My neighbourhood Starbucks sold beer and wine for the first time today and the earth did not open up and swallow the sinners within. One of whom was me, drinking a Muskoka Winter Weiss, with a free bowl of spicy pumpkin seeds. The Bloor Street West outlet is one of three to be licenced in Toronto and the first such speakeasies in Canada. In the U.S. alcohol is already being sold at 300 Starbucks locations. The sun has been known to rise over the yardarm as early as 11 a.m., but “Starbucks evenings” start at 2 p.m. In addition to craft...
Try as I might, I’ve never been able to figure out the purpose of the Canadian Journalism Foundation (CJF). Founded in 1996 with the stated purpose of building bridges for journalists with public and private organizations, the only reason for the connection seems to be funding for awards and dinner at the annual bunfeed. While Canadian journalists will be feted at this year’s event on June 16, they’re not the headline used to promote the program. The prime online attention is focussed on a special citation to be presented to the Pulitzer-prize-winning Spotlight team from the Boston Globe that exposed the child abuse scandal and cover-up by the Catholic Church. A...
The citizens of Toronto have recently focused on the death of former Mayor Rob Ford, but there was another passing last week of a man who had a far more profound impact on Toronto and Canada: Ced Ritchie, chairman and chief executive officer of the Bank of Nova Scotia from 1974-1995. I worked for Ritchie for two years after I left Ottawa in 1976. I thought I had seen power in the nation’s capital but I quickly realized that was nothing compared to the raw power in the hands of a bank CEO. I don’t think in all my years I’ve known anyone who...
Ian Brown’s fascinating piece in Saturday’s Globe and Mail was both a bit of nice writing and the kind of reportage too often missing these days. Brown sought to find out why Stephen Harper has been invisible since he lost the October election to Justin Trudeau. But did Brown succeed? I think not. After travelling to Ottawa, Calgary and Edmonton in search of the elusive Harper, Brown was finally standing a few feet away from his quarry but let a Harper aide dissuade him from approaching the man for a conversation. Normally, Brown is sufficiently vigorous to not let anyone stop him...
Read everything I could, talked to anyone who hoved into view, and try as I might, I’ve been unable to discover anything of substance actually accomplished during the recent visit of Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to Washington. No Keystone approval, no sharing of costs on the Gordie Howe Bridge, just some far-off-in-the-future nod to reducing cow herds in Oxford County to lower methane gas levels. The Canadian media was agog about the bromance between Trudeau and U.S. President Barack Obama. All that got us was a free dinner for Mike Myers who forgot his hair dye that day. Coverage in the Washington...
I love books. I love reading them, I love writing them, I love what books do inside my head. The trouble is I’ve ended up with more than 1,000 volumes and that’s after donating about 300 (half a dozen at a time) to the used book store at the Toronto Research Library over the last few years. I’ve got some of the first books I ever read such as The Adventures of Danny Meadowmouse by Thorton W. Burgess and Now We Are Six by A. A. Milne. I’ve got the first book I ever bought, How The Great Religions Began by Joseph Gaer...
There’s a piece in the Globe and Mail this morning on the sports pages extolling the talents of a competitor, TSN’s Bob McKenzie, saying how solid his information always is. Setting aside the unusual pastime of a newspaper journalist complimenting a broadcaster, let’s focus on the praise. Solid. Shouldn’t every sportswriter have solid information? I assume from this paean that some do not. It’s all so reminiscent of broadcaster Brian Linehan who used to interview all the movie stars swanning through town. People were always agog that Linehan actually conducted research in advance. He didn’t just ask simpleton questions such as, “What’s Julia Roberts really...
Time was when a non-fiction book would take at least two years to research and write. No more, if a recent release from Simon & Schuster is typical. The title is How Can I Help? A Week in My Life as a Psychiatrist. A week? Too bad Samuel Pepys wasted all those years writing his diary when a few days of scribbling would have been enough for him to achieve immortality. In keeping with this new fast-paced approach, herewith are ten book titles that could be in your bookstore very soon: One-Minute Stand: Pickup Lines for the Attention Deficit Disordered Sunny...
Saks Fifth Avenue opened its first store in Canada today and while I missed the ribbon-cutting I did do a walkabout and can report that it is a bizarre bazaar. First off, it isn’t really a store. It’s 180,000 square feet on three floors within The Bay. There are goods from The Bay below in the basement as well as above on the fourth floor and to the west on all floors. Let’s call it a nestling. Much of the first floor is boutiques run by other marques. Positioned in niches around the perimeter are numerous well-known names such as...
You’re in your office. It’s noon. Someone sticks their head in the door and asks, “Jeet jet?” If you read that as a lunch invitation, English is likely your mother tongue. No other language has more words; English has one million. There are only 200,000 French words. That’s why French was traditionally used in treaties. Everybody could take a different shade of meaning from the agreement they just signed. Denizens of England will tell you they know best. I once attended a dinner at London’s Dorchester Hotel in honour of Cliff Thorburn, a Canadian who played professional snooker in Britain. In Canada, the game’s...
After the first week of testimony in the Jian Ghomeshi trial, it’s hard to imagine that any judge could find him guilty as charged. The first two of his three accusers have clear recollections of his attacks, but they hardly avoided him afterwards. Letters, emails, photos and follow-ups of various sorts don’t paint a picture of someone who felt wronged. One even wrote a lengthy letter that concluded, “I love your hands.” What is the meaning of consent? The alleged attacks may have come as a surprise but does desiring an ongoing relationship provide consent after the fact? Or is there is any such thing...
The news is in the news these days. Postmedia cut 90 journalism jobs and conjoined formerly competing newspapers in four cities. The Toronto Star laid off thirteen. The Halifax Chronicle-Herald wants to get rid of 18. And that’s just this month. I was part of the first group laid off at National Post in 2001. There must have been two thousand journalists who’ve lost their jobs in Canada in the fifteen years since. No one wants to pay to read newspapers anymore. Revenues have cratered. Costs must be cut. But of all the recent sagas, the saddest was the announcement yesterday that the Guelph Mercury will...
It matters not a whit what the Bank of Canada does with interest rates later today – raise, lower or stand pat – the damage to our dollar has long since been done. When Stephen Poloz was appointed governor of the central bank in 2013 he forgot to take off the Export Development Canada hat he’d been wearing for the previous 14 years. Ever since he arrived at the bank the Canadian dollar has been in free fall, going from par with the US$ in May 2013 to under 69 cents today. It costs us $1.48 to buy one U.S dollar. In the beginning...
I think you learn almost everything you need to know in life when you are young. After that it’s too late. Here are seven things I learned before I was ten: Never take on the bully. At least not alone. Befriend a blind boy. Respect your teacher. Be independent in thought and deed. If you want a bike, save up for it. Be sure your sins will find you out. Always kiss the prettiest girl.
My worst fears were realized on the subway this morning. I forgot to bring something to read. I’m always riven with anxiety that the train will come to a halt between stations and sit there for an hour so I usually pack in my knapsack that day’s newspaper, a section or two from the Sunday New York Times and a recent copy of the London Review of Books, just in case of such a catastrophe. Fortunately, there were plenty of copies scattered about of a giveaway tabloid called 24 Hours Toronto, so I picked one up. As I scanned the pages, I wondered where my...
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