Rod McQueen's Blog, page 8

Going, going, gone

I think enough time has passed since the end of the Blue Jays’ baseball season that I can write something about the team without grinding my teeth right into the gums. They scraped into the wild-card round, scored one run in two games, and were gone. 
In similar circumstances, someone among the higher-ups in such a moribund organization would be fired. Not so with the Jays. Club president Mark Shapiro, general manager Ross Atkins, and manager John Schneider all remain firmly ensconced despite making the most bone-headed decision I’ve ever seen in baseball. That brains trust decided prior to the critical second game that they would pull starting left-handed pitcher Jose Berrios in the fourth inning and bring in a right-hander. Their plan was to confound the Minnesota Twins who would have to shuffle their batting order in response.
Berrios then proceeded to pitch the best game of his life. Rather than dump the plan and stay with a winner, the switch went ahead anyway. The replacement pitcher, Yusei Kikuchi, immediately gave up two runs and the game and the series was over.
Even as the desultory affair dragged on, manager John Schneider did what he does best: nothing. He made no thoughtful substitutions in an attempt to get a hit, just stood in the dugout, spitting out sunflower seed husks, as if he were a spectator in the stands.
Players were equally bereft. Vladimir Guerrero Jr.’s bat was silent as it has been too often this season. I blame the home run derby that he won during the July All-Star break. Seventy-two dingers in three rounds, with all pitches lobbed softly toward him, seemed to disrupt his timing at the plate. But getting picked off at second base had to be the low point of his career. 
To me, the most amazing aspect is that the Rogers Centre was full during the last weeks of the season. Toronto fans cough up a lot of money to watch losers. Well, not this guy. I’m a member of a group that has for years shared a pair of seats behind the Blue Jays dugout. Next year, we were offered renovated seating and cup-holders, and it would only cost 30 percent more. Our group’s commissioner of baseball decided not to renew and I supported that decision. The Blue Jays won’t have me to kick around anymore.

 

Apple of my eye

I am still struggling to make sense of the now infamous interview Pierre Poilievre recently gave near Kelowna, B.C., to a local journalist. You likely have seen portions of this interview that’s gone viral conducted while the Conservative leader chows on an apple. The surrounding orchard sets the scene. While we’re not in the Garden of Eden, there is a certain biblical tone.
In the beginning, as the journalist (let’s call him LJ for local journalist) flounders around trying to frame a question about Poilievre’s “populist path,” you can see the leader smirk and reply “What does that mean?” Right wing, left wing, says LJ. “I never really talk about left or right. I don’t really believe in that.” (Insert from me: “A total lie. He uses such words all the time.”)
Then LJ tries a new tack by declaring that PP is taking a page from Donald Trump’s book. A gotcha look crosses PP’s face and he blurts “What page? Give me the page!” (Insert from me: “LJ was speaking metaphorically.)
To be sure, LJ should have been better prepared, but I wonder, was this interview approved in advance and scheduled? It seems more likely that it was a chance encounter during PP’s orchard tour. That would explain LJ’s difficulty finding his footing. And why does that smirk keep appearing on PP’s lips. Surely a national party leader who gives countless interviews each week could cut some slack in the case of LJ who’s probably doing his first-ever interview with a national leader.
But no such favours just yet. LJ puts a question that he say reflects the attitude of a great many Canadians. PP won’t accept generalities, he wants specifics. “Like who? You’re asking the question. You must know somebody.”
Finally, in desperation, LJ asks, “Why should Canadians trust you with their votes?” PP seems to realize he’s had his fun and reverts to his usual self, saying, “Common sense. We’re going to make common sense common in this country.” (Insert from me: A campaign slogan it ain’t.)
What have we learned about PP? I think we’ve learned that PP is a bit thoughtless about other people’s feelings, that he likes to toy with those who might not have had his life experience, and that he has an ego bigger than all the apple orchards in the world. I voted for Justin Trudeau in 2015. I won’t be doing that again. After this haughty performance by Johnny Appleseed, I won’t be with him either. Next election I’ll be voting for the Green Party, no matter the colour of their apples.

 

Spare the truth

When Spare, the book by Prince Harry, came out in January, I vowed not to read it just out of obstreperousness. I wasn’t moved by the fact that Guinness World Records named it the “fastest selling non-fiction book of all time.” Nor did I bow to temptation when I saw stacks of copies in my local Indigo. A week ago, however, out of nowhere, I got a message on my iPad saying I could renew Spare for another three weeks on Libby. The notice looked official and included my Toronto Public Library number. Turns out Libby is an online provider of library books for free.
I knew, of course, the book had been ghosted by novelist J. R. Moehringer and that Harry had received an advance of a reported $20 million. I thought, well, I guess I’m supposed to read this book. I read it all, more than 400 pages, in two riveted days. Written in the first person, Spare covers every detail of Harry’s life including his crepe-draped memories of the death of his mother, Lady Diana, when he was twelve. For a number of years he thought she was still alive and had gone into hiding to escape the paparazzi.
And, oh the paparazzi, whom he calls the paps. Even though he’s the Spare and his older brother William is the Heir, Harry was constantly followed or spied upon by the British press who made up tales about him and all the Royals.
But Harry doesn’t spare the Royal family. Charles comes off as a distant father who would rather write Harry a letter than speak directly to him. William is very competitive and did not even acknowledge Harry when both attended Eton. Margaret, he writes, “could kill a houseplant with one scowl.” There are no anecdotes about Philip and too few about the Queen whom he calls Granny. 
His marriage to Meghan Markle, a biracial American, caused some well-documented concern. A Royal who remains unnamed in this so-called tell-all was said to have worried about “how dark” Meghan’s unborn child would be.
Is it all accurate? I wonder about the many direct quotes that are cited from years gone by. Does anyone have that good a memory? And if they really wanted peace and quiet, why write a book? South Park did a wonderful parody called The Worldwide Privacy Tour. So, read Spare if you like – it is very readable – but you don’t need to believe everything.

Send in the clones

Everybody’s writing about Artificial Intelligence (AI) these days. My morning paper has as least two articles a day on the topic. Now that apparently anybody can write something using AI, those of us who write for a living are out of luck. This is the end of the line, maybe even the end of an era.
Writing had its beginnings when he/him she/her first started telling stories to others around fires and continued through the invention of moveable type, stage productions, and then the silver screen. The Industrial Age replaced the Agrarian Age but farmers continued to grow food. I can’t see a scenario where AI and real writers can co-exist.
Imagine a future without real writers. All newspaper articles will sound the same. There will be no individual voices, no columnists, no editorials, unread or otherwise. Even Letters to the Editor will present predictable prose. TV newscasts will be delivered by zombies. Sixty Minutes will show footage of flora and fauna. Any protest to the new ways will be mired amid all the other forgettable items on Y, formerly known as X.
Even Tom Hanks is into the act. “Beware,” warned Hanks recently on his Instagram account. ‘’There’s a video out there promoting some dental plan with an AI version of me. I have nothing to do with it.” And you thought we already had a problem with fake news. As Bachman Turner Overdrive sang in 1974, “You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet.” Of course they cribbed that from Al Jolson when he said “You ain’t heard nothin’ yet” in 1927 but both references were long before AI.
To date, accuracy by AI has been an issue. I heard about someone who asked one of the CHAT bots to write a biography of himself. According to the bot, the man was dead. Institutions from high schools to universities have a bigger problem. So far, a professor can usually spot most AI-produced essays because they sound like they’ve been written by a machine. At some schools, students are sent packing on the second AI submission. Such oversight will have to continue and will get in the way of good student-teacher relations. Other fields of pursuit will become equally corroded. All in all, I see a fraught future where nothing seems real and everything is suspect. I don’t look forward to suffering through an even more divisive world.

Deliver us from evil

Of all the unnecessary imbroglios you might imagine, the resignation of Anthony Rota as speaker of the House of Commons must rank right up there. And, of course, all the participants climbed on their high horses and played their parts as if this were some dark Shakespearean tragedy.
Let’s begin at the beginning with the focus of this public hanging. Yaraslov Hunka, a constituent of Rota’s, was invited by the speaker to hear Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky address Members of Parliament last week. Hunka was introduced from the speaker’s chair by Rota as a “Ukrainian hero and a Canadian hero” and he received sustained applause from all who were present.
But wait, some group soon pointed out, Hunka was a member of the Waffen SS during the Second World War, might have committed activities as a Nazi, and so shouldn’t have been celebrated in 2023. But Hunka, who is 98, was born in 1925. He was 19 or 20 when the Second World War ended so was unlikely to have been in any leadership position. 
Despite a lack of specific information, everyone involved – and a few who weren’t – went into action. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau expressed embarrassment, Opposition Leader Pierre Poilievre demanded hearings into how this faux pas could have happened, and the Kremlin called it outrageous that Hunka could be cited as a hero and wondered why Canadians don’t have better knowledge about the Second World War and the history of fascism.
Speaker Rota resigned in disgrace and Hunka returned to his home in northern Ontario as a newly reviled member of his community.
One can call upon great quotes in such circumstances. George Santayana comes to mind: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Or Winston Churchill who riffed off the same motif: “Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”
I have an even better idea. Rather than worrying about the terrible actions of the past while donating more armaments for this war, why don’t all participants focus instead on peace talks between Russia and Ukraine? With a total of 500,000 dead from both sides and millions of refugees, time is long since past to establish a process that leads to peace.
As for the distant past, I’m sure there was abominable behaviour on all sides. I have a quote for that, too: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

Peter C. Newman 1929-2023

After serving five years as press secretary to Robert Stanfield, leader of the Progressive Conservative Party, I tried to get back into journalism, but no one would have me. I guess they thought I would sneak Tory propaganda into my writing. So I became director of public affairs for the Bank of Nova Scotia. Two years later, suitably drycleaned, I tried again.
Peter C. Newman, editor of Maclean’s, was about to take the magazine weekly in 1978. My job interview with him took place during his lunch hour. He was sitting in the slot of a kidney-shaped desk, unwrapping his sandwich. He removed the top slice of bread and threw it into the waste basket. The lettuce met the same fate followed by the tomato slices. Down to the chopped egg, he ate what was left. I thought, “What else would an editor do but strip something down to the essentials?” He hired me as business editor. Two issues later, I wrote the cover story about Conrad Black who had just acquired Argus Corp. What a way to return to journalism!
At some point, Peter said to me, “I’m not going to do a book about the banks, why don’t you?” It was classic; he gave me something he didn’t want. But I embraced the idea and began research and writing what became “The Moneyspinners,” published in 1983, that spent fourteen weeks on the best seller list.
I even mimicked Peter’s writing habit – get up at 4:30 a.m. so you can write and then go do your day job. After a while, I said to him, “I’ve written sixty pages and I can’t get the first chapter stopped.” “You write the first chapter last,” he said, “it’s the epilogue.” With such advice, one can prosper.
For all Peter’s savvy, I did not follow all his ways. Many politicians accepted his invitation to come to his office for an interview and then be featured in his weekly editorial. Such a one was Joe Clark, PC leader after Stanfield. In his editorial Peter described him by saying something along the lines of: He came into the room like a faun eating broccoli from a cupped hand. This was the kind of situation where Peter stopped being a journalist and became a writer of creative non-fiction. He wrote that sentence before they even met.
Peter had detractors for other reasons. Historians dismissed him because his books sold better than theirs. Lazy journalists robbed material from his research without giving credit. For me, Peter was a wonderful mentor. Without his prompting, I wouldn’t have written seventeen successful books in the last forty years. So, thank you, Peter. One last time.

The silent service

The troubling aspect about Justin Trudeau is that we know his every wonky policy proposal and his detailed travel schedule including what leader he’s meeting with in what far-off country. But we don’t know the answer to the most important question of all – who is his paramour? Since the announcement that Trudeau split with his wife, there has been total silence on who he’s been seeing.
Oh, I’ve heard four different rumours, but I don’t know the truth. Yet there must be at least one hundred people in Ottawa who know the name of the person in question. Many of those one hundred are members of the Parliamentary Press Gallery so I texted one of them to ask.
The answer was illuminating, not because I learned the name, but because of the tone of the response, which went something like this: “The prime minister may have had an affair, lots of people in Ottawa have affairs. I’m not going to spend any time seeking the answer because it’s not worthy of pursuit.” Translation: Such prurient inquiries were beneath her/him.
I bet most Canadians want to learn who’s the love interest and maybe, as I am willing to admit, as soon as they hear they will feign lack of interest. That’s our character: wanting to know, unwilling to acknowledge.
The real issue is this: what else is the Parliamentary Press Gallery keeping from us? Obviously, I don’t know, but I know why. They might desire a job in Ottawa someday and they don’t want to blot their copy books by writing that which Ottawa higher-ups don’t want to read. 
Here’s what happens. After eight years or so in the Press Gallery, a correspondent gets tired and maybe is ready for a career change. They don’t want to go back to home base, whether in Toronto or Split Lip, Alberta. No, they want to do communications for a cabinet minister, become an assistant deputy minister in some department, or even be appointed to the Senate as has happened to journalists in the past. 
In that regard, Ottawa’s in a time warp. The situation is reminiscent of the 1960s when President John F. Kennedy’s philandering was kept private by the White House press corps. Is there no one in the Parliamentary Press Gallery who’s brave enough to tell Canadians what we really want to know? We’re all ears.

Foreign affairs

There’s been a lot of foorfaraw lately about the 800,000 foreign students in Canada including: whether it’s all just a smokescreen for immigration, a trip through a diploma mill, or working underground for less than minimum wage. Among the numbers I’ve recently read was that foreign students comprise 17 percent of Canadian university enrolment and supply cajllions in annual revenue for those institutions.
I’m going to address an even thornier and far-less-discussed issue: what are those foreign students actually learning in university classes? A few years back, I was regularly invited to speak for several years running to a university class. The student audience usually numbered about sixty with about one-third obviously foreign.
After my remarks, the floor was opened for questions. Never did a foreign student ask a question. The students then broke into smaller groups; each group would report their findings back to the full class. No foreign student ever delivered that report.
My assumption? There was a language barrier. I also presume they had taken a language test that couldn’t have had a very high bar. As a result, I hereby urge all universities to set a more realistic level of fluency before permitting registration.
If that were done, there would almost certainly be fewer foreign students and a sizeable drop in the money received annually by Canadian schools because of the far higher fees paid by foreign students.
In order to make my tougher test idea more palatable for those schools, I have two income-generating suggestions. First, any Canadian student who graduates from a Canadian university and leaves Canada for a job or further degree in the U.S. must repay to the Canada Revenue Agency the public-supported portion of their undergraduate program. Second, to take a page from the IRS and its treatment of American citizens, any Canadian who moves to the U.S. must pay Canadian tax on their worldwide income. Even if they renounce their Canadian citizenship to avoid that continuing Canadian tax, that tax on their worldwide income will continue for another ten years.
I readily admit that I have no idea how much revenue would be generated for universities by my suggestions. Let’s change the tax laws and find out.

Hugh Segal 1950-2023

Let me begin by telling my favourite Hugh Segal anecdote. In 1972, Hugh ran as the Progressive Conservative candidate in Ottawa Centre. Although the riding had been a Liberal stronghold for years, he managed to finish second, falling only 1,202 votes short. Another election was likely within two years, so while he continued campaigning, he was made a special assistant to Opposition Leader Robert Stanfield, and moved into the leader’s Parliamentary office next to me where I was press secretary.
Among his early assignments, Hugh was asked to write the annual Christmas message for Stanfield, words that would be distributed by the Canadian Press and Broadcast News to newspapers and radio stations across the country. As a Jew, Hugh said he got a kick out of writing about the three wise men following a star to the manger in Bethlehem.
The next Christmas, I was the designated writer for that message. I did a draft and gave it to Stanfield. A couple of days passed and I hadn’t heard anything, so I asked the leader about my words. Stanfield gave one of his thoughtful pauses and said: “Why don’t we just use what Hughie wrote last year.”
For years after, whenever Hugh and I happened to attend the same reception and found ourselves standing near each other, he loved to tell all and sundry the first half of that story, knowing I would chime in with Stanfield’s memorable response.
Hugh was a Renaissance man. Not only was he a candidate for MP, he also ran for party leader in 1998, served in the Senate, and was chief of staff to both Ontario Premier Bill Davis and Prime Minister Brian Mulroney. He was successful in business, served as master of Massey College, and was the author of numerous readable books. He also had policy ideas that included a guaranteed annual income. He’d grown up poor in Montreal, knew what it was like for a family to go without, and wanted to improve the lives of everyone who faced similar circumstances.
Most of all, Hugh was a pleasure to be with. He had a rapier wit and a ready laugh that I will always be able to hear in my head and hold in my heart. My condolences to his wife Donna and daughter Jacqueline. We shall not see his like again.

Positive steps

It’s been almost a month since Olivia Chow was elected mayor of Toronto and I have to admit I like the tone and tenor of her comments and comportment far more than I thought I would. I also have to admit I did not vote for her. My ballot was cast for Ana Bailão who came second with 37 percent to Chow’s 40 percent.
With the vote counted I realized how important former mayor John Tory’s late-in-the-campaign endorsement of Bailão was. But let me add an aside. Once Tory resigned as mayor because of an affair with a staffer, he should have run in the by-election. He probably would have won. Some voters these days seem unconcerned about the morality of candidates. Donald Trump, for example, is favoured by a majority of Republicans even though he raped a woman in the change room at Bergdorf Goodman.
Chow certainly has the career training for her new role. She’s been a school board trustee, councillor, and NDP member of Parliament. As mayor, Chow has declared she will follow the decision of the previous council to change the name of Dundas Street because Scottish politician Henry Dundas purportedly supported slavery. I’d rather they didn’t proceed but there are enough fights ahead without reopening cold cases.
As for Chow’s activities to date, I like her initial steps toward more housing for refugees and asylum seekers. I also admired how she spoke out on battered wives, thereby raising awareness about one of the major issues of society today. I don’t even mind that she has pledged to raise taxes. We can’t keep running huge budget deficits.
To be sure, there is plenty to do. Toronto traffic is more constricted than New York’s. More housing must be built for the hundreds of thousands of immigrants who arrive annually in Canada and want to live in Toronto. There’s also too much meth done in the streets thereby causing mental illness among users and angst among citizens in general.
As for Chow herself, we’ll be watching. “A week is a long time in politics,” British Prime Minister Harold Wilson famously said. A month is even longer. For Chow, this first month has been positive. Let’s wish her well. The last thing Toronto needs is any more setbacks.