outdoor writers for the Northwoods Sporting Journal, I have learned one thing: We all run out of steam, some sooner than others. Bob held on longer than most, but he knew when it was time to quit. 

I tried to talk him out of ending his monthly column. 

“Nope,” he said, not looking conflicted at all. “It’s time to call it a day.” 

Now that Bob has passed, I’m sure he will bump into another Maine outdoor legend, our mutual friend Wiggie Robinson, for whom the Legendary Maine Guide Award is named. 

Bob was a Maine guide, too, and, like Robinson, he was well known in outdoor circles and earned the right to “paddle the Silver Canoe.” 

Tight lines, Mr. Leeman.