Events that affect a Hockey Career

                 Little events that can affect young mans Hockey Career

                    Trying to remember your teenage life seventy years ago
                                  is a very interesting exercise.                                                                                                                                                                                   Moving up through the various divisions within any sport, can be a difficult time for a young person. 

As one moves along the age groups, at times they get labeled very young. 

Sometimes regardless how they progress, their coaches see them through the original lens. It quite often takes an outside coach or manager to see the potential and skill the locals miss, thus many late drafts in the NHL turn out to be star players.

                             Sickness and injury in the early stages can have a huge impact on a young person’s career.

                                 Note: Throughout this portion of my life

                     GRADUATING FROM GRADE TWELVE WAS ALWAYS 
                                    PARAMOUNT IN MY  MIND!

Event 1

From the age of twelve or thirteen, when Bob Stark called on the phone: “Larry, I told our Peewee coach you were a good Hockey Player. He said to bring you out for the game tonight”.

 Hockey has played a major part in my life.

 My Uncle, Cliff Bennett, was a star player For the Saskatoon Wesleys in the late 1930’s.

They went to the Memorial Cup Playoffs.

 I always wanted to play for the Wesleys! 

Bob and I both attended ‘King George’ Public School, in Saskatoon. I of course played street hockey, and at small outdoor rinks, like Mr. Millins rink across the street.

 I played a lot!

 However, I never played any organized hockey with referees, and rules!

After the game (they were a few weeks into the season), at the giant (to me) Saskatoon Arena, the Coach Mr. Davidson, gave me a beautiful Detroit Red Wings sweater with the number 13, and said “see you next Week larry”.  I assumed I had made the team as a member of the “Red Wings”. 

 During this season, and the next, Bob and I also played for King George public school, against all the other schools in Saskatoon. Both of us represented our school in the famous yearly Public Schools All Star Game, at the Saskatoon Arena in 1948. 

That Arena officially held about 4000 fans, but for this special game, students were let in free and about 9000 very loud kids filled the rink. What a thrill. Bob and I then went on to play for the Wesleys hockey organization, though Bantam, midget, and Juvenile hockey.

Event 2 Jan. 1951

Jan. 1951 Taken to St. Paul Hospital in Saskatoon.  Major exploratory stomach surgery. Had an Eight Inch incision, spinal didn’t take, great pain, had to be put under.  Missed final three months of Juvenile Hockey season. In effect this was the whole season at that time.

Event 3 June 6^th, 1952

June the 6^{th 1952}, was a very important day in a very eventful year. I was to start that evening as Shortstop for the Saskatoon Optimist Junior Baseball team. The game was to start at Cairns field, under the lights at 7pm.  

At about 3pm that fateful day, I crashed on my old Indian Motorcycle. 

I was in the hospital for about two weeks with a fractured skull, cuts and bruises, and a serious injury to my right arm and elbow. The main damage was losing all the skin, and some bone after sliding along the pavement with my arm behind my back. I was unable to play any baseball games that year.  

One may read that entire story later under the title “Am I Dead”?

https://larrysstories.blogspot.com/2012/10/am-i-dead.html

 I had been playing on the “Saskatoon Wesleys Rep A Minor league teams” for the past three years and was planning on continuing with the Juvenile team this year again. The doctors, and my Mother and Father, were sure I could not play this season, and advised me to skip a year.  However, my fractured Scull was not bothering me much, and my right elbow that had lost most of its skin, was healing quite well after two operations.  I began attending tryout camp in early oct. 1952.

 I had never been a star player on Rep A Team but continued to improve. However, my parents talked to the coaches and convinced them maybe I should take a year off. I was reluctant to do this, but there was a strange thing happening at practice. Both me and the coaches had been a bit concerned.

 At times, as I was digging out to get to full speed, suddenly one or both legs would just quit. No warning of any kind. After getting up everything seamed OK. However, maybe once again at that practice, or maybe the next day, it would happen again. I had not told my family or the Doctor about this.

I did miss another year!

I now had basically missed two consecutive years playing hockey on The Wesleys Rep A teams. This at what is about the most crucial time in a player’s career.  

Event 4 About Aug. 29, 1952

I had a meeting with Bedford Road High’s Vice Principal on about the 29 the of Aug. 1952. I explained my accident and time in hospital. Since I was unable to write the grade Eleven Final Exams I requested permission to attempt Grade Twelve. I was quite surprised the Vice Principal Said no, I would have to do Grade 11 over again. I was shocked, and a bit devastated. Did not return to Bedford Road that September.

 I did however, return in March 1953, to attempt writing the Grade Eleven Exams in June. The Principle was rather surprised that I had not continued on and attempted grade Twelve. I told him about the Vice Principal.  I didn’t make a big deal of it.

Passed the Grade eleven exams in June 1953.

Event 5 1953  - first day of training camp

(Had started Grade twelve, September 3, 1953.)

Tryout for the big Wesleys Junior A team. I was with the same group of minor players coming up together through the Wesley Rep division, ranks. Many of these included players from our original Pee Wee team the “Red Wings”. Including Wally Bentley, Art Jones, Henry and harry Yam, Bobby Mckusker, Dicky Baltzan, and of course my old friend Bob Stark. We had been together as a group for the past four years.

As it happened, I believe it was the first day of tryouts the Manager and a Scout from the previous year’s champions the ‘Prince Albert Mintos’ was watching our practice. 

As I was leaving that day, Bob Stark (yes good old Bob) with the Mintos Management in tow, approached me. and asked me to come and tryout with the Mintos. This was a very pleasant turn of events. It is a nice feeling to be wanted.  At that particular time, I did not feel I was getting a fair look.

I could use a pleasant event! 

They promised me they could get me straight into grade twelve. I had been attending Bedford Road grade Twelve up till this time.   To help with my decision, the Mintos paid their players a couple of hundred dollars a month.. 
So being a rather naïve teenager, not to mention stupid, I did not tell the Wesleys brass what I was doing. I just packed my stuff that evening, and drove my 1946 Hudson Super Six, to Prince Albert.

Event 6 about sept 23th, 1953

In Prince Albert I was playing on a line with Skip McKay and Orland Kurtenbach in the tryouts, both star players. I was almost in shock I was so happy.

 We were in bed around midnight in the house I shared with Bob, and two other Minto Players.  I was fast asleep when Bob whispers to me in the darkness, “Larry, wake up, I think there are girls in the house.” 
In a bit of sleep fog, I replied, “Don’t be silly, you are dreaming, go back to sleep”  We heard a soft giggle. We woke up and entered the living room.  

 There were four very attractive, very inebriated, teenage girls in our living room. To say this was a shock is an understatement, a rather pleasant shock though.  

They were only wearing Bra’s and panties.  

At almost the exact instant we entered the living room, from our bedroom, the front door opened. It was another shock. Coach Fraser entered the living room. The girls left!! We all received a very stern lecture.

 We all were late for morning practice.

                                                                             We all got fired.

This is a copy of the Prince Albert Daily --Herald Sept 24/1953
I am mentioned in 2nd column about 14 line up rom bottom. Beginning with" Other Green marksmen were

Kenny combes and Clarence Bennett, (me) both with two goals

Big LIFE Event 7.      Oct 1953   
      

I Had just returned from Prince Albert Mintos

Met Beth Bowron at the High School’s Skating Party. Vic Worobey pushed me into her, and I made her fall down.  I Apologized, we drove her home, and I got her phone number. She gave her name as Liz.?

Bigger Event 8 - Dec 10 (approximately) 1953 

Took Beth on first date – to look at the pretty Christmas Lights in my 1938 Packard.   I believe we were “going steady” from that day on.                      

                                                                  I know I was!

                                1938 Packard Straight 8 Coupe with Rumble Seat’ 

                    

                                                       JUST LIKE THIS   - not quite this good!!      

Event 9   Oct. 13, 1954

 Played in inter-squad game a the Arena!    Last player Cut from Junior Wesley Team. 

I was devastated! 

I Had a very serious run-in with another player on the team! He made some slanderous remarks, about a friend of mine!   

Two bad experiences.  In retrospect, this was the end of any Chance of a hockey career.

  
Two weeks later I started a very short career with the Royal Bank of Canada in Elrose, Saskatchewan!   I had a great year playing for their senior team.                                                    

Event 10 – Jan 1956 Swift Current Sask. 

He was playing for the Swift Current Senior team. I was playing for our little group of castoffs, Saskatoon Wildcats touring team. We were playing in the Saskatchewan Senior C (I think) playoffs I am refering to the player I had the serious run-in with at the Wesleys camp in oct. 1954. He broke my ankle after I had scored a goal.  

The Player I had run-in with at the Wesleys oct 13 1954 tryout, broke my ankle. He hit me low and very late after I had scored a goal.This injury has bothered me for the rest of my life!. Did not get it set by a doctor!

We won and went on to play against the Melville Millionaires. The strangest thing happened during this series.

Their goalie, every time I had, or even was in the general vicinity of the puck, would scream, “get Bennett” or “watch number 9, Bennett”.

I found this rather strange, since I had never played in Melville before. I knew no one in this city and had no idea who this strange goalie was.

As it turned out this was Coach Fraser, from our Prince Albert Mintos debacle. Evidently, he had been fired as head coach later on the same year, after Bob and I had been sent home!

Event 11 sept 29^th 1956  

                          

                   Beth and I married in Regina

                                                                    Events have continued!!

THE CRISIS OF ABORIGINAL CHILDREN IN CANADA'S NORTH

                           

                 Crisis of Aboriginal Children in Canada’s North

August 27, 2018

It is about two years since I wrote the following short comment about the conditions, and lives, of Canada’s aboriginal peoples.

Unfortunately, very little positive results have come to fruition. However, it appears the Federal investigation into murdered and missing aboriginal women and girls has been a bit of a disaster. The bickering and lack of understanding, and common sense, among the appointed members and invites, to share their stories has been mindboggling. The change in attitude toward our First nation people I had hoped would emerge during this process did not. Quite the contrary.

These are personal observations and opinions from a lay person, who has observed, and had a deep interest in Canada’s Aboriginal/First Nations people for over a half century.

It is hard to decide where to start when talking about the problems of Canada’s Aboriginal/First Nations people, there have been so many for so long. The latest, and worst in many years, is the epidemic of suicide among the very young on Reserves throughout northern Canada.

There have been many commissions over the years, the latest and probably the best is “The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada.” This Commission was chaired by the Honourable Justice Murray Sinclair. Many excellent recommendations have been made to the Government of Canada by this commission.

Unfortunately, concrete results resulting from prior commissions reports, in most respects have resulted in very little, if any results. I personally do believe this one, will bring meaningful, and positive action, within a relatively reasonable time.

Now in November, 2016, the media are full of sad stories of very young children in Northern Saskatchewan killing themselves.

LOON LAKE — Another indigenous girl has taken her own life in northern Saskatchewan — the fifth this month.

Four other girls between 10 and 14 have taken their own lives this month in northern communities, including Stanley Mission, Deschambault Lake and La Ronge.

The Federation of Sovereign Indigenous Nations is calling the suicides a crisis that requires more action from the federal and provincial governments.

thestarphoenix.com › News › Local News

This has been happening in all the Territories and provinces within Canada for many years, the causes are of course complex, and there can be no quick fix. But there is no doubt, help for individuals is required as soon as humanly possible. By this I mean one on one consultation, not any broad brush, theoretical, lets get a royal commission appointed, type of response.

There is obviously a dire need for professional assistance with the Mental and Emotional health for this needy segment of the Canadian society. The Federal Government has made an effort in this regard, with recommendations from the “The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada.”  Unfortunately, this help appears to only aimed at survivors of the “Indian residential Schools’, with some rather unspecific criteria re who qualifies. One thing though appears true – it is not helping the latest teenage group.

Our First Nation people have been mistreated by successive Federal Governments since confederation. These people have grown through generations, hearing stories of broken promises, and with personal observations that continue to this day to reinforce the belief that they are not only treated as second (or third) class citizens, but are. There have been recent reports by First Nation people, of RMPC abuse.  This is not new. Neither is having their account of the abuse rather summarily dismissed in court. A police officer’s word always carries more weight at court (without video) than an average citizen. The word of an Aboriginal person against a police officer appears to have considerably less. Accounts of this sort over the years will not tend to reinforce a strong self image.

Fortunately, this attitude that First Nation People are in anyway inferior, is being dispelled by many up and coming, First Nation women and men who are using the various media and information technology outlets to great advantage. These educated people are about to change the playing field of federal politics in Canada forever.

Getting back to the deaths of young people on Reserves, I of course do not have the audacity to claim what the reason is for these shrill cries for help. What is obvious to me though, whatever all the various and maybe never known reasons – a very, very deep depression must be present within the hearts of these fragile, lovely, young girls.

HUMBOLT A MEMORY

                                         Coincidences, or something more?

This is April the 8^th 2018, two days after the horrific Bus crash of the Humbolt Broncos Hockey team.

The name Humbolt, has had an effect twice in my life. Once when playing hockey in Humbolt Saskatchewan in 1955/56. And again, about seventy years later while exploring my genealogy tree.

In the 1950 to 1956 time frame a group of rather talented teenage hockey players who for one reason or another, were not playing organized hockey so they decided to form a touring hockey team. This rag tag bunch hailed from several High Schools in the Saskatoon area. They would play any team, any age group, anywhere. The idea was to have fun, be entertaining, (like the Harlem globetrotters) and with any luck, win all our games.

They were called The Saskatoon Wildcats. 

It was a bitter cold evening in late December or January 1955/56, as we pulled into the parking lot. As usual we were almost late, and the building was already full. We were playing their Senior team and were looking forward a good clean game. Our team received relatively few penalties, partly because we only had four defencemen and six forwards. We had some very good players such as, Manager, Rudy Sokalofsky, (he did everything) Art Jones, Bob Stark, Vic Worobey, Bruce Pultz, Irvin Sabadka, Brian Bearling, Me, and others I just cannot remember with my 83-year-old brain.

We were playing the Humbolt Senior Team.

The Game began and was a see-saw battle through the first two periods. In the third period they got a goal at about half time, we tied the score a few minutes later.

I won the faceoff and through a few nice passing plays, suddenly I was almost on a clear breakaway, that is except for one of their excellent defenceman. He was sort of hanging on to me as I tried to get around him. I had just fought clear when I felt his glove grab my leg and I fell to my knees.

 The defenceman fell on top of me. I managed to pull away, with all my might. Just as I managed to get clear of the defenceman despite the noise and excitement I heard a soft exclamation “Oh my God.”

Any forward playing Hockey in any league, after getting away from a defenceman, has one thing in mind ‘Go fast, Score’

To this day I don’t know why, but I stopped instantly, and turned back to see the fallen defenceman. 

Just writing this paper today I cringe as I remember!

He was laying on his back, there was a slight gurgling sound. Suddenly blood was bubbling out of his upper thigh area, right through his heavy hockey stocking! He looked at me with wide eyes as I dived on top of him. He was losing his color. I placed both hands over the bubbling blood and pushed as hard as I could, as I screamed at the top of my lungs for a Doctor. It was then I realized I was being punched on the head by what turned out to be his brother.

 Then the brother realized the situation and put his hands over mine. I realized this boy was going to die if we didn’t get a tourniquet.

 I pulled my hands from under his brothers and skated (and screamed for help) as fast as I could to the far end of the rink, jumped over the boards and ran through the crowd to the small eating area, leaped over the counter and grabbed a towel out of the hand of a girl drying dishes, and immediately ran back. By the time I got back, probably two minuets, there was a small crowd surrounding the fallen player, he was unconscious. I believe there was at least one doctor, and maybe a nurse or two.

 From that time until we got to the dressing room I remember nothing. My brain had turned off, I didn’t know what was going on. The injured player was rushed out through the rear doors. (we were later told the hospital was behind the rink). Both teams were sent to their dressing rooms    We understood this was to clean the ice (a large area of blood) and decide if the game would go on. We didn’t want to continue and understood the other team did not. As we sat there in total silence, some of us took our skates off to rest our feet.

I took off my left skate first, what a relief as it slid off, and my toes started to recover.  The instant I started on my right skate I noticed it seemed a darker color, and my dark colored stockings, seemed darker. Then as I pulled the skate very gently off, a small trickle of blood rolled off the skate. I then noticed the back of my skate blade was covered in dried blood. Then the enormity of the situation struck me.

“Oh no!” I cried. “My blade must have cut his leg.”                                                                                                                    

My skates had been sharpened so many times, the back of both blades had been ground down to a virtual point.

As it turned out, the blade tip had entered deep into his thigh, and when I pulled extra hard, his artery had been severed.

In those days skate blades didn’t have the plastic tips on the back to prevent just this sort of accident.

The officials decided the game would continue. Both teams played as in a trance, we won by a large score and have felt guilty ever since.

Our team volunteered to give blood, and stayed at the rink for several hours, until the hospital told us to go home.

                                                  Part Two – Humbolt -  Genealogy

In the 1911 Canadian Census I found my Grandmother and Grandfather lived in Humbolt Saskatchewan, with their three children, Wilfred, Walter, and Hunter.

They both worked in the one large hotel, William as the Cook, and Nellie as a Waitress. The 1911 Census was very detailed giving wages and number of hours the citizens worked.

A very and intriguing aspect of this Census was the family appears to have been done twice. Once at the Hotel by the Parents, and again, by Nellie’s Mother, Melisa Visiting from Ireland I believe to help with the Children.

TO GIVE CAPTAIN COOK A HAND

THIS IS AN ACTUAL PICTURE OF THE ACTOR (MY PASSENGER) IN HIS COSTUME - LOOKING CONSIDERABLY BETTER HERE!

THIS IS THE GREAT MAN'S CALLING CARD!

CAPTAIN COOK


March 29th 1778 – Captain John Cook on his third great voyage of discovery, with the two ships Discovery and the Resolution explored the coasts of what later became British Columbia and Alaska. The ships made landfall in Nootka Sound on Vancouver Island. Cook and his crew in fact believed they were on the west coast of the North American mainland. A member of his crew, midshipman on that voyage was a determined twenty one year old by the name of George Vancouver. He looked plaintively threw the small porthole at the beautiful scenery. He vowed one day to return and explore this great land.

June 13/ 1792 - aboard Captain George Vancouver’s ship The Discovery in the straits of Georgia, off the coast of what is now Tsawwassen. It was a brilliant sunny day with just a little sea fog over the Eastern Shore.
“Captain, there seems to be a lot of mud in the water around these parts, must be a very large river running into the ocean nearby.” Said Wilson, second mate on Captain Vancouver’s ship.
“ Naw it doesnt look like much from here, anyway we have a lot of mapping to finish today without wasting time looking for little rivers in this wild savage place,” said the Captain, “ Keep to the Northerly heading.” However he indeed did sail into Burrard inlet and thus was the first European to arrive at Vancouver BC - named after himself of course! Regardless of this great discovery Capatain Cook over the years has remained the true hero of the West Coast of Canada!

July 1st 1978 Vancouver Air Traffic Control Centre (ACC).

“Area Control Center, Bennett speaking” I said.
“ Hey Bennett speaking, Roy speaking over here in the Tower” Roy said in his normal smart-ass tone.
“ You won’t believe who I have standing beside me almost in tears, and definitely suffering from a sever hangover”
“You’re right,” I said in my most condescending tone.” I won’t.”
“ Well its Captain Cook, and he has a big problem”
“And just what might that be” I said.
“ It seems he was to open some festival in Oliver at noon today. He was supposed to be on CP flight 6 to Penticton, which left about 5 minutes ago. Could you get the departure controller to ask the Captain if he will return to pick up his most distinguished passenger?” Roy said.

I guess I should explain how Captain Cook got into this mess.

The city of Vancouver had some form of international contest to hire an actor to play the part of Captain Cook to help celebrate his epic voyage up the west coast of North America. The winner turned out to be a young man from London England, Mr. Kelvin Andreu. Kelvin was handsome and dashing, loved the ladies and from the little he told me, was amply loved in return. His duties were to travel around British Columbia in his spiffy new Captain Cook suit opening festivals, new Seniors Centers, ride in parades and other similar type of nonsense. For this he was well paid, in fact he was very well paid.

“I would say the chances are about slim and none, but I’ll ask Dave to give CP6 your request.”

From the supervisor position in the Vancouver ACC one could, by pushing a button, listen to the aircraft and the Controller and could speak straight into the headset of any of the controllers on duty. I waited until a break in the chatter and pushed the ‘Departure’ button.
“Dave, Larry here, when you get a sec ask CP 6 if he will return and pick up Captain Vancouver.”
“Roger will do.”
“Empress 6 Departure, request.” I heard Dave say.
“Departure, Empress 6 go.”
“Roger, the Supervisor would like to know if you would return to Vancouver and pick up Captain John Cook, it appears he missed the flight.”
There was a short delay, not even other aircraft butted in, it seemed they were also interested in the reply.
“Ah that’s a negative Departure, the Captain says he wouldn’t even return to pick up Captain Crunch.”
“Roger check that OK.” Dave said.
“Did you hear that Larry?”
“Check it OK, thanks Dave.” I replied.
“You still there, Peter?”
“Im here.”
“It’s a negative on the return.”

“Boy this is going to kill this guy Larry, he is in tears, says he will lose his job, and be blackballed from the acting fraternity for life if he misses this date”
“ OK Roy tell you what – get him a lift over to the ACC, I’ll drive out to Delta Airpark and fly him there in my plane”
“ Right you are – he will be ringing the bell in ten minutes – Thanks Larry.”

I got one of the spare controllers to watch the supervisors phone and proceeded down to the main entrance just in time to meet the airport security van. George The driver came around and opened the passenger side door. “ I think this is for you Larry”. He said as a bleary-eyed 18th century mariner stumbled out onto the road.

“Are you Larry?” This apparition grunted with a distinct English accent.
I nodded
“Well I really do appreciate this but I don’t really think you can get me to my parade in time. Actually you see the parade is in Oliver BC. I was to land in Penticton and be met by some local officials and drive to Oliver in a limo. It all looks quite hopeless, we’re at least 25 minuets behind the airliner. ”
Looking at this poor wretch with slumped shoulders, glistening eyes and what could only be called a genuine hangdog expression made me want to help. Did I mention sour whisky breath?
“ Never mind all that, Follow me to my car we have no time to waste I have a plan.” I said. I did have a glimmer of a plan just beginning.
I would drive to Delta Air Park, we would untie my 225hp Beechcraft Bonanza single engine aircraft, jump in and be in Oliver within an hour. In fact if the greeting party were to drive to Penticton, stand around a bit before realizing the Captain wasn’t coming, drive back and report we just might get to Oliver before them.

So, we drove to Delta Air Park (rather rapidly) and skidded to a halt next to the aircraft.

I untied the tie down ropes , checked the oil, and did a quick walkaround.

“ OK Captain, jump in and close the door tight, cinch up your seat belt, oh and by the way do you have a real name?”
“Yes it is Kelvin Andreu I’m a professional actor from London, in fact I was the understudy to Sean Connery for the part of James bond.”
“Well that’s pretty impressive, this must be quite a come down.”
“No not really, I’ve been out of work for some time – and the BC government is paying me very well.”

We were started, did a quick runup, and in the air within five minutes.

“Ok Kelvin, when we get to ninety five thousand feet we will be cruising at about 190mph, your flight should be landing at Penticton in about 5 minutes. We are going direct to Oliver, they have a small strip only usable by light aircraft like ours, I figure we will be there before your welcoming committee has returned without you.”
“Oh man, I can’t believe my ears, if you can get me there I won’t lose my job I’ll be eternally grateful.” “In fact I will give you my plane ticket, and you can cash it in”.
We leveled off in about 12 minutes, and with a bit of a tailwind were truing out at about two hundred and ten miles per hour. The weather was clear with a few minor bumps as we got over the rocks, but nothing serious. Kelvin appeared to be a nervous passenger, maybe it was from the hangover I didn’t know, but I had a virtually foolproof cure for this problem. I would let the passenger fly. Usually this took their mind off their doubts and gave them some control (they thought) over the situation.

“Would you like to fly for awhile Kelvin?”
“No, that’s Ok you carry on.” He said, with a quavering voice and shaking hands.
“I’m sure you are cut out to be a great pilot.” I said as I passed the control column over to him. I should explain. The Beechcraft Bonanza aircraft had only one control wheel, it was on a swing over column in the middle of the cockpit. Only one person could actually fly at one time, ie no copilot position in the normal sense of the word. Kelvin did not say a word at first; he just clenched his white knuckles around the wheel and starred straight at the mountains ahead. After a few moments he dared a sideways glance over at me. His mouth dropped about a foot, his eyes seemed to get much larger when he realized I had no means to control the aircraft, and he was actually doing all the flying.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?”
“There’s no problem, if anything comes up I just depress that button and you swing the control wheel back to me, simple.”
There was just the drone of the engine for several minutes, and I noticed Kelvin was settling down and seemed to be enjoying the struggle to keep the aircraft straight and level.

Suddenly a strange thing happened – SILENCE – DROPPING - silence is very quiet when seconds before it had been quite noisy. Dropping from the sky can be a little disconcerting when seconds before one was flying fairly level, not to far above mountain peaks as far as the eye could see. The combination of these two occurrences simultaneously, upon a hung over, nervous, terrified, inexperienced passenger that believed he was in total control of the aircraft was I guess not unexpected.
He froze.
Unfortunately his hands also clenched the control column with a death grip. It appeared he lost all hearing. He looked straight ahead, with rather large eyes, but said nothing.
“No worry Kelvin, I just have to change tanks.” I said as I was tying to press the button on the control column with my left hand while trying to pull the column back with my right hand. Kelvin’s arms had gone rigid – that is straight forward – that obviously means he is pushing the control column forward – ie down – not such a great idea.
“Kelvin let go of the F---g controls” I screamed as I quickly changed my left hand over to transfer to another fuel tank. I was still trying to release Kelvin’s death grip when the engine roared back to life. NOISE, now that was good, SPEED BUILD-UP, that was very, very bad. KELVIN in control?. That was impossible. Mountains rising toward us at an alarming rate, plenty of valleys about, but they were not intent on attacking us it seemed.

There was only one thing to do I decided (now remember this all happened in probably ten seconds at most) so I punched Kelvin as hard as I could on his left ear. He immediately slumped forward like he was dead. This was not too good, he was about two hundred pounds pushing forward again. I did however have the button pushed in and managed to throw him back into his seat and brought the controls over to my side of the aircraft. I quickly regained control and climbed up the a reasonable ten thousand feet, we had only lost about two thousand feet.
Kelvin stirred and moaned a little, “Geez this hangover is killing me, my head is throbbing like I have be hit by a truck”.

“Don’t worry about that, we’ll be in Oliver in about fifteen minutes, you had better try and get yourself spiffed up a bit, we will probably land right at the starting point of your big parade”.
With this advice he started to try and get some of the creases out of his clothes, fluff up his hat, and lastly he spit what appeared to me to be most unappetizing gook on his hands, and sort of washed his face and slicked down his beard and hair. I almost threw up.

‘See over that ridge, that is the runway at Oliver, looks like a rather large crowd is out to see their hero”.
“Oh no, it does look like a large group, but I don’t see a runway, where are you going to land?”
“Well it looks like they are doing their organizing on part of it, but if we give them a little buzz they should make room for us”.
Well we did the little buzz routine, unfortunately I reckon they figured we were just some misfit that should know better than to try and land on a small runway covered in people. So I buzzed again (they had no radio) but much lower, than did a turn and landed at the far end – no problem at all. I slowly taxied toward the small grandstand at the far end of the runway with the windows and doors open. The raised fists and mouthed obscenities turned to cheers as they spotted the suddenly spry, grinning and hat waving Captain Cook.

Kelvin got out just as the party from Penticton was arriving to report Captain Cook had not arrived. I didn’t turnoff the engine, slowly turned around and took off the opposite direction.
As far as I heard Kelvin kept his job for the rest of the summer.

PS Kelvin never did give me his plane ticket.





HE DID THOUGH GIVE ME HIS BUSINESS CARD!



larry
bennett
Feb. 28 2009

Air Traffic control - hutcheon Inquiry - Youth - Amazing what can be done!

A VW VAN SIMILAR TO THE ONE I TOOK THE ENGINE FROM -- IT IS IN THAT LITTLE OPENING UNDER THE TRUNK.

THIS IS JUST LIKE THE BUG (BUT MUCH BETTER LOOKING) THAT I REMOVED ITS ENGINE AND REPLACED IT WITH ONE FROM A VW VAN.

                 ME AND THE TWO OLDEST AT QUEEN ELIZABETH PARK - 1960
                                 BETH AND FAMILY  QUEEN ELIZABETH PARK 1962
                                                                     ME IN 1968
                                               
                                                     WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG

I am, at the present time, seventy-five years old. I guess I should be thankful to have arrived at this relatively ripe age with most of my faculties intact. These days my Granddaughters often lift heavy objects, carry in the groceries, tell me to take it easy- “don’t hurt your back Grampa”- and generally show me such love it makes me feel rather embarrassed, but so thankful for my many blessings.

It does though make you remember when you were young, strong, and yes even moderately bright and intelligent.

When I was a young married man in my late twenties I never got tired, could go with limited sleep, was very strong (two chin-ups with one hand) and I felt I could accomplish anything I put my mind too.

It was November 1964, I was a twenty-nine year old Air traffic Controller, and married to Beth. Beth and I had been Teenage Sweethearts and got married on Sept29 1956 in Regina. I was passing through after graduating from the Air Traffic Control College in Winnipeg. We had four young children from seven to two years old. We had built a new home in Tsawwassen in 1960 and had a 1955 Volkswagen Beatle car that the kids loved, especially the bunny seat - the open area between the back seat and the window. Beth had her hands full looking after our little brood, and as all mothers know, it can be exhausting. She had been feeling poorly for a few years, but never complained. It wasn’t for another seven years before she was diagnosed with Celiac disease. During this time her weight had dropped from about one hundred and thirty- five pounds, to ninety-seven pounds.

We had been having engine trouble with the car lately - blue smoke – fouled plugs – stalling, etc. We also had a Volkswagen Van taking up space in the carport with the brake lines corroded out – one of my less than brilliant car deals.

I was the Regional Councilor for the BC region of The Canadian Air Traffic Control Association (CATCA), and was at this time deeply involved in The Judge Hutcheon Inquiry into the Vancouver Air Traffic Control Centre (ACC). This inquiry was the result of a strike I as the senior executive of our association had called a few months earlier. We were told by numerous ‘experts’, including the head office of CATCA that it was illegal for Federal Civil Servants to take strike action. I went down to the Vancouver library and to the BC Law Library but could find nothing that said it was illegal. And as I often said, we were not very civil, and we certainly were not servants! I believe this was the first Canadian civil service strike called in Canada. We though did not actually go out, due to the Canadian Government agreeing to our terms.

Subsequently the “Hutcheon Inquiry into conditions at the Vancouver Air Traffic Control Centre” was struck. At this time the Area Control Centre in Vancouver was undoubtedly one of the worst in the world. We, without the approval of the CATCA National executive, in fact before the dust had settled the Vancouver branch of CATCA had been officially disbarred from the Association. The Vancouver membership had called the strike, to draw public attention to the under staffing and more proposed cuts to manpower. The dismal state of our aged equipment, poor equipment maintenance, and squalid working conditions, would be more than enough reason to go on strike. However without a doubt our greatest problem was poor management. At this particular juncture of our management problems we the Controllers had basically taken over control of the Centre and were staffing most of the management positions as well as the control positions until the inquiry was complete.

I was the official Controllers Representative at the inquiry and of course this meant I definitely had to be at every meeting – and on time. I also tried to drop in at the Area Control Centre on my way to the inquiry to see how things were going. Driving an unreliable car was one more worry I really didn’t need.

At this time I was also the Owner/Operator of Van-Cal Building Maintenance Ltd. We had our office on Hastings Street just off Main in the downtown Vancouver East Side. and had about 25 employees. When I bought the business a year earlier, I had the very good fortune to have Jack Gilchrist stay with the business as office manager. Jack had just turned 82 but despite his age he could outwork most 20 year olds. Jack definitely was the brains and all-round everything (except being able to drive) for our Company. I would go into the office every day. Either after day shift at the ACC or before evening shift. Since we did the majority of our actual work in the evening I often would work with the crew into the early morning hours, and get home at two or three in the morning, and get up at five in time to get to the ACC by six.

At this time I played hockey for the Tsawwassen O’Keeffe’s hockey team in the Delta Senior Hockey League, and was a standby Referee for the League. I was also the Coach of the Tsawwassen Midget hockey team. I know it is hard to believe but I was also the Group Chairman of the newly formed Tsawwassen Boy Scouts – as I am writing this in my relatively decrepit state, even I am having trouble believing the words – so all in all I was a pretty busy person.

It was a Sunday, I had worked dayshift at the ACC from five-thirty am until two-thirty pm. I then went down to the Van Cal office and helped Jack get the crews out and sign a few checks.
“So Larry, how’s the big inquiry going?” Said Jack.
“Well, we start the second week tomorrow morning at ten, so far we have entered about forty exhibits and I reckon we should have about another forty to go.
“That seems like a lot of exhibits, what kind of things are you putting into the inquiry?”
“Oh, you know things like stupid memos, outage reports for the Radar, Radio failure reports, staffing reports, and on and on it goes. Speaking of that I must get going, have to prepare a few more papers.”
“You not going to stop by and see how the new guys are working out?”
“No not today Jack, have to get home, think I’ll clean the spark plugs again when I get home, it would hardly start when I left the Centre this afternoon.”

With that I got into my Beatle and ground the starter until the battery almost died, but it did start. I drove through the entire city, onto highway 99, and south to the Massey Tunnel, all the while with a light blue haze trailing behind, sort of like leaving crumbs. As I got to the Tunnel the traffic for some reason came to a complete standstill. I sat there in neutral watching in the rear view mirror the blue smoke gently rising over the hood of a very large car behind. The expression on the face of the fellow driving that car was not cheerful. The line started to move so I gave it some gas and an enormous blue cloud seemed to totally envelope the guy behind. Unfortunately we only went a few feet and stopped again. I had just come to a stop when my driver door was yanked open and a very angry, very large guy, screamed several obscenities relating to me, my car, my ancestors and a few other remarks I didn’t quite catch. Fortunately the traffic was starting again and the fellow behind my friend started honking, so he slammed my door, and with a few parting screams, got into his car.

The rest of the drive home was uneventful, but as I drove a wee plan started hatching in my little brain. When I got home I would take all the spark plugs out of the Beatle and exchange them for the new ones that were in the useless VW Van.

I got home about five PM, had a quick bite to eat and changed into my overalls. I guess here I should describe the layout of the house and Carport. We had a typical 1960 CMHC two level home – 1100 sq ft on each level – upstairs completed, ground level in the process of being done. We had a single car Carport on the south side (that could almost hold two cars end to end) with a large sundeck above.

I had parked the Beatle behind the Van which meant about two feet of the Beatle was sticking out from under the deck, the end I would be working on. As it was November, it was very dark with a very light misty rain falling, and a temperature of about eight degrees and dropping. I plugged in my trouble light got my toolbox and opened the rear engine compartment of the Beatle. As I pulled the wires off the four spark plugs I had this feeling that I was sort of beating a dead horse (or in this case stomping on a dead Beatle). Anyway I got the four fouled plugs out and went over to the Van dragging my light behind. I opened the engine compartment and stood for some time looking at this relatively shiny engine that I knew ran like a gem. I at times do have this habit of talking and indeed at times, arguing with myself.


You know little beauty, I bet you would fit into the Beatle. Next time I’m in the shop I’ll ask one of the mechanics if it could be done.

As I started to take the first plug out of the Van I had this overwhelming urge to go have a look at the Beatle to see how close of a fit the Van’s engine would be. So over the next ten minutes or so I dragged the light back and forth between the two vehicles until I made a decision.

Well I may be crazy but to me it looks like the two engines are identical. I know, I know it won’t be until I have the one engine out and the other part way installed until I will know for sure if it will fit. In any event I’m not sure if I can even get the engine out of the Beatle.

So now it took another half hour or so to find my two jacks – one a Two-Ton hydraulic bottle jack and the other an old fashioned large bumper jack. I also rummaged around and found several hard cover books that I thought I could use to adjust the heights of the jacks etc.

By now it was after 7PM and getting colder but the rain had completely stopped leaving a little fog just above the ground. I stood looking at the Beatle’s engine.


Well you little monster I have absolutely no Idea just how to get you out, but I think I have enough tools and energy, not so sure about time, but here goes.

With that I got started. Had to find the proper wrench to disconnect the gas line, and then had to find something to clean up the spilt gas. Next after reconnecting the line I had to find a plug to keep the gas from running all over, and start again. Then disconnect the throttle linkages and the wiring (being careful to label everything) running in and out of house finding paper, tape, pen and pencil, spare flashlight etc. It is amazing how many times one runs up or down, or in or out, or around the car, or around the car the other way – it’s amazing. How many times does one crawl on stomach stretching to reach a book or screw driver. The time wasted untangling the light cord every time I went from one vehicle to the other. It is amazing how often knuckles get skinned. Amazing the time wasted waiting for the eyes to adjust from bright light to pitch blackness just feet away.

Everything one does takes time.

By the time I had disconnected everything from the engine I was covered in black grimy grease, knuckles were bleeding, my back was sore from leaning over like a pretzel, and on top of that I was freezing.

I couldn’t believe it – it was almost 10PM and it looked like I had hardly begun. I’m sure all of you out there who have done any work at all on cars (I guess this only applies to the older crowd since there isn’t much a person can do with the newer vehicles) know nothing ever goes right, and everything takes longer than expected. Imagine it is late at night; you have basically destroyed your car. Add to this you are in a hurry, you don’t really know what you are doing, have no one to ask for help, but you realize there is only one thing to do – keep working.

Now I am not going to bore you with all the sordid details of this evening from hell, but more than once I sat down and decided to cry and give up. More than once I swore at that stupid Beatle. I swore at the Van. I swore at the stupid Inquiry. I swore at the books that kept falling down just as the engine was about level. I swore at my tools, or more accurately lack of tools. But as nighttime turned to early morning I cursed myself for being an idiot!

So by about 4; 30 am believe it or not, I had dragged the engine from the Beatle onto the grass. I had removed the engine from the Van. I had dragged it to the back of the Beatle. I had somehow got it up and into the engine compartment [after having it drop several times when the books toppled] and eventually had everything connected. I had even lined up the engine with the transmission properly – this was I found out a few days later was just plain dumb luck.

And it even started. And it moved back and forth a few feet.

I was quite tired!

I went in and had a long hot shower, and almost got clean.
I was asleep by 5; 30 and had a nice long sleep till about 7; 30.

Before this I was always grumbling to Beth about the spoilt brat syndrome these judges and lawyers had about working anything like a full day. They felt that beginning at ten AM, have a fifteen minute break and quit by twelve-thirty, at the latest, was a very hectic pace. After having a two hour lunch break they would put in another two hours or so and call it quits.

However this day I did appreciate these hours as I also had to stop into the Centre for a meeting with the - Controllers Advisory Committee - as to our strategy re some management papers we were given access to the previous Friday. I arrived (driving my purring Beatle) about eight-thirty, listened intently to the briefing, was away by nine-thirty and arrived at the meeting room in the Federal Building at ten AM sharp.

As I entered the room I was met by Eric Winsor who was the Assistant Deputy Minister of Transport (ADMA).He was the Federal Governments official representative at the hearing, I guess he was my official opposition. The word out of Ottawa was that his position was where all the decisions were actually made, in other words it was the ADMA with all the brains.

“Good morning Larry, you’re looking bright and cheery this morning.”

“Morning Eric, thanks you’re looking pretty busy-tailed yourself.

“So Larry, how many more exhibits do you figure to add to the stack we have now?

“Oh I’m not sure but I would guess about double what we have introduced so far.”

“Man oh man, I really can’t figure out where you get all the stuff, I mean all those old memos from years ago- how did you get hold of them?”

“It was really quite simple, I make photo copies of all Memos and Directives, have been doing it for several years. At first it was just for fun – many of them were really quite funny, at least to an active Controller. Then as things in the workplace went from bad to worse it dawned on me these ridiculous instructions may become useful some day so I kept them at home .As I have often stated: if we were to actually operate by following all the various written instructions we would never move any aircraft. It is so very obvious that management only put out these directives to cover their collective asses. Consequently the Controllers were continually violating scores of directives day in and day out, which of course added considerable stress to a job that already had more than enough. Oh, Oh, see you got me going, sorry about that – it will all become clear before we wind up – I hope.”

“I’m sure it will Larry. Here comes Hutcheon, guess we better grab our seats and get to work.”

As the day ground on it became very clear that Mr. Winsor was not the kind of manager we in Vancouver were accustomed to dealing with. He was very attentive, and asked intelligent questions of the witnesses. At about three o’clock a young woman entered the meeting room and asked to speak to me.

“Mr. Bennett we just received a call from the ATC Centre, they asked me to remind you of your meeting with the people from Carlton University, it’s at five PM over in the Federal building.”

“Oh right, thank you very much, I had totally forgot about that meeting.”

About six months ago we had received a note from Ottawa advising that the Federal Government would pay all expenses toward an accounting degree at Carlton University. Interviews would be held in Vancouver sometime in November. I had applied for an interview.

So as luck would have it, the meeting lasted a bit longer than usual, so it was about four-thirty when I was collecting my papers and about to run off down the street for my meeting with the Carlton University group when Eric tapped me on the shoulder.

“What say I take you out for dinner tonight, don’t know about you but I’m starved.”

“Well that is very kind of you Eric, I would love to join you, but I have a meeting in about 20 minutes to attend, and then I must get down to my company to make sure we have everything set for this evening.” I really could use a nice meal but just can’t fit it in, thanks anyway.”

“Ok Larry that’s fine I just thought you were looking a little peeked as the meeting progressed.”

Now that he mentioned it I was suddenly getting a little tired, and I still had at least another couple of hours before I started for home, which if I haven’t mentioned it, is just a little over thirty kilometers from downtown Vancouver.

Anyway after apologizing again I started off to walk the two blocks to the Federal Building for my interview. As I entered the street two things hit me simultaneously – I had forgotten my coat, and a brisk wind was slanting rain across the streetlights at about forty-five degrees. I guess one doesn’t have to have much of an imagination to realize by the time I arrived at the Federal Building I was soaked to the skin.
By the time I found the right room I was shivering and just a tad out of sorts.

“Mr. Bennett you have kept us waiting over two minutes, do you realize how busy we are?”

This friendly greeting emitted from the mouth of a skinny little guy with greasy black hair wearing a puke colored suit about three sizes too big for him. Sitting beside him was a young harried looking woman with red hair and very large glasses that seemed to highlight the disgust she had for the scruffy bit of humanity that had encroached upon her turf.
“Well I’m very glad to meet you as well.” I said as I held out my hand.

Mr. Puke suit seemed totally taken aback but reluctantly held out his hand.

One of my little eccentricities is that I have always had a very firm handshake. To say his handshake was like a dead fish would definitely be insulting the fish. As I let go of his hand he immediately pulled it back as if he had been stung by a large wasp, and while shaking his hand said.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, don’t you know who I am?”

“Well as a matter of fact, I don’t. I must have missed your name with your warm welcome.”

“Listen here Mr. Bennett, don’t try being smart. Do you really think you could stand the pressure and hard work required to attend Carlton University?” Interjected Ms. Big Glasses.

I looked intently into the eyes of these little self-centered folks, and was struck by an intense desire to scream loudly, or maybe reach up and grab a scrawny neck - or leave.
I guess I should mention here the master interviewers were sitting in two rather large, padded chairs, on a slightly elevated stage. I was in small wooden chair looking up at them. So I got up from my little chair, pushed it back gently, turned and walked out.

I guess becoming a graduate of Carlton was not in the cards.

The rain was still coming down and I was in even worse shape when I got into my car and started down Hasting Street toward the Van-Cal office. As it turned out one of our employees did not turn up for work that evening. I cleaned her two office buildings, and eventually got home about midnight. After a shower I fell into bed, trying not to think about starting everything all over again in five hours.