Swallows scatter down across the October quilt of the Petawawa plain and on toward the river and Quebec, where the far hills ghost into rain cloud. In air as close as cobwebs the soldiers of the Canadian Special Service Force in the reanimated Armed Forces wait for the beginning of what they call “erection time”—a solid, stunning minute that turns the land punch-drunk with explosion.
It was Oct. 16. Voters were streaming to the polls to elect David Crombie to Parliament, from the leaf-strewn streets of wealthy Rosedale and from Regent Park, the first public housing project in Canada. The man they called the tiny perfect mayor had moved on to federal politics, closing a chapter of Canadian urban history.
We would like to thank Maclean's for the article on our campaign to raise $100,000 to restore the Emily Carr collection, Carr's Art: Poverty's Scars Are Showing (Oct. 2). While the insured value of the collection is a nominal thing, her works are irreplaceable and therefore priceless.
Downtown, in Theatre Row, are 11 companies, all within a one-mile radius, prompting one enterprising business manager to suggest that the TTC King subway stop be renamed, simply, Theatre. In the roller-coaster ’70s, theatre in Toronto has grown from the basement of Rochdale College to over 35 professional groups spread across town.
Senator Strom Thurmond is a living legend. He can prove it. He asked people to confirm precisely that fact in a supremely arrogant poll recently taken in his home state of South Carolina and 74.9 per cent of those consulted answered “yes.”
The body is bulkier; the once cherubic face deeply etched with the lines of battles won and lost. But the political acumen and compassion are as evident as in the days when Willy Brandt risked his reputation to set the two Germanys on the road to reconciliation.
It resembled the hilarious assemblyline scene from the Charlie Chaplin classic, Modern Times—as David McDonald, commissioner of the RCMP inquiry, pointed out. There was Pierre Lamontagne, the stocky little gamecock of an attorney for the force, straining against the clock to maintain the flow of top-secret documents along the row of lawyers and into the witness box.
One lasting impression of the recent firepower exhibition at Petawawa is that, in 1978, it is no longer a case of “going out for the annual firing of the shell,” as one major put it. When the two days of explosions died down, there was enough spent metal lying on the Petawawa plain to recycle into a corps of tanks.
For an agonizing week, as the whole country watched, the rule of law and the rights of labor were in direct conflict while the federal government and the Canadian Union of Postal Workers slugged it out. When the union went on strike, the government introduced a bill ordering its members back to work.
Beige broadloom heaven—also known as International Creative Management—is a place in New York where receptionists exude politeness just in case you’re someone important and the lobbies are filled with comfortable pseud-mod acrylic things just in case you have definite tastes.
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