The education of Ted Barris

Canada’s 10th Father of Confederation, Joseph R. Smallwood. Historica.

He was the only source I’ve ever interviewed who intimidated me. And it wasn’t his personality or his manner that scared me. In fact, he proved to be among the most gracious, easy-going people I’ve ever interviewed. We met over the telephone back in the winter of 1976, and I began our conversation very formally, addressing him as “Mister.” And he immediately broke the ice with his first response.

“Please. Call me Joey,” he said. “Everybody does.”

“Thank you, Joey,” I responded, and I began my first and only interview with a Father of Confederation, the then recently retired premier of Newfoundland and Labrador, Joseph R. Smallwood. (more…)

Corporate profits versus union protection

Among the best eateries in Baltimore, Maryland – the Double-T Diner.

Most evenings you’d see her as you entered the restaurant. Six or seven nights a week, my aunt met customers at the front door of the Double-T Diner in Baltimore, Md., with the warmest, most genuine smile ever. On the job, Virginia always dressed appropriately – hair neat as a pin, makeup just right and clothing not a thread out of place. She was the best restaurant hostess (she preferred that title herself) I ever knew.

“You never know who might arrive,” she told me. “Best to be prepared.” (more…)

Resentment against otherness

Migrants on the move in Mexico. BBC.com

Leslie hadn’t had much opportunity to mention her religious affiliation. She and I worked together as producers for a TV Ontario show, back in the 1970s, and the subject of her faith never came up. Then, over a coffee one day, she happened to mention her activities on the Sabbath and I realized she was Jewish. But she surprised me with this admission.

“I never really feel very comfortable talking about my faith to non-Jews,” she said.

“Why not?” I asked, and added, “This is Canada.”

“Even here,” she continued, “I’m often looking over my shoulder.”

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Inside out

As kids, we would lose ourselves below the high-tension wires of Rouge River Park on day-long outings.
As kids, we would lose ourselves below the high-tension wires of Rouge River Park on day-long outings.

It must have something to do with age, but instead of waking up and getting out of bed refreshed, last Sunday morning, I was hurting. Nothing very complicated. It was just a knot in my back. I chalked it up to a tumble during a late-season hockey game or maybe carrying home too many bags of students’ papers to mark.

Anyway, soon after, I took my coffee up to my office and began editing and evaluating those papers. But it was hard to ignore the gorgeous day unfolding outside my office window. So, eventually, with all that blue sky and long-overdue warm air, I gave in.

“I’ll just rake the lawn for a while,” I thought to myself. “At the very least, it’ll clear my head.” (more…)

Closest to the premiers

A few weeks ago, as I showered, shaved and made my way to work, CBC Radio’s local Toronto morning show invited audience comment. Host Matt Galloway wondered: “Where do Torontonians go, to find absolute silence?”

In a matter of a few seconds, I had an answer and texted it to him: “Sealed inside the rare books section at the Robarts Library, right down to the white gloves so your hands don’t rustle pages.”

I hadn’t thought about Ontario’s 17th premier in a long time. But when Galloway posed the question, I quickly remembered research I had conducted back in the early 1970s. I needed to find excerpts from particularly rare books and the only source was the then brand new John P. Robarts Research Library at the University of Toronto. By coincidence, this past week, I’ve been reading my colleague Steve Paikin’s new book, “Paikin and the Premiers.” Among other things, Paikin reminded me that Premier Robarts gave this province much more than a quiet research library.

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