LANGAN o@ca.on.middlesex_county.london.london_free_press 2006-03-28 published
DYMOND, Mary Patricia " Pat" (née PILON)
In her 84th year, passed away on March 26th, 2006 at Huronview Home for the Aged, in Clinton, Ontario. She is predeceased by her parents Theodore (T.J.) and Lena PILON of Windsor. Survived by her brother James PILON and his wife Janet of Harper Woods, Michigan. Beloved mother of Kathryn MIGNAULT, Pamela LANGAN and her husband Larry, and James MIGNAULT and his wife Diane. Grandmother of Shelby, Jennifer, Brent and his wife Christine, Jessica, Ryan and Cary. A private family service will be held at the Westview Funeral Chapel. Cremation and private interment of ashes. If desired, memorial donations may be made to the Canadian Cancer Society. Many thanks to the incredible caring staff at Huronview. Email condolences may be sent to mail@westviewfuneralchapel.com

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-03-01 published
Kenneth DEANE, Officer And Security Expert (1960-2006)
Former Ontario Provincial Police officer enjoyed a promising career in a paramilitary squad until he shot and killed native protester Dudley GEORGE in 1995. He left the force in 2002 and died in a traffic accident on Saturday
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail, Page S7
Toronto -- Kenneth DEANE's life was changed -- some would say ruined -- by an incident that's now known as Ipperwash. On September 6, 1995, he shot and killed Anthony (Dudley) GEORGE at Ontario's Ipperwash Provincial Park during what was Canada's most important Indian protest since Quebec's Oka crisis of 1990.
Until that night, Mr. DEANE of the Ontario Provincial Police had an exemplary record, one that had helped smooth his way into the exclusive ranks of the Ontario Provincial Police's tactical rescue unit. As acting sergeant, he was leading a highly trained, four-man team of marksmen on the night he shot Mr. GEORGE.
"The whole sequence took place in 20, 30, 35 seconds," Mr. DEANE said at his trial in July of 1997. He was convicted of criminal negligence causing death. In his 2001 book, One Dead Indian, Toronto Star reporter Peter EDWARDS recounted the Ontario Provincial Police officer's description of what led up to the shooting. Mr. DEANE said he saw flashes of light coming from the barrel of a weapon inside a school bus that protesters were using to barge into an Ontario Provincial Police riot squad.
"It was an attempt to shoot a police officer," he told the court. However, he chose not to open fire because of the many officers who were in the way. "I saw a distinct muzzle flash originate from the interior of the bus."
The book went on to describe the actual firing of the weapon and Mr. DEANE's testimony that Mr. GEORGE was armed and had presented a threat. "I observed him shoulder a rifle and in a half-crouched position, scanned [the rifle] over our position." Mr. DEANE said he fired three shots from his highly accurate, Heckler and Koch sub-machine gun "as quick as I could."
"He [Mr. GEORGE] immediately went down on one knee and immediately got back up."
Still on the road, Mr. GEORGE looked to his right and left and walked a few steps, Mr. DEANE testified. He then did something rather odd for someone who was mortally wounded, with a broken collar bone, cracked ribs and a punctured lung, Mr. DEANE said. He testified that Mr. GEORGE raised his arm and threw the rifle into a grass-covered field, leaving himself unarmed and exposed to police fire.
Although Mr. DEANE had provided a detailed description of the rifle, another tactical rescue unit officer who was just metres away during the incident testified that he had observed Mr. GEORGE holding "a pole or stick." The officer also said that the only muzzle flashes he saw had come from his own gun. Hundreds of other shots were fired that night, all by the police, and the Ontario Provincial Police has since arrived at the view that the protesters were not armed.
For his part, Mr. DEANE fired a total of seven shots. Four had been aimed at other protesters and three at Mr. GEORGE. One bullet missed, one struck him in the lower leg, and the last found his torso.
Though Mr. DEANE spoke in a calm and self-assured manner, the judge at his trial did not believe him. Mr. Justice Hugh FRASER as much as called him a liar and ruled that Mr. GEORGE had been unarmed. He rejected the notion that Mr. DEANE had an "honest but mistaken belief" and found that Mr. GEORGE did not have a weapon when he was killed. He said Mr. DEANE had concocted his evidence "in an ill-fated attempt to disguise the fact that an unarmed man had been shot."
Judge FRASER, who also ruled that some other police officers had falsified evidence to support Mr. DEANE, found him guilty and sentenced him to a conditional sentence of two years less a day, plus 180 days of community service but no house arrest.
Mr. DEANE appealed the conviction to the Supreme Court of Canada. In February, 2000, the court ruled there were no grounds for a new trial. He did win a small victory, however. The Supreme Court denied an appeal by Crown prosecutors who had sought jail time instead of the conditional sentence.
"I still believe Ken DEANE was an honest police office who was hard done by by the justice system," lawyer Norman PEEL, who had represented Mr. DEANE at the trial, said yesterday. "He was misjudged as being cold and withdrawn when, in fact, he was just quiet." After the conviction, Mr. DEANE continued in the Ontario Provincial Police. Among other things, he was a bomb-disposal expert and a specialist in fighting biker gangs and terrorists. His fellow officers came to his defence, believing he had been victimized.
"He was an asset to the Ontario Provincial Police," said Inspector Robert BRUCE, who at that time believed Mr. DEANE "should remain in the position that he's in."
But Ipperwash continued to haunt Mr. DEANE.
"I sincerely apologize to the family and Friends of Dudley GEORGE and to his community for causing the terrible loss that they have been forced to endure," he said at a discipline hearing in September of 2001. For all that, he always maintained he had done nothing wrong the night Mr. GEORGE was shot and he fought to stay on the force.
It was a battle he lost. In October, 2001, he pleaded to a charge of discreditable conduct under the Police Services Act. Four months later, an inquiry by police adjudicator Loyall CANN forced him to resign. Ms. CANN, a former deputy chief of the Toronto police force, said the shooting of Mr. GEORGE had resulted in "the most serious conviction" ever recorded against an Ontario Provincial Police officer.
"What could possibly be more shocking to society than to have a sworn, fully trained and experienced police officer, while on duty, in full uniform [and] using a police-issued firearm, kill an unarmed citizen," said Ms. CANN.
She ordered him to resign or be fired. He quit the next day and later found a job working in security at an Ontario Hydro nuclear station. More recently, he was Canadian sales manager for Canadian Allen-Vanguard Response Systems, a publicly traded company that provides state-of-the-art anti-terrorist equipment and systems.
Kenneth DEANE grew up in London, Ontario, the son of the late Robert DEANE and Katherine DEANE. One of six children, he had long dreamed of being a policeman. After leaving high school, he studied law and security at Fanshawe College and then joined the London police force. He was next accepted by the Ontario Provincial Police and quickly became involved with the tactical rescue unit, the special squad deployed in hostage-taking situations and in emergencies.
At his trial, a fellow officers described the patience Mr. DEANE had displayed during a hostage situation in Dryden, Ontario, when a man with a rifle threatened two women. The incident ended without violence. "He does not react emotionally, said Staff Sergeant Brian DEEVY, also a member of the tactical rescue unit. "I have never seen him lose control."
Mr. DEANE had also served with Ontario Provincial Police officers sent to help deal with the Oka crisis, and in 1991 had attended an incident at Grassy Narrows in Northern Ontario when an Ontario Provincial Police officer was shot dead.
The killing of Mr. GEORGE caused an outcry against the tactics and actions of the Ontario Provincial Police and the government of Ontario. It triggered the Ipperwash inquiry that has been sitting since July of 2004 under Mr. Justice Sidney LINDEN. Mr. DEANE was scheduled to appear at the hearing next month and his testimony was keenly anticipated.
In the type of coincidence that feeds conspiracy theorists, Mr. DEANE is the third Ontario Provincial Police officer involved in the Dudley GEORGE shooting to be killed in a traffic accident. Sgt. Margaret EVE, who tried to negotiate with the natives at Ipperwash before the shooting, died in a crash involving a transport truck on Highway 401 near Chatham, Ontario Inspector Dale LINTON, the commander who gave the orders to Mr. DEANE's team, was killed in a single-vehicle accident near Smith's Falls in October of Mr. DEANE was killed in a traffic accident on Highway 401 near Prescott in Eastern Ontario. Snow squalls had caused vehicles to slow or come to a halt and his Ford Explorer clipped a tractor trailer that was blocking the road. Before he could extricate his vehicle, a second highway truck travelling behind him was unable to stop and the sport utility vehicle was crushed.
Kenneth DEANE was born in October of 1960. He died on February 25, 2006. He was 45. He leaves his wife, Lucie SIROIS. Also an Ontario Provincial Police officer, she was injured some years ago while investigating a traffic accident. Additionally, he leaves his brother Bill and sisters Barbara, Nancy, Sue and Judy. A funeral is set for 11 a.m. tomorrow in Sudbury, Ontario

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-03-10 published
Peter BERRY, Naval Officer (1923-2006)
During the Second World War, he had a hand in sinking three U-boats and later became a pilot on Canada's last carrier
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail, Page S9
Toronto -- Peter BERRY was just a couple of years out of Lisgar Collegiate in Ottawa when the Canadian destroyer he was on sunk a German U-boat in the English Channel. H.M.C.S. Kootenay and its sister ship, H.M.C.S. Ottawa, helped by a British corvette, sank the German submarine U-678 on July 6, 1944, just off the English coast near the seaside resort of Brighton.
The chase had taken more than two days and sub-lieutenant BERRY was awake for almost all of it. He was the operations officer working in a room just below the bridge. Chasing down a submarine wasn't as easy as it looked in the movies. It took hours, even days, and required sonar and radar and all the other leading-edge technology of the time.
"He worked at a table with a mechanized control underneath with lights that calculated the course of the ship. He worked to plot the course of the submarine we were chasing," said Ray CREERY, later a captain in the navy who also served on the Kootenay with Mr. BERRY during the war. "I don't think he could have had more than a couple of hours sleep, here and there."
The Kootenay was one of the top submarine hunters in the Royal Canadian Navy and sub-lieutenant BERRY was on board for all three of her kills. The next two U-boat sinkings were in the Bay of Biscay, on August 18 and August 20. Mr. BERRY was mentioned in dispatches.
When Peter BERRY joined the Royal Canadian Navy he was assigned to the Kootenay in the North Atlantic. The warships ran from Saint John's, Newfoundland., to Londonderry in Northern Ireland. By chance, he and Mr. CREERY served on the same ship. They had been in Grade 7 together at Rockcliffe Park Public School in Ottawa. The winter of 1943-44 was particularly bitter, and Mr. CREERY remembers gales so strong that the under-powered merchant ships they were escorting would make no headway. "We had to go and round them up and bring them back into the convoy. Maybe the toughest part was refuelling the warships at sea from tankers."
In the spring of 1944, the Kootenay and other ships were taken off convoy duty and assigned to Escort Group 11, one of the specialist submarine hunting groups in preparation for the invasion of Normandy. There were 126 Canadian vessels involved in D-Day, June 6, 1944. The Kootenay was patrolling the western approaches to the English Channel, acting as a blocker against German U-boats.
"Escort Group 11, of which Kootenay was a part, was the most successful inshore submarine hunting group in the Normandy campaign," says Marc Milner, professor of history at the University of New Brunswick and author of The U-Boat Hunters, The Royal Canadian Navy and the Offensive against Germany's Submarines.
After the war, Mr. BERRY stayed in the navy and eventually became captain of H.M.C.S. Algonquin, a destroyer. The Algonquin was a V-class destroyer that Canada bought from the Royal Navy. It remained in service until 1970.
One of his first post-war assignments was on land as flag lieutenant to Admiral Rollo Mainguy. Part of the time that involved living in the admiral's house in Halifax. His son, Dan Mainguy, who also went on to become an admiral, recalls the slightly older Lieutenant BERRY and his prodigious appetite. "He would empty the fridge, eating plates of chicken and huge amounts of ice cream, but he never gained weight," he said. "He was kind of unique in that he became a pilot after being an observer. He served in that wonderful era when we had aircraft carriers."
Mr. BERRY served on many ships in his post-war career, including H.M.C.S. Magnificent and H.M.C.S. Bonaventure, both aircraft carriers. Peter WORTHINGTON, the Toronto Sun columnist, also served as a naval flier and remembers him as a dashing figure who managed to remain a bachelor until he was 33.
Peter BERRY was born in Shanghai where his father worked for Sun Life Insurance. The family returned to Canada when Peter was about 2. He went to private school, Ashbury College, for a year or so, but his father thought he was too involved in sports and so sent him to Lisgar Collegiate. Mr. BERRY went to Queen's University to study engineering but quit to join the navy.
After leaving the navy in 1964 with the rank of commander, he retired to his farm at Milton, just outside Toronto. It was more than a hobby farm and there the family tended a large flock of chickens as well a herd of beef cattle. His children remember he liked to execute navy-style, kitchen haircuts -- much to their embarrassment when they showed up at school.
Mr. BERRY tried a number of different business ventures, including a project to build a small submarine that could navigate under the Arctic ice. He also translated his love of British sports cars into a car dealership in Mississauga, Ontario One half of it sold British Leyland products, the other half Volkswagens. When British Leyland went under, both dealerships closed.
Mr. BERRY had many narrow scrapes throughout life, both in the navy and in civilian life. In September of 1948, he was an observer aboard a Fairey Firefly, when it ran off the deck while landing on H.M.C.S. Magnificent. He and the pilot were picked from the water. The incident was recorded by someone on deck with a camera. Many years later, he was helping out on a neighbour's farm when he severed his arm with a post-hole auger. The arm was later successfully reattached.
As he was being wheeled into the operating room, Mr. BERRY quipped to his wife, "Well, we always wanted a Lord Nelson in the family," a reference to the one-armed British Admiral who won the battle of Trafalgar in 1805.
Peter Cushing BERRY was born in Shanghai on October 24, 1923. He died in Milton, Ontario, on February 13, 2006 after complications from a fall. He leaves his wife, Anne, a daughter and three sons.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-03-23 published
Michel CHEVALIER, Teacher, Soldier And Businessman (1924-2006)
Quebecker of high-born French origins ended up a professor but had been a D-Day artilleryman and a political hopeful
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail, Page S7
Toronto -- Michel CHEVALIER did so many different things in life, he is almost impossible to pigeonhole. He ended as a professor, earning a PhD in his 40s after having earlier quit university. Along the way, he was a soldier, a businessman and a somewhat prescient politician.
The CHEVALIER family was an oddity in Quebec. They came from France in the 19th century, not the 17th. Michel CHEVALIER's grandfather arrived in Montreal to found a branch of the French financial institution Credit Foncier. Michel's parents distrusted the influence of the Catholic Church in 1920s Quebec, so they sent their children to English-language private schools.
His mother, Alice GEOFFRION, was the daughter of a prominent Montreal lawyer. One ancestor on that side of the family was Sir Antoine DORION, a prominent player in Quebec politics who was briefly joint premier of the united province of Canada in August of 1858. In the next decade, he opposed Confederation but eventually served in a Liberal cabinet and became chief justice of Quebec.
When the Second World War began, Michel CHEVALIER was scarcely 15 but keen to get into the thick of the fighting. Many young men longed to be officers so, a little more than a year later, he faked his age and qualified for officer training. He graduated a year later and was eager to head overseas as soon as possible but ran into a colonel who had known his father during the First World War.
"You must be Jacques," said the colonel, referring to his older brother. When the colonel discovered Michel was only 17, he put a stop to him going overseas.
Michel then resigned his commission and re-enlisted as a private soldier. He was sent overseas, trained in England and landed with the 13th Canadian Field Regiment, Royal Canadian artillery, on D-Day, June 6, 1944. He was wounded twice during fighting in Europe.
After the war, Mr. CHEVALIER enrolled at McGill University but felt too restless for student life and lasted about a month. It was during this time that he first met his future wife, Jean MacGREGOR. He proposed marriage after their first meeting. She turned him down, and he took off on a long trip through Africa and Latin America. He came home three years later to find she had changed her mind. For a while, he worked at Alcan in the public-relations department, where he objected to the lack of French-speaking smelter managers.
"He pushed so hard, he was fired from Alcan," long-time friend High Pawson recalled. "He was a forward thinker and called the shots on what was going to happen in Quebec long before it happened."
It was around then that Mr. CHEVALIER wrote a rather prescient letter to a Tory member of Parliament, J.M. Macdonnell, saying the Progressive Conservatives needed to win support in Quebec or the country faced the prospect of unending Liberal rule. In his letter of 1950, he used the old-fashioned term Canadien to describe Quebeckers. "It is true that the Canadien vote can, in rare instances, be stampeded away from the Liberals, but there is no denying that this kind of support scatters just as fast as it is gathered," Mr. CHEVALIER wrote, adding that the country needed a strong second party.
Later, he started his own company, a business that organized conferences. It was a success, and his brother joined him as a partner in Chevalier Associates. They worked out of the elegant Prince of Wales Terrace on Sherbrooke Street (it was later torn down).
In the mid-1960s, Mr. CHEVALIER decided to return to school. He earned a master's degree and then a doctorate in city planning at the University of Pennsylvania. He returned home to be a professor at the Université de Montreal in the Institute d'urbanisme. At the same time, he joined the faculty at Toronto's York University to teach environmental studies.
"Michel was very focused on ideas and always thinking ahead," said Fred Carden, one of Mr. CHEVALIER's doctoral students at the Université de Montreal. "For example, he was talking about horizontal management 10 to 15 years before it became a hot topic in government circles."
At the same time, Mr. CHEVALIER became involved in municipal politics. He worked with the Montreal Citizens Movement, a group that challenged Jean Drapeau's one-man rule at City Hall, with good effect. But while they got some new councillors elected, their number was insufficient to temper the Montreal mayor's ego and power. Mr. Drapeau went ahead with the 1976 Olympic Games, which the city and province are still paying off.
On the city level, Mr. CHEVALIER mostly worked behind the scenes but did have one foray into organized politics. In 1972, he ran for the Progressive Conservatives in Argenteuil-Deux-Montagnes, the federal riding near the confluence of the Ottawa and St. Lawrence where his family had long owned a farm. He didn't stand much of chance; his opponent was Francis Fox, a future minister in Pierre Trudeau's cabinet, and the Liberals swept Quebec to win 56 of 75 seats. He had fallen victim to the very circumstances he had predicted regarding Liberal hegemony in Quebec.
Much of Mr. CHEVALIER's childhood and adult life were spent at a family farm at Oka, Quebec After the troubles at Oka, the family sold most of the property. Mr. CHEVALIER left the Université de Montreal in 1988 but stayed on at York until his retirement in 1992.
Michel Philippe CHEVALIER was born in Montreal on July 1, 1924. He died in Toronto on January 15, 2006, after a long stay in hospital. He is survived by his wife, Jean, and four children. He was predeceased by a daughter in 1991.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-04-11 published
Ian SINCLAIR, Last Of The Railway Titans: (1913-2006)
He ran Canadian Pacific almost single-handedly, operating the giant company at a time when it was still the most powerful corporate force in the country
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail, Page S9
He was Canadian Pacific's last titan. Ian SINCLAIR ran Canadian Pacific from 1969 to 1981, a time when it was still the most powerful company in the country and owned everything from the railway, a shipping line and a hotel chain, to an airline and oil-and-gas assets. In 1988, he was identified as one of six Lords of the Line, a book by writer-historians David Cruise and Alison Griffiths that put him right up there with the first presidents of Canadian Pacific Railway: George STEPHEN, William VAN HORNE, Thomas SHAUGHNESSY, Edward BEATTY and Norris Roy (Buck) CRUMP.
Ian SINCLAIR was a tough and demanding boss at Canadian Pacific Enterprises. "We don't go to work at Canadian Pacific, we report for duty," he once said and cracked down on office workers goofing off in the middle of the day. He did not want to see them loitering around the concourse of Windsor Station, the head office of the Canadian Pacific Railway. In his view, being seen in the favourite public gathering spot of the railway employees outside of lunch hour or coffee breaks could be a firing offence. Later in his career, he was known as Big Julie, but it's unlikely anyone ever called him that to his face.
Unlike many corporate leaders of the day, Mr. SINCLAIR was outspoken on public issues and even a bit of a Canadian nationalist. He got on so well with prime minister Pierre Trudeau that he was named to the Senate after he retired in 1984.
The empire Ian SINCLAIR ruled over had started out the Canadian Pacific Railway. The Canadian Pacific Railway picked up a lot of its assets in the 19th century, including a land grant of 25 million acres to build the railway. Much of the land was sold to settlers, but oil was later found on the railway's properties. Hotels were built along the way, as well as a shipping line to bring immigrants and goods to Canada. By the time he left, the railway no longer took passengers, the airline was gone and the company had strayed so far from its roots that it had invested in huge swathes of forest. The trees were a mistake but, even so, Ian SINCLAIR had increased the assets of the Canadian Pacific Railway and made it easier for the company to be broken into five pieces in 2003.
Mr. SINCLAIR rose to prominence under Buck CRUMP. Both men were tough and confident leaders of Canada's greatest company. Mr. SINCLAIR joined Canadian Pacific Railway in 1942 in Winnipeg. His father had come from Scotland to work in the repair shops of the Grand Trunk Railway, one of the railways that made up rival Canadian National. Ian SINCLAIR went to the University of Manitoba, where he took a degree in economics and then another in law.
His first job at the Canadian Pacific Railway was as an assistant solicitor and he quickly made his mark. Four years later, he moved to head office at Windsor Station in Montreal. Mr. SINCLAIR was known as the Perry Mason of railway law, for his resemblance to the burly television lawyer and for his dogged defence of railway interests in a series of royal commissions and tribunals.
At that time, it was still a railway world. Mr. SINCLAIR and other top executives would travel across the country in private railway cars kept on sidings in Windsor Station. Ian SINCLAIR straddled the era of the steam engine and the diesel locomotive a struggle with the unions over who was to man the trains was one of his great victories.
The job, as he saw it, was to get rid of firemen. Steam engines required an engineer to drive the train and a fireman to feed the boiler. With the end of steam and the introduction of diesel electric trains, there was no need for firemen, but the union contract still called for them. It was a textbook case of feather-bedding. Mr. SINCLAIR won his case against the unions and the firemen were gone. In 1960, he became vice-president of law at Canadian Pacific Railway. He was next put in charge of the operating and traffic departments, so that by the time he was made president in 1969 there wasn't a piece of the railway he didn't know. He was 52.
Mr. SINCLAIR was a textbook workaholic who read the Globe and Mail and Report on Business first thing every morning and loved his job. "Some people may think that work is distasteful, but not I. I'm very happy when I work," said Mr. SINCLAIR. To him, running Canadian Pacific Railway was a group exercise. "Sometimes, we have our disappointments and we back off and take another look. Then we solve something -- when we make it good -- that's when work's most enjoyable."There were many problems to solve at the start of his reign. Canadian Pacific Railway wanted to get out of the passenger business. People were using highways and planes to get around and railways across the continent were dying. As a result, Via Rail was born as a merger of the passenger services of Canadian Pacific and Canadian National.
That did not mean there weren't profitable parts of the business. In 1958, Canadian Pacific Oil and Gas, the predecessor to PanCanadian Petroleum -- later Encana -- was formed with the purpose of reassembling the land, which had been leased to oil companies.
Four years later, Mr. CRUMP created a subsidiary called Canadian Pacific Investments, which was given all of Canadian Pacific's non-transportation assets (a structure designed to keep those interests off limits when Canadian Pacific had to undergo review by federal regulators). The new subsidiary's mandate was to acquire and develop resource operations.
The chief architect in the execution of this was Mr. SINCLAIR, who oversaw a period of unprecedented growth at Canadian Pacific. At the start of 1970, Canadian Pacific's asset value was $2.2-billion. A decade later, it was $13-billion, a spectacular growth even allowing for inflation. In the same period, Canadian Pacific's annual revenues swelled to $10-billion from $616-million, moving Canadian Pacific to No. 1 from No. 6 in the corporate size sweepstakes.
And he did it all in a way that is denied today's corporate executives. David O'BRIEN, the last man to run the entire Canadian Pacific empire, said in 2001 that life was different for Chairman SINCLAIR.
"I knew Ian SINCLAIR when I was a young boy. I don't think he met with more than three analysts the whole time he was running Canadian Pacific," said Mr. O'BRIEN. " Now, they're banging down your door every day."
Though Mr. SINCLAIR became a politician late in life, he was often frustrated by politics. In particular, he disliked the victory of the separatist government in Quebec and how it had hollowed out the business centre of Montreal. One after the other, companies fled for Toronto, Calgary and Vancouver.
Corporate chronicler Peter Newman told a story of visiting Mr. SINCLAIR in his office at Windsor station and interviewing him across the giant oak desk once owned by Sir William VAN HORNE, the man who built the Canadian Pacific Railway. Mr. Newman asked him about the corporate exodus from Montreal.
"What's left in Montreal?" bellowed Mr. SINCLAIR, pounding his desk. "This damn desk."
That gruff personality was usually misunderstood, his daughter, Christine SINCLAIR, said yesterday. "In fact, he was a shy person and had trouble approaching people unless he already knew them."
She said he enjoyed gardening, particularly roses, and revelled in chopping wood. "He loved to see a cord of word stacked neatly."
All things considered, Mr. SINCLAIR probably would have taken to retirement earlier if Mr. Trudeau had not come calling. In 1983, Mr. SINCLAIR was made Senator SINCLAIR, just as he was leaving Canadian Pacific after 42 years. He surprised many of his corporate Friends by supporting the National Energy Policy and fighting free trade. He said the Americans were protectionist.
Mr. SINCLAIR was one of the toughest businessmen of his generation, and one of the most colourful. He stood well over six feet and once weighed as much as 240 pounds, bringing columnist Allan Fotheringham to describe him as "a linebacker who stumbled into the chairman's office by mistake."
For that, he did commit some spectacular errors. The man who engineered Canadian Pacific's enormous growth also made giant blunders. Among his mistakes was a missed opportunity to buy MacMillan Bloedel in 1979. A proposed buyout of the forestry giant prompted a corporate brawl between premier William Bennett and Mr. SINCLAIR. "B.C. is not for sale," declared Mr. Bennett, who had visions that MacMillan Bloedel would become little more than a branch office of the Montreal company whose railway had opened up the West.
Years later, Mr. Bennett confided that Mr. SINCLAIR had rubbed him up the wrong way -- much too arrogant, he said.
Another mistake was Mr. SINCLAIR's 1981 attempt to buy Hobart Corp. of Ohio, the appliance maker. For years, Canadian Pacific had wanted to establish a manufacturing arm, and by all accounts it was to be the foundation of that core business. Reports at the time suggested Mr. SINCLAIR mishandled the situation.
For all that, he didn't make many mistakes in office. While other North American railways failed in the transition from steam, Mr. SINCLAIR did his job -- he made Canadian Pacific hugely profitable.
Ian David SINCLAIR was born in Winnipeg on December 27, 1913. He died on Oakville, Ontario, on April 7, 2006. He was 92. His wife Ruth died in 1994. He is survived by his four children, Ian, Susan, Christine and Donald.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-05-06 published
Don CAMERON, Broadcaster: (1923-2006)
Master of the 'insert commercial' parlayed his well-modulated tones into a successful career in radio and television
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail, Page S11
Long before television came to Canada, and decades before simulcasting, which replaces U.S. ads with Canadian commercials when programs run at the same time, there was the insert commercial in radio.
Don CAMERON was master of the insert commercial, a skill that required flawless timing to squeeze a Canadian ad in, replacing the American one.
"Insert commercials were unique to Canadian network radio. All commercials for food and drugs had to conform to Canadian rules," says Lyman Potts, a broadcast historian. "While the U.S. announcer read his piece, the Canadian announcer, at a point of entry, usually Montreal or Toronto, read the approved Canadian commercial for Canadian audiences of the U.S. network program."
The insert commercial phase of Mr. CAMERON's career lasted 10 years. He was 21 when he started, but within a decade he was commuting between Canada and the United States, doing radio and later television programs, and making serious money doing commercials and voiceover work in New York.
Don CAMERON grew up in downtown Montreal on Chomedy Street near the Montreal Forum. His father ran a moving and delivery business called Mansfield Express. The family lived a comfortable existence. Young Don went to Montreal High, several blocks to the east. To get there, he would have walked along Sherbrooke Street past fashionable stores and the shops of shirt makers and tailors. It was perhaps there he picked up some pointers on style. All his adult life, Mr. CAMERON was an immaculate dresser.
Few people went to university in 1940 -- there were only 35,000 undergraduates in the entire country -- but Mr. CAMERON went to McGill, where he graduated in commerce. Although he was a radio and television performer all his life, Mr. CAMERON was a canny businessman, and always lived well.
"He was very astute. A dollar didn't slip by him," said Walter Gurd, who knew Mr. CAMERON as a young man when they played in various bands together in Montreal. This was before the era of disc jockeys, and a live band was a must at dances.
While studying finance at McGill, he took acting and voice lessons on the side from Rupert Caplan, a Canadian Broadcasting Corporation producer. Mr. CAMERON landed a job as a part-time announcer at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation while he was still at McGill, the studio being about halfway between McGill and home.
The acting training came in handy. In the 1950s, Mr. CAMERON landed a part-time job playing a role in daily Canadian soap opera, Laura Ltd.
After McGill, he worked for a short time at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation but then joined CJAD, a new private radio station, when it opened in late 1945.
Soon he was the host of a popular program called Make Believe Ballroom. The show, which originated in New York in the early 1940s, was copied across North America. There was always a local announcer, inserting local colour and choosing the music.
The program started with Glenn Miller's Make Believe Ballroom Time. "In Canada, both Toronto and Montreal have their own sessions of the Ballroom running about an hour and half in the morning and from to two to 2½ hours in the evening," wrote Mr. CAMERON in 1946. "The morning program should contain bright, peppy music to brighten up the day for housewives. A somewhat different approach is used on the evening… to supply pleasant background when people eat."
This was when radio had no competition from television and wouldn't for another six years. Mr. CAMERON's description of his job comes from a guest column he wrote in the weekly Montreal Standard. He was replacing the then-unknown Mavis Gallant while she was on vacation. It was a breezy column and centred on Mr. CAMERON's two main loves: broadcasting and making money.
"Most disc jockeys earn a guaranteed basic salary, but as an incentive, some stations pay a commission for each new sponsor added to the program. Thus… a Canadian disc jockey's income can range anywhere from $2,500 to $12,000." That is $29,700 to $142,400 in today's money.
Soon, Mr. CAMERON was making that kind of money, commuting to both Toronto and New York. In Manhattan, he did live and recorded commercials for major clients such as Kraft, and Proctor and Gamble. He did so well, for a couple of years he kept an apartment in Manhattan.
Back in Toronto, he became the announcer on The Billy O'Connor Show, which starred Juliette, who would later have her own television program on the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Later, she was replaced by Sylvia Murphy, who remained a friend of Mr. CAMERON's all his life. Both of them stayed with the program when it moved to television.
The radio version of The Billy O'Connor Show was recorded on giant 16-inch vinyl discs -- holding 15 minutes a side -- and shipped across Canada so it could be played at the same time in every part of the country. The disc was called an "electrical transcription." The government regulator of the day tried to ban the technology to try to keep out U.S. radio programming.
Mr. CAMERON was also the host of the Canadian version of To Tell The Truth, featuring three guests, only one of whom was the real person. He also commuted to Cleveland for 10 years to host a weekly quiz show on television there.
In 1966, he started working for CKFM in Toronto and stayed, hosting his own afternoon broadcast until 1991. "Don CAMERON was a product of the era that gave us such classic announcers as Charles Jennings [Peter Jennings's father], Jack Dennett, Earl CAMERON, Elwood Glover and Frank Willis," said Mr. Potts.
"They were articulate with modulated, quiet, dramatic voices that enabled their listeners to hear every word."
Throughout his career, Don CAMERON dabbled in business and looked after his money. In the early 1960s, he invested in the Canadian rights for Ko-Rec-Type, chemically treated paper that allowed typists to correct mistakes. He also had his own production company, packaging radio programs and acting as an agent for other announcers.
Mr. CAMERON and his wife spent a lot of time travelling. He always liked to spend September in London. For many years they had a place in the Bahamas at Spanish Wells, but they sold when they found the trip to the Caribbean too taxing. He spent winters in Vero Beach, Florida
Donald CAMERON was born on September 19, 1923, in Montreal. Although he gave up smoking 15 years ago, he died of complications from lung cancer on April 7 at a hospital in Oakville, Ontario He was 82. He wife, Bea, died several years ago. He is survived by a brother John, from whom he was estranged. He loved London, England, and asked that his ashes be spread on the River Thames.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-06-26 published
Jim McDANIEL, Telecommunications Expert (1918-2006)
He started off by delivering telegrams on a bike and then sent them via Morse code. He rose to the heights of CNCP communications and embraced the Telex, fax machines, computers and the cellphone
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail, Page S8
Toronto -- Jim McDANIEL was one of the best-known faces on Canadian television during the 1970s and 1980s. He was a paid-up member of Alliance of Canadian Cinema, Television and Radio Artists but never worked for a network. He did appear in a long-running series of commercials promoting Telex, then the fastest way for companies to send messages to each other.
He had a rugged face, more that of a character actor than a leading man, and a trademark brush cut. He would walk straight up to the camera and announce: "This is Jim McDANIEL for Telex," and then go on to tout the product from CNCP Telecommunications.
Mr. McDANIEL's face was as familiar as Don Cherry's is now, popping up between periods on Hockey Night in Canada and as a regular spot in the first commercial break on The National. When he first decided to retire in 1983, Telex was still king, pumping out messages between corporations and banks and business offices everywhere at six characters a second. Mr. McDANIEL left just as the fax machine came in.
"The fax killed the Telex business. It used to be a $150-million-a-year business. It dropped off in just a few years to almost nothing," Mr. McDANIEL said. He worked for the same company for well over 60 years. He came back after his first retirement and worked into his 80s, always for a different version of the same company, which morphed from Canadian National Railways to CNCP Telecommunications and then to Unitel. It is now a part of Rogers Communications Inc.
Jim McDANIEL was a working-class lad from Toronto. His father was a senior construction foreman who worked on such projects as the Bowater Plant in Corner Brook and the Bloor Street viaduct in Toronto. He died when Jim was just 7, which meant he had to start work early in life. He went to Danforth Technical School, but only as far as Grade 9. His first job was delivering telegrams by bicycle in downtown Toronto for the Canadian National Railway.
"He rode the bicycle 365 days a year, and winters were a lot harsher back then," said his son Grant.
His pay was $8 a week, though he also got tips. After three years he became an office boy, working a split shift. "They were legal back then," Mr. McDANIEL told an interviewer in 1995.
He started at 8 in the morning, stayed until noon and then resumed at 5 and worked until 9. In his spare afternoon, he studied typing and how to transmit Morse code. Instead of delivering telegrams, he learned how to send them.
Mr. McDANIEL quickly moved up the ladder so that by the end of the 1930s he was a telegrapher. His salary tripled to $24 a week. He developed the fastest telegraph "fist" in the company. In his late 70s, he still kept an old sending key on his desk and liked to show visitors just how fast he could rattle out a message.
During the war, Mr. McDANIEL joined the Royal Canadian Air Force and was sent off to aircrew training school in Manitoba. There, someone discovered his skills with the telegraph key. Anyone who could pump out that many words in Morse code was a valuable wartime asset.
He was promptly shipped off to Washington where he took a course in how to manage codes, coming top in his class. After that, he became a cypher clerk, communicating in code from generals in the field and sending them to their military and political masters in Washington.
"It's pretty exciting to know about the invasion of Sicily three weeks in advance," Mr. McDANIEL recalled.
The war changed his life in many ways. Later, it would launch him on his career in sales and then television. But, first off, it taught him that to keep his mind sharp he needed to keep his body in shape. During the war, young men spent a lot of their spare time drinking.
"We used to spend too much time staying up late at night," Mr. McDANIEL said. So one morning he walked into a gym in Washington and was hooked on exercising. He went through a strict physical regimen right up until the last months of his life. It showed. Even in his late 80s, when Jim McDANIEL took his shirt off, he had a wiry, muscled physique that shamed men 60 years younger.
Back in civilian life after the war, he moved quickly through the ranks, at one stage taking the 1950s equivalent of a executive M.B.A., a compressed course in everything someone would need to know to be a manager. All of a sudden, the telegram delivery boy had become general sales manager for CNCP telecommunications.
One of his big assignments was helping sell and then supervise the installation of the first computer messaging system for Trans Canada Airlines, which became Air Canada. Just after it was installed in 1964, much of Canada was fogged in and the airline was able to track its aircraft as never before.
Then came the move from selling face to face to selling on television. "I didn't know anything about advertising," Mr. McDANIEL said modestly. "But they put me in charge."
After a while, he was put on camera. Along the way he also became a public spokesman for CNCP and the Telex business. He travelled across Canada making speeches, using his familiar face and open personality to boost the company's image.
Mr. McDANIEL didn't retire for long. For a while he was a computer ombudsman for a group called the Canadian Information Processing Society. "I have in my heart a sensitivity of how bewildering all this new technology is for people who know little about computers but are affected by them," he said at the time.
With a staff of six volunteers, he handled complaints from the public and small-business owners who were experiencing problems with a computer. Organized into local chapters, Canadian Information Processing Society had 4,500 members across the country.
"I'm not going to be a knight riding a horse with a spear," he said of his new job. "The computer ombudsman is sort of a court of last resort to appeal to if someone is threatened or confused by this faceless device."
He then went back to work, as a sales consultant. He moved from Telex to selling dedicated fax lines and then switched to high-speed data lines to promoting the use of the personal computer, predicting they would reduce office drudgery, which they did.
Many of his postretirement years were spent fighting the Bell Canada telephone monopoly. He made speeches, travelled to Ottawa and lobbied, and used his media image to promote competition. One of his most satisfying successes was helping to bring competitive long-distance calls to Newfoundland in 1993, the year Unitel won the right to provide that service in the province.
Before the introduction of the cellphone in Canada in 1985, Mr. McDANIEL led a CNCP Cellular Communications bid for a licence. Eventually, he worked for Rogers after it took over the company.
Mr. McDANIEL was an early riser. For many years he was the first man in the gym at the Cambridge Club in downtown Toronto. He would park his Cadillac on York Street around 5 a.m., work out in the gym and then be back to pick up his car before the 7 a.m. no-parking curtain came down. Always a snappy dresser, he usually allowed himself at least one good cigar a day, and could be seen in the downtown business district enjoying a puff on his way from lunch.
He was a keen golfer and helped run the Toronto Hunt Club course. He was also a devout Roman Catholic and went to mass before going to the gym on Sundays.
James Christian McDANIEL was born in Toronto on March 27, 1918. He died of cancer in Toronto on June 18, 2006. He was 88. He is survived by his wife, Carol Ann, and by his children, Marc, Sandra, Michelle, Valerie and Grant.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-06-30 published
Wesley HILL, Riverman: (1930-2006)
He knew Niagara Falls almost from the day he was born and pulled more than 450 people out of the Niagara River -- most of them dead
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail, Page S9
Wesley HILL was a riverman, the last of the line in his family. He saved 50 people from drowning in the Niagara River, and pulled out at least 400 bodies. He helped his father put a rope around a body in the river when he was 9 or 10 years old.
He knew Niagara, the falls and the river, almost from the day he was born. He was a baby in his mother's arms watching from the shore as his father tried to run the rapids of the Niagara River below the falls, the most dangerous stunt next to going over Niagara Falls itself. Red HILL had pulled it off once before, but this time he almost died.
The design of his barrel was too heavy and he was caught in the vortex of the whirlpool below the falls. He was trapped there for two hours as his barrel slowly filled with water. At one point he waved a distress signal -- a Union Jack -- but his death seemed certain.
His son, Red Jr., put a rope around his waist and went into the water and attached a hook to the barrel, then swam back to shore. It took 12 men to pull Red Sr. to safety.
Twenty years later Wes HILL, by now an experienced riverman, warned his brother not to go over Niagara Falls in a makeshift contraption called "The Thing." It was a collection of 13 giant inner tubes, canvas straps and fishing net, which Red Jr. thought would be light enough to float over the water.
As Pierre Berton tells the story in his book, Niagara, his older brother Red Jr. was on his way to the Rapids Tavern to fortify himself with a few beers before his attempt to go over the falls. "I'll see you later," said Red. "No you won't," replied Wes.
It was August 5, 1951. Red HILL went over the Falls with 200,000 spectators on the shore of the river and the falls. His "Thing" was smashed on the rocks. Red HILL Jr.'s broken body was found the next day. It was after this that the Niagara Parks Commission barred any more stunts. The fine for an attempt is $10,000.
"He thought he could make a little money. I told him the contraption was so light that it would hit the water and stop and he'd shoot right out of it and that's what happened," said Mr. HILL.
Another brother, Major (a name, not a rank) tried to go over the falls but ran aground on his way. He died while in jail on a minor offence. Still another brother, Corky, worked on the construction of a tunnel for a hydroelectric project. On the second day on the job he was struck by a falling rock and killed.
Wes HILL always said he had no patience with people trying to go over the falls. "I'll never have anything to do with these stunts. It's a better life working for a living."
Some of the work he did on the river involved consulting for movies. He worked on Blues Brothers 2000, Canadian Bacon and documentaries such as Niagara: Miracles, Myths and Magic. To get a view of what it would be like to go over the falls, he helped design a system using eight aluminum barrels each holding a camera. They all survived the 53-metre drop into the gorge.
One man went over the falls wearing just a parka and lived to talk about it. Kirk JONES went over the falls in October of 2003. Wes HILL said he wasn't that surprised.
"For years I said it was going to happen. I said somebody is going to go over and live," he told The New York Times. But he said it was a fluke. He had already pulled out two deer and dog that went over and lived. The secret is to go over near the banks.
"If you go over in the middle, you've got tons of water coming on top of you."
All the attempts involved the larger Canadian Horseshoe Falls. No one could survive a drop over the American side, which has house-sized boulders piled up against the face of the waterfall.
The HILL family were "rivermen" who knew the dangerous waters and gorges of Niagara Falls and the Niagara River so well that when there was trouble the HILLs were called. Wes HILL's grandfather was the first. He worked as a gardener for the Niagara Parks Commission and became a volunteer rescuer, or riverman. Some of the money for the work came from undertakers who paid $50 to $75 for a retrieved body.
But they saved the living too. Red HILL Sr. won four lifesaving medals, thought to be a record. He used his knowledge of the rivers near Niagara for more than rescue work. He was a rum runner during Prohibition. Mr. HILL said his father told him that if the U.S. Coast Guard came too close they would dump the liquor overboard.
"I remember scuba diving the river in 1955. We found bottles of whisky with the corks still in them. It tried the stuff. It tasted strong -- real strong," Mr. HILL told The Globe about 10 years ago.
Wes HILL was the last of the family to work the river, pulling people -- most of them dead -- from the Niagara River after they had been carried over the falls.
Niagara Falls has had a reputation as a honeymoon capital since the 19th century. On a visit in 1882, the writer Oscar Wilde quipped: "Niagara Falls must be the second major disappointment of American married life." But the falls also vies with the Golden Gate bridge in San Francisco as the suicide capital of North America.
About 20 people a year end their lives by going over the falls. The favourite time is in the late afternoon, the favourite day Monday and the most popular month is September. The number isn't exact because some slip into the water unnoticed and their bodies are never found.
About 10 years ago, high-powered jet boats replaced some of the daring work done by men like Wes HILL. Until then they had their techniques for picking up a body. Wait.
"The body would be in the centre of the whirlpool and it would go round and round," Mr. HILL told an interviewer. "We had to wait until it came close enough to shore, maybe 100 to 150 feet, then swim out and put a rope on it."
Wesley HILL was brought up in Niagara Falls. His father died when he was young and he left school at 16 and went to work at the Niagara Wire Weaving plant, running a machine that made gear for the giant hydroelectric systems around Niagara. When that plant closed he moved on to other local factories.
But he was known for what he did away from the factory.
"He did volunteer rescue work on the river," said his wife Sarah, who is modest about her husband's achievements. "And for the last eight years he worked part time for the park police."
Although Wesley HILL came from a line of daredevils, he did not approve of stunts. In the past 20 years two men each went over the falls twice and lived.
"It's been conquered time and time again. If someone else conquers it, he's not a hero. He's a fool."
Wesley Bryant HILL was born in Niagara Falls, Ontario, on May 14, 1930. He died of a blood clot in Niagara Falls on June 12. He was 76. He is survived by his wife Sarah, his daughter Diane and his three sons, Douglas, Daniel and David, none of whom are rivermen.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-07-15 published
Carol ERB- GINGERICH, Aid Worker (1939-2006)
To the fierce tribesman of Afghanistan, she was the 'vision woman' and was left to do her work unmolested. For years, she helped restore the sight of thousands of people in East Africa, Ethiopia, and Central Asia
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail, Page S9
Toronto -- Carol ERB- GINGERICH left the security of life in small-town Ontario to help people in some of the most desperate places in the world. She chose to work in countries that were not only poor, but often destabilized by wars, famine and drought.
She spent 20 years in the field -- and another 13 in Canada -- helping tens of thousands of children and adults avoid blindness and curing people who were otherwise destined to lose their sight due to otherwise preventable disease.
Ms. ERB- GINGERICH lived most of her time overseas in Afghanistan and Ethiopia. In both places she found herself in the middle of a war zone and each time was forced to leave.
Her longest tour of duty was in Afghanistan. She first went there in 1975 with the Christian Blind Mission International. The group had an arrangement with Muslim authorities there: They could do medical work, but they must not to try to convert anyone to Christianity.
She worked for almost 10 years in Afghanistan, living in Kabul near the mission's main clinic, but also travelling to remote parts of the country where she saw hundreds of people a day for treatment of eye diseases.
"She would go out into tribal areas, which were quite dangerous. The tribes knew she was the vision woman and left her alone." said Dave McComiskey, the executive director of Christian Blind Mission International Canada. "She was very brave."
The Christian Blind Mission describes itself as "the leading agency in the world preventing and curing blindness as well as enabling people with disabilities in the poorest countries of the world, regardless of race, gender, age or religion." It has performed six million cataract operations and runs 1,000 programs in 102 countries.
Although untrained in medicine, Ms. ERB- GINGERICH learned how to help patients in the clinics. While she made her opinions known if she disagreed with how the organization was being run, she went out of her way to be kind to the people she was helping.
One day in Afghanistan, a widow invited her to her home for dinner after Ms. ERB- GINGERICH had treated one of her children. However, the Canadian aid worker had to put off the visit for two or three days. Ms. ERB- GINGERICH later told her family that the woman was poor beyond the imaginings of Canadians, but had spent her money on an egg. She had cooked it and put it aside on a window ledge. When the Canadian aid worker arrived days later, it was still there, covered in flies.
"She prayed that she wouldn't be sick as she ate it, not wanting to hurt the woman's feelings and knowing what a sacrifice she had made to cook her the meal," her brother, Phil ERB, said. "She managed to get through it."
In 1979, the former Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan and many aid workers packed up and left. Ms. ERB- GINGERICH was determined to stay, and continued her work. However, in 1981, after two of its workers were slain, the charity recalled its staff and Ms. ERB- GINGERICH returned to Canada.
Carol ERB was born into a Mennonite family near Goderich in Southwestern Ontario. Her brother said the family was religious, but not strict. "We're of Amish descent but we have cars, use electricity and drive tractors," Mr. ERB said. "Carol didn't force her beliefs on anyone, but she was a religious person and had an extremely strong faith."
Young Carol lived an idyllic rural life, working on the family dairy farm. She went to high school at Clinton Collegiate Institute and afterward started work at Gingerich Sales and Service, an appliance dealer in nearby Zurich. A Gingerich son would become her husband several years later.
One Sunday in 1972, Ms. ERB went to the Mennonite service at her local church and heard a sermon about how people should try to make a difference in the world. She was so moved by the message that, first, she volunteered with the Mennonite Central Committee in Canada, and then worked for the Christian Blind Mission overseas.
Her first overseas job came in 1975 when she was made an assistant to the medical director of the Noor Eye Institute. Funded in part by Queen Noor of Jordan, the agency helped people in poor countries, many of them Muslim. She soon started working in the clinics in the field.
Most eye diseases people suffer from in poor countries are easily treatable, such as river blindness, which is caused by a parasitical worm that is spread by a fly, which breeds in fast-flowing rivers. The fly transmits the disease when it bites humans, inserting the eggs under the skin that produce thousands of larvae, which spread throughout the body, including the eyes.
Another disease is trachoma, which spreads easily within families. Infection commonly occurs in childhood and eventually causes the eyelashes to turn inward, scarring the cornea.
Cataracts are also commonplace. One of the basic treatments for children is a capsule of vitamin A, which lasts for three months and protects against cataracts.
Through the charity, Ms. ERB- GINGERICH would arrange for cataract operations at a cost of $33 for a lens, an impossible amount for most people in countries such as Afghanistan and Ethiopia where the average person earns about $3 a day.
While Ms. ERB- GINGERICH was in Muslim countries she tried to keep to local customs, dressing modestly and covering her hair. For all that, she did allow that some of attitudes toward women bothered her.
"She was a little bit of a rebel," said her brother, remembering his sister's quick wit. "Once, an Afghan man asked her why her face wasn't covered. She said she felt like telling him if she had a face like his she would cover it up."
On another occasion in Kabul, a taxi driver was taking her to an eye clinic when he was stopped by a policemen who threatened him and took his receipts for the day. Ms. ERB- GINGERICH, who spoke the language, asked the officers to stop but they ignored her. Later, when she arrived at the clinic she paid the taxi driver his fare, plus the amount the police had taken from him.
The taxi driver burst into tears and asked her, "Why are you doing this for me?" She replied, "Because God loves you."
After she returned to Canada from Afghanistan in 1981 she renewed her Friendship with Cyril GINGERICH, whose family ran the store where she had once worked. The couple married in December of 1983. Rather than return to life at the store, Cyril joined his wife on her missions to combat blindness and in January of 1984 they spent their honeymoon travelling to Ethiopia.
Once there, the pair worked out of Addis Ababa as regional representatives of the Christian Blind Mission International. With Ethiopia as a base, they supported and worked in clinics throughout East Africa, helping more than 40 Christian Blind Mission International projects. They remained until 1991, when rebels overthrew the Ethiopian government.
"Carol and Cyril were in the middle of the fighting and, once again, she found herself forced out of a country where she wanted to work," Mr. McComiskey said.
Eight years later, her husband died suddenly and Ms. ERB- GINGERICH decided to return to work in Pakistan and Afghanistan. She continued to work in clinics helping the blind, but also became more intensely involved in the lives of some Afghan families.
"She met some Afghan refugees who were frightened of the Taliban and had fled to Pakistan. One of them had been beaten because his beard wasn't long enough," Mr. ERB said. "She helped two families of refugees come to Canada. They are still here and leading productive lives."
Two days after the September 11, 2001, attacks in the United States, Ms. ERB- GINGERICH was removed from Peshawar in Pakistan. The next year, she returned to Afghanistan and was shocked by what she found.
"As I write this report, I'm in Kabul, a city where 58 per cent of the people have not lived longer than five years. It's a city of refugees… It's over 28 years since I first arrived in this beautiful country. There are no landmarks that I recognize because so many areas are completely bombed out. As I walked through my former place of work, which was once a beautiful 100-bed eye hospital, I wept."
One of the last things Ms. ERB- GINGERICH did was to organize a conference in Kabul to launch an eye-care program aimed at abolishing preventable blindness in Afghanistan by the year 2020.
Throughout her decades of work in poor countries, Ms. ERB- GINGERICH lived a simple, austere life. Her brother remembered she had a favourite aphorism: "God will never ask you how many clothes you have in your closet. But he'll ask you how many people you helped to clothe."
Carol ERB- GINGERICH was born on October 23, 1939, in Stanley Township, Ontario She died of cancer in Zurich, Ontario, on June 5, 2006. She leaves five sisters, including her twin, and two brothers. Christian Blind Mission International Canada has named a scholarship fund in her honour.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-09-11 published
Brian NOLAN: Producer, Teacher And Writer (1932-2006)
With his friend Peter JENNINGS, he was among a corps of Canadian broadcasters who took American networks by storm. He returned home to help transform the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and to teach at Carleton University
By F.F. LANGAN, Page S11
Toronto -- Brian NOLAN was only a few metres away when Jack Ruby shot Lee Harvey Oswald in the Dallas police station at 11: 26 on the morning of November 24, 1963. He was the CTV field producer working with Peter JENNINGS, then a 25-year-old reporter, and cameraman Larry Brown.
It was one of the most dramatic moments in the lives of the three men who had rushed from Ottawa to Dallas to cover the assassination of U.S. President John Kennedy. Their work soon found Mr. JENNINGS and Mr. NOLAN working for ABC News in New York. They were in the vanguard of many Canadians who worked in U.S. television news. Their training and, for on-air people, their neutral accents made Canadians ideal candidates for the Am-Nets, as the American networks are known in the television biz.
On some assignments, their Canadian passports did not hurt either. One of Mr. NOLAN's big television scoops was the Soviet suppression of Prague Spring -- the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia in August of 1968. He and a German cameraman, Jorg Weiland, filmed Soviet tanks in the streets of Prague and managed to get their footage over the frontier when it was closed to all other crews. Anchored by Mr. JENNINGS, it was broadcast from ABC's London bureau as a U.S. television exclusive.
Mr. NOLAN's career included much more than a four-year stint with a U.S. network. He was a pioneer in television news in Canada and worked for all three Canadian networks: the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation -- where he was a producer on This Hour Has Seven Days in the mid-1960s -- CTV and Global.
In 1972, he wrote the Nolan Report for Canadian Broadcasting Corporation News in which he suggested changes that had already been adapted by U.S. networks, such as the use of satellites to bring news material from overseas instead of shipping reports by air. "It is inconceivable that the corporation would demand that its radio news service collect overseas news by mail instead of using transoceanic circuits," Mr. NOLAN wrote. "In essence, this is what the present policy demands of the television news service."
Many of his suggestions were subtle, such as the use of actuality sound from the field instead of silent footage or, even worse in his view, phony sound effects. Most were ideas that could come only from someone with a real understanding of television news. "Almost all his recommendations came to pass. He was quite prophetic," said Bill CUNNINGHAM, a foreign correspondent and chief news editor of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation at the time.
A true television pioneer, Mr. NOLAN was a field producer before anyone even came up with the name. A field producer travels with a camera crew and a reporter to make editorial decisions, and also figures out such logistical problems as how to get the footage to a "feed point" where it can actually make it on to a newscast.
"NOLAN almost invented the job of field producer. And he was one of the first television producers to use the bird [satellite] on a daily basis to put Peter JENNINGS on the air from London for the ABC nightly newscast," Mr. CUNNINGHAM said. "He was known to be so honest that producers from the other networks trusted him to run the satellite pool feeds because they knew he wouldn't cheat them out of their satellite time."
Brian NOLAN grew up in Hamilton, Ontario His father, Joe NOLAN, was a plumber and a local legend known as Pike who played for the Hamilton Tigers, as one of the two professional football teams in the city was known at the time.
As a young man, Brian joined the U.S. Army "for the adventure," as he later told one of his sons. His unit was about to be shipped to Korea when he was plucked out of the infantry and given a job of writing for Stars and Stripes, the U.S. military newspaper. He did end up in the Korean War, but as a solider-reporter rather than as a combatant.
In 1953, he returned to Hamilton to settle into his old life and wonder what to do next.
"He was sitting in a pool hall reading a book when one of the regulars came over to him and said 'I've never seen anyone in here reading. Do you want a job at a newspaper?' " said his son Philip, in recounting the family legend of how his father landed his first newspaper job. "He started work at The Hamilton Spectator."
Mr. NOLAN stayed at the Spectator for three years as a police reporter, sports reporter and general news reporter and the left to work for the Hamilton radio station CHML. He liked to tell a studio story about one night in February of 1959 when a plane crash killed the rock 'n roll stars Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper, a Texas disk jockey turned singer whose real name was Jiles P. Richardson. Mr. NOLAN had wanted to break into the regular programming to make a news flash, but the sportscaster, an older man with no appreciation for young rock stars, refused. By all accounts, something close to a fist fight occurred before the bulletin finally went to air.
In 1961, Mr. NOLAN moved to his first television job and joined CTV News, which produced its national newscast out of CJOH in Ottawa. It was there that he teamed up with the young Mr. JENNINGS. They travelled all over North America with forays into Europe.
One of Mr. NOLAN's first big stories was the building of the Berlin Wall. As field producer, he also doubled as a second cameraman, carrying a Swiss-made, 16-mm Bolex camera. It was lightweight and held just a little more three minutes worth of film, but its quality added something to his reports. On November 29, 1963, Mr. NOLAN, just back from Dallas, took his Bolex to Ste. Therese, Quebec -- just north of Montreal -- to film The wreckage of a DC-8 there. Later, he and journalist Patrick WATSON made a documentary of the crash that killed 118 passengers and crew.
When Mr. JENNINGS made the jump to ABC News, Mr. NOLAN didn't follow right away. He enjoyed working on This Hour Has Seven Days, co-hosted by maverick broadcasters Mr. WATSON and Laurier LaPierre. The program was irreverent and quite unlike anything seen on television. It caused such controversy -- especially in Parliament -- that it lasted only two years.
"Brian started at the beginning of the program, making short and long documentaries. He came to story meetings with great ideas that were almost always accepted," Mr. WATSON said.
After Seven Days, Mr. NOLAN went to ABC News as a senior producer and moved to New York with his family.
"As soon as he started working for ABC News we hardly saw him," said his son Philip, who expresses no bitterness. He and his two brothers are now camera operators for television news. "One night the phone rang. He put it down and said 'You're not going to believe this. They shot Bobby Kennedy.' He was gone for a week."
A short while later, Mr. NOLAN moved his family to London. He was made senior producer for Europe, the Middle East and Africa. It was during this period that he produced many of Mr. JENNINGS's news reports and handled the complexities of early satellite feeds to New York.
In 1971, he left ABC News and returned to Canada. He wrote the Nolan Report and, a short time later, went to Global television where Mr. CUNNINGHAM had become vice-president of news. One of their coups was a 90-minute documentary called The Last Nazi. It was about Albert Speer, Hitler's architect and the man who ran Nazi Germany's armaments program.
"CUNNINGHAM and NOLAN just picked up the phone and called Speer and got the Canadian television rights for his autobiography," recalled Mr. WATSON, who was the writer and interviewer on the program. "They called me and asked me if I would work with them. And Brian and I were off to Europe for several weeks."
The documentary won many awards in Canada and was nominated for an Emmy in the United States.
After he left television he took up teaching and writing. In 1978, he took a job at the school of journalism at Carleton University and remained there for 18 years. More recently, he indulged an interest in military history and wrote seven books, including a well-received biography of Buzz Beurling, the enigmatic Second World War fighter pilot from Verdun, Quebec He also wrote a biography of Donald Brittain, the legendary documentary filmmaker from the National Film Board.
In his later years, Mr. NOLAN showed an entrepreneurial streak and, with his wife Holly owned a mustard shop and a restaurant in Ottawa. Last week, a wake was held at the restaurant, which is called L'Ange, on the Sparks Street Mall.
Brian NOLAN was born in St. Catharines, Ontario on January 18, He died of lung cancer in Ottawa on August 31, 2006. He was 74.
He leaves his wife Holly, a daughter Catherine and three sons, Philip, Mike and Paul.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-09-11 published
Ray ARSENAULT: Producer And Director (1929-2006)
Canadian Broadcasting Corporation television pioneer who shaped Hockey Night in Canada into what it is today tackled anything. 'You name it, he did it'
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail, Page S11
Toronto -- There wasn't much that Ray ARSENAULT didn't do in the early years of television in Canada. The first few years of his career ranged from working at one of the first private television stations in Canada to figuring out how to run ads on the early Hockey Night in Canada. He worked for every network in the country as well as for many independent companies.
"He always believed good television had nothing to do with technological advances and all you ever needed and still do is teamwork, timing and a good yarn. He was a great storyteller and a playful soul," said his daughter Adrienne ARSENAULT, a Canadian Broadcasting Corporation News foreign correspondent.
Ray ARSENAULT produced one of the first live television events in Canada in September of 1954 after the 16-year-old swimmer Marilyn BELL was feted at city hall in Hamilton. The television station was CHCH and it had only started broadcasting in June of that year, less than two years after Canadian Broadcasting Corporation-television had gone on the air.
Mr. ARSENAULT was in charge of working out how to do something that would have been easy in radio but was so far untried in television. City hall was too far from the station to run a cable so they used a microwave dish. "I remember setting up the microwave dish in the clock tower and pointing it back at the station," said Bill LAWRENCE, then a technician at CHCH who went on to become a well-known weatherman. "Ray was the one who directed the entire thing."
Mr. ARSENAULT had been one of three men with American experience hired to produce the first programs at CHCH. He had arrived from Detroit to find a primitive operation with two cameras.
"Someone would say we want to do this, or cover that, and Ray would be the one to figure out how to do it," Mr. LAWRENCE said. "We were all pupils of his and he was an educator in the early days of television in Canada."
A month after the Marilyn BELL program, Mr. ARSENAULT had to work out the logistics of a special broadcast on hurricane Hazel.
Later, at Hockey Night in Canada, he worked for MacLaren Advertising, which owned the rights to the series. One of his colleagues recalled how they came up with a see-through logo for advertisers that could be superimposed over the picture. They would place it in front of the camera lens, then switch to it for a shot of the beer company or service station.
The hockey games were live but so, too, were the commercials. Holed up in a small studio in Toronto's Maple Leaf Gardens, Mr. ARSENAULT would direct Murray WESTGATE, who played the friendly Esso gas station owner, to give his trademark salute, "Happy Motoring." When a break in the play occurred, they would cut away to an ad. It had to be perfect, since it was live.
Perhaps one of Mr. ARSENAULT's toughest jobs was producing a daily situation comedy for CTV. It was called The Trouble with Tracy and could be best described as a kind of I Love Lucy knock-off. It was a co-production of CTV and an American studio to see whether it was possible to produce a daily sitcom.
"It was the first Canadian-produced sitcom, and I played the ditsy blonde," said Diane Nyland PROCTOR. "He was really good with actors, in spite of all the pressure. There was never an angry word between cast, directors and crew."
In spite of the Quebec name, Ray ARSENAULT was from Detroit. His father was part of a generation of Quebeckers who found work in the auto plants of Detroit. Ray went to local schools and learned television at Wayne State University. He joined the U.S. Marines in the late 1940s and remained until just before the start of the Korean War.
After returning home, he started working at WWJ, a television station in Detroit. It was an era in television when everyone who worked in it seemed to do everything. Mr. ARSENAULT learned a lot in a hurry. He quickly became a studio director, a job that demands the ability to run several things at once and yet remain calm. If a director is nervous, it soon shows in the face of the actor or television announcer.
For all that, one of the biggest things to happen to him at CHCH was to meet a young woman named Bette, who worked on the technical side of things. They married about two years later. He soon took his directing skills to MacLaren Advertising where he worked on Hockey Night in Canada but it wasn't long before he moved back to television.
In 1961, Mr. ARSENAULT was hired as executive producer at CFTO, Toronto's first private television station. He was in charge of ensuring things got on the air, trained new studio workers and produced daily programs.
"He was very skilled with live television in the days before we could edit videotape," said Murray CHERCOVER, who was Mr. ARSENAULT's boss at CFTO and then hired him for many projects when he was head of the CTV network. "Ray could go into a studio or live event with five or six cameras and edit by cutting and dissolving from camera to camera as he went along, and keeping to time.
"He did everything in television from documentaries to situation comedy. You name it, he did it"
As an independent producer and director, he also worked on the popular King of Kensington series. He was a founding member of the Director's Guild of Canada.
Raymond ARSENAULT was born in Detroit on December 28, 1929. He died of a pulmonary embolism in Toronto on August 27, 2006. He leaves his wife, Bette, and daughter, Adrienne, and sister, Mary.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-10-17 published
Lister SINCLAIR: Broadcaster, Playwright (1921-2006)
Canadian Broadcasting Corporation personality and intellectual closely identified with the radio program Ideas loathed being called a Renaissance man, yet excelled at almost everything
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail, Page S11
Toronto -- His voice, writings and Canadian Broadcasting Corporation Radio plays were heard by Canadians for seven decades. In the end, though, Lister SINCLAIR was best known as the man who hosted Ideas for 16 years. Although he was part of a team, listeners thought of Ideas and Lister SINCLAIR as one, since his sense of curiosity and vast knowledge were reflected in the program.
Yet, he was more than that. To an earlier generation, he was the writer of more than 400 feature-length radio plays, and hundreds of other shorter works that ranged from wartime propaganda to children's stories.
In the early days, his plays were as important on radio as documentaries are today. In fact, the American magazine Variety, in describing one of his plays as "boffo," said it was as smoothly written as a documentary.
The play, Hilda Morgan, dealt with a young woman whose fiancé is killed in a car accident. She is pregnant, and her sister suggests an abortion -- without using the actual word. The play caused an uproar in the House of Commons, the type of outrage now reserved for documentaries that carry a definite message. It was Lister SINCLAIR's rule to "always be on the side of the victim."
Whenever reporters wrote about him, they always seemed to mention his age. At first, it was because he was so young for someone to have done so much. "At 27, Lister SINCLAIR is already well known as author, actor, critic, mathematician and linguist," said a publicity blurb in April of 1948.
Two years later, Time ran a piece on the "Bombay-born Lister SINCLAIR, 29, who had three of his original radio scripts dramatized on Canadian Broadcasting Corporation's Stage 50 last week."
By 1956, it was along the lines of "At 35, Lister SINCLAIR is one of the principal contributors to Canadian Broadcasting Corporation's radio and television drama series."
Almost 40 years later, the air of amazement was still evident. In 1995, a profile in The Globe mentioned that, at 74, Mr. SINCLAIR had been at it for 50 years and "shows no signs of slowing down."
While he will always be associated with the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation mainstream, Mr. SINCLAIR represented a kind of eccentric (he wrote most of his scripts longhand) who was almost a caricature of the professional intellectual. He called himself an "omnibrow," rather than a highbrow.
Over the years, he wrote many books and articles but was best known for the spoken word. With his beautiful voice, he could explain complex ideas in simple sentences.
The first time Canadians heard that voice was when he was acting on radio. Later, he hosted and narrated The Nature of Things he even came up with the name -- when it first went on television. In that same period, he also took a comic turn on Wayne and Shuster, the hugely popular comedy show. There he changed a bit, and chose to sound Canadian. He once described himself as "a pretty good second-rate actor. But unlike first-rate actors like John Drainie, I couldn't turn into someone else."
Lister SINCLAIR had an unusual start in life. He was born in India, but never really knew the place. His father, William SINCLAIR, was a chemical engineer working in India. At 18 months, Lister was sent home to Britain to live with an aunt. Years later, he said perhaps his mother had worried he might come down with tropical diseases.
His English aunt proved to be somewhat overprotective, even cruel. He did not see his parents again until he was 7, when they came home on extended leave. At 8, he was packed off to Colet Court, a boarding school that served as a feeder for the great English public school of Saint Paul's. Though young Lister did poorly at prep school, often coming last in his class, he was clever at math and won a scholarship to Saint Paul's. Among his fellow students were the grandchildren of Sigmund Freud, the family having fled the Nazis to settle in London.
Later in life, he told of a savage beating he suffered for talking back to a matron, a woman who worked at the school. One of the masters, her boyfriend, beat him so badly with a pool cue that he broke a bone at the base of the boy's spine. The master was fired over the incident.
Mr. SINCLAIR was bitter about his lost childhood, having been all but abandoned by his parents, yet never dwelled on it. He understood that, from their point of view, it was a great thing to be educated at one of Britain's top schools. Meanwhile, when he was not away at school, his aunt continued to rule his life and once refused to allow him to go on a supervised scout trip to France.
For all that, his parents did weigh in from time to time. In the summer of 1939, his mother, reassured by a travel agency that there wasn't going to be a war, arrived in England and booked a trip to New York to attend a World's Fair. They sailed on the Normandie, a luxurious French ship that was then the fastest liner on the North Atlantic run, landed in New York to see the fair and then headed for Buffalo, New York They were visiting Niagara Falls as part of a package tour, when Britain declared war on Germany. It was September 3, 1939, and mother and son were stuck on the wrong side of the Atlantic. The father was isolated in India, so the two of them set off for the West, first to Washington state and then north to Vancouver. They travelled by bus.
Mr. SINCLAIR enrolled at the University of British Columbia during his first week in Canada. To his Canadian classmates, he must have appeared rather odd (he walked with a cane and had a strange English accent), and yet at University of British Columbia he made some of his first meaningful Friendships.
"He seemed pretty old and knew everything," said Pierre Berton, a fellow student at University of British Columbia. "We always figured he swotted up on things the night before so he could tell us exactly what it was that Mozart had said to Beethoven. He was a non-stop talker and a very fast reader… he remembered everything he ever read."
Later, Mr. SINCLAIR went to the University Toronto to study for a master's degree and in 1942 he made extra money by teaching math to undergraduates and by acting at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. He was part of what became known as the "Vancouver Exodus" of young intellectuals who headed for Toronto during the 1940s.
At the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, he first wrote war propaganda, for there was no question of him joining the war effort. He was lame from a back injury -- not from the beating, but from falling down stairs -- which was why he walked with the aid of at least one cane. One of his first acting jobs was to imitate Germans in such works as Nazi Eyes on Canada. It was narrated by Lorne Greene, the chief announcer at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation who was known as the Voice of Doom, and featured actress Helen Hayes.
Mr. SINCLAIR soon began writing plays and he entered a period of great productivity. As a trained mathematician, he liked to say that math and drama had much in common. After all, both were the arrangement of ideas.
In all, he wrote more than 700 radio plays, some very ambitious. One of his favourites was about Socrates, the Greek philosopher.
"Of course he liked it," said a former Canadian Broadcasting Corporation colleague. "He was so much like Socrates -- someone devoted to teaching and talking. Socrates never wrote anything. Lister did, but it is nothing compared to the words he spoke in plays and on Ideas."
After radio, Mr. SINCLAIR moved to television, where he was sought after as a performer as well as a writer. He had to cut his hair, trim his beard and not dress like a bohemian. While many of his radio programs are on tape in the archives, his earlier television programs were broadcast live and vanished, unrecorded.
"I do wish I had more of these things on tape. One thing that I much regret, for example, is a television drama that, in fact, was one of my better television programs. It was called Beethoven. Lorne Greene played Beethoven before he left for Hollywood. But there was no kinescope [copy]. It's completely gone."
Pierre Berton, who died in 2004, told The Globe that Mr. SINCLAIR could have easily joined Lorne Greene and Canadians who went to Hollywood.
"I think he regrets that he didn't go to Broadway in the fifties. There was no theatre here to speak of when he was writing. He wrote wonderful [radio] plays. He got good reviews and an audience."
For a time, Mr. SINCLAIR considered trying his luck in London's West End but instead stayed in Canada, producing and writing a greater variety of material than perhaps anyone else in the country.
"I'm interested in pretty well anything, but finance is low on the list," he told The Globe. "I'm also not very interested in selling." Even though he knew his limitations, that was not enough to stop him from trying what he must have known he was not good at -- running things. Perhaps the strangest period of his long career was a spell in Canadian Broadcasting Corporation management. It read like one of his plays in three acts: the opening farce, the melodrama and the final tragic act.
It all began to unfold in 1968 when Laurent PICARD, an academic who later became dean of the Faculty of Management at McGill University in Montreal, was made an executive vice-president at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. In 1972, Mr. PICARD became president and decided he needed someone creative to run the network's English-language services. He fastened on Lister SINCLAIR and made him executive vice-president of English services.
Suddenly, Mr. SINCLAIR, a man who had never managed more than a small broadcast production, found himself in charge of a vast bureaucracy. A producer had never risen so high the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation hierarchy. "It was a disaster," said one of his Friends. "The rumour was, he went to Coles and bought a book on management. He was not suited to it."
Mr. PICARD soon realized his mistake and conflicts began to erupt. After two years, Mr. SINCLAIR was downgraded to vice-president of program policy and development. Two years later, he was out of management altogether and describing administration as "a branch of anthropology." It was the only period of his life that could be categorized as a failure.
He soon went back to doing what he did best -- writing, performing and producing programs, especially ones that dealt with difficult subjects. He became a frequent guest on Morningside at a time when the host was his friend Don Harron. Together, they did ambitious stuff, such as imaginary tours of 18th-century Venice, complete with the sound effects of oared gondolas.
At an age when many people start to think of retirement, Mr. SINCLAIR took on the job of host of Ideas. For 16 years, he was the voice for more than 2,000 programs, hundreds of which he wrote and produced himself. He was often late for recording sessions and, if the programs were his own scripts, he worked to the last possible deadline.
Mr. SINCLAIR was also a fixture on the program Court of Opinion and helped organize the Association of Canadian Television and Radio Artists. Now known as A.C.T.R.A., it represents thousands of Canadian performers.
His private life was sometimes as complex as his professional life. Lister SINCLAIR was married three times, and had several relationships that ran for years. He had two sons from different marriages, remained close to one but was estranged from another. He said he found family life difficult which, given his own formative years, is not surprising.
Soon after settling in Toronto, Mr. SINCLAIR and wife, Alice, whom he had met at University of British Columbia, became part of an artist's community in Kleinberg, north of Toronto.
"The community was called Windrush and the houses were designed by Bill McCROW, who was a set designer at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation," said Peter SINCLAIR, a technology entrepreneur who is his son from his first marriage.
Alice SINCLAIR lived in the house until her death and, although Mr. SINCLAIR moved out, he never went far. He made lasting Friendships in Toronto and was elevated to the status of national icon, a characterization he despised right along with the even more loathsome "Renaissance man."
Mr. SINCLAIR shed the awkwardness of youth and became an attractive, middle-aged man. Women were often intensely attracted by his casual style, diffident manner and quick mind. He lost little of his appeal in old age.
He was awarded the Order of Canada in 1985.
Lister Shedden SINCLAIR was born in Bombay on January 9, 1921. He died in hospital in Toronto yesterday. He was 85. He is survived by his sons Peter and Andrew.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-10-18 published
STEWARD/STEWART/STUART, William Alexander " Bill"
(Life Member Of The Toronto Real Estate Board, Rolls Royce Owner's Club, Royal Automobile Club Of England)
Passed away peacefully with his family by his side, at the Village of Erin Meadows Long Term Care Centre, on Sunday, October 15, 2006, at the age of 92. Bill was the dearly loved husband of the late Mary Louise EASTMAN. Loving Dad of Mary STEWARD/STEWART/STUART- ROSS and William David (Bill) STEWARD/STEWART/STUART and the late Jane HUNTER. Much loved grandfather of Jennifer and J.J., Rebecca and Cameron, David and Maxine, Samantha, Andrew and Sarah, and great-grandfather of Seaton Stewart and Alex Mary. He will be fondly remembered by his dear friend Mary LANGAN, and his extended family and Friends. Special thanks to Gail, Penny, Donovan and the entire staff at the Village of Erin Meadows for their extraordinary compassion and care. Friends may call at the Turner and Porter Butler Chapel, 4933 Dundas Street West, Etobicoke (between Islington and Kipling Aves.) on Wednesday from 2-4 p.m. and 7-9 p.m. Funeral Service to be held in the Chapel on Thursday, October 19, 2006, at 1 p.m. Private interment Park Lawn Cemetery. If desired, memorial donations may be made to the Heart and Stroke Foundation.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-11-28 published
Larry HENDERSON, Broadcaster And Editor: (1917-2006)
He was the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation's first regular newsreader on what became The National, only to leave for becoming a household name. He later became editor of The Catholic Register
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail; Globe and Mail archives, Page S9
Toronto -- For five years in the 1950s, Larry HENDERSON owned the most famous face in Canada. As the first regular anchor of Canadian Broadcasting Corporation's national television news from 1954 to 1959, his steep brow and distinctive mustache were known from coast to coast. He later went to work for other broadcast outlets, including CTV News, then switched careers by becoming a conservative and outspoken editor of The Catholic Register.
But it was on early television that he made his mark. "There isn't much doubt that, in Canada, the name HENDERSON means television news," said Maclean's in September of 1957. Twice a day, at 6: 45 p.m. and 11 p.m., he would read the national news on the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, which was then the only television network in Canada.
His newscasts left a lasting impression on a young Peter MANSBRIDGE growing up in Ottawa. "We bought our first television in 1956 and all I remember is Patti Page and Larry HENDERSON," said Mr. MANSBRIDGE, now the lead anchor on The National. "He was my introduction to television news. There was a lot of Larry HENDERSON reading, and the odd picture back then."
At the time, all television announcers had started out in radio, with the information coming from wire services and the front pages of newspapers. The first newscasts were more like bulletins rather than today's glitzy programs. To ensure that viewers paid attention to the news and not to a single face, the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation distributed the job among a roster of announcers. Newscasts were only five minutes long and seldom incorporated any film. If footage could be found, it was usually presented in the style of a Movietone newsreel without sound, except for what might later be added in the studio.
That all changed with the arrival of Larry HENDERSON. He had come to the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation with a background in theatre and music. Raised in Montreal, he was educated in the city's Protestant school board system. His father was a wool merchant, and his mother was an artist who encouraged her son's musical and acting talents.
As a boy, he put on plays, wrote scripts and played the piano. He won a scholarship to McGill University, where he studied music. After graduating, he decided to try his luck on the English stage and took a freighter across the Atlantic. He arrived in Britain with $50 in his pocket and fetched up in Birmingham, where he worked in a factory before landing a job in local theatre. One of the highlights of his acting career was to perform with a young Alec Guinness in Romeo and Juliet in Perth, Scotland. Then the Second World War broke out and the theatre closed, forcing him to return to Canada.
He used his theatrical training to work as an announcer for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, studied electrical engineering and joined the Officer Training Corps. In 1943, he was commissioned a lieutenant in the Canadian Army signal corps and served as a signals officer in Italy and northwest Europe.
In 1945, with the war almost over, he was recalled to direct the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation's shortwave International Service that was broadcast to the troops. Shortly after that, he returned to an announcer's job at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation.
He left the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation in the late 1940s and worked for radio station CFRB, producing a program called Headliners, 10-minute radio items from overseas that ran five times a week on 24 Canadian radio stations.
In 1949, he married Joan ANNAND, whom he had met at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Two years later, they set out for Europe. Armed with a recording machine, they retraced the steps of the Canadian army through Italy and produced segments for Headliners. An admirer of American broadcaster Edward R. Morrow, Mr. HENDERSON patterned his broadcasts on that style.
In 1950, he spent six weeks in Korea. As the first Canadian broadcaster sent to cover the Korean War, he was accredited to U.S. General Douglas MacArthur's headquarters and toured Japan, Hong Kong, Indochina, India and Yugoslavia, all the while filing reports. He also turned out a similar international series for Canadian Broadcasting Corporation Radio called Passports to Adventure.
In 1954, Mr. HENDERSON returned to the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation to pitch an idea to Mavor Moore, Canadian Broadcasting Corporation-television's program director. An accomplished photographer, Mr. HENDERSON's scheme was to run his slides on air with commentary. Mr. Moore heard him out but had other ideas. Instead of the travelogue, he decided to hire Mr. HENDERSON as the first permanent reader of national television news in Canada.
The policy of using a herd of announcers had not worked, and the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation was looking for someone permanent to anchor the news. At the same time, though, the corporation was nervous about allowing a television personality to develop, and it discouraged Mr. HENDERSON from doing much more than present the news. The newscast was expanded to 15 minutes, and Mr. HENDERSON began reading his scripts over film. His role grew and he became one of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation's first television correspondents to report from the field.
Mr. HENDERSON made several visits to the Middle East, including one to Egypt in April of 1956. That summer, Egypt's Gamal Abdel Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal, and soon Britain, France and Israel went to war against Cairo. The camera equipment of the day was bulky. Mr. HENDERSON travelled with Canadian Broadcasting Corporation cameraman Bob Crone and all the necessary gear they needed to record interviews.
Like many announcers of the time, Mr. HENDERSON's background was more theatrical than journalistic. This was before the era of the teleprompter. Mr. HENDERSON would memorize a script for at least an hour before the broadcast. That way, he would seldom have to look down at it.
It wasn't long before he was being recognized on the street, and soon developed ideas of his own. His plan was to work exclusively on The National. For its part, the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation continued to distrust anyone who resembled a broadcast star and made every effort to discourage him. Somewhat short-tempered by nature, and perhaps feeling constrained by Canadian Broadcasting Corporation policy, Mr. HENDERSON became the enfant terrible of Canadian television. He had a reputation for swearing on air, and for speaking so quickly when prompted to speed up that the audience heard only gibberish. He once stormed off the set when a piece of footage failed to roll.
In 1959, he left the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation after a dispute over his contract. Mr. HENDERSON had proposed that he anchor only the National; the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation wanted him to do other things as well. "Canadian Broadcasting Corporation star Henderson dropped," read the headline in The Toronto Telegram.
He went to work for radio station CHFI in Toronto and television station CHCH in Hamilton. Later, he joined CTV National News as a commentator on international affairs, and the weekend newsreader. It was during this period that he became interested in Catholicism.
"My father met a priest in Ottawa in the late 1960s and started talking to him about his faith," said Graham HENDERSON, who lives in Toronto. "When he converted to Catholicism, the whole family was shocked. My mother brought us up as Presbyterians [and] he had been an atheist."
After he left broadcasting full time, Mr. HENDERSON ran a school for broadcasting and did other work, including going to Africa for the Canadian International Development Agency to help set up Tanzania's broadcasting system.
In 1973, Mr. HENDERSON began writing articles for The Catholic Register, a Toronto-based publication that ranked among the oldest English-language Catholic weekly newspapers in Canada. He became editor the following year and steered the newspaper to a prominent role in the Canadian anti-abortion movement.
In 1981, he raised a furor by directing the Register to accept paid advertisements from an anti-abortion group recommending that voters reject Tory candidates in the Ontario election. Campaign Life had placed ads to say Conservative candidates were poor choices for voters and blamed then-premier William Davis for supporting Pierre Trudeau's constitutional package, including a Charter of Rights. Entrenchment of the Charter, it warned, would lead to abortion on demand, homosexual marriages, adoptions by homosexuals, and the loss by women of financial support from their husbands.
In 1985, the Register urged Ontario voters to spoil ballots in that year's provincial election. It was an attitude not supported by the Archdiocese of Toronto, and the writing was on the wall. Mr. HENDERSON left the paper the next year after having increased subscriptions from 30,000 to 60,000, replaced by an editor with more moderate views.
Mr. HENDERSON had the satisfaction of seeing his replacement, Peter HOWELL, resign in little more than a year. By all accounts, readers did not find favour with what they perceived as new liberal views and wrote to tell him so. "Nobody likes getting hate mail, but that's what it amounts to," Mr. HOWELL said.
In contrast, many of the letters had praised Mr. HENDERSON for upholding traditional church views.
Mr. HENDERSON was not finished. He joined Challenge, a Catholic monthly magazine, as managing editor and retired in 2002.
Larry HENDERSON was born in Montreal on September 4, 1917. He died in Toronto of unspecified causes on November 26, 2006. He was 89. He leaves his sons Graham and Ross. His wife, Joan, died in 1980.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-12-05 published
Joe LORIMER, Air Canada Pilot (1916-2006)
A flying instructor at the outset of the Second World War, he never flew in combat but trained many others who would. He retired in 1976 with 21,676 commercial hours under his belt
By F.F. LANGAN, Special to The Globe and Mail, Page S11
Toronto -- Joe LORIMER was sure he was going overseas when he volunteered for the Royal Canadian Air Force in the week that Canada declared war on Germany in September of 1939. He was fit, eager and, most of all, an experienced pilot.
The Royal Canadian Air Force had other plans. Mr. LORIMER not only knew how to fly, he was also a flight instructor. That made him too valuable to send overseas, so he was put to work training pilots. He spent his entire working life flying, first as an instructor during the war, then as a captain for Trans-Canada Airlines and Air Canada, flying just about every type of aircraft they ever used, from 10-seat Lockheeds to 400-seat Boeing 747s.
Mr. LORIMER grew up in Kerrobert, Saskatchewan., a town about 100 kilometres west of Saskatoon, where his father was in the coal business and managed to prosper even in the 1930s when times were tough. There, young Joe led a storybook Prairie life, playing hockey, curling and singing in the church choir. He graduated from high school in 1933 and went to Saskatoon to learn to fly. He soon became an instructor at the Saskatoon Flying Club.
When war broke out, Canada and Britain had a pilot shortage. Mr. LORIMER, not surprisingly, possessed urgently required skills. On December 16, 1939, the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan came into being. Canada had lots of space and private airfields, so, in the words of the war propagandists, it became "the arsenal of democracy." Canada also carried the bulk of the cost, spending $1.5-billion compared with Britain's $54-million. By the end of the war, 131,553 aircrew had been through the system.
Mr. LORIMER started training pilots at his home base in Saskatoon. Eventually, though, he was also posted to Trenton, Ontario, and later Fort William (now Thunder Bay). His logbook shows he trained pilots in the Tiger Moth, a fairly primitive open-cockpit biplane that was easy to fly. Later, his own rating as an instructor moved up a few notches and he provided advanced training on twin-engine Oxfords and Avro Ansons.
In March of 1942, he became an employee of the Winnipeg Air Observer School, as its chief flying instructor. It was there that he met his first wife, Esther ROBERTSON, who had joined the Winnipeg Flying Club -- not to learn how to fly but because it was a place said to have good dances.
Although appreciated by their civilian bosses and by the war planners in Ottawa, most instructors hankered to see action, later suffering the postwar stigma of not having flown in combat. Perhaps reflecting that, a poem (author unknown) was found among Mr. LORIMER's papers. Called The Flying Instructors' Lament, it went, in part, like this:
What did you do in the war, daddy,
How did you help us to win?
Circuits and bumps and turns, laddy,
And how to get out of a spin.
Woe and alack and misery me!
I trundle around in the sky,
And instead of machine-gunning Nazis,
I'm teaching young hopefuls to fly.
We never get posted to fighters,
we just get a spell on the Link.
So it's circuits and bumps
from morning till noon,
and instrument flying till 10.
In late 1942, Mr. LORIMER was seconded from the air-training program and ordered to join Trans-Canada Airlines, which was then short of commercial pilots. For the rest of the war, he was stationed in Winnipeg, flying such aircraft as the Lockheed Lodestar. Less than two years later, he was made captain.
After the war, Mr. LORIMER went on loan to Thunder Bay Airlines for a short while, then returned to Trans-Canada Airlines to fly the four-engine DC-4, known as North Stars in Canada. These larger, pressurized planes carried about 60 passengers and could easily fly over mountains and through bad weather. They were followed by the more advanced Viscount turboprops and then the airline's first jet, the DC-8. In later years, Mr. LORIMER became a "check" pilot on the DC-8: His job was to check whether pilots trained on new equipment were good enough to fly them. "To become a check pilot required a combination of competency and seniority," recalled Jack Jones, who was once chief pilot for Air Canada. "Joe was a superb pilot."
Mr. LORIMER experienced one of his most harrowing experiences aboard a DC-8. On a training flight out of Vancouver, lightning knocked a basketball-sized hole in the plane's nose. But Mr. LORIMER managed to land safely.
In 1973, he was loaned to Air Jamaica and lived in Kingston, from where he plied routes back to Canada. He ended his working life flying jumbo jets, his favourite plane. His last run occurred on July 28, 1976, a Toronto-to-Vienna flight that included his entire family. By that time, he had logged 21,676 commercial flying hours.
For many years, Mr. LORIMER lived on a small horse farm in Langley, British Columbia He was a keen golfer and coached a junior curling team that won a national championship. One quirk of his personal life was that he held the longest standing continuous bank account with the Royal Bank. His father had opened it for him when he was born; on his birthday this year, the bank gave him a special commemorative plaque.
His wife died in 1969. In 1977, he married Avon VAN EXAN, the widow of an Air Canada pilot.
Joseph Earl LORIMER was born on July 17, 1916, in Kerrobert, Saskatchewan. He died of age-related causes in Mississauga, Ontario, on September 27, 2006. He was 90. He is survived by his wife, three daughters and three stepchildren.

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LANGAN o@ca.on.york_county.toronto.globe_and_mail 2006-12-30 published
McGROARTY, Herbert Thomas Joseph (1918-2006)
Herbert Thomas Joseph McGROARTY passed away gently and peacefully at Sunnybrook Health Centre on Thursday, December, 28th, 2006, surrounded by his loving wife and family. son of the late Florence Lawlor McGROARTY and the late James McGROARTY, he is lovingly remembered by his wife of 65 years, Margaret (née LANGAN;) his three daughters: Maggie, Deborah and Maura; his eight sons: Herbert Jr., Bruce, Jerome, Darcy, Mark, Shawn, Brian and Kevin; his thirty grandchildren and twenty-three great-grandchildren, their spouses and a host of Friends. He was predeceased by brothers James and Andrew McGROARTY. A leader in his community, Herb served as President of the Leaside Hockey Association, President of the Leaside Baseball Association, President of the Leaside Lions Club, President of the St. Anselm's School Parent Teacher Association, and as Municipal Councillor of the Borough of East York. During World War 2, he served his country as a Lieutenant in the Irish Regiment of Canada Reserve. He was a cherished member of St. Anselm's Parish and the Knights of Columbus. A successful businessman, Herb was President of H.T. McGroarty Inc. in partnership with his wife, Margaret. He was a Designated International Appraiser as well as a Real Estate and Insurance Broker. An accomplished athlete, he was an avid golfer, tennis, badminton and squash player. Of all the accolades you could give to him, the foremost would be his unconditional love for and devotion to his family. All who knew him, Friends and family, enjoyed his humor, wit and engaging charm. He gave selflessly to his church and community and touched hundreds of hearts and lives. He took the time to listen and was a mentor to all his children. He always said the best decision he ever made was marrying his lifelong love, Marg. Visitation will be held at Heritage Funeral Centre, 50 Overlea Blvd., (416-423-1000) on Tuesday, January 2nd, 2007 from 2: 00 to 9: 00 p.m. A Mass in celebration of Herbert's life will be held at St. Anselm Roman Catholic Church, McNaughton and Millwood Road, Toronto on Wednesday, January 3rd, 2007 at 11: 00 a.m. with Rev. Brian Clough officiating. In lieu of flowers, the family would be grateful for donations to be sent to The Good Shepherd Ministries, 412 Queen Street East, Toronto, M5A 1T3.

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