Barbs & Jabs

Hiring integrity commissioner overkill

Do we need a professional watchdog to keep an eye on our local politicians?
I say no.
Vaughan says yes.
York Region's most westerly municipality agreed yesterday to hire an integrity commissioner to investigate the conduct of members of council.
Since it's a part-time position, can we assume cheaters only cheat some of the time? Does this mean, the rest of the time, they're as pure as the driven snow?
Of course, on occasion, a sleaze makes it into the political arena. In my 30-year media career, I've covered stories about politicians being dead drunk behind the wheel, taking bribes, commiting assault, messing with minors, shoplifting, committing fraud, violating immigration laws and fishing out of season.
Make no mistake, greed and lust fed the rumour mill.
Many years ago in Bowmanville, the treasurer ran off with the public purse, while the new treasurer ran off with the doctor's wife.
With the exception of the story of a councillor being charged with sexual assault on a 15-year-old, the other sins added a bit of colour to my otherwise dull life.
That was then. This is now.
In recent years, the City of Vaughan has dealt with a flurry of lawsuits by former employees and a police investigation was launched into the city's fleet department.
To further muddy the waters, Vaughan's mayoral race continued for months after last fall's election. Even though Vaughan's troubles held some interest, the embarrassment went on far too long.
Sorry folks - when it comes to dirt, I like change.
In my not so humble opinion, hiring an integrity commissioner is overkill.   
Lets get real. Like members of the public, the great majority of local politicians are honest. And the few who aren't always seem to trip up and get caught. 
Let's hope the move to hire an integrity commissioner is not an emerging trend across the region.

Local Tories slinging mud at selves

It's no holds barred when the Tories play political suicide.
The most famous game of Kill Ourselves was the dumping of federal leader John Diefenbaker. It was a blood bath. By the time the knives were laid down, every Tory was either dead or dying. 
On a professional level, I get along well with the Tories. And there's no contest - on election night, the Conservatives have the best food.   
Since Ontario will go to the polls Oct. 10, riding associations across the province are in election-readiness mode. Nomination meetings are on the radar screen. 
I covered the acclamation of Liberal Helena Jaczek and Conservatives Frank Klees in Newmarket-Aurora and Julia Munro in York Simcoe. Everyone involved was nice. I was given accurate information. In all cases, the news was collected and delivered in both a professional and pleasant manner. When it comes to being smart, nice and respectful, they don't come any better than Frank Klees or Julia Munro. As for Dr. Jaczek, she had a lovely lady call me. Thank you, doctor.
And then it happened, the Oak Ridges-Markham Conservatives stepped up to the plate. Within seconds, they tripped and fell, landing directly on that little soft spot on the top of the head.
Frankly speaking, the Oak Ridges-Markham Tories are making bloody fools of themselves.
First, let's get the truth out of the way; Whitchurch-Stouffville's former mayor Sue Sherban and current Deputy Mayor Phil Bannon and Markham residents D'Arcy Pigott and Gayani Weerasinghe are all bidding for the Tory nomination in Oak Ridges-Markham. The race will be determined at Markham's Brother Andre High School June 2 at 10 a.m. Rumour has it 1,000 Tories will turn up. 
Now for the silly stuff. It started with me, other reporters and an editor receiving deep-throat calls.
You know the type: "I can't tell you my name BUT....blah, blah, blah."
According to the tipsters, local Tory sins include:
• Riding association president Paul Calandra, who's supposed to be neutral, is openly favouring Mr. Pigott.
Not true, says Mr. Calandra.
• Mr. Pigott was appointed to the riding association executive at a meeting that did not have a quorum.
Mr. Pigott resigned from the executive when he declared his intent to seek the candidacy, says Mr. Calandra.
• The same people are running the provincial and federal riding associations.
While Mr. Calandra is the federal candidate for Oak Ridges-Markham, he says he's resigning from the provincial association as soon as a provincial candidate is picked. Even though Mr. Calandra wears a lot of hats, I'm not convinced he can protect his little soft spot. 
• A number of members have resigned during the run-up to the nomination.
I can't confirm this and don't care.
• There are now only a handful of people attending the riding association meetings.
So, what else is new? While most riding executives are small in number, the hangers-on contribute a great deal of work. 
Then the other calls and visits to editors took place.
• Dale Carter, one of Mrs. Sherban's campaign officials, played the Did You Know? game. He reported Mr. Bannon is not really a candidate because his application wasn't approved.
I was puzzled. A few days earlier, Mr. Calandra listed Mr. Bannon as an official candidate in the four-way race.
Meanwhile, Mr. Bannon insisted he delivered the candidate nomination application to party headquarters and, while there, received party approval. Still, Mr. Carter continued to insist our newspaper is misleading the public by reporting Mr. Bannon is a candidate.
I then called the provincial Conservative headquarters, spoke to an official who confirmed Mr. Bannon is, indeed, a bonafide, 100-per-cent official and legal candidate for the nomination in Oak Ridges-Markham.
Was I surprised? No.
Mr. Bannon plays by the rules. A retired police sergeant, it's not in Mr. Bannon's nature to pretend to seek a political spot just for the hell of it. Mr. Bannon is a real Tory. Between elections, I've spotted him eating their good food at Conservative functions.
Take it from a veteran political watcher: When the mud flings every which way, you can smell the pending loss. The trouble with discrediting the competition with goofy stuff or out-and-out BS, the damned truth gets in the way.
Here's a suggestion to all. Instead of mudslinging, work your Tory membership to garner support. Do it in an upfront, intelligent, dignified and honest way. It might work.   
As for me, I'm going home. If, by chance, you're a member of the Oak Ridges-Markham Conservatives, would you be so kind as to commit suicide on your own time?

Dead squirrel later tale on weird animal beat

When a judge found a Newmarket man guilty of murdering a squirrel earlier this month, I noticed.
In fact, the deceased squirrel joins my list of favorite dead things.
Years ago, as a member of the fourth estate, I attended a funeral for a dead duck.
Four little boys found the stiff bird near the Pickering generating station. Certain the duck died a radioactive death, the kids called the newsroom, outlined their concerns and invited me its funeral.
I smelled a front-page story from the get go, booked a photographer, alerted the editor and cancelled a meeting with the mayor. I was off to a funeral.    
Out of respect for the dead, the kids wore their Sunday best. The ceremony included a reading from the Bible, the singing of Jesus Loves Me and a Christian cross.
The key organizer, an 11-year-old German boy, determined the duck would have a Lutheran funeral. When translated, the inscription on the wooden cross read, "This duck died so you could have light."
When the photographer and I arrived, the grave had already been dug and the dead duck was resting nearby in a cardboard box. 
The service was lovely.
I captured the mood and the photographer got the shot of the year. We ran the story complete with award-winning, heart-wrenching photograph on Page 1. In the news game, it doesn't get any better — a little German boy, dressed in his lederhosen, head bowed, holding a small casket in front of a freshly dug grave with a wooden cross planted firmly in the ground. The camera never stopped clicking when that duck was lowered into its final resting place.   
Not only did Ontario Hydro not send flowers or words of condolence to the duck's funeral, the suits held an emergency board meeting and decided to issue me a scolding for not giving them more time to respond to the issue. Meanwhile, facing a public relations disaster, Ontario Hydro put the wheels in motion to exhume the duck for autopsy.
Unfortunately, Ontario Hydro acted in haste and forgot to tell the German boy's father that they were going to access his back yard to dig up the duck.
The boy's father returned home from work and found the dead duck gone. Calling the newsroom, the man was furious.  How dare Ontario Hydro trespass onto his property and disturb the dead? He made it clear. He wanted the dead duck returned immediately.
It was a great followup story.
Once again, Ontario Hydro accused me of sensationalism and not giving them more time to respond. Then, Hydro officials were especially smug when reporting autopsy results showed no traces of radiation were found in the bird. Simply put: the duck died of natural causes.
As for me, I wasn't convinced. I tried to get my newspaper to cover the cost of a second and independent autopsy. The boss said, "No." He was funny that way. Good with the books, but shy on news sense.
The dead duck opened up a new media avenue for me. Because of it, I've been on the weird animal beat for nearly 30 years.
And, oh what a life it's been. I've covered:
* exotic animals, including a deadly spider and a boa-constrictor, escaping from a house fire;
* a plumber refusing to fix a lady's sink because her monkey was mean spirited;
* a dog arriving in Canada from Greece afflicted with VD;
* a runaway tiger that chased a Whitby dentist into a lady's house;
* a ferret escaping at a council meeting;
* a champion rattlesnake bagger demonstrating his skill;
* the cutest little Siamese twin fish you ever laid eyes on;
* firefighters and police officers losing a tug-of-war against an elephant;
* a German Shepherd with a wooden leg;
* bears running down Main Street Stouffville;
* a cat delivering a litter of kittens on a sleeping drunk's stomach;
* a pot-bellied pig predicting the outcome of a federal election; and
* now a dead squirrel.
Here's the story.      
Following testimony from a provincial animal group earlier this month, a very embarrassed Newmarket resident was fined $1,200 for failing to check a cage he'd placed on his roof.
Squirrels were having a hay day all over this guy's house. The homeowner set the catch-and-release trap. Unfortunately, the Ontario Society for Pretension of Cruelty to Animals got there first, found the dead rodent and laid charges. The man pleaded guilty in front of a Newmarket judge.
The story gets better.
The dead critter was placed in a squirrel hearse. With sirens blazing, she was rushed to the University of Guelph where an autopsy was carried out.
While I have to wait 11 weeks for an MRI to figure out why I'm in constant back and arm pain, our provincial government knows how to prioritize. A dead squirrel will trump an old reporter any day.   
You can't fault the University of Guelph. Talk about thorough. The autopsy showed dehydration,low blood sugar and an imbalance of minerals in the blood due to a lack of food and water. As well, the pathology report states the conditions would have been compounded in the nursing squirrel by the metabolic demands of lactation. Other stressors associated with captivity in the exposed location might have contributed to the death, the pathologist added.
Before any animal rights people take me to task for making light of all things big and small, you need to know this — at this stage in life, quite frankly, I don't give a damn.
I am, however, all for having this media outlet foot the bill to find that old dead duck and do our own autopsy. Considering the advancements in DNA, we might just uncover a coverup.
I'll ask the boss. I'm not too hopeful. He's good with the books.
But paying a bill to figure out what killed a duck 29 years ago might be as stretch.
P.S.
If you've got any weird animal stories, email me.

Mothers lost

In keeping with tradition, I'll wear a white flower on Mother's Day.
Since my mother's journey ended on June 18, this Mother's Day is like no other. The flower will signify my mother is gone. My mood will reflect my longing to have her back.
While visiting the little cemetery in Orono this weekend, I'll plant geraniums at mom's grave and remind myself I had a good mother.
Don't get me wrong, Mom wasn't perfect. At times she'd accuse me of trying to send her to the poor house, around the bend and to an early grave.
The woman never stopped telling me to always wear clean underpants, to never sit on a public toilet seat and if a guy got fresh, to kick him in the family jewels.
If you asked for money or anything new, Mom's pat answer was, "If you can't walk upright under the kitchen table, you're on your own."
A kid in our family prayed to be short. My prayers were never answered.
I was almost entirely self-sufficient by the time I was 12. I bought my own clothes, treats, school supplies and paid for my own fun. Mom made sure I put at lease 25 cents on the church collection plate. I never liked church. Mom didn't care. I went. She was pushy that way.
And, when I got thrown out of Canadian Girls In Training camp for smoking Daily Mails in 1957, Mom made me smoke one cigarette after another until I threw up. The woman never hit m, but once she chased me up a tree. I stayed there for hours. It was boring.
Since I'm on a roll, you might as well know my mother not only made me find my own way to the dentist, I had to pay the bill. My 1958 part-time job paid 50 cents an hour. I had to work 20 hours to pay that stupid dentist.
I admit: it was better than the alternative. Mom mentioned going to the the driving shed to fetch a pair of pliers to pull the aching tooth.
To make sure I knew the meaning of community, I had to donate to every damned charity-drive going. I can still feel the pain of forking over $25 for the Orono pool building fund
"You swim in it. You give," was my mother's bottom line.
And, my mother could be a little demanding with her "hold your head high, pull your shoulders back, stand up straight and never bring any shame to your name" lecture.
Still, looking back, I realize my mom trumped me at just about everything — I don't have her tolerance, her quiet charm, her wisdom or her loyalties. I was never as kind, as frugal or as forgiving. Nor did I work as hard.
Mom was both strong and gentle. She adored my babies, had a fondness for Canadian history and loved secluded picnics and travel with my dad.
Mom was proud of her Irish roots, prayed in the United Church of Canada, was a tireless community volunteer and, of course, always voted Liberal.
Most of all, my mother fought the good fight, loved in all the right places and died knowing she mattered.
The white flower will be a trillium from the hardwood bush on the family farm. I'll wear it in memory of my mother.

Are politics to blame once again?

Former Ontario lieutenant-governor James Bartleman appears to have sat on a 22-year-old secret.
When Mr. Bartleman dropped his bombshell last week, it sent ripples of disbelief across the country, while triggering personal memories.
I covered the Air India crash that claimed 329 lives. Most were new Canadians from India.
It was a sad story and it did not mention Mr. Bartleman.
At the time, the government insisted police and security officers had no advance warning that a specific flight was in danger. 
I can't help but wonder how the families of the dead are taking the recent development — Mr. Bartleman, a career diplomat and former intelligence officer, has testified he knew federal authorities were warned that Air India flight would be the target of a terrorist's bomb less than a week before the flight went down in 1985 off the coast of Ireland.
There were no survivors. 
Mr. Bartleman testified that as director general of intelligence of External Affairs, he came across an intelligence brief the week of June 18, 1985. The brief indicated the airline, departing from Toronto, would be attacked on either June 22 or June 23.
Taking it serious, Mr. Bartleman approached a senior RCMP officer with the brief. Apparently, the unnamed senior officer told Bartleman he didn't need him telling him how to do his job.
I guess the chain of command rattled loud enough that Mr. Bartleman dropped the issue. The next thing he knew, an airplane full of people fell from the sky.
Excuse me for asking, but why didn't Mr. Bartleman take his tail out from between his legs and immediately send the following message to the premier of Ontario, the prime minister of Canada, the minister of External Affairs and anybody else on his who's who list.
Dear fellow important person,
I recognize you are a very busy and important person, but something's nagging at me.
A few minutes ago, I told a senior member of the RCMP that I have good reason to believe a plane load of Canadians are about to be blown out of the sky.
The RCMP guy who, incidentally, thinks he's right up there with oxygen, got all uppity, charged me with trying to tell him how to do his job and suggested I stop sticking my nose into his business.
Since I am the lieutenant-governor of Ontario and the director of intelligence, I kinda thought terrorist threats fell into my camp. Of course, I don't want to ruffle any feathers at the RCMP, but I find plane crashes upsetting and kinda though you might feel the same. 
Your buddy always,
James