Obituary: William “Bill” Michael Robertson
OLD ORCHARD BEACH — William “Bill” Michael Robertson, a New Jersey‑born civil engineer who made Maine his home for the past two decades, died at his residence here after a prolonged illness, his family said. He was 72.
Robertson grew up in Newark but spent his childhood summers on Flying Pond, where he and his father built a modest cabin. Those early days of fishing and swimming cemented a deep affection for Maine that eventually drew him back, and he lived the last 20‑plus years of his life in the state, becoming a familiar face in a tight‑knit golf community.
After a year of college, Robertson answered the call to service and joined the Peace Corps. For two years he oversaw the construction of schools in Gabon and Ethiopia, an experience that shaped his lifelong commitment to public service and his strongly progressive outlook. Upon returning to the United States, he earned a degree in civil engineering, opened his own engineering firm and later led public works departments in several municipalities. Colleagues recall his talent for building effective teams, his precise calculations that saved communities money and his relentless push to upgrade local infrastructure.
On the recreational side, Robertson was a fixture on the baseball and softball fields, serving as a catcher for more than 30 years. His teammates described him as a tenacious competitor and a steady presence behind the plate.
Family defined much of his life. He raised three daughters—Carrie, Sara and Beth—and was a devoted grandfather to five grandchildren: Zion, Brynn, Mallory, Opal and Della. He also acted as a second father figure to his grandson. A passionate dog lover, Robertson was rarely seen without a loyal canine companion, many of them bearing the name Boomer.
Robertson’s home was legendary for its kitchen. Family members referred to it as “Bill’s Diner.” He kept his pantry and basement freezer stocked year‑round, cooking everything from miniature pancakes for weekend golf outings to hearty chicken parmesan for crews stranded by snowstorms. He insisted on handling the cooking himself, forbidding guests from entering the kitchen while he worked, and delighting them with generous portions at every gathering.
Even as his health declined, Robertson’s quick wit and humor never waned. His family said his charm lifted the spirits of nurses and friends alike during his final days. “We miss you already, Dad, but we were so lucky to have you,” they wrote in a statement.
A private celebration of Robertson’s life is being arranged. In lieu of flowers, his family asks that donations be made to the Peace Corps, that you cook a special meal for someone you love, cheer on the Red Sox, play Hootie & the Blowfish, watch CNN, or simply speak your mind—exactly as Bill would have done.
