Early yesterday morning I posted a very brief story about my experience one Friday the Thirteenth. Well, I must have jinxed myself, even if the damage had already been done. Let me explain....
Late yesterday morning I took my Skagen watch in to a local jeweler to have the battery replaced — my watch had sat unloved for more than four years. The Bay store at Yonge and Bloor (here in Toronto) closed just as I was about to run over to get them to do the usual great replacement. Some laziness crept in and I bought a Timex online to get a timepiece on my wrist, and to give me some time to deal with the Skagen issue.
A call came in from the jeweler: "Simon, when was the last time you used this watch? . . . The battery leaked and damaged the insides. It was a cheap battery from China."
(Thank you, The Bay! Twenty-seven dollars!)
I popped over and had a look at the damage done. Yep, there was black scoring inside, all right. The gent had a closer look and said that the spring had been destroyed. He then illustrated something: "This is a ten cent battery. This is a ten dollar battery."
(As Rod Serling might have said: "Tonight's lesson in dollars and cents." Or, as I might say right now: "I must be careful when I make a certain claim on a certain morning.")
I bought a new watch: Boss.
(Actually, I grabbed two as I could not make up my mind as to what styling I preferred. Typical.)
The Skagen sits on my computer desk as I write this, looking forlorn. Then there's my look....
It is 'Friday the Thirteenth', and it teases me. I've long — since Grade 10, actually — looked at this day and date as bringing good luck: ever since I aced that Friday Quiz in 'Geography' class that I did not study for. Thank you, Mr Brady!
* * *
Not to be confused with Friday the 13th, that fine motion picture from 1980.
A few years ago I watched a fine feature-length documentary on WWII. Produced by the National Geographic Channel, "Inside WWII" overviews, in the hyper-speed mode so typical of info-dump docs made these days, the 20th century's largest conflict.
Some of the interview subjects explain why they joined the war. I remember a certain day in the summer of 1984. As we sat in the front yard I decided to start asking my father more-probing questions regarding his war story. What at first seemed to me to be a futile exercise after his first answer was "I don't remember much, Simon, that was years ago" became hopeful after I pushed further. Responses containing details I had never known before only encouraged me. Eventually I got around to asking the most obvious question: What made him decide to enlist?
"I was pissed off. I was doing poorly in school and my mind was on the war overseas."
His rationale for joining the bomber force as a gunner was one of expedience:
"You got overseas quickly that way . . . It was an eight-week air gunners' course in Montreal."
He knew that flying as "aircrew" in Bomber Command was dangerous work. Many young men, men too young, got "The Chop".
As was the norm at the time in this neck of the woods my dad was sent to the CNE (Canadian National Exhibition) grounds for dispersal. From that famous Canadian site began the process of getting "shipped overseas", but as this was wartime it wasn't quite that easy. German U-boats prowled the North Atlantic in search of prey, and a steamer loaded with fresh faces off to war was a prime and highly-prized target.
I'd be nervous having to cross a canal to pick up a loaf of bread.
As readers here have already surmised, my father survived the war, including a raid on the SS barracks at Obersalzberg during the last few days of the war in the European theatre. He was demobbed shortly after two flights to Rotterdam as part of "Operation Manna", a humanitarian effort which involved food drops to starving Dutch civilians.
After enjoying a few years of civilian life after the war, he reenlisted with the RCAF and enjoyed a long career with Canada's finest service.
I left the best for last; the big "and" part of my dad's explanation for wanting to see action overseas:
"... And I wanted to get the Germans."
(A childhood friend did not come home; he died when his bomber was shot down over France. Kinda sobering, ain't it?)
Passions of the time, those were.
My father loved Germany and the Germans. We moved to West Germany in October of 1966, just twenty-one years after he flew in a Lancaster bomber doing a job he felt he must do.
With Remembrance Day upon us, I'm reminded of a story of my own regarding that special day; and its special and important symbol: the poppy.
In early November in the late 1980s (I'm thinking 1989), I hopped onto a TTC (Toronto Transit Commission) subway train car. With the seats being all but fully occupied I took the famous door position as the doors closed behind me. Sitting on the other side of the car, with his poppy box resting on his lap, and looking sharp in his uniform, was a veteran.
Immediately I remembered that a few minutes earlier I had shoved a two dollar bill (remember those?) into my shirt pocket. I approached the vet as I drew out the money. He got up from his seat and carefully pinned the poppy to my coat's lapel. I thanked him and went back to my first position. Then, all of a sudden, and in the style of an over-directed film, several other riders popped open their purses and pulled out their wallets.
I popped out this morning to grab some groceries. My Canon was at the ready. One lady walking her dog was wearing one. I crossed Bloor Street and turned onto the south side, with an older gent doing the same. I broached the subject of poppy-wearing on Remembrance Day....
"Sir. Congratulations. You're one of the very few people wearing a poppy."
"I've seen a few people wearing them . . . My father fought in the war."
"Mine did too. He flew on Lancs. He was just a teenager."
"Really."
Time keeps passing. We keep forgetting.
I could easily go into an essay here, long or short, about how the lack of poppy-wearing is an indicator of how seriously people respect the men and women who have fought, and continue to stand, for this great nation called Canada.
Hey!
Don't miss that text message!
That TicTok video cannot be missed!
Put that goddamn fucking phone down and pay attention!
I started high school in September of 1975. My strongest memory of those earliest months of, what would turn out to be, my laboured secondary school education, was not of something scholastic, but learning of a grand ship's sinking with all hands.
Even at that young age I had long been into shipping. Hearing the news of one of the Great Lakes' finest ore freighters succumbing to a sudden and horrible storm saddened me but also fascinated me. Youth protects one somewhat from the realities of tragedy. Some of the Edmund Fitzgerald's sailors were not a lot older than I was at the time: a few were in their early twenties, a couple were barely out of high school.
During much of the 1970s, my family and I were living at Canadian Forces Base Borden, here in Ontario. Like many folk who live in that region, the Great Lakes will draw one to Wasaga Beach, a small town which sits on the "world's longest freshwater beach", which itself cups the lower end of Georgian Bay, and therefore Lake Huron. I knew what a huge lake looked like, even if it wasn't Lake Superior, the tumultuous body of water where the Edmund Fitzgerald and her twenty-nine souls met their end. How it all happened exactly is still open to much conjecture and speculation. My own feeling is that she "bottomed out". However, perhaps some secrets are best kept to the lake.
* * *
Dr. Joseph MacInnis' book Fitzgerald's Storm - The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald is excellent. "Doctor Joe" was a client of a video company I worked at here in Toronto. My own copy is autographed by the author, no surprise. By the way, the last chapter of the book covers the creation and resulting fame of Gordon Lightfoot's classic song, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald". The songwriter was living in Toronto's "Yorkville" neighbourhood at the time.
This week I posted a two pieces (Picturing: A Young Designer Checks His Set Plans and Pics: Set Build for a Toronto-Produced Horror Film) regarding work I did on the 1987 Canadian horror film Graveyard Shift. It was a fun and satisfying time for me. While I wasn't exactly front-lawn green, I had attended art school and rolled in film and design for years, and was currently in my second year of film school, working on GraveyardShift was an enriching experience.
I should mention that the graveyard set was built for a music video... a music video within a film.
On Tuesday I posted a piece on a set design job I had very early in my career... so early that I had only just started my second year of film school. Actually, I had been hired during the summer break. It all happened so fast, which is not exactly atypical in film production, certainly not low budget feature film production. "Toronto" was just beginning to hum at that time — mid 1980s. It would soon explode with feature film and television production.
Here below are a few photographs taken in October of 1985 during the mausoleum construction phase, and its setting up in the film studio. The set build happened at the old and long-abandoned Massey Fergusson plant on King Street. The studio itself, located on lower George Street, was small, with a too-low ceiling ("That is not sixteen feet!"), but somehow we made it all work. As is typical of the form, we had no choice. I must give well-deserved kudos to that great crew, many of whom worked on Graveyard Shift for little or no money. But it was valuable and great experience — and a great experience for all involved.
Set builder Dave Fiacconi takes a break for the camera.
I check to see if Dave is level headed.
I hang on for dear life while the crew works to prep the set in the studio.
Chris Leger paints after building some pyro charges into a tombstone.
Rae Crombie paints some details into the mausoleum set.
The set build crew works their magic. (The shoot starts in hours.)
... Me in October of 1985 working on a set build in the Graveyard Shiftworkshop, which was located in the old Massey Ferguson plant on King Street here in Toronto. It's really a matter of holding the architectural ruler against the blueprint to make sure the calculations are right.
That gig was a lot of fun. And I learned a lot. It's true: You make it work. There's never enough time and money, but somehow it all comes together.
Terrific shop crew: Dave Fiacconi, Chris Leger, and Mark Lang.
Graveyard Shift (1987, released in the US as Central Park Drifter)
Writer and Director: Jerry Ciccoritti
Producers: Robert Bergman, Michael Bockner, Jerry Ciccoritti
Director of Photography: Robert Bergman
Starring: Silvio Oliviero (Michael A. Miranda) and Helen Papas
Postscript: The wrap party was a lot of fun. Executive producer Lester Berman approached and gave me a firm handshake. Actor Peter Weller was there. I can still picture him sitting on a windowsill, arms and legs crossed, chillin'. I never approached him to strike up a conversation ― unlike what I did years later with Art Hindle after a special screening of David Cronenberg's The Brood at Toronto's Bloor Cinema: "I still think your best movie is Face-Off." He really laughed, and said, "Thanks", then laughed again, and added, "Thanks a lot". (I have no shame.)
On Sunday I wrote about my sense of humour and how it was more than probably passed down, in whole or in part, to me by my father. As that post spoke of a potential haunting, I kept it in line somewhat with a Halloween theme.
Well, folks, the curtain of long-term deception is finally being lifted! My dad did make that rather 'unsupportive' comment about me, to me, but I must mention one of his other most memorable barbs thrown my way during my youth, one perhaps even more on point....
Dad: Simon.
Me: Yeah.
Dad: Is that 'ring around the collar' you have there, or are you just down a quart?
Many times over the years I've been told that I'm very funny... not in an odd way, although I would have no problem promoting that idea, but in making people laugh.
"Man, you should be doing comedy."
"You're on the wrong end of a camera." (When I worked in the film/tv business.)
"You should have your own show."
"Absolutely effortless."
I'll summarize with this cute little exchange between two Film Effects workers:
Mark: You're hilarious! You know that Yuk Yuk's has an 'Amateur Night'.
Me: (In my best Jonathan Harris as Dr Zachary Smith) Amateur Night? Indeed!
(Mark laughed.)
We are influenced to some degree by our parents. While my mum was hardly humourless, my dad at times had a twisted sense of humour.
Dad: Simon.
Me: Yeah.
Dad: You should rent yourself out to haunt homes.
Should one's parents be saying something like that to their kid?
While working here at home this week I put the How to Enjoy Experimental Film podcast on continuous play, starting with the first episode, and eventually going through a couple dozen more. Daniel Adams, an Englishman, produces and hosts that most excellent show. In university he studied music, film, and theatre, giving him the tools to discuss the experimental film form with his many guests. Such accreditation might not be necessary to cover underground, avant-garde, and non-narrative moving-image works, but that loaded combination does put one at an advantage.
For some time I've been planning to write a piece on How to Enjoy Experimental Film.
Postscript: In preparation for this piece, I checked Daniel Adams' bio on his Facebook page; he attended the University of Reading. I've been to Reading ("Redding")... lovely town.
Notebooks everywhere, most of which are well scribbled... and sketched, as the above. This particular spiral notebook measures 6" by 9", and it's almost completely full.
A writer writes, constantly. Flipping through and reading one's notebooks is actually a lot of fun. What were we thinking and writing about back then? The above "then" is "June 22, 2000". My word!
The sketches are of website ideas for a 35mm short film I was making at the time. Certain financial considerations left Hyper-Reality unfinished. The good news is, I have some website ideas!
A piece of scrap paper was lying around and the idea of tossing it without rendering something was reprehensible to me. A ballpoint pen made a man in seven seconds.
I needed a little longer to become a man... and I was made with the non-commitment of pencil and graphite, not a man guaranteed by pen and ink. After all, the very thought of an ink eraser....
About an hour ago I cast my vote(s) in the City of Toronto elections, and was impressed with the turnout at my polling station at Alliance Française Toronto. There was a lot of young people voting!
This past Thursday I posted two pieces containing clips from a Toronto Pig Save shoot I did eleven years ago. As I noted in the first post, I plan to edit this footage footage into a short video... now that I've unconsciously uncovered the original camera card I was using at that time.
This morning I posted a video clip from a shoot I did eleven years ago. I also posted the piece on Facebook: about an hour ago I was notified that Video File: Toronto Pig Save Crew (23/07/2015)had garnered 200 plays. Even I'm impressed.
The woman featured front and centre here is, as I noted in my previous post: "Anita Krajnc, a legend in 'animal rights' circles."
On July 23rd of 2015 I finally made an appearance at a Toronto Pig Save vigil. A friend at the time encouraged me to pay a visit. It took sixteen months to take the bow, but I did it: having my place of employment just a few minutes up the road from the Ontario Stockyards did not hurt.
I took my Canon video camera along for the experience and managed to shoot a few minutes of Pig Save action. To be perfectly honest, while I thought the TPS crew had their hearts in the right place, I felt that their actions did little to accomplish anything... other than annoying truck drivers and the front-of-house slaughterhouse crew. These palaces of death tend to be off the beaten path: in this case, Ethel Avenue is not exactly a high traffic area; protests seen by no one, except by those being protested, and they really don't care, unfortunately.
The lady in the light-blue T-shirt is Anita Krajnc, a legend in 'animal rights' circles.
I found this clip along with others on a misfiled camera card while I was doing some organizing here at home yesterday afternoon. I've not seen these raw video bits in a few years. Looking at this footage now may prompt me to cut together a short documentary piece. For years I've had a specific idea for how I would want to end it. Viewers who get the reference might find it humorous.
Also on that card are scenes from an old friend's birthday party. If I remember correctly, pork was served that afternoon. It's a sick joke, I know.
A 'door hanger' awaited my return from running some errands....
Alice Li
― FOR ―
UNIVERSITY-ROSEDALE
I remember when I became aware of this lady. One day, as I made my way down the TTC's "Spadina" pedestrian tunnel, a vibrant tune filled the air. There stood, more like hopping with some wattage, a young woman tickling some ivories. As always I was equipped with my trusty Canon camera, but any thoughts of capturing a talented musician were stopped cold: I was laden with shopping bags and a hot coffee.
Months later I made a connection when I learned of Ms Li and her campaign to become Councilor for Toronto's Ward 11 ― my ward. A talented musician is one thing, an understanding of politics can be another. Well, I was impressed almost immediately. She is a big supporter of the TTC and public transit, issues very important to me as I depend on the Toronto Transit Commission and its fleet of sporty vehicles to move me within this great city. There's more, of course, including her love for a sense of community. For years I've lived in the beautiful "Annex" neighbourhood, and I wish to keep it that way, beautiful, and even make it more. (The threat of crackerbox condos popping up in this community concerns me. Why? "Urban Planning" would seem to be a threatening term to some developers, and certain Toronto City Council members.)
Election Day is this coming Monday (October 26th). Alliance Française de Toronto is my polling station, and I must back up my words by marking my ballot with an "X" for "Alice Li".
The postings on this blog with some of the biggest hit counts are those regarding RAF Bomber Command No. 626 Squadron, with which my father flew during the war. I thought it time to add a little more information regarding his operational record.
Here is a partial list ― culled from material provided to me by Dave Stapleton of The 626 Squadron Research Project ― of "ops" flown by Flying Officer A.R. Screen and crew:
Date - Target - Notes
12 March
1945 - Dortmund
13 March
1945 - Herne - The target was a Benzol Plant
23 March 1945 - Bremen
Bridge
14 April
1945 - Potsdam
22 April 1945 - Bremen - Mission abandoned on Master Bomber’s orders.
25
April 1945 - Berchtesgaden - Hitler’s Eagles Nest in
Bavaria (specifically, the SS Barracks)
With the Allied forces
now advancing well into Germany, Bomber Command
now turned its attention to humanitarian sorties and 626 Squadron was
similarly tasked. (The Squadron’s Lancasters were converted to carry sacks of food in the bomb bays. Each aircraft carried 284 sacks; these were dropped from 500ft.) The crew flew two of these sorties:
Postscript: Years ago I told a friend about how young these guys were who flew in RAF Bomber Command. My dad was nineteen; his crewmates would have been that age or a year or two older. I joked with my buddy that if this particular aircrew was known for doing something special during the war, and a movie were made about their experiences, the guy in the role of my dad would probably be an actor in his late twenties or early thirties. And Flying Officer Screen would no doubt be played by someone like Johnny Depp.
Film and television producers, who aren't known for being a particularly bright lot to begin with, much too often miss on details like the above.
Much of what filmmaker/writer John Waters says makes me laugh. The same would be true of Woody Allen. (Much of what they say rings true.)
In 2015 Mr Waters delivered a commencement speech to graduates at the Rhode Island School of Design, and his patented, at times subversive, sense of humour made his life advice go viral.
I, of course, was not surprised.
Courtesy of John Waters - Make Trouble (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill). Some:
"Okay, I'm supposed to inspire you. How's this? Somehow I've been able to make a living doing what I love best for fifty years without even having to get a real job."
Close to home:
"A career in the arts is like a hitchhiking trip: All you need is one person to say 'get in', and off you go. And then the confidence begins.
While I did a quick scan of my CD shelves yesterday a certain disc caught my eye. Right away I realized I had not played it in years (25?). Without hesitation I fired up the Sony and the Samsung.
Great stuff. Ennio Morricone's classic score for the 1966 action-western flick The Good, The Bad & The Ugly is deserving of its status: being attached to a terrific and entertaining film by Sergio Leone does not hurt... in fact it only helps place it high on the shelf. (I've long said that film scores in the public record are those associated with films of some popularity. There are so many outstanding scores that play to enthusiasts only due to their binding to motion pictures forgotten, or never even noticed in their original release.)
That sound!
That timbre!
Those voices!
Not of Hollywood!
Writing this brief piece reminds me that I also have the composer's tracks for director Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West, also unplayed in many years. Back to the shelves....
"I think that the singular evil of our time is prejudice. It is from this evil that all other evils grow and multiply. In almost everything I've written there is a thread of this: a man's seemingly palpable need to dislike someone other than himself."
In late 1988 I designed some concepts for the (very) low budget feature film Johnny Shortwave (released in 1996). A few of these were 'optical matte painting' shots, an attempt by the producers to "open up" the film. Unfortunately, as was often the case with older low budget pictures, the wish to include matte shots was one of the first things to be jettisoned. And forget about hiring a matte artist when you have no money; he or she is of a very specialized craft and charges accordingly. (Now, of course, for relative peanuts one can whip up something on a computer. And now we can call on the help of A.I.)
Below are thumbnail sketches of ideas I had for extending the industrial areas of Toronto into an heavily industrialized state.
With the producers' blessing I rendered a larger concept painting. Johnny Shortwave was photographed in black and white, hence my monochrome still photograph.
To those (original series) Trekkies or Trekkers out there it's pretty obvious I was inspired by Albert Whitlock's paintings for Star Trek, specifically his artwork for the show's second pilot episode "Where No Man Has Gone Before".
When I look at that painting now, it gets me thinking that perhaps I should use if for something... something "weird and futuristic".
Postscript: Just a few years later I would work in 'opticals' as a compositor, at times combining a matte painting with a live-action element, with the feature film Darkman III: Die Darkman Die (1996) being but one example.
The 2026-27 NHL (National Hockey League) season is well under way. It's time again!
I first posted the following piece in April of 2017. In the years since, the names on Leafs jerseys have almost all changed but the story is always the same....
Enjoy!
We writers must keep our ears to the ground in search of a story. Sitting in a coffee shop is one way to do our work; to mind one's business, but not feel like an eavesdropper should fellow patrons talk of cultural issues at an audible level.
Recently two older gents sat at the table beside me and debated the chances of the Toronto Maple Leafs making this year's NHL (National Hockey League) playoffs.
Gent 1: "They have a real chance of getting somewhere this year."
Gent 2: "Really? We've been hearing this for years."
Gent 1: "Yeah, but they have Auston Matthews."
Gent 2: "Yes, I know, but we've heard this kind of story many times before; for a long time."
"Gent 2" is right. Over the years there has been a Darryl Sittler, Rick Vaive, Curtis Joseph, Wendel Clark, and more. Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner are just the latest stooges who will take the Toronto Maple Leafs to a place nowhere....
(I use the word "stooges" in the Toronto Maple Leafs Masterplan context. I'm sure they are nice people; and they are/were fine hockey players, of course. Most forgotten is the fact one must have a good team, not just two or three good players. Sports history is littered with Leafs-type teams — they are nothing special in that regard.)
The National Film Board of Canada (NFB) has uploaded to YouTube a wonderful selection of their old film shorts. One such film, from 1957, is titled Test Pilot, and its twenty-nine minutes are pretty wonderful, certainly for those folk who find such material engaging. And it stars one James Doohan, "Scotty" from Star Trek. (Hearing him say the word "engineers" several times... well, you know. If he only knew then that in a few years hence he would fly to the stars, and fame.) During World War II, Doohan flew observation aircraft while serving with the Royal Canadian Artillery.
"Dave Frost" works as a company (Avro Canada) test pilot; his job is to test various aircraft functions and potential capabilities. As with any job where one is a test pilot for a high-performance aircraft, there is always that risk, that possibility that something might and can go wrong. These pilots are of a special breed: recreational flyers, they are not.
Test Pilot's angle of attack is typical of a late 1950s short film, one with an educational bent. The acting is fine, especially from that famed starship engineer, and the filmmaking sound, which is to be expected from the NFB, old or new. The short-subject was shot primarily on 35mm black-and-white film but contains a few 16mm-35mm "blow-up" sections: some of the aerial photography was captured on the smaller film format, no doubt due to its extra portability. I was somewhat surprised that the filmmakers didn't mount a dashboard camera. That "pilot's point of view" would have given the aircraft climb some extra dimension, even if the viewer would have been treated to little more than clear skies and perhaps a few cloud formations.
The featured flying machine: the Avro Canada CF-100 "Canuck" was a great aircraft, an all-weather twin-engine jet-powered interceptor/fighter operated by the RCAF (Royal Canadian Air Force). It served in that role from 1952 to 1961. However, the air force used the 100 for other roles before retiring the type in 1981. (The Belgian Air Force also bought and operated a few examples.) When I lived in CFB Borden a "Clunk" was parked in a holding area not far from our PMQ (Private Married Quarters). It may have been a static training example... or just forgotten. By the way, my dad worked on the CF-100 as an armourer. (When Test Pilot was produced he had already been serving with the RCAF for a few years — and would serve for many more.) A few years ago, while visiting the wonderful Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum, I sat in a beautiful CF-100. One is allowed to sit in the machine, with a little help from the museum's terrific staff, of course. (Military-aviation buffs would enjoy visiting the CWHM. It's located at the John C. Munro Hamilton International Airport in Mount Hope, Ontario, Canada. The selection of aircraft is wide and varied.)
Test Pilot was directed by Fergus McDonell, and written by Arthur Hailey, who, the year before, scripted the CBC live-to-air television play, Flight into Danger, which starred... James Doohan.
Postscript: Flight into Danger was produced by Sydney Newman, who, after that production was bought by the BBC and aired in the UK, went on to create The Avengers for ABC Weekend TV, and co-create Doctor Who for the BBC. Scribe Arthur Hailey went on to co-write the Flight into Danger-inspired 1957 feature film, Zero Hour!, which, years later, was adapted as the 1980 comedy flick, Airplane! He went on to great literary-pulp fame with his novels, Hotel (1965), and... Airport (1968), which was then adapted for the big screen and released to movie theatres in 1970. Airport was a big box office hit. I remember well the endlessly replayed television adverts.
Those Crazy Canadians and Their Flying Machines....
"A riveting story told by a superb writer." ― Walter Lord, author of A Night to Remember
The Sea Shall Embrace Them - The Tragic Story of the Steamship Arctic is not a dry account of what happened on that day in September of 1854 when the Collins Line's grandest transatlantic passenger vessel sank off the coast of Newfoundland, but one told with flair by a writer who understands the mayhem of tragedy inherent in any such tale.
Just sixteen months after the SS Arctic sank, the Collins Line's SS Pacific disappeared without trace on a transatlantic crossing (and has never been found).
