January 1 1967


January 1 1967


In a year headlined by scandal, ill will and indecision in high places, Canadians can take pride in many less publicized but more constructive achievements of some fellow citizens who in a wide variety of endeavors—including medicine, sports, the arts, sociology and even politics—brought credit and lent vitality to a nation sorely in need of heroes.

We honor some of them on the following pages—and take a sidelong glance at some other Canadians who enlivened the scene by signal feats of underachievement — and even a few of misplaced overachievement.

And, as a bonus for this first Centennial-year issue, we present a gallery of Canadians who during the initial 100 years of this country’s nationhood did more to create the character of our nation as it is today than our schoolbooks ever admit.


For these four, it was a year of greatness on


IT MAY BE MONTHS or even years before Chester Ronning’s unobtrusive visits to North Vietnam can be evaluated. Were they worthy gestures, but as fruitless as they seemed to be on the surface? Or were they the first steps toward that tremendous eventuality — peace in Southeast Asia?

Ronning himself says quietly, “I can't say I’m optimistic, but the channel is there if they want to use it.” In fact, Ronning himself may be the next person to use the “channel” he created. External Affairs Minister Paul Martin said recently that he might enlist the retired career diplomat for another exploratory trip to Hanoi.

Ronning was selected for his ione mission because he is not only one of the West’s best-connected experts on the Far East, but he's also a person to whom the Oriental mind is no mystery — he was born to missionary parents in 1894 in Fancheng. China, and spoke Chinese as his first language.

After university training in Alberta, the United States and China, Ronning became the president of small Camrose College in Alberta. In World War II he served in the RCAF, and later entered the Department of External Affairs. The department appointed him counsellor at the Canadian embassy in Nanking, w'here he served until 1949. Later he led the Canadian delegations to the Korean Conference, and the Laos Conference, and was appointed Canadian high commissioner to India.

Ronning recently revealed that Canada was ready to recognize Red China in 1949, and but for Chinese reluctance to accept India’s and Britain’s offers of recognition and the Korean War, we would now have representation in Peking. He still sees recognition of Red China as the keystone of a reasonable Far Eastern foreign policy. "It’s a modest beginning to reverse the trend of increasing tensions,” he says, “and through recognition we would get firsthand information from Chinese diplomats — it’s the only way of getting direct information.”


SHORTLY BEFORE last summer’s British Commonwealth Games in Jamaica. Harold Firby boasted, "Elaine could win four golds.” As any sports fan knows by now, Firby was talking about Elaine Tanner, the 15-year-old Vancouver swimmer he coaches. But at the time, newsmen w'ere skeptical. Alter all. nobody had ever won four gold medals at the Commonwealth Games.

But Elaine Tanner not only did just that — including a world’s record 220yard butterfly — but she took three second-place silver medals, and in one of those races she was a bare stroke behind the English girl who won the 110-yard backstroke in a time that equalled the world’s record. Hers was the most extraordinary performance in the 36-year history of the games.

Elaine, a five-foot-two, 115-pound high-school student, now' has her sights set on the 1968 Olympics at Mexico

City. She has a boyish build, a big toothy grin, a brown cap of hair, a sense ol humor, a driving, tough dedication — and the nickname of Mighty Mouse.

Her class began to show' early. From the age ol eight the medals, ribbons, trophies began to clutter up her parents’ modest home. By the time she w'as I I. swimming for Vancouver's Dolphin Club, she had more than 150. 1 hen her proud parents stopped counting.

In Elaine's future, before Mexico City, there is a month of swimming in South Africa; then the Pan-American Games in Winnipeg this summer.

Keeping in training means work, terribly hard work, in Vancouver's Crystal Pool, for an hour, morning and evening, six days a week, and still trying to keep up her school averages — grade 1 1, As and Bs.

"No time for holding hands,” says Elaine.

Firby says, “Mexico City in 1968? We never talk about it. It’s just simply understood.”


IN THE 1940S it was commonplace for big-businessmen to join the government and become dollar-a-year administrators in the war effort. Now. another war—this one against poverty and the agonizing problems of underdeveloped countries — has brought another big-businessman to Ottawa. Maurice Strong, 37. has withdrawn from the business community to head Canada’s $300-million-a-year foreignaid program. He is turning his back on more than $200,000 a year in salary, stock options and other benefits (his civil-service job will pay $27,000 a year) as head of one of the most vigorous holding companies in Canada, Power Corporation.

Strong says the reason for his decision is simply that he believes in foreign aid: “It’s morally and ethically right — and it's the most up-todate method of defense.*’

Strong's move came as no surprise

to those who know his past. At 18 (he lied about his age) he got a junior job at the United Nations secretariat, and ever since then he has wanted to work in foreign affairs. He tried to join the Department of External Affairs but was turned down because his formal education ended when he was 15, at his birthplace of Oak Lake, Manitoba. Reluctantly, he turned to business — with spectacular results.

Strong’s large cut in take-home pay will mean little to his family's way of life, he says. "Wc have always tried, at home, to avoid being prisoners of a standard of living. We’ve tried to live on a scale that could be supported by almost any kind of government job.”

Strong, born during the depression, has firsthand knowledge of poverty. “We used to eat pigweeds for greens — they're not as bad as they sound.” At 15, he left home to work at a Hudson's Bay post at Chesterfield Inlet, NWT. There he took correspondence courses in mining and finance which eventually led him to the top of the business ladder.


THE FACT THAT 73 nations are participating in Expo 67 to make it the largest world's fair ever can be directly attributed to a round little man who, although he has become Canada's supersalesman, still remains something of an enigma.

After 42 years as a career diplomat, Pierre Dupuy retired to Canada as an unknown, even though Charles de Gaulle gave him a personal sendoff from his last post as ambassador to France. It is also ironic that the job Dupuy took on, as commissioner to the Canadian Universal and International Exhibition, did little to make him better known in his homeland; because Dupuy has spent the last two years almost continuously on the road, selling Expo 67, from New Zealand to Russia. Expo colleagues have labelled Dupuy “Mister Energy.”

Dupuy’s dedication and his ability in two short years to persuade so many countries to invest fantastic amounts of money — Russia: $20 million — in the $300 million Expo site has done much to silence those critics who sided with the computer that predicted Expo couldn’t possibly happen before 1969.

Dupuy, the high-level international negotiator, also has the secret of the common touch. When he is in Montreal. he is always stopping his chauffeured limousine to give Expo workers a lift as they pick their way over the construction site. One young stenographer refused to believe Dupuy had been her benefactor: “Nobody that nice could be the boss.”

Justice and politics, as well as music, were practised as high arts



EKOTOJEE, “He Who Listens,” listens no longer to his beloved Eskimos. But he has left behind an unforgettable legacy of fair play and compassion. Hon. Mr. Justice John Howard Sis-sons, first judge of the Territorial Court of the Northwest Territories, retired in 1966 after more than a decade of administering justice in one of the most forbidding areas on earth.

He logged some 275,000 miles by plane and dogsled to follow his creed that “justice should be taken to every man's door.” Wherever he went, the law was tempered by an uncommon regard for the traditional way of life of the 25.000 (1964) people just emerging from a stone-age way ol life. Yellowknife barrister Mark de Weerdt observed. "In his court justice not only was done but. even to the primitive people present, justice appeared to be done.”

Twice a year he ranged the barrenlands. holding court in bunkhouses. schoolrooms, mess halls, the kitchen of a remote RCMP outpost, a priest's manse and even his plane s cockpit.

An impressive ligure at six leet and 200 pounds, the judge, who once described himself as an "angry, obstinate old man in a hurry," devoted much effort to a battle against the encroach-

ment of the white-man’s law and bureaucracy on Indian and Eskimo customs. One Eskimo observed, “The white man never listens to the Eskimo: he always tells the Eskimo. But Ekotojee listened and understood. He was a good man.”

Sissons often was at odds with Ottawa bureaucrats. ( He once described them as the “Wellington Street Horse Marines.”) An Ottawa decision that Eskimo marriages were illegal produced this trenchant reaction: “No bastard in Ottawa is going to tell me my 10,000 Eskimos are all bastards.” He ruled the Eskimo marriage ceremony valid and Ottawa has never since questioned the ruling.

Sissons was responsible for other landmarks of justice in the NWT: including the right of appeal all the way to the Supreme Court of Canada and the first use of Canadian Eskimos on juries. And he rendered a vitally important service to his country: since the establishment of law is the cornerstone of sovereignty over a particular region, every time he held court in one of the far-flung Arctic islands he helped entrench Canada's legal claim to those areas in international law.

Sissons lives today in a penthouse apartment in downtown Edmonton with his wife Frances, surrounded by a unique collection of Eskimo carvings which tell the story of many of his major trials in the NWT.


HALF A YEAR AGO the idea of Daniel Johnson as an outstanding Canadian of 1966 would have seemed farfetched even to his most devoted followers. In his five years as leader of the Union Nationale party Johnson had apparently done little except fight losing battles — first in the 1962 general election, then in the legislature against the apparently solidly entrenched government of Jean Lesage.

Suddenly, on June 5, everything changed. To almost everybody’s surprise—perhaps even his own—Johnson had defeated the undefeatable and become Quebec’s new leader. The crucial question, especially to Canadians outside Quebec, was: where he would lead the turbulent province.

On past performance, there could be no doubt he was a dedicated nationalist. He often referred to “the French-Canadian nation.” He had declared that Canada needed a new constitution, with, among other things, a unique position for Quebec.

In October, Daniel Johnson went to the federal-provincial conference on tax sharing with demands that made many a Canadian feel, “Here comes

the showdown.” Quebec’s brief asked for 100 percent of direct taxes collected in the province.

The Pearson cabinet dug in its heels: there was a limit to the extent that the federal government could yield without losing effective control of national economic policy.

Back in Quebec, Johnson announced that he was “not unhappy” with the outcome of federal-provincial negotiations, which gave his province a tax share larger than it had received before, but about $20 million short of its demand. Later in Toronto, Johnson declared that, far from being “separatist,” his efforts for greater fiscal and political autonomy of Quebec were aimed at bringing “a more effective contribution to the cultural enrichment and the economic growth of the whole country.”

Non - French - speaking Canadians seemed entitled to appraise Quebec's new premier as a practical and realistic politician who would fight for what he considered his province’s rights to the full limit of feasibility, but who would never cross the line from the possible into the impossible. In the context of the times, that in itself seemed enough to transform a rather fearsome political question mark into a rather admirable political man.


“IN ITS TECHNICAL potency, its almost walkover-mastery of rhythmic hurdles [the National Youth Orchestra of Canada] falls little short of our better professional orchestras, and for zeal, interest and accuracy of entries it was at times even superior." Thus wrote the critic of the Berlin paper. Welt.

The London Times agreed that the ensemble possessed "quite extraordinary capabilities.” Similar enthusiastic reviews greeted the 101-member orchestra (ages 15 to 24) throughout its eight - concert tour of England,

Scotland, France and Germany in 1966 under the direction of Walter Susskind. who was responsible lor its formation in 1960. Financed by public and private grants, the orchestra selects its members through nationwide auditions and stages an annual tour after intensive rehearsals. Its major Centennial - year program is eight concerts in western Canada.

Audiences will hear young musicians who have been acclaimed not only abroad but even by Canada’s crustiest critic: Nathan Cohen ol the Toronto Star concedes that the orchestra is “not half bad.”

More about Outstanding Canadians on next paee


MACLEAN'S ANNUAL EDITORIAL PRESCIENCE CITATION goes to Time magazine for its September 30 cover story on BC's Premier Bennett. Two weeks after the story reported that "prosperity is building toward a crescendo,” Bennett outlawed overtime. The purpose, he explained, was to help stave off a recession.

THE ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL PRIZE FOR PAT RIOTIC INGENUITY goes to a Montreal inventor (he didn’t leave his name) who approached Expo 67 officials whth an olfer to build a clock that would run on maple syrup.

THE MORAL-INSTRUCTION AWARD (CRIME-DOESNOT-PAY DIVISION) goes to Montrealer Gaétan Giroux, 31. While pulling a pair of red panties over his head to mask his face during a bank robbery, he became entangled and shot himself in the leg.

THAT’S - MY - STORY - AND - I’M - STICKING - TO - IT SCROLL: To Joseph Papp. Montreal inventor who claimed (to just about everybody’s disbelief) that he crossed the Atlantic in a homemade nuclear submarine, and has written a book about the voyage. Very few people yet know what's in it: the manuscript is handwritten, in Hungarian.

PERENNIAL-LOSER'S CUP: To the Toronto Argonauts — who else? And they're building for future awards of the kind, too, it seems. Mike Martin of Toronto, top quarterback prospect getting his football education at Akron U under Argo subsidy, wrote the local paper criticizing the college coach for directing strategy from the bench. Final score: no more football for Mike at Akron.

MOST NOTABLE CANADIAN CONTRIBUTION TO THE TRADITION OF BAWDY RESTORATION COMEDY : Awarded to Paulette Russell, the sandwich girl in a Vancouver beer parlor who sued star BC Lions linebacker Rudy Reschke for allegedly biting her on the buttock. “He really laid his jaws into my seat.” she told the press.



NON-QUITTERS OF THE YEAR. Douglas Leiterman, John Diefenbaker.

PIOUS HINDSIGHT PURSE (CASH): To Dr. Morton Shulman, Toronto's crusading coroner who made a million dollars in the stock market, later told a University of Toronto debate, "A system that allows a man to acquire such a huge sum is immoral.” (The students disagreed, 74 to 47.)

ETHNIC UNDERSTANDING AWARD: To Expo 67's publicity department, some of whose members refer to a new sewage-treatment plant on the Expo site as "the Polish pavilion.”

AGONIZING-COINCIDENCE PLAQUE: To Clarence McKinnon, of Campbellford, Ont., who planned a party, complete with serenading orchestra, when a ticket in his nom de plume, “Betty,” won $60,000 in the Irish Sweepstakes. Clarence hastily canceled when another “Betty,” in the same town, turned out to be the real winner.

For many other Canadians, too, was an outstanding year

THERE ARE, INEVITABLY, always more worthy names proposed for Maclean’s annual roster of outstanding Canadians than there is space to accommodate them.

Newfoundland’s premier, Joey Smallwood, got a lot of votes, largely for continuing to he Joey Smallwood, and to a lesser extent for doggedly pursuing a power agreement with cautious Quebec officials that will make Churchill Falls, the world's largest potential hydro-electric source, a reality instead of a dream. (To say nothing of insisting on working conditions for his Newfoundlanders at Churchill Falls that make a job there sound like a long, well-paid vacation.)

Joey wasn't the only premier who registered strongly. Louis Rohichaud of New Brunswick was cited for introducing a streamlined form of centralized municipal authority and finance, while over on Prince Edward Island, the obvious new'smaker of the year was the younger member of the father-and-son combination of Campbells: Alex Campbell, at 33 Canada’s youngest premier ever and a chip off the elder Thane, premier from 1936

IT ISN’T EASY for a nonplaying hockey player to dominate the hockey year —especially the year of Bobby Hull's record 54 goals and the NHL’s decision to expand. But Carl Brewer did it when he decided to quit the Toronto Maple Leafs for Canada's national team. Horrified, the NHL invoked a “law”: claims on Brewer would have to be waived by all professional teams, mostly in the U.S. Brewer threatened court action, which would have aired the whole dubious question of the legality of pro hockey’s semi-permanent serfdom of players. The Establishment backed down in dignified panic. Brewer will certainly play for Canada — and professional hockey's self-assumed power may never be the same again.

to 1943 and now' chief justice of the province.

Nova Scotia produced three of the hottest newsmakers of the year: Alex Storm, Dave MacEachern and Harvey MacLeod, who salvaged from a 240year-old wrecked French frigate a fortune in gold coins estimated at $250,000 to a million. But by year’s end the treasure was still under sheriff’s seizure while the courts ponder conflicting claims.

Another Nova Scotian whose activities arc not exactly average is the Reverend Nelson MacDonald, pastor of the United Church at Upper Mosquodoboit. In 1966 he took on an additional job: president of one of the largest life-insurance companies in Canada, CUNA Mutual, which has in force more than a billion dollars on the lives of credit-union members. The clergyman sees no contradiction in his jobs. ‘"It’s just a facet of my ministry,” he says. ‘"Some men are particularly interested in temperance, or evangelism. I'm interested in the credit-union movement. Temperance and morals are fine. But a man must have dignity, too, and he can’t have dignity unless he has money.”

In Montreal a man whose name and work are all but unknown outside his profession earned the coveted gold medal of the American College of Physicians for achievement in basic medical science. He is Dr. Charles Leblond, who for 20 years has been probing the secrets of human cells in a McGill laboratory, to the considerable enrichment of medicine's knowledge of the behavior of the body’s basic ingredients. Among his discoveries: how' to watch elements in the body by using radioactive substances and photographing their emissions.

A number of nominators asserted that for sheer ubiquity, visibility and indefatigability, 1966 was the year of Pierre Berton, whose occupations included, in part, assembler and writer of Centennial books, co-publisher, world traveler, moderator of public panels espousing worthy causes (the latest on behalf of Portuguese liberals persecuted by Dictator Salazar). TV panelist and interviewer (twice daily on Hamilton’s channel II), and radio controversialist (also, via some logistic legerdemain, twice a day over Tcv ronto’s CFRB). In this last role Berton is often the unexpectedly mild straight man for another nominee, Charles Templeton, ex-sports cartoonist, exclergyman. ex-newspaperman and. surprisingly. ex-politician.

Also in the realm of communication, the Great Communicator. Marshall McLuhan, didn't promulgate anything spectacularly new to enhance his stature, but he did hold his own as an international conversation piece, w hich is no mean feat / continued on page 36

“MYXIN” IS A 1966 word. It designates a substance that could prove to be the most potent disease killer since penicillin. Myxin first showed up in soilbacteria tests at the federal Department of Agriculture. Dr. Fred Cook (above left), 45, of Ottawa, first noticed the red-colored antibiotic. Dr. Edwin Peterson (centre), also 45 and a former RCA F radar operator from Bashaw, Alberta, did tests which proved Myxin’s incredible potency, and

Dr. Douglas Gillespie, 39, from Port Arthur, Ontario, devised ways of producing and purifying Myxin crystals. Myxin has not yet been tested on human beings, but its knock-out record on 34 species of bacteria, 49 species of fungi, 12 species of actinomycètes and 12 species of yeast has been enough to bring most of the world’s largest drug companies to Ottawa to take part in the costly bidding for rights just to test the drug.

FEW BOOKS IN CANADA ever came closer to not being published through editors’ resistance, and none has had a higher-level aftermath, than Isabel LeBourdais’ The Trial Of Steven Truscott. (The Canadian edition, that is; readers of subsequent English and U.S. editions are buying it as an agonizing account of how many people can, in the Toronto author’s opinion, contribute, innocently or ignorantly, to the conviction of a 14year-old boy for a rape-murder he did not commit.) Now that Truscott has had his unprecedented Supreme Court hearing, Mrs. LeBourdais awaits the verdict, confident that the youth will be home for Christmas. If the court's decision is unfavorable, she intends to demand a royal commission inquiry.

LAST SEPTEMBER Mrs. Lawrence Wilson, an Ottawa housewife, spied a 39cent head of lettuce in a supermarket. That was too much for her, literally and figuratively. Over an open-line radio program she suggested a boycott of food stores. A thousand women promptly volunteered, and the resulting Ottawa Consumers Protest Association launched a two-week boycott of supermarkets. Soon similar groups went into action across Canada. Wholesalers, processors and retailers spoke up — to blame each other. But the fact remains: one angry housewife started something that brought some prices down in some stores — even if only temporarily.

continued on page 36


continued from page 14

The Finder found Banks, then a “dead” woman named Gerda

in an age when celebrity is so apt to depend on an easy-come-easy-go fad.

Another renowned communicator, Roy, Lord Thomson of Fleet, could have been the hands-down winner of the Outstanding Canadian of 1966 — “former barefoot boy acquires bellwether of world journalism, London limes." Alas, Thomson disqualified himself by opting out of Canadianism in accepting an English title. And so the 1966 journalistic championship goes to Robert (The Finder) Rcguly, of the Toronto Star, who a year before had tracked down Hal Banks, the fugitive labor leader, on a yacht in New York harbor (and got bopped for his enterprise), and in 1966 topped that performance by finding the sup-

posedly deceased Gerda Munsinger in a Munich apartment. (Rcguly also could claim to be just about the only member of the cast of l’affaire Gerda to emerge without some criticism.

On the other hand, another notquite-Canadian, Martine van Hamel, daughter of the former Netherlands consul in Toronto, was enthusiastically accorded honorary citizenship by press and public after she won the junior class of the International Ballet Competition in Bulgaria.

And speaking of ballet, the Royal Winnipeg Ballet received the greatest accolade in its somewhat uneven history in the form of a full-page paean of praise in New York, the Sunday supplement of the New York World

Journal Tribune, for its all-Canadian ballet. Rose Latulippe.

It was a great year for Canadian athletes (see page 10 for the most spectacular example). Gary Cowan became the first Canadian in a third of a century to win the U.S. Amateur golf championship, and Marlene Stewart Streit, who has been playing competitive golf as a child, maid and matron, emerged from the international tournament at Mexico City as the world’s best woman golfer. Señor Avelino Gomez, a Canadian by default (he’s an exile from Cuba because of Castro-trouble, anil from the U.S. because of visa trouble), won more races than any other jockey in North America. ★