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Heart and sole: Detroiter walks 21 miles in work commute:
By Bill Laitner, Detroit Free Press
He doesn't look athletic but James Robertson, 56, of Detroit has a champ's commute. He rides buses part-way but walks about 21 miles in round trips to a factory, unless his banker pal offers a lift.
Story Highlights
Leaving home in Detroit at 8 a.m., James Robertson doesn't look like an endurance athlete.
Pudgy of form, shod in heavy work boots, Robertson trudges almost haltingly as he starts another workday.
But as he steps out into the cold, Robertson, 56, is steeled for an Olympic-sized commute. Getting to and from his factory job 23 miles away in Rochester Hills, he'll take a bus partway there and partway home. And he'll also walk an astounding 21 miles.
Five days a week. Monday through Friday.
It's the life Robertson has led for the last decade, ever since his 1988 Honda Accord quit on him.
Every trip is an ordeal of mental and physical toughness for this soft-spoken man with a perfect attendance record at work. And every day is a tribute to how much he cares about his job, his boss and his coworkers. Robertson's daunting walks and bus rides, in all kinds of weather, also reflect the challenges some metro Detroiters face in getting to work in a region of limited bus service, and where car ownership is priced beyond the reach of many.
But you won't hear Robertson complain nor his boss.
James Robertson, 56, of Detroit, walks toward Woodward Ave. in Detroit to catch his morning bus to Somerset Collection in Troy before walking to his job at Schain Mold & Engineering in Rochester Hills on Thursday January 29, 2015. James walks 21 miles daily round trip to his job.Robertson's roundtrip commute requires a bus ride each direction as well as nearly 21-miles of walking consuming 22 hours of his day before beginning again throughout the work week. (Photo: Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press)
"I set our attendance standard by this man," says Todd Wilson, plant manager at Schain Mold & Engineering. "I say, if this man can get here, walking all those miles through snow and rain, well I'll tell you, I have people in Pontiac 10 minutes away and they say they can't get here bull!"
As he speaks of his loyal employee, Wilson leans over his desk for emphasis, in a sparse office with a view of the factory floor. Before starting his shift, Robertson stops by the office every day to talk sports, usually baseball. And during dinnertime each day, Wilson treats him to fine Southern cooking, compliments of the plant manager's wife.
"Oh, yes, she takes care of James. And he's a personal favorite of the owners because of his attendance record. He's never missed. I've seen him come in here wringing wet," says Wilson, 53, of Metamora Township.
With a full-time job and marathon commutes, Robertson is clearly sleep deprived, but powers himself by downing 2-liter bottles of Mountain Dew and cans of Coke.
"I sleep a lot on the weekend, yes I do," he says, sounding a little amazed at his schedule. He also catches zzz's on his bus rides. Whatever it takes to get to his job, Robertson does it.
"I can't imagine not working," he says.
'Lord, keep me safe'
The sheer time and effort of getting to work has ruled Robertson's life for more than a decade, ever since his car broke down. He didn't replace it because, he says, "I haven't had a chance to save for it." His job pays $10.55 an hour, well above Michigan's minimum wage of $8.15 an hour but not enough for him to buy, maintain and insure a car in Detroit.
As hard as Robertson's morning commute is, the trip home is even harder.
At the end of his 2-10 p.m. shift as an injection molder at Schain Mold's squeaky-clean factory just south of M-59, and when his coworkers are climbing into their cars, Robertson sets off, on foot in the dark for the 23-mile trip to his home off Woodward near Holbrook. None of his coworkers lives anywhere near him, so catching a ride almost never happens.
Instead, he reverses the 7-mile walk he took earlier that day, a stretch between the factory and a bus stop behind Troy's Somerset Collection shopping mall.
"I keep a rhythm in my head," he says of his seemingly mechanical-like pace to the mall.
At Somerset, he catches the last SMART bus of the day, just before 1 a.m. He rides it into Detroit as far it goes, getting off at the State Fairgrounds on Woodward, just south of 8 Mile. By that time, the last inbound Woodward bus has left. So Robertson foots it the rest of the way about 5 miles in the cold or rain or the mild summer nights, to the home he shares with his girlfriend.
Buy PhotoThe daily route of "the incredible commuter" James Robertson, 56, of Detroit. (Photo: Detroit Free Press)
"I have to go through Highland Park, and you never know what you're going to run into," Robertson says. "It's pretty dangerous. Really, it is (dangerous) from 8 Mile on down. They're not the type of people you want to run into.
"But I've never had any trouble," he says. Actually, he did get mugged several years ago "some punks tuned him up pretty good," says Wilson, the plant manager. Robertson chooses not to talk about that.
So, what gets him past dangerous streets, and through the cold and gloom of night and winter winds?
"One word faith," Robertson says. "I'm not saying I'm a member of some church. But just before I get home, every night, I say, 'Lord, keep me safe.' "
The next day, Robertson adds, "I should've told you there's another thing: determination."
A land of no buses
Robertson's 23-mile commute from home takes four hours. It's so time-consuming because he must traverse the no-bus land of rolling Rochester Hills. It's one of scores of tri-county communities (nearly 40 in Oakland County alone) where voters opted not to pay the SMART transit millage. So it has no fixed-route bus service.
Once he gets to Troy and Detroit, Robertson is back in bus country. But even there, the bus schedules are thin in a region that is relentlessly auto-centric.
"The last five years been really tough because the buses cut back," Robertson says. Both SMART and DDOT have curtailed service over the last half decade, "and with SMART, it really affected service into Detroit," said Megan Owens, executive director of Transportation Riders United.
Detroit's director of transportation said there is a service Robertson may be able to use that's designed to help low-income workers. Job Access and Reverse Commute, paid for in part with federal dollars, provides door-to-door transportation to low-income workers, but at a cost. Robertson said he was not aware of the program.
Still, metro Detroit's lack of accessible mass transit hasn't stopped Robertson from hoofing it along sidewalks often snow-covered to get to a job.
At home at work
Robertson is proud of all the miles he covers each day. But it's taking a toll, and he's not getting any younger.
"He comes in here looking real tired his legs, his knees," says coworker Janet Vallardo, 59, of Auburn Hills.
But there's a lot more than a paycheck luring him to make his weekday treks. Robertson looks forward to being around his coworkers, saying, "We're like a family." He also looks forward to the homemade dinners the plant manager's wife whips up for him each day.
"I look at her food, I always say, 'Excellent. No, not excellent. Phenomenal,' " he says, with Wilson sitting across from him, nodding and smiling with affirmation.
Although Robertson eats in a factory lunchroom, his menus sound like something from a Southern café: Turnip greens with smoked pork neck bones, black-eyed peas and carrots in a brown sugar glaze, baby-back ribs, cornbread made from scratch, pinto beans, fried taters, cheesy biscuits. They're the kind of meal that can fuel his daunting commutes back home.
Though his job is clearly part of his social life, when it's time to work this graduate of Northern High School is methodical. He runs an injection-molding machine the size of a small garage, carefully slicing and drilling away waste after removing each finished part, and noting his production in detail on a clipboard.
Strangers crossing paths
Robertson has walked the walk so often that drivers wonder: Who is that guy? UBS banker Blake Pollock, 47, of Rochester, wondered. About a year ago, he found out.
Pollock tools up and down Crooks each day in his shiny black 2014 Chrysler 300.
"I saw him so many times, climbing through snow banks. I saw him at all different places on Crooks," Pollock recalls.
Last year, Pollock had just parked at his office space in Troy as Robertson passed. The banker in a suit couldn't keep from asking the factory guy in sweats, what the heck are you doing, walking out here every day? They talked a bit. Robertson walked off and Pollock ruminated.
From then on, Pollock began watching for the factory guy. At first, he'd pick him up occasionally, when he could swing the time. But the generosity became more frequent as winter swept in. Lately, it's several times a week, especially when metro Detroit sees single-digit temperatures and windchills.
"Knowing what I know, I can't drive past him now. I'm in my car with the heat blasting and even then my feet are cold," Pollock says.
Other times, it's 10:30 or 11 p.m., even after midnight, when Pollock, who is divorced, is sitting at home alone or rolling home from a night out, and wondering how the man he knows only as "James" is doing in the frigid darkness.
On those nights, Pollock runs Robertson all the way to his house in Detroit.
"I asked him, why don't you move closer" to work. "He said his girlfriend inherited their house so it's easy to stay there," Pollock said.
On a recent night run, Pollock got his passenger home at 11 p.m. They sat together in the car for a minute, outside Robertson's house.
"So, normally you'd be getting here at 4 o'clock (in the morning), right?" the banker asks. "Yeah," Robertson replies. Pollock flashes a wry smile. "So, you're pretty early, aren't you?" he says. Robertson catches the drift.
"Oh, I'm grateful for the time, believe me," Robertson says, then adds in a voice rising with anticipation: "I'm going to take me a bath!"
After the door shuts and Pollock pulls away, he admits that Robertson mystifies him, yet leaves him stunned with admiration for the man's uncanny work ethic and determination.
"I always say to my friends, I'm not a nice guy. But I find myself helping James," Pollock says with a sheepish laugh. He said he's picked up Robertson several dozen times this winter alone.
Has a routine
At the plant, coworkers feel odd seeing one of their team numbers always walking, says Charlie Hollis, 63, of Pontiac. "I keep telling him to get him a nice little car," says Hollis, also a machine operator.
Echoes the plant manager Wilson, "We are very much trying to get James a vehicle." But Robertson has a routine now, and he seems to like it, his coworkers say.
"If I can get away, I'll pick him up. But James won't get in just anybody's car. He likes his independence," Wilson says.
Robertson has simple words for why he is what he is, and does what he does. He speaks with pride of his parents, including his father's military service.
"I just get it from my family. It's a lot of walking, I know."
And now how people came to his aid:
Walking man' James Robertson gets new Ford Taurus:
James Robertson's marathon commute to work will be slashed by hours, now that the hard-workin', hard-walkin' hero finally got a car.
Robertson, whose story in Sunday's Free Press about his 21-mile daily round-trip commutes made him an overnight media celebrity, registered total surprise Friday as he walked into the Suburban Ford dealership in Sterling Heights, expecting just to get some brochures. Instead, his dream car was there waiting and ready.
Unlike most people, Robertson didn't have to kick the tires or haggle over the price. Nor did he have to run any numbers to see if he could afford it. All of that was done for him.
Robertson, true to his modest roots and humble nature, will drive the model that he said he admired, a Ford Taurus: "It's simple on the outside and strong in the inside like me."
Helping Robertson secure the car, which the dealership gave him as a gift, was Blake Pollock, a banker who befriended him during the factory worker's trek to work.
"I said, 'You really want a Taurus, right.' I was so scared that, at the last minute, he might say, 'Oh, I changed my mind to a Toyota' or something," Pollock said,
Putting any doubts to rest, Robertson broke into a grin as he sat in the 2015 car, with a sticker price of $35,215. David Fischer Jr., co-owner of the Suburban Collection, which owns the dealership that awarded the car, asked, "So, how do you like it?" "I don't like it," Robertson said, "I love it. It's just as I had envisioned.
James Robertson of Detroit walks around a free 2015 Ford Taurus from Suburban Ford in Sterling Heights on Friday, Feb. 6, 2015. A Detroit Free Press story told of his dedication on his daily 21-mile walk to and from work. (Photo: Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press)
"I can't thank people enough. I can't wait to show my coworkers," Robertson said, as he was handed the keys and tried to start the car with them.
"No, you just push this button," said Fischer.
"Ohhhhhh," Robertson gasped, as a crowd of TV cameras rolled. "If only my parents could see this," said Robertson, 56, who still lives in the area of central Detroit where he grew up. "It's really a tribute to them, and the things they instilled," he said.
Indeed, it has been 10 years since Robertson has owned a car.
Detroit resident James Robertson, 56, of Detroit talks about his journey walking 21 miles a day to work and back. Ryan Garza/Detroit Free Press
The banker in a suit and wingtips had been passing Robertson in work boots day after day, mile after mile, for a couple of years, when finally Pollock pulled over one day, pushed open the door and offered the stranger a lift. Gradually, he came to know Robertson's schedule, then his name.
Come to find out Robertson had been taking the bus from Detroit to a location near Somerset Collections in Troy, then walking more than seven miles to work and a little more than 13 miles back home in the dark for 10 years. His older model Honda died on him, and at $10.55 an hour and Detroit's insurance rates, he couldn't afford to replace it.
Paying for insurance for his new car shouldn't be a challenge. An online fund-raising effort has generated more than $312,000, thanks to the generosity of 19-year old Evan Leedy of Macomb Township.
The GoFundMe site will be closed down on Sunday because "he really has enough, we think, to take care of his needs," Leedy said, as his parents stood nearby, smiling at the media crowd around their son.
The money will be earmarked for years of Robertson's car insurance and maintenance, as well as health and dental care and "other things that we can't predict right now," Pollock said.
Robertson said he was aware of the accumulating cash but said, "I"m not really worried about it as long as somebody don't try to steal it. Blake's got some friends who's going to handle it."
Insurance quotes for keeping the car in central Detroit ranged as high as $900 a month for Robertson, who has a perfect driving record according to the Michigan Secretary of State's Office. Pollock found a relative bargain at about $400 a month nearly $5,000 a year, he said. A national study last week put Detroit's average rate at $5,000 a year.
Pollock said he was assembling an unpaid board of advisers who would meet next week with Robertson to help him manage his windfall, including the payment of income taxes. The board will have a lawyer, financial planner and other advisers, but "I'm not going to be on it I'm not even going to be at that meeting," said Pollock, a vice president/wealth management at the Troy offices of UBS. He said his involvement as a friend might appear to be a conflict of interest were he to help manage Robertson's sudden wealth.
This week, Pollock, of Rochester Hills, shepherded Robertson through a media frenzy while vetting countless offers of new and used vehicles for Robertson, bicycles, bus tickets and offers of free chauffeur service, along with clothing and appearances on national television. Robertson seemed unfazed by much of it.
"I'm the same man I've always been. They (parents) kept me humble and kept me working. When I slip into this car, I'll be thinking about them, every time," Robertson said.
But he'll also be thinking about where he's going and on Friday that was back to work at Schain Mold & Engineering as a plastic injection molding machine operator for more than a dozen years with a perfect attendance record.
"My coworkers have been tickled by all this. They're like a family," he said of workmates. That's well above Michigan's minimum wage of $8.15 but not enough to finance a car and insurance in Detroit, judged last week to have the nation's highest auto-insurance cost by an Internet shopping service.
After signing numerous forms and hugging numerous helpers, Robertson rode off shotgun in his car with a dealership employee driving him to work.
.
"All the years I've been walking, I've been thinking I had to make a way, get some transportation. And now I know that prayer works. But the best part of the story is that it got everybody talking about the bus system," Robertson said.
"Right here in Detroit, there's just so many people in my situation (and), hey, we've got a problem with the buses. We gotta fix it," he said.
Detroit's hard-walkin' worker to get $350K in donations:
One week after he gained global attention for his 21 miles and two bus rides of daily commuting, Detroiter James Robertson looked no different.
But Robertson, 56, said that his once quiet, arduous life was forever changed. Strangers rush up to him now, after his face appeared on TV screens and newspaper pages around the world.
"I went to the casino on Saturday, and people wanted to get their pictures taken with me," he said Sunday, laughing.
In the past, Robertson said he has visited Detroit's casinos occasionally and gambles small amounts of his $10.55-per-hour wage.
Along with fame came fortune. About $350,000 sat Sunday night in a GoFundMe.com account for Robertson, as its teenage creator in Macomb Township prepared to close it at midnight.
Detroit resident James Robertson, 56, of Detroit talks about his journey walking 21 miles a day to work and back. Ryan Garza/Detroit Free Press
Robertson, shoveling snow at the house where he lives in Detroit, wore the battered work boots in which he logged countless miles to his factory job in Rochester Hills, where he planned to punch in for Monday's afternoon shift. But parked in view of his upstairs apartment was his new Ford Taurus the gift of Suburban Ford in Sterling Heights.
Loaded with options, it was a surprise Friday, after Robertson told a succession of reporters that of all cars in the world, he'd like a Taurus because "it's like me: simple on the outside, strong on the inside."
James Robertson of Detroit walks around a free 2015 Ford Taurus from Suburban Ford in Sterling Heights on Friday, Feb. 6, 2015. A Detroit Free Press story told of his dedication on his daily 21-mile walk to and from work. (Photo: Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press)
Robertson said he didn't know how much money he had coming. He said he'd soon meet with "the people who are going to help me look after that." He's to be coached by several unpaid financial advisers, said Blake Pollock, 47, of Rochester, a UBS banker who befriended Robertson last year at the side of the road. The cash is fully taxable, as with any gift of cash, according to tax experts.
Pollock, a UBS vice president/wealth management, said Friday he'd picked the financial advisers but declined to identify them until Robertson approves of them. Pollock said he would not be involved, nor attend the meeting with Robertson, to avoid a conflict of interest.
"He's my friend and that's it," Pollock said.
Instead, Robertson is to have with him Evan Leedy, 19, of Macomb Township, a Wayne State University junior and computer expert who set up a GoFundMe.com page to help Robertson. In the first hours after the Free Press introduced Robertson's plight, Leedy's page drew donations from southeast Michiganders, but by week's end, they were flowing in from around the world, and still rolling in Sunday night at $10, $25, $200, even $500 a crack.
As for shutting down the money machine, Leedy said: "I talked to James about it, and James wants to give people the opportunity to give to other causes. And I think James didn't want people to think that he was greedy."
By Bill Laitner, Detroit Free Press
He doesn't look athletic but James Robertson, 56, of Detroit has a champ's commute. He rides buses part-way but walks about 21 miles in round trips to a factory, unless his banker pal offers a lift.
Story Highlights
- Think your commute is tough? Detroiter James Robertson, 56, walks about 21 miles a day, round trip.
- Robertson also takes a bus ride part-way to his hourly job in Rochester Hills, and part-way home.
- He says he loves his job and bosses, buses are limited and he can't afford a car on $10.55 an hour.
- Lately he catches breaks when a friendly banker heading for Troy sees him and offers frequent lifts.
Leaving home in Detroit at 8 a.m., James Robertson doesn't look like an endurance athlete.
Pudgy of form, shod in heavy work boots, Robertson trudges almost haltingly as he starts another workday.
But as he steps out into the cold, Robertson, 56, is steeled for an Olympic-sized commute. Getting to and from his factory job 23 miles away in Rochester Hills, he'll take a bus partway there and partway home. And he'll also walk an astounding 21 miles.
Five days a week. Monday through Friday.
It's the life Robertson has led for the last decade, ever since his 1988 Honda Accord quit on him.
Every trip is an ordeal of mental and physical toughness for this soft-spoken man with a perfect attendance record at work. And every day is a tribute to how much he cares about his job, his boss and his coworkers. Robertson's daunting walks and bus rides, in all kinds of weather, also reflect the challenges some metro Detroiters face in getting to work in a region of limited bus service, and where car ownership is priced beyond the reach of many.
But you won't hear Robertson complain nor his boss.
James Robertson, 56, of Detroit, walks toward Woodward Ave. in Detroit to catch his morning bus to Somerset Collection in Troy before walking to his job at Schain Mold & Engineering in Rochester Hills on Thursday January 29, 2015. James walks 21 miles daily round trip to his job.Robertson's roundtrip commute requires a bus ride each direction as well as nearly 21-miles of walking consuming 22 hours of his day before beginning again throughout the work week. (Photo: Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press)
"I set our attendance standard by this man," says Todd Wilson, plant manager at Schain Mold & Engineering. "I say, if this man can get here, walking all those miles through snow and rain, well I'll tell you, I have people in Pontiac 10 minutes away and they say they can't get here bull!"
As he speaks of his loyal employee, Wilson leans over his desk for emphasis, in a sparse office with a view of the factory floor. Before starting his shift, Robertson stops by the office every day to talk sports, usually baseball. And during dinnertime each day, Wilson treats him to fine Southern cooking, compliments of the plant manager's wife.
"Oh, yes, she takes care of James. And he's a personal favorite of the owners because of his attendance record. He's never missed. I've seen him come in here wringing wet," says Wilson, 53, of Metamora Township.
With a full-time job and marathon commutes, Robertson is clearly sleep deprived, but powers himself by downing 2-liter bottles of Mountain Dew and cans of Coke.
"I sleep a lot on the weekend, yes I do," he says, sounding a little amazed at his schedule. He also catches zzz's on his bus rides. Whatever it takes to get to his job, Robertson does it.
"I can't imagine not working," he says.
'Lord, keep me safe'
The sheer time and effort of getting to work has ruled Robertson's life for more than a decade, ever since his car broke down. He didn't replace it because, he says, "I haven't had a chance to save for it." His job pays $10.55 an hour, well above Michigan's minimum wage of $8.15 an hour but not enough for him to buy, maintain and insure a car in Detroit.
As hard as Robertson's morning commute is, the trip home is even harder.
At the end of his 2-10 p.m. shift as an injection molder at Schain Mold's squeaky-clean factory just south of M-59, and when his coworkers are climbing into their cars, Robertson sets off, on foot in the dark for the 23-mile trip to his home off Woodward near Holbrook. None of his coworkers lives anywhere near him, so catching a ride almost never happens.
Instead, he reverses the 7-mile walk he took earlier that day, a stretch between the factory and a bus stop behind Troy's Somerset Collection shopping mall.
"I keep a rhythm in my head," he says of his seemingly mechanical-like pace to the mall.
At Somerset, he catches the last SMART bus of the day, just before 1 a.m. He rides it into Detroit as far it goes, getting off at the State Fairgrounds on Woodward, just south of 8 Mile. By that time, the last inbound Woodward bus has left. So Robertson foots it the rest of the way about 5 miles in the cold or rain or the mild summer nights, to the home he shares with his girlfriend.
"I have to go through Highland Park, and you never know what you're going to run into," Robertson says. "It's pretty dangerous. Really, it is (dangerous) from 8 Mile on down. They're not the type of people you want to run into.
"But I've never had any trouble," he says. Actually, he did get mugged several years ago "some punks tuned him up pretty good," says Wilson, the plant manager. Robertson chooses not to talk about that.
So, what gets him past dangerous streets, and through the cold and gloom of night and winter winds?
"One word faith," Robertson says. "I'm not saying I'm a member of some church. But just before I get home, every night, I say, 'Lord, keep me safe.' "
The next day, Robertson adds, "I should've told you there's another thing: determination."
A land of no buses
Robertson's 23-mile commute from home takes four hours. It's so time-consuming because he must traverse the no-bus land of rolling Rochester Hills. It's one of scores of tri-county communities (nearly 40 in Oakland County alone) where voters opted not to pay the SMART transit millage. So it has no fixed-route bus service.
Once he gets to Troy and Detroit, Robertson is back in bus country. But even there, the bus schedules are thin in a region that is relentlessly auto-centric.
"The last five years been really tough because the buses cut back," Robertson says. Both SMART and DDOT have curtailed service over the last half decade, "and with SMART, it really affected service into Detroit," said Megan Owens, executive director of Transportation Riders United.
Detroit's director of transportation said there is a service Robertson may be able to use that's designed to help low-income workers. Job Access and Reverse Commute, paid for in part with federal dollars, provides door-to-door transportation to low-income workers, but at a cost. Robertson said he was not aware of the program.
Still, metro Detroit's lack of accessible mass transit hasn't stopped Robertson from hoofing it along sidewalks often snow-covered to get to a job.
At home at work
Robertson is proud of all the miles he covers each day. But it's taking a toll, and he's not getting any younger.
"He comes in here looking real tired his legs, his knees," says coworker Janet Vallardo, 59, of Auburn Hills.
But there's a lot more than a paycheck luring him to make his weekday treks. Robertson looks forward to being around his coworkers, saying, "We're like a family." He also looks forward to the homemade dinners the plant manager's wife whips up for him each day.
"I look at her food, I always say, 'Excellent. No, not excellent. Phenomenal,' " he says, with Wilson sitting across from him, nodding and smiling with affirmation.
Although Robertson eats in a factory lunchroom, his menus sound like something from a Southern café: Turnip greens with smoked pork neck bones, black-eyed peas and carrots in a brown sugar glaze, baby-back ribs, cornbread made from scratch, pinto beans, fried taters, cheesy biscuits. They're the kind of meal that can fuel his daunting commutes back home.
Though his job is clearly part of his social life, when it's time to work this graduate of Northern High School is methodical. He runs an injection-molding machine the size of a small garage, carefully slicing and drilling away waste after removing each finished part, and noting his production in detail on a clipboard.
Strangers crossing paths
Robertson has walked the walk so often that drivers wonder: Who is that guy? UBS banker Blake Pollock, 47, of Rochester, wondered. About a year ago, he found out.
Pollock tools up and down Crooks each day in his shiny black 2014 Chrysler 300.
"I saw him so many times, climbing through snow banks. I saw him at all different places on Crooks," Pollock recalls.
Last year, Pollock had just parked at his office space in Troy as Robertson passed. The banker in a suit couldn't keep from asking the factory guy in sweats, what the heck are you doing, walking out here every day? They talked a bit. Robertson walked off and Pollock ruminated.
From then on, Pollock began watching for the factory guy. At first, he'd pick him up occasionally, when he could swing the time. But the generosity became more frequent as winter swept in. Lately, it's several times a week, especially when metro Detroit sees single-digit temperatures and windchills.
"Knowing what I know, I can't drive past him now. I'm in my car with the heat blasting and even then my feet are cold," Pollock says.
Other times, it's 10:30 or 11 p.m., even after midnight, when Pollock, who is divorced, is sitting at home alone or rolling home from a night out, and wondering how the man he knows only as "James" is doing in the frigid darkness.
On those nights, Pollock runs Robertson all the way to his house in Detroit.
"I asked him, why don't you move closer" to work. "He said his girlfriend inherited their house so it's easy to stay there," Pollock said.
On a recent night run, Pollock got his passenger home at 11 p.m. They sat together in the car for a minute, outside Robertson's house.
"So, normally you'd be getting here at 4 o'clock (in the morning), right?" the banker asks. "Yeah," Robertson replies. Pollock flashes a wry smile. "So, you're pretty early, aren't you?" he says. Robertson catches the drift.
"Oh, I'm grateful for the time, believe me," Robertson says, then adds in a voice rising with anticipation: "I'm going to take me a bath!"
After the door shuts and Pollock pulls away, he admits that Robertson mystifies him, yet leaves him stunned with admiration for the man's uncanny work ethic and determination.
"I always say to my friends, I'm not a nice guy. But I find myself helping James," Pollock says with a sheepish laugh. He said he's picked up Robertson several dozen times this winter alone.
Has a routine
At the plant, coworkers feel odd seeing one of their team numbers always walking, says Charlie Hollis, 63, of Pontiac. "I keep telling him to get him a nice little car," says Hollis, also a machine operator.
Echoes the plant manager Wilson, "We are very much trying to get James a vehicle." But Robertson has a routine now, and he seems to like it, his coworkers say.
"If I can get away, I'll pick him up. But James won't get in just anybody's car. He likes his independence," Wilson says.
Robertson has simple words for why he is what he is, and does what he does. He speaks with pride of his parents, including his father's military service.
"I just get it from my family. It's a lot of walking, I know."
And now how people came to his aid:
Walking man' James Robertson gets new Ford Taurus:
James Robertson's marathon commute to work will be slashed by hours, now that the hard-workin', hard-walkin' hero finally got a car.
Robertson, whose story in Sunday's Free Press about his 21-mile daily round-trip commutes made him an overnight media celebrity, registered total surprise Friday as he walked into the Suburban Ford dealership in Sterling Heights, expecting just to get some brochures. Instead, his dream car was there waiting and ready.
Unlike most people, Robertson didn't have to kick the tires or haggle over the price. Nor did he have to run any numbers to see if he could afford it. All of that was done for him.
Robertson, true to his modest roots and humble nature, will drive the model that he said he admired, a Ford Taurus: "It's simple on the outside and strong in the inside like me."
Helping Robertson secure the car, which the dealership gave him as a gift, was Blake Pollock, a banker who befriended him during the factory worker's trek to work.
"I said, 'You really want a Taurus, right.' I was so scared that, at the last minute, he might say, 'Oh, I changed my mind to a Toyota' or something," Pollock said,
Putting any doubts to rest, Robertson broke into a grin as he sat in the 2015 car, with a sticker price of $35,215. David Fischer Jr., co-owner of the Suburban Collection, which owns the dealership that awarded the car, asked, "So, how do you like it?" "I don't like it," Robertson said, "I love it. It's just as I had envisioned.
James Robertson of Detroit walks around a free 2015 Ford Taurus from Suburban Ford in Sterling Heights on Friday, Feb. 6, 2015. A Detroit Free Press story told of his dedication on his daily 21-mile walk to and from work. (Photo: Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press)
"I can't thank people enough. I can't wait to show my coworkers," Robertson said, as he was handed the keys and tried to start the car with them.
"No, you just push this button," said Fischer.
"Ohhhhhh," Robertson gasped, as a crowd of TV cameras rolled. "If only my parents could see this," said Robertson, 56, who still lives in the area of central Detroit where he grew up. "It's really a tribute to them, and the things they instilled," he said.
Indeed, it has been 10 years since Robertson has owned a car.
Detroit resident James Robertson, 56, of Detroit talks about his journey walking 21 miles a day to work and back. Ryan Garza/Detroit Free Press
The banker in a suit and wingtips had been passing Robertson in work boots day after day, mile after mile, for a couple of years, when finally Pollock pulled over one day, pushed open the door and offered the stranger a lift. Gradually, he came to know Robertson's schedule, then his name.
Come to find out Robertson had been taking the bus from Detroit to a location near Somerset Collections in Troy, then walking more than seven miles to work and a little more than 13 miles back home in the dark for 10 years. His older model Honda died on him, and at $10.55 an hour and Detroit's insurance rates, he couldn't afford to replace it.
Paying for insurance for his new car shouldn't be a challenge. An online fund-raising effort has generated more than $312,000, thanks to the generosity of 19-year old Evan Leedy of Macomb Township.
The GoFundMe site will be closed down on Sunday because "he really has enough, we think, to take care of his needs," Leedy said, as his parents stood nearby, smiling at the media crowd around their son.
The money will be earmarked for years of Robertson's car insurance and maintenance, as well as health and dental care and "other things that we can't predict right now," Pollock said.
Robertson said he was aware of the accumulating cash but said, "I"m not really worried about it as long as somebody don't try to steal it. Blake's got some friends who's going to handle it."
Insurance quotes for keeping the car in central Detroit ranged as high as $900 a month for Robertson, who has a perfect driving record according to the Michigan Secretary of State's Office. Pollock found a relative bargain at about $400 a month nearly $5,000 a year, he said. A national study last week put Detroit's average rate at $5,000 a year.
Pollock said he was assembling an unpaid board of advisers who would meet next week with Robertson to help him manage his windfall, including the payment of income taxes. The board will have a lawyer, financial planner and other advisers, but "I'm not going to be on it I'm not even going to be at that meeting," said Pollock, a vice president/wealth management at the Troy offices of UBS. He said his involvement as a friend might appear to be a conflict of interest were he to help manage Robertson's sudden wealth.
This week, Pollock, of Rochester Hills, shepherded Robertson through a media frenzy while vetting countless offers of new and used vehicles for Robertson, bicycles, bus tickets and offers of free chauffeur service, along with clothing and appearances on national television. Robertson seemed unfazed by much of it.
"I'm the same man I've always been. They (parents) kept me humble and kept me working. When I slip into this car, I'll be thinking about them, every time," Robertson said.
But he'll also be thinking about where he's going and on Friday that was back to work at Schain Mold & Engineering as a plastic injection molding machine operator for more than a dozen years with a perfect attendance record.
"My coworkers have been tickled by all this. They're like a family," he said of workmates. That's well above Michigan's minimum wage of $8.15 but not enough to finance a car and insurance in Detroit, judged last week to have the nation's highest auto-insurance cost by an Internet shopping service.
After signing numerous forms and hugging numerous helpers, Robertson rode off shotgun in his car with a dealership employee driving him to work.
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"All the years I've been walking, I've been thinking I had to make a way, get some transportation. And now I know that prayer works. But the best part of the story is that it got everybody talking about the bus system," Robertson said.
"Right here in Detroit, there's just so many people in my situation (and), hey, we've got a problem with the buses. We gotta fix it," he said.
Detroit's hard-walkin' worker to get $350K in donations:
One week after he gained global attention for his 21 miles and two bus rides of daily commuting, Detroiter James Robertson looked no different.
But Robertson, 56, said that his once quiet, arduous life was forever changed. Strangers rush up to him now, after his face appeared on TV screens and newspaper pages around the world.
"I went to the casino on Saturday, and people wanted to get their pictures taken with me," he said Sunday, laughing.
In the past, Robertson said he has visited Detroit's casinos occasionally and gambles small amounts of his $10.55-per-hour wage.
Along with fame came fortune. About $350,000 sat Sunday night in a GoFundMe.com account for Robertson, as its teenage creator in Macomb Township prepared to close it at midnight.
Detroit resident James Robertson, 56, of Detroit talks about his journey walking 21 miles a day to work and back. Ryan Garza/Detroit Free Press
Robertson, shoveling snow at the house where he lives in Detroit, wore the battered work boots in which he logged countless miles to his factory job in Rochester Hills, where he planned to punch in for Monday's afternoon shift. But parked in view of his upstairs apartment was his new Ford Taurus the gift of Suburban Ford in Sterling Heights.
Loaded with options, it was a surprise Friday, after Robertson told a succession of reporters that of all cars in the world, he'd like a Taurus because "it's like me: simple on the outside, strong on the inside."
James Robertson of Detroit walks around a free 2015 Ford Taurus from Suburban Ford in Sterling Heights on Friday, Feb. 6, 2015. A Detroit Free Press story told of his dedication on his daily 21-mile walk to and from work. (Photo: Ryan Garza, Detroit Free Press)
Robertson said he didn't know how much money he had coming. He said he'd soon meet with "the people who are going to help me look after that." He's to be coached by several unpaid financial advisers, said Blake Pollock, 47, of Rochester, a UBS banker who befriended Robertson last year at the side of the road. The cash is fully taxable, as with any gift of cash, according to tax experts.
Pollock, a UBS vice president/wealth management, said Friday he'd picked the financial advisers but declined to identify them until Robertson approves of them. Pollock said he would not be involved, nor attend the meeting with Robertson, to avoid a conflict of interest.
"He's my friend and that's it," Pollock said.
Instead, Robertson is to have with him Evan Leedy, 19, of Macomb Township, a Wayne State University junior and computer expert who set up a GoFundMe.com page to help Robertson. In the first hours after the Free Press introduced Robertson's plight, Leedy's page drew donations from southeast Michiganders, but by week's end, they were flowing in from around the world, and still rolling in Sunday night at $10, $25, $200, even $500 a crack.
As for shutting down the money machine, Leedy said: "I talked to James about it, and James wants to give people the opportunity to give to other causes. And I think James didn't want people to think that he was greedy."
