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Sherbrooke in the 70s
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1924 south from downtown
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1931 Wellington Tunnel gettin' built
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Phillips Square 1930
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Downtown June 11, 1971
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Pierre Bourque my article from 1994
Pierre Bourque as he was described in print just a few weeks prior to winning his surprise victory as Montreal Mayor in November 1994.--
In his office beneath an old rollerskating rink, Pierre Bourque uses a red pen to doodle organigrammes - the organizational drawings so popular with francophone bureaucrats. He sketches three equal triangles and joins them with lines to explain the ideal relationship between the City, its workers and citizens. "We have to change the managerial way to run the City and make initiative grow rather than continue with a technocratic culture," he says. In pure pedal-to-the-metal sloganeering, he urges, "Let's be a facilitator, a catalyst for development. We have to work with the people."
As the concocter of the Biodome, Ex-boss of the Botanical Gardens and now leader of Vision Montreal, Bourque is an enigma paper-clipped to a paradox. He's a career manager who wants to cut management. He's a technical expert who seeks to end technocracy. He's a tireless worker who's in bed at 10 every night. And he' a people-first kind of guy who can only maintain fleeting eye contact.
Yet Bourque has become the most serious challenger to an incumbent Montreal mayor in decades. With a sound and look that would allow him to spend the rest of his days as a Lucien Bouchard celebrity lookalike, Bourque outlines his promises, which include balancing the books, beautifying Montreal and starting a massive recycling system. His schemes are so ambitious that pundits liken him to an inexperienced version of Dore, whose unpopularity Bourque is now riding.
Like the mayor, Bourque shows he can play the role of slick politician, pointing out the dangers of splitting the ballot. "A vote for Choquette is a vote for Dore," he says. And when asked whether he considers unfair the media's caricature of him as Chauncy the gardener, he answers an entirely different question. "Everybody is proud of the Botanical gardens; this has given me a fabulous strength here."
Then its back to pen and paper to show how he would scrap the surtax by cutting the administration's bloated bureaucracy. Bourque's proclivity for pictograms could be well put to use in his tourism platform. To help tourists he would "get rid of all those signs," he says, although it's unclear because he's mumbling once the question of English is raised.
He then returns to his favourite theme: his rage against what he calls "Dore's machine."
"This is why I came to politics and I'm going to have to learn fast, because I'm going to be in City Hall in November," he says.
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Montreal disorientation - infuriating East End geography
So where's St. Catherine street? Easy! Any Montreal toddler could guide you there with their first-ever steps.
Within seconds newcomers and tourists grasp our downtown street grid by memorizing St. Cat and buds Sherbrooke, Maisonneuve and Dorch.
And they're all nice and close and walkable. Granny can stroll from Sherbrooke to St. Catherine in five minutes downtown, as the two east-west streets are just 350 metres apart.
A decent sprinter could run that in about a minute.
But get thee to the east and try doing the same and the bewildering disorientation and inevitable perplexing discombobulation begins.
That's because the further east you go, the more the main east-west streets sneakily drift apart.
By the time you get to Viau, that pleasant urban stroll from Sherbrooke to Ste Catherine might require a map, solid hiking shoes, a place to rest and a reliable hunting rifle.
Viau between Ste. Cat and Sherb, is a 25 minute, 2.1 kilometre walk, including an often icy and windy hill. (Ice in the summer? From spilled cocktails?- Chimples)
The cruelest part? Just when you think you see your destination in the distance you realize it's a decoy, a street you've never heard of, Adam, Lafontaine, Rouen, Hochelaga, Pierre de Courbertin, Charbonneau. There's even something called the Long Point Antenna, scrubland that looks like a great place to dump a corpse. Moral of the story? Things are very bad and quickly getting worse.
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| Sherb to St. Cat is a happy walk downtown |
And they're all nice and close and walkable. Granny can stroll from Sherbrooke to St. Catherine in five minutes downtown, as the two east-west streets are just 350 metres apart.
A decent sprinter could run that in about a minute.
But get thee to the east and try doing the same and the bewildering disorientation and inevitable perplexing discombobulation begins.
That's because the further east you go, the more the main east-west streets sneakily drift apart.
By the time you get to Viau, that pleasant urban stroll from Sherbrooke to Ste Catherine might require a map, solid hiking shoes, a place to rest and a reliable hunting rifle.
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| Sherb to St. Cat on Viau? Welcome to hell boy |
The cruelest part? Just when you think you see your destination in the distance you realize it's a decoy, a street you've never heard of, Adam, Lafontaine, Rouen, Hochelaga, Pierre de Courbertin, Charbonneau. There's even something called the Long Point Antenna, scrubland that looks like a great place to dump a corpse. Moral of the story? Things are very bad and quickly getting worse.
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Depressing proof that Quebecers are less friendly and more alienated
Quebecers are living in fear, loneliness and suspicion - at least in comparison with the rest of Canadians - a recent Statscan study reveals.
Now I'm usually shrugtastically immune to eye-popping jaw-
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droppers like this. But this haunts.
Compared to the Rest of Canada, Quebecers came in dead last in all categories of questions relating to our healthy views and dealings towards others based on Statscan survey numbers from 2003, 2008 and 2013.
When asked if they participate in group activities, (ie: community organizations and associations) only 57 percent of Quebecers replied yes.
Every other province scored higher, with B.C. leading at 71 percent. The only other province with a toll nearly as low as Quebec was New Brunswick, four percent higher.
When asked "can people be trusted?" Quebec came in dead last again, with just over one in three saying that yes, they could. That is far below any other province, which all registered over 50 percent, with PEI and BC coming tops with almost two-of-three replying yes.
Quebec also came in last when asked whether they thought their neighbour would return their wallet.
The study also shows that we have fewer friends than people in other provinces.
Why the suspicion Quebec?
Theoretically there might be some sort of translation issue that causes Quebec to be such a radical outlier in these numbers.
It could also be spun positively, that Quebecers are independent and less gullible.
But nah, there's nothing noble about this. Developing countries tend also to have such paranoia towards others, while wealthier countries - like the Scandinavian countries - tend to have more trust.
Why we're so different is a mystery. Maybe it's something in Quebec's longstanding mission to be what they're trying to be is at the root of this.
But it sure gets you thinking that if you picked up your tent and moved to B.C. - or any other province - your dealings with others might be richer and more rewarding than what you're enduring now and that's a sad thought.
Now I'm usually shrugtastically immune to eye-popping jaw-
Compared to the Rest of Canada, Quebecers came in dead last in all categories of questions relating to our healthy views and dealings towards others based on Statscan survey numbers from 2003, 2008 and 2013.
When asked if they participate in group activities, (ie: community organizations and associations) only 57 percent of Quebecers replied yes.
Every other province scored higher, with B.C. leading at 71 percent. The only other province with a toll nearly as low as Quebec was New Brunswick, four percent higher.
When asked "can people be trusted?" Quebec came in dead last again, with just over one in three saying that yes, they could. That is far below any other province, which all registered over 50 percent, with PEI and BC coming tops with almost two-of-three replying yes.
Quebec also came in last when asked whether they thought their neighbour would return their wallet.
The study also shows that we have fewer friends than people in other provinces.
Why the suspicion Quebec?
Theoretically there might be some sort of translation issue that causes Quebec to be such a radical outlier in these numbers.
It could also be spun positively, that Quebecers are independent and less gullible.
But nah, there's nothing noble about this. Developing countries tend also to have such paranoia towards others, while wealthier countries - like the Scandinavian countries - tend to have more trust.
Why we're so different is a mystery. Maybe it's something in Quebec's longstanding mission to be what they're trying to be is at the root of this.
But it sure gets you thinking that if you picked up your tent and moved to B.C. - or any other province - your dealings with others might be richer and more rewarding than what you're enduring now and that's a sad thought.
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Montreal's pig parasite poisoning trial
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| Eric Kranz, was acquitted on charges of poisoning his roommates |
New York student Eric Kranz a 24-year-old Parasitolity student at McGill's MacDonald College Campus was charged with doing something so unusual that it earned a wikipedia page.
Kranz feuded with his roomies over a $16 debt and supposedly threatened them in anger.
Keith Fern, David Fisk, William Butler and Richard Davis all fell sick on February 11 with a mystery ailment.
Dr. John Harrold quickly figured the boys were infected with the ascaris sum pig parasite, which can grow into a seven inch worm. It damages lungs and liver in pigs but its effect on humans is unknown.
Davis and Butler came close to death, according to Dr. Harrold. Another roommate John Purdon of Quebec City was out curling and didn't ingest anything nasty.
The doctor said that the boys would have ingested like 400,000 larvae. It was the first time the parasite had ever been found in humans.
Kranz took off for a few days on Valentine's Day and media leaped on the story, insinuating that Kranz was fleeing after poisoning his roommates. Kranz soon returned to face charges.
His lawyer Gabriel Lapointe persuaded the court that there was insufficient proof that Kranz had poisoned anybody. So he was never found guilty of poisoning these guys.
During the trial one roommate reported that Kranz had slogans on his wall reading Revolution now" and "The Police are Pigs."
School Dean Dr. George Dion said that "there is obviously a twisted mentality behind this thing."No word on what happened to any of these people. They would all be aged about 66 to 70.
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The ill-fated Menard brothers and their brief-triumph over parking tickets
If you want to know the heartbreak that parking tickets can bring, just go down to 303 Notre Dame E and chat with anybody randomly sitting around. You'll get an earful of sad tales about parking tickets that started piling up and left a world of hurt. Last year I talked at length to a single mother who can't get to work without a car but can't afford to pay her $2,000 in tickets.
The legend of the Menard brothers suggests that threatening self-harm might wipe the tickets out. So who were the Menard brothers? Back when they were gunned down in 2000, Charles Edward Menard, 45, Daniel Menard, 46, were LaSalle-based career criminals who knew the city.
Heck these guys would pull heists in Delson, the East End, on Jean Talon E., they knew their maps well. But that served them little on that fateful evening on Wednesday January 26, 2000 when they were gunned inside an IGA on Hochelaga near Honore Beaugrand.
The brothers were fleeing a gunman. As a desperate quest for refuge they dashed into a grocery store in hopes that their would-be assassin would not follow. But the shooter was not shy to stride through those glass sliding doors. They fell in a hail of bullets and their bodies thumped to the ground near a pile of bags of salt. Their killer was never apprehended.
These guys had long records as wayward scofflaws. The brothers had been arrested a decade before- with a third brother Richard - while hiding in the ventilation system of a shopping centre in Delson which they were casing for a robbery. Richard, by the way, is still alive.
At the time of his fatal shooting Charles was out on bail waiting for to be tried for armed robbery along with Normand Evrard, 41, another inveterate armed robber.
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| Brother Richard |
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Henri Marchessault: disgraced drug squad chief's links to the Rosemont Trottiers
Henri Marchessault remains the symbol of the disgraced Montreal cop after the drug squad chief was caught reselling some of the drugs that he was in charge of in 1983.
But what role did the Rosemont Trottier clan of 44th Ave play in his downfall?
Marchessault, 44, was high-flying head of a 34-man unit when caught selling cocaine and hashish to Louis Trottier at the Place Versailles shopping mall on March 21, 1983.
Marchessault started with the Montreal police as a 19-year-old in about 1958 and soon found himself on the swashbuckling Night Squad, whose deference to rules was not always the to the gold standard. He headed the investigation into Mafia chief Paolo Violi, considered one of the great Montreal police accomplishments of the time.
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Along the way he met a cop named Louis Trottier who would eventually quit the force in about 1973 for reasons unknown.
The Trottiers were a well-known family from 44th Ave. in Rosemont. The father owned a confectionery warehouse on St. Andre where he sold playing cards, bingo paraphernalia and such items. He was a gloriously good looking man and his wife had looks to match.
They had three sons including Louis and Michel Trottier.
The Trottiers lived a couple of doors down from wrestler Dino Bravo on 44th, who was eventually gunned down from shots taken outside of the home by still-unapprehended assailants
Marchessault was earning $40,000 in his job as head of the drug squad when arrested in March 1983 but he had been eligible to take his pension four months earlier.
Marchessault told investigators that he needed fast because he owed a lot to the senior Trottier, as well as federal and provincial tax authorities and the Caisse Populaire.
Why a high-ranking Montreal police officer would owe so much money was something that was never made entirely clear.
So at 9 a.m. one morning Marchessault entered the drug vault, took some cocaine and hockey puck-shaped hashish patties, replaced some of it with white powder and met with Louis Trottier to sell the drugs for about $14,000. The 36 kgs of hash and 184 grams of cocaine were not considered massive amounts.
Marchessault claimed it was the first time he had done such a thing. He had $25,000 in his safety deposit box at the time of his arrest.
He would likely have been released at or before 1990, never to be heard from again.
He would be around 76 today if still alive.
The RCMP, MUC Police Chief Andre De Luca and officer Jacques Duchesneau were lauded for their participation in the high-profile take-down.
Louis Trottier also eventually pleaded guilty and received a two year sentence. The Crown wanted more and attempted to appeal. Trottier's lawyer proposed instead that he give speeches about the evils or drugs.
As for the other Trottier, Michel? He was a wheeler-dealer who bought a bar at Belanger and Lacordaire with Claude Provost. It was known as Bar 85 and Michel eventually settled down with one of the barmaids in Pointe aux Trembles whom he spoiled with luxury items.
Marchessault, 44, was high-flying head of a 34-man unit when caught selling cocaine and hashish to Louis Trottier at the Place Versailles shopping mall on March 21, 1983.
Marchessault started with the Montreal police as a 19-year-old in about 1958 and soon found himself on the swashbuckling Night Squad, whose deference to rules was not always the to the gold standard. He headed the investigation into Mafia chief Paolo Violi, considered one of the great Montreal police accomplishments of the time.
Along the way he met a cop named Louis Trottier who would eventually quit the force in about 1973 for reasons unknown.The Trottiers were a well-known family from 44th Ave. in Rosemont. The father owned a confectionery warehouse on St. Andre where he sold playing cards, bingo paraphernalia and such items. He was a gloriously good looking man and his wife had looks to match.
They had three sons including Louis and Michel Trottier.
The Trottiers lived a couple of doors down from wrestler Dino Bravo on 44th, who was eventually gunned down from shots taken outside of the home by still-unapprehended assailants
Marchessault was earning $40,000 in his job as head of the drug squad when arrested in March 1983 but he had been eligible to take his pension four months earlier.
Marchessault told investigators that he needed fast because he owed a lot to the senior Trottier, as well as federal and provincial tax authorities and the Caisse Populaire.
Why a high-ranking Montreal police officer would owe so much money was something that was never made entirely clear.
So at 9 a.m. one morning Marchessault entered the drug vault, took some cocaine and hockey puck-shaped hashish patties, replaced some of it with white powder and met with Louis Trottier to sell the drugs for about $14,000. The 36 kgs of hash and 184 grams of cocaine were not considered massive amounts.
Marchessault claimed it was the first time he had done such a thing. He had $25,000 in his safety deposit box at the time of his arrest.
The RCMP had placed a hidden camera in the drug vault and investigators had caught him with a brown paper bag and briefcase. They also had taped phone conversations, so Marchessault was forced to confess.
He briefly attempted to plead temporary insanity. "I still don't know what came over me," he said. Marchessault was sentenced to 14 years but within months reports were out that he was receiving some posh treatment as a prisoner and was actually living with a family rather than in prison. He sought an appeal for a more lenient sentence, noting that cops in a similar case received only 10 years.He would likely have been released at or before 1990, never to be heard from again.
He would be around 76 today if still alive.
The RCMP, MUC Police Chief Andre De Luca and officer Jacques Duchesneau were lauded for their participation in the high-profile take-down.
Louis Trottier also eventually pleaded guilty and received a two year sentence. The Crown wanted more and attempted to appeal. Trottier's lawyer proposed instead that he give speeches about the evils or drugs.
As for the other Trottier, Michel? He was a wheeler-dealer who bought a bar at Belanger and Lacordaire with Claude Provost. It was known as Bar 85 and Michel eventually settled down with one of the barmaids in Pointe aux Trembles whom he spoiled with luxury items.
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Drinking in Hudson
The municipality is two-thirds English speaking and was even more English at the time.
So not too surprising that the English won every year.
No women were allowed.
The losing clientele had to buy a round for the English and sing a song of their choice. The event was dubbed The Pepsi Challenge.
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Billy "The Bishop" Johnston dead at 84
Billy Johnston of the much-discussed West End Gang bank robbery clan has died of cancer at age 84.
The Bishop, as he was known, died just weeks after his brother Abey on April 26.
Brother Stevie - who was involved in a famous Vancouver safety deposit box robbery - died last fall.
The most famous of the clan was brother Eddie Johnston who was goaltender for the Boston Bruins and good friends with Bobby Orr, who came to town for Abie's funeral recently.
Billy long held court in a little office above the war amps office on lower Stanley in the early 80s where he'd meet with bikers and the Matticks brothers, whom he was close to.
Johnston kept a relatively low profile with the exception of one story: he once apparently tried to shoot a guy named Marty Rowlands (Rollins?) in a bar with a shotgun but the gun jammed and the victim ended up getting shot in the stomach and survived.
Johnston was involved in a shootout with police in 1969 when cops chased his car in a cigarette heist at the Old Port. He was with another longshoremen, as well as John Slawvey and James MacDonald.
MacDonald was later shot dead by West End Gang assassins in the Cat's Den on Guy, some believe because they worried MacDonald would squeal.
Another story has the brothers - not sure which - getting revenge on a lunatic who shot and killed an innocent barmaid in St. Sauveur or some place. The brothers arranged to hire killers to have that gunman killed. Cops found his body in the trunk of a car.
One anecdote has Billy Johnston quite unapologetic about his wayward ways:
"An agent walks through the lobby of a hotel in Montreal and spots Billy Johnston. "Good to see you, Billy," the agent says. "What are you doing these days?" Billy Johnston looks at him stone-faced and in a matter-of-fact monotone says: "Bank robber, retired."
According to one acquaintance Billy "seemed to always be extremely serious and brooding. Had an element of danger about him. It was common knowledge he was not to be screwed with."
Several of the Johnston brothers worked long careers for Otis elevators and many were known for having a passion for golf. Any other tips, photos, etc welcome megaforce@gmail.com
The Bishop, as he was known, died just weeks after his brother Abey on April 26.
Brother Stevie - who was involved in a famous Vancouver safety deposit box robbery - died last fall.
The most famous of the clan was brother Eddie Johnston who was goaltender for the Boston Bruins and good friends with Bobby Orr, who came to town for Abie's funeral recently.
Billy long held court in a little office above the war amps office on lower Stanley in the early 80s where he'd meet with bikers and the Matticks brothers, whom he was close to.
Johnston kept a relatively low profile with the exception of one story: he once apparently tried to shoot a guy named Marty Rowlands (Rollins?) in a bar with a shotgun but the gun jammed and the victim ended up getting shot in the stomach and survived.
Johnston was involved in a shootout with police in 1969 when cops chased his car in a cigarette heist at the Old Port. He was with another longshoremen, as well as John Slawvey and James MacDonald.
MacDonald was later shot dead by West End Gang assassins in the Cat's Den on Guy, some believe because they worried MacDonald would squeal.
Another story has the brothers - not sure which - getting revenge on a lunatic who shot and killed an innocent barmaid in St. Sauveur or some place. The brothers arranged to hire killers to have that gunman killed. Cops found his body in the trunk of a car.
One anecdote has Billy Johnston quite unapologetic about his wayward ways:
"An agent walks through the lobby of a hotel in Montreal and spots Billy Johnston. "Good to see you, Billy," the agent says. "What are you doing these days?" Billy Johnston looks at him stone-faced and in a matter-of-fact monotone says: "Bank robber, retired."
According to one acquaintance Billy "seemed to always be extremely serious and brooding. Had an element of danger about him. It was common knowledge he was not to be screwed with."
Several of the Johnston brothers worked long careers for Otis elevators and many were known for having a passion for golf. Any other tips, photos, etc welcome megaforce@gmail.com
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Montreal's forgotten watering hole
High quality water once flowed from this spot near Montcalm and Notre Dame, home of the Laurentian Water well from about 1900.
Here's the story behind it. Prior to being a bottle water company, a now-demolished warehouse housed a tannery that whipped up shoe leather. The effort required a lot of hawthorn tree bark dye. Entire forests of hawthorn in Quebec were denuded for dyeing leather until a chemical workaround was created.
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The tannery required a water supply and a well was built beneath. The water proved useful and a beautifully-tiled public bath - aka a swimming pool - was installed in the building.
The White family seized upon public mistrust of the water supply and started selling the water instead allowing people to bathe in it. They marketed it as a healthy way to avoid disease such as typhoid.
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The White and Wells families started marketing their Laurentian spring water aggressively and their ads were a family sight in newspapers from about 1900 on.
The family eventually started pumping out soft drinks, which proved popular in bottles and in local bars which were paid a little bribe to serve 'em.
For a while a pair of brothers at the plant also had a short-lived side business that proved incredibly lucrative, supplying alcohol by mail to other dry provinces. According to family legend they had 100 women in a room whose sole task was to open letters full of cash. After about a year or so they were set for life.
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So by the 1950s the family still had the plant and up until around 1980 they had about four trucks that would haul 500 65 lb glass bottles to fill local water coolers.
Muscly delivery guys were often able to carry two of these glassy beasts at once but if one would break it would cause a huge mess of water and glass on the ground.
The company had a high-temperature sterilization machine to clean the glass bottles and they would frequently break in the high heat, leaving a dangerous mess to clean up.
Profits remained stable at the company for decades but other competitors were on the rise. They regretfully turned down an offer from Schweppes and eventually sold out to Labrador, which then considered themselves the inheritors of "over 100 years in business" title.
Blair Wells remembers working at the family firm in the late 1970s and has some vivid descriptions of the experience. Wells married Dorothy Nixon who is a prolific writer, blogger and local historian. She believes it likely that her great grandfather, a high-ranking Montreal official knew her husband's great grandfather.
Here's the story behind it. Prior to being a bottle water company, a now-demolished warehouse housed a tannery that whipped up shoe leather. The effort required a lot of hawthorn tree bark dye. Entire forests of hawthorn in Quebec were denuded for dyeing leather until a chemical workaround was created.
The tannery required a water supply and a well was built beneath. The water proved useful and a beautifully-tiled public bath - aka a swimming pool - was installed in the building.The White family seized upon public mistrust of the water supply and started selling the water instead allowing people to bathe in it. They marketed it as a healthy way to avoid disease such as typhoid.
The White and Wells families started marketing their Laurentian spring water aggressively and their ads were a family sight in newspapers from about 1900 on.The family eventually started pumping out soft drinks, which proved popular in bottles and in local bars which were paid a little bribe to serve 'em.
For a while a pair of brothers at the plant also had a short-lived side business that proved incredibly lucrative, supplying alcohol by mail to other dry provinces. According to family legend they had 100 women in a room whose sole task was to open letters full of cash. After about a year or so they were set for life.
So by the 1950s the family still had the plant and up until around 1980 they had about four trucks that would haul 500 65 lb glass bottles to fill local water coolers.Muscly delivery guys were often able to carry two of these glassy beasts at once but if one would break it would cause a huge mess of water and glass on the ground.
The company had a high-temperature sterilization machine to clean the glass bottles and they would frequently break in the high heat, leaving a dangerous mess to clean up.
Profits remained stable at the company for decades but other competitors were on the rise. They regretfully turned down an offer from Schweppes and eventually sold out to Labrador, which then considered themselves the inheritors of "over 100 years in business" title.
Blair Wells remembers working at the family firm in the late 1970s and has some vivid descriptions of the experience. Wells married Dorothy Nixon who is a prolific writer, blogger and local historian. She believes it likely that her great grandfather, a high-ranking Montreal official knew her husband's great grandfather.
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Wisdom from the cheap seats: Ken Singleton's greatest anecdote
Slugging Expo outfielder Ken Singleton was truly a great Montrealer. Good looking, charming, great ballplayer, silky voice and totally chill. Sadly he was sadly gone too soon in a disastrous trade.His departure - according to local legend - was accelerated by the fact that he had a white girlfriend. No idea if this is true or if the recently-deceased GM Jim Fanning took this into consideration when blundering into a deal which sent him and the excellent Mike Torrez off to Baltimore for basically nothing.
Anyway Singleton came back after his playing days and became an excellent colour commentator and one story he told is food for thought.
One day in the minors Singleton was standing in his position in the outfield during a game.
A loud-bellowing verbose fan kept on screaming from the stands all sorts of comments. Singleton was semi-listening to the guy thundering his unsolicited commentary down incessantly.
So when the young pitcher on the mound starts failing, the manager strides out to come and talk to him on the mound.
Singleton just knows that the screamer is going to broadcast his view on this situation and sure enough the guy bellows out his perspective.
But the fan yells something totally unexpected.
"HEY MANAGER! DON'T SCOLD HIM! SCHOOL HIM!"
Singleton, standing in the outfield, mulls this over several times until his mind is fully blown.
Don'tscoldhim, school him.
The point? Why speak harshly to someone when what they really need is calm instruction and reassurance? Rarely was such pithy and humane philosophical advice dispensed from such an unlikely source and Singleton admitted that it caused him to think differently.
Keep it in mind next time you find yourself dealing with someone who is letting you down.
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Cops need to give loitering tickets to pedestrians who wait needlessly at red lights
Montreal police should give loitering tickets to people standing like sheep at red lights.
That is, after all, what loitering is: "to stand or wait around idly or without apparent purpose, to travel indolently and with frequent pauses."
Montrealers are increasingly occupying street corners like lobotomized nowhereians.
A new generation of obeisant urban dullards thinks it legit to interrupt their bipedal progress, to clog up our corners and imitate potted plants at sidewalk intersections.
Don't know what kind of bulbs they're using these days but traffic lights have hypnotized Montrealers into pedo-paralysis.
Get your feet moving. No cars coming? Move! Push those Pumas. Clap those clogs. Lighten those loafers. Take a step...now two...you're almost through.
Who'd have imagined that one day the bold-spirited citizens of Montreal would act like they need border collies encircling them, that a light would transform them into statuary frogs on logs, inert and lifeless waiting for a green.
I blame cops and their misguided jaywalking ticket cash grab for slowing foot traffic down just to further privilege the already-much faster and almighty car traveler.
I urge cops to redress the balance, stop giving jaywalking tickets and start giving loitering tickets to those who don't cross when there's obviously no danger.
No cars coming? Cross! Scared of a getting a jaywalking ticket? Well how about being scared of a loitering ticket instead?
Nobody wants your sorry shoes wearing out the pavement. Your kids are waiting for you. You've got work to do. Move it.
That is, after all, what loitering is: "to stand or wait around idly or without apparent purpose, to travel indolently and with frequent pauses."
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| Light in TMR makes pedestrians wait 60 seconds to cross. Ha! (photo Mitch Hyman) |
A new generation of obeisant urban dullards thinks it legit to interrupt their bipedal progress, to clog up our corners and imitate potted plants at sidewalk intersections.
Don't know what kind of bulbs they're using these days but traffic lights have hypnotized Montrealers into pedo-paralysis.
Get your feet moving. No cars coming? Move! Push those Pumas. Clap those clogs. Lighten those loafers. Take a step...now two...you're almost through.
Who'd have imagined that one day the bold-spirited citizens of Montreal would act like they need border collies encircling them, that a light would transform them into statuary frogs on logs, inert and lifeless waiting for a green.
I blame cops and their misguided jaywalking ticket cash grab for slowing foot traffic down just to further privilege the already-much faster and almighty car traveler.
I urge cops to redress the balance, stop giving jaywalking tickets and start giving loitering tickets to those who don't cross when there's obviously no danger.
No cars coming? Cross! Scared of a getting a jaywalking ticket? Well how about being scared of a loitering ticket instead?
Nobody wants your sorry shoes wearing out the pavement. Your kids are waiting for you. You've got work to do. Move it.
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The tragic life of Montreal photographer David W. Marvin
Montreal photographer David W. Marvin, who died in 1975, is being celebrated for his pictures chronicling the world of Griffintown in his too-short and far-too-tragic life.
Marvin's work is being displayed at the McCord Museum as well as in an outdoor exhibit on McGill College, the work of a team that includes the passionate local historian Arwen Fleming who spent years studying the incredibly tragic life that Marvin lived before dying at 45.
Marvin was born in Nova Scotia. He was orphaned after going deaf at age 10 due to Scarlet Fever. An older brother who flew planes in WWII helped support his siblings who settled in Montreal.
David Marvin then underwent a series of botched operations, one which cost him the little hearing he had left, the other which cost him a perfectly good lung.
Nonetheless Marvin worked nights as a proofreader at The Montreal Star and chronicled Griffintown for the Unity newspaper, which was published from 1955 by the Benedict Labre House.
He died by his own hand in 1975 after his health continued to decline, leaving a son and widow.
Most copies of the Unity newspaper have been lost, particularly during the 1969-72 period when it was publishing provocative work in its four editions per year.
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To make matters worse, many of Marvin's photos and a manuscript history of Griffintown he penned were claimed in a fire after his death. His wife and a brother also died prematurely in tragic circumstances but his one child, a son, assisted Fleming going through 6,000 photos to compile the exhibit.
The photos in the exhibit contain, "great views of Montreal's streets, including its working class neighbourhoods, and striking scenes of the dramatic social and architectural changes that were taking place during the 1960s and 70s," said Fleming, an MA grad student in Communication sat Concordia and part time curator at the McCord.
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| Marvin in a self-portrait shot on Young St. in 1970 McCord Museum, Notman Photographic Archives |
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| Image: Arwen Fleming |
David Marvin then underwent a series of botched operations, one which cost him the little hearing he had left, the other which cost him a perfectly good lung.
Nonetheless Marvin worked nights as a proofreader at The Montreal Star and chronicled Griffintown for the Unity newspaper, which was published from 1955 by the Benedict Labre House.
He died by his own hand in 1975 after his health continued to decline, leaving a son and widow.
Most copies of the Unity newspaper have been lost, particularly during the 1969-72 period when it was publishing provocative work in its four editions per year.
To make matters worse, many of Marvin's photos and a manuscript history of Griffintown he penned were claimed in a fire after his death. His wife and a brother also died prematurely in tragic circumstances but his one child, a son, assisted Fleming going through 6,000 photos to compile the exhibit.The photos in the exhibit contain, "great views of Montreal's streets, including its working class neighbourhoods, and striking scenes of the dramatic social and architectural changes that were taking place during the 1960s and 70s," said Fleming, an MA grad student in Communication sat Concordia and part time curator at the McCord.
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Montreal city workers water shrubs in the pouring rain
In the winter city workers plow when there's no snow.
It's fun for all of us to observe and contemplate this fact.
So what do they do attain that same level of dramatic absurdity in the summer?
They water shrubs in the pouring rain. Video shot in the Village (eastern Ville Marie if you like) by the ever alert Ron Harris on June 10, 8:10 p.m.
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Montreal, 1990 in photos: Not pretty
Some photos from a book called Montreal The International City published in 1990, apparently about five writers, including someone named James Ferrier and Louise Legault penned it.You just have to love that cover photo of that not-very-interesting sculpture in front of that equally tepid building on De Maisonneuve near McGill College.
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Parking Montreal
Trike parking. Val-U-Village.
Bird parking. Oxford Park.
Superhospital parking.
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