Rod McQueen's Blog, page 35

The morgue is dead

Postmedia, Canada’s largest newspaper publisher, is on a cost-cutting binge. Assuming Postmedia completes its current $80 million plan, the company will have slashed expenditures by more than $200 million since 2012. With debt still close to $800 million, it’s hard to see progress.

But for all the jobs gone, lives disrupted and communities poorly served, there is one disappearance that Postmedia has not announced – The Financial Post library – with its newspaper clippings dating back to 1912. Maintained by librarians and journalists alike for decades, the library – AKA “the morgue” – was tossed into the garbage.

During my time at The Financial Post and National Post, the library was usually my first stop when doing any story. In the last 15 years, nearly every book I’ve written began there, too. It didn’t matter the topic or the individual, there was one or more legal-sized file folders chock full of FP stories as well as clippings from other publications. For people like myself, who research and write about business, this is a substantial loss.

The Globe and Mail, Toronto Star, The New York Times, and many other newspapers have digitized stories back into the mists of time, but not The Financial Post, the paper of record for business in Canada. Stories that ran in The Financial Post since 1985 are all that’s available through Infomart, a costly digital service run by Postmedia. If I had known they were going to dump this national treasure, I would’ve organized a fundraising campaign or sought an archive to take the collection that probably occupied no more than 500 sq ft. Too late, this unique and important research centre is gone forever. How do you forge a future if you don’t preserve the past?

Fuddle-duddle Part II

Who was that unmasked man who beat up on MPs in Ottawa this week? Why it was none other than our own prime minister, a legend in his own mind, with his mind gone AWOL. What was he thinking, people ask as he frogmarched Conservative Whip Gord Brown and caused collateral damage to NDP MP Ruth Ellen Brousseau. Safe to say, Justin Trudeau wasn’t thinking at all.

Images from the floor of the House of Commons have been aired on every major newscast in every major country around the world. The scene was reminiscent of fisticuffs in other legislative bodies that until now we thought were beneath us.

In addition to the rough stuff, Trudeau also swore as he pushed his way toward Brown, saying, “Get the f*** out of my way.” Yesterday as I shot around a basketball with my grandson, he raised the topic of the ruckus. And then, knowing I had supported Trudeau in the election while he’d handed out pamphlets for the local Conservative candidate, added, “The Star published what he said.”

Do I want the prime minister’s foul-mouthed ways known by a nine-year-old? No, I do not. I can’t predict what the political future holds for Trudeau, but I do know this, to quote Winston Churchill, “This is not the end, it is not even the beginning of the end, but it is perhaps the end of the beginning.”

Homeless in Toronto

This week, for a few days in a row, I took a different route than usual. I found myself noticing the panhandlers and realized the folks with their Tim Hortons cups that I normally pass had become such a part of the urban wallpaper that I no longer paid any attention to them. Shame on me.

Some among the members of this new group seemed more creative than most. One had a hand-lettered sign on a battered piece of cardboard saying, “Not a bad person.” Another had written, “I’m trying.”

In my neighbourhood there are two regulars I walk by all the time, a man and a woman. They both read paperbacks as if they can no longer bother trying to make eye contact. As I struggled to find some change the man said, “It’s OK, it’s the thought that counts.” My tooney seemed pretty paltry by comparison with such grace.

We apologize as a nation to people from the past we never met. We worry about repaying those whose youth was stolen at residential schools. We airlift and make welcome 25,000 Syrians we never knew. Why can’t we do something for the lost souls in our midst?

Hope and, ah, hard work

He was the only global leader mentioned by Barack Obama in his speech at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. He pals around with Prince Harry. The host of The Daily Show, Trevor Noah, says he is “completely in love” with him.

I’m talking, of course, about Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, the best thing to happen to Ottawa since they let people skate on the Rideau Canal. Like a lot of Canadians, I liked the new tone in Ottawa. And I have freely admitted to voting Liberal for the first time in years.

But something has developed that’s driving me crazy. Justin Trudeau is OK when he speaks from a teleprompter or when he did that nerdy thing explaining Einstein’s theory of relativity (or whatever he was talking about) although the words may well have been memorized in advance.

What’s making me nuts is how Trudeau talks when he’s responding to a question from the media or commenting on something for the first time. He inserts “ah” in his sentences when he doesn’t know where he’s going next. In a thirty-second TV clip, he’ll say a “ah” three or four times all the while sounding like he’s sucking in his breath.

This is not good. Leaders should seem like they know what they’re talking about, even when they don’t. With this new tic in in his diction, Trudeau appears to be admitting he hasn’t thought things through, that maybe he doesn’t have an idea in his head.

It’s gotten so bad I can’t listen to him anymore. The honeymoon may still be on for some people but my relationship with him has reached that stage in a marriage when one half of the couple is no longer paying attention to the other. All I can say is: that was a fast fifty years of marital life.

Barbarians at the gate

I first met Peggy (as she was called in those days) Wente thirty years ago when she was editor of Canadian Business. To be young, female and a magazine editor, particularly one that covered business, was unusual to say the least. Wente was an excellent editor who had been spotted by the legendary Sandy Ross after he’d turned the former official publication of the Chamber of Commerce into an exciting product.

I had just left Maclean’s, was freelancing, and Canadian Business became one of my main outlets. I’d do four or five 5,000-word pieces annually for them. Those were the days of long-form journalism and editors who cared. Under Wente’s discerning eye, you could count on spending most of a day with a handling editor, either Barbara Czarnecki or Barbara Moon. When you were done, you were bedraggled, but your article was better. It was a wonderful process; every writer needs a good editor. Today, none of that happens at any publication. Drivel is shovelled through.

These days Wente is once again the centre of allegations about plagiarism. In 2012 a column she wrote in 2009 was found to have had borrowings that should have been attributed. New charges have surfaced, claiming two more plagiaristic incidents. I worry about these things; every writer should. But the new allegations seem trumped up. They are certainly not in the same category as Dick Beddoes a few years back when he sent in an entire Russell Smith column claiming it as his own. And lost his job as a result.

I think the Globe and Mail has more things to fret about than seven words here or there. Other than Cathal Kelly they have too few writers worth reading. Whether they borrow from others or not.

My headline? Oh, I plagiarized it.

Uneasy lies the head

If I were the Attorney General of Ontario, I would personally be investigating the qualifications of all Crown Attorneys under my jurisdiction. Crown Attorneys are responsible for prosecuting most of the criminal offences in the province, and if recent high-profile cases are are any example, they are doing a poor job of it.

Time and again in his 308-page decision on the 31 charges against Senator Mike Duffy, Justice Charles Vaillancourt repeated the phrase, “I am not satisfied that the Crown has proven the guilt of the accused beyond a reasonable doubt.” Duffy’s vindication will most likely mean the end of any investigation against Senator Pam Wallin. The RCMP is not likely to lay charges against her now.

Another Crown office was also found wanting in the Jian Ghomeshi sexual assault trial. Witnesses called to testify appeared to be poorly prepared for their appearances. Surely a case could have been made despite the follow-on meetings between Ghomeshi and his accusers. But the Crown did not seem to be sufficiently responsive to the new evidence presented in court by the defendant’s counsel.

There’s a different but equally worrisome issue at the Ontario Securities Commission where proceedings have been going on for four years against Sino-Forest. There’s no question investors were defrauded by this timber company that claimed to own forests when it didn’t. But there will be no repercussions. All the executives are resident in China and have never shown up for the hearings. No fine or jail term can possibly apply. What a waste of public resources.

Maybe the root problem is that the vast majority of good lawyers prefer higher-paying private practice roles. The Attorney General needs to look at increasing the pay of public service lawyers working for the province, focus efforts where results are most likely, and retrain all staff to improve their performance in court.

The Duke of Kent

Darcy McKeough, Treasurer in the Bill Davis government, both praised and poked fun at politicians last night. During a brief speech to a crowd of more than 150 at the official launch of his memoirs, McKeough referred to his fellow “statesmen” from the Ontario Legislature while calling his federal counterparts mere “politicians.”

Attendees at the reception held at the Albany Club represented all parties and included Liberals such as Prime Minister John Turner, NDP leader Stephen Lewis and Progressive Conservatives from Queen’s Park: Premier Ernie Eves, Roy McMurtry and Gordon Carton. Federal PCs on hand were Michael Wilson and Barbara McDougall.

Among the business leaders were Red Wilson, Don Johnston, Paul Godfrey, Robert Foster, Tom Kierans and Doug Bassett. Party workers and backroom types abounded: John Laschinger, Paul Little, Tom MacMillan, Ed Mahoney, Hugh Segal, Graham Scott and Les Horswill. Former Lieutenant-Governor Hal Jackman was on hand as were journalists Fraser Kelly, Gail Scott, George Hutchison and Steve Paikin.

In his book, The Duke of Kent, McKeough tells all and spares no one, least of all himself. As a helper and editor I enjoyed working with McKeough, who is still called Treasurer by his many friends and colleagues all these years later. Congratulations, Treasurer!

Bird is the word

I’m a birder. There, I’ve finally confessed publicly what I’ve been doing privately. I make this admission because birding has officially been declared “creepy” in an academic study by Francis T. McAndrew and Sara S. Koehnke of the Department of Psychology at Knox College in Galesburg, Illinois. Never heard of it? Me neither.

Apparently, there had not previously been an empirical study of creepiness. So they did an international survey of 1,341 people and found more creepy men than creepy women. No surprise there. They also discovered that the creepiest vocation of all was clown. Does this result sound valid to you? Me neither.

I’ve been a birder since the late 1980s and followed my fixation in Canada, the U.S., the U.K., the Caribbean and Europe. I’ve seen everything from roadrunners in Texas through dippers in British Columbia to pink flamingos in the Camargue in southern France. Never once felt creepy.

Well, maybe a mite creepy when I focus my binoculars on a neighbour’s place and it looks like I’m peering into their windows. So, if you see me ogling your house, backyard, or chimney I’m not spying. I’m just pursuing my hobby, seeking to add to my life list. No clown costumes allowed.

The crack of dawn

I don’t get much sleep. Four or five hours a night is tops for me. This all started in the early 1980s when I began writing my first book. I had a day job so I got up at 4 a.m. to reach my daily target of 500 words before leaving the house. Eighteen books later, even though I no longer have a day job, my circadian rhythm remains the same.

Everything I read says you need eight hours sleep a night. If I slept that long I’d be in a coma. I’ve tried many devices that people claim will help – no screens for the hour before bed, milk and cookies, lorazepam, a warm bath – nothing gets me beyond five hours.

So when I saw a notice for a sleep doctor’s speech in my neighbourhood, I signed up. Maybe there were some new techniques to learn. During the day of the event, I was unusually busy: a breakfast meeting, an interview for my current book, a lunch and a couple of other events mixed in. By the time I wended my way home, there was barely time to grab a bite before I had to skedaddle to the evening session.

In the end, I didn’t go. I was too tired. What if I fell asleep during the sleep clinic? Or was that the new trick?

Action Jackson

The recent death of Syd Jackson, who headed Manulife from 1972-87, reminds me how he advanced women in that organization. In an era when senior female executives were a rarity, Jackson appointed Jalynn Bennett as investment vice-president for Canadian equities. Bennett’s resulting high profile meant that she was among the first women to join the Society of Financial Analysts and, in the early 1990s, the first woman to join the Toronto Club.

During Jackson’s era, 12 percent of senior officers at Manulife were women, an impressive number at the time. Indeed, it remains an admirable number today. A recent survey of 91 countries by the Peterson Institute for International Economics in Washington, D.C., sought to see how many women held senior corporate roles. Among the 2,074 Canadian firms studied, women comprised 7 percent of directors, 14 percent of executives and 3 percent of CEOs. Those numbers are pathetic.

A new group, called the 30% Club, was formed in Canada last September. The 50 member organizations seek to have their boards include 30 percent women by 2019. In the months since the group was founded, nearly 50 percent of the new appointees were women. That tells me there are lots of competent women available and that metrics work.

Regulatory bodies such as the Ontario Securities Commission that could accelerate change across the spectrum continue to promote foolish voluntary schemes like “comply or explain.” The trouble is that if a firm neither complies nor explains there are no repercussions.

The time is long since past for such meandering routes. We need to mandate a new tomorrow as has been successfully done in Norway and other European nations. Let’s make it the law in Canada that 40 percent of all boards and senior officers must be female by 2020, reaching 50 percent in 2024. That’s the only way we can finish the job that Syd Jackson began so many years ago.