PREVIEW
What: Tom Hawthorn book launch: The Year Canadians Lost Their Minds and Found Their Country
Where: Munro鈥檚 Books, 1108 Government St.
When: Tuesday, 7:30 p.m. (doors 7 p.m.)
Admission: Free
听
Back in 1967, sa国际传媒 celebrated 100 years since its confederation. And during that super-groovy centennial year, the country went a wee bit nutso.
Victoria and Vancouver Island joined in the party with as much gusto as anyone else, writes Tom Hawthorn in his new book The Year Canadians Lost Their Minds and Found Their Country.
One of Nanaimo鈥檚 centennial projects was staging a bathtub race 鈥� a tradition that continues today. Modified bathtubs with tiny engines putt-putted from Departure Bay to Fisherman鈥檚 Cove in West Vancouver.
Frank Ney, a flamboyant salesman, presided over the fun dressed as a Mississippi river-boat gambler with a cigar and silver-tipped cane. When Ney later became mayor, the bathtub-race king exchanged his gambler duds for a pirate costume complete with skull-and-crossbones hat
Each bathtubber received the Royal Order of the Golden Plug, i.e., a bathtub plug and chain spray-painted gold. In 1967, more than 130 tubs embarked on the 51-kilometre voyage. Only 46 made it.
Greater Victoria also caught centennial fever, albeit more decorously. A pink-and-cream rose named 鈥淢iss sa国际传媒鈥� bred by octogenarian Fred Blakeney was submitted to be the official Canadian Centennial Rose (alas, he didn鈥檛 win the honour).
Baritone Bernard Turgeon (he later moved to Victoria to teach at the university鈥檚 music school) starred in a celebrated opera, Louis Riel, partly funded by the Canadian Centennial Commission. And thanks to $2.5 million in federal centennial funding, Victoria built the Royal British Columbia Museum. The accompanying carillon, with 62 bells, was donated by Holland in recognition of sa国际传媒鈥檚 role in liberating the country in the Second World War.
Hawthorn is a Victoria journalist who has written for Reader鈥檚 Digest and Canadian Geographic. He first became interested in sa国际传媒鈥檚 centennial as a seven-year-old living in Montreal, where the Expo 67 world鈥檚 fair was staged to celebrate the landmark year.
Young Hawthorn became 鈥渙bsessed鈥� with Expo 67, drawing pictures of the pavilions. He eventually persuaded his family to attend. His father, a cautious type, devised an anti-wallet-theft device with rubber bands and paper clips to foil pickpockets. Today, Hawthorn still owns a small Expo souvenir collection, including an Expo 67 travel bag, candy dishes, glasses and posters.
He decided to write the book after a friend posted a photo on Facebook of a weathered firehall built by the citizens of Sovereign, Sask., half a century ago. It was a centennial project 鈥� a replica of the stylized centennial maple leaf is still affixed to it.
The population of Sovereign is 35 鈥� enough for good-sized house party. 鈥淚 thought, man, if they did a centennial project in Sovereign, every community must have one. And that鈥檚 probably the story,鈥� Hawthorn said.
It was, indeed, the story. It seems every red-blooded Canuck wanted to participate. The way Hawthorn tells it, the centennial year was the catalyst for a gaggle of eccentrics to make their wildest dreams come true.
Among the most flamboyant was Hank Gallant. A 24-year-old labourer from Prince Edward Island, he came to sa国际传媒 to work in the mines. Then, caught up the patriotic fervour sweeping the land, Gallant decided to walk across sa国际传媒.
Armed with hamburger, eggs, chocolate and a sign that said 鈥淐entennial 67 walker 鈥� no rides please,鈥� he started from Beacon Hill Park, dipping his toes into the sea. Gallant nearly froze to death walking through the mountains of sa国际传媒, and in Ottawa, he was arrested for vagrancy. But he made it in 280 days.
There was also Ida DeKelver, who set off to travel from her sa国际传媒 valley ranch to Saskatchewan with two donkeys named Jack and Bill. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know it for a fact, but I had a feeling she was a little tired of ranch life,鈥� Hawthorn said.
The trek was intended as an homage to the Overlanders, who travelled from Ontario to sa国际传媒 in 1862. Canadians, reading about DeKelver in small-town papers, offered her coffee, doughnuts and sandwiches along the way. One of her donkeys went lame. But she, too, managed to complete her 1,400-kilometre journey.
One of the most outrageous characters in the book is Frank Ogden, a former Second World War flight engineer, who undertook a trans-sa国际传媒 helicopter ride over 100 days. A relentless self-promoter, Ogden would persuade small-town mayors and beauty queens to take rides in his Centennial Helicopter along the way.
Finally landing in Victoria, Odgen placed a time capsule with newspaper clippings and photos in Confederation Garden, a small park near the legislature. An accompanying plaque says it鈥檚 to be opened in 2067.
His resume included working as a deckhand on a Cuban banana boat, being a mop salesman, teaching 鈥減sychic renovation鈥� at a college and administering LSD 鈥攖hen legal 鈥� to clients at a private clinic in New Westminster.
鈥淚鈥檓 sure he sampled [some] himself,鈥� Hawthorn said.
Odgen would later bill himself as a 鈥渇uturist鈥� called Dr. Tomorrow, issuing provocative statements from a houseboat in Vancouver鈥檚 Coal Harbour.
Fun and frolics aside, Hawthorn believes sa国际传媒鈥檚 centennial party helped this country forge a true sense of identity.
鈥淔or the first time, Canadians asserted themselves. We said we are interesting and we鈥檝e got something to offer the world,.
鈥淲e took off our toques and our lumberjack shirts 鈥� and maybe our pants 鈥攁nd we partied.鈥�