ARTICLE editor Pierre Berton, who occasionally leaves his desk to write an article
himself, tells us that his two-part piece on E. P. Taylor was the toughest assignment he’s handled. Taylor, it turns out, is a man who doesn’t like publicity. Four other writers had started out to do profile on Taylor for Maclean’s, but for a variety of reasons didn’t succeed.
When Berton telephoned Taylor he was told: “I don’t want the story. If you run it, I’ll be badgered by everyone in the country who has a hare-brained financial scheme he wants to sell me.”
But at this point Berton had been working on the Taylor story for four weeks and had 70 closetyped foolscap pages of research. He pointed out that, as the story was going to run anyway, they might as well get together. Taylor finally agreed, gave a three-hour interview and ended posing amicably for the picture on page 7 which shows him with a deskful of his brand products.
Berton, whose financial knowledge is limited to making monthly payments on his Austin, spent the first 10 days of the project learning about tycoonery. He haunted Bay Street offices and the neighboring Financial Post, read all prospectuses, annual reports and clippings on all Taylor’s companies, then read most of them
again to make sure he missed none of the fine print. After that he interviewed more than associates and acquaintances Taylor in Toronto, Montreal and Ottawa.
“By the time I met E. Taylor,” he said, “I felt we were old friends.”
®Eva-Lis Wuorio, whose story “But I Couldn’t Find Picasso” on page 15, has been to Europe twice in the last year and across Canada another couple of times. When we asked Maclean’s prettiest assistant editor to tell something about her travels she wrote:
“It comes to about 50,000 miles, but somehow it isn’t the big things and large numbers that mark any trip. It’s all the little
“Like slippers. Every hotel maid from Brandon, Man., Venice, Italy, and Helsinki, Finland, to St. Paul de Vence, France, has a new hiding place for them.
“And there’s money. It’s frightful struggle to try to figure out dollars in francs and francs in lira, and lira in guldens and back to dollars and marks and pounds. And then you land at Gander and find you haven’t single solitary Canadian cent left to buy even a—well, say a post-
“But a lot of nice things stay with you too. Like the first view of Paris. It’s queer how the same material—stones, bricks, wood, piled up for the purpose of giving shelter—can give such a different face to each small concentration of them. Toronto feels wide, and spacious and new. Quebec has sense still of being part of the river, carved out of rock. London is all the tunes you ever hummed, all the quotations that crop into mind, names you know. Helsinki is white and desperately proud, still, and sea-free. But Paris is something you’ve never seen before yet, somehow, paradoxically, never forgotten.”
CRANKLIN ARBUCKLE tells us that the model ' for his cover is a house called Villa des Arbres, near St. Sauveur in the Laurentians. ‘‘I moved a station and a mountain behind the house and introduced various characters, all of whom are typical of the region at this time of year," the artist told us. "I made the original sketch in the late fall when it was rainy and dull." As a matter of fact that's the way the ski country weather continued into the new year to the great distress of the resort operators.
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