Working on Muskoka Biographies

WHEN YOU WORK ON LOCAL BIOGRAPHIES - WOW, WHAT INTERESTING PEOPLE HAVE CALLED GRAVENHURST AND MUSKOKA HOME

SO MANY COMPELLING STORIES WE SHOULD NOW ABOUT - HAPPY, SAD, AND INSPIRATIONAL

     EACH YEAR I'M TEMPTED TO WORK ON BIOGRAPHIES OF LOCAL ARTISTS, WRITERS AND POLITICIANS, AND I'M APPROACHED BY FAMILIES INTERESTED IN PURSUING STORIES ON, OR ABOUT THEIR FAMILY MEMBERS. AT THIS STAGE OF MY WRITING CAREER, I'M PRETTY FUSSY ABOUT THE PROJECTS I TAKE ON, AND WHAT BIOGRAPHY I THINK JUSTIFIES THE LARGE EXPENSE OF TIME, PARTICULARLY ON RESEARCH. I HAVE DONE MAJOR BIOGRAPHIES ON MUSKOKA ARTIST BOB EVERETT, PIONEER PAINTER, ADA FLORENCE KINTON, POLISH-CANADIAN LANDSCAPE ARTIST, RICHARD KARON, AND I'M HOPING TO BE ABLE TO DO SOMETHING ON GRAVENHURST ARTIST, AND WELL KNOWN CANADIAN PRINT MAKER, FRANK JOHNSTON, SOME TIME IN THE NEAR FUTURE.
     HAVING WORKED ON THE CASE OF CANADIAN PAINTER, TOM THOMSON'S MYSTERIOUS DEATH, ALLEGED TO BE THE RESULT OF DROWNING, IN JULY 1917, ON ALGONQUIN PARK'S CANOE LAKE, I'VE JUST THIS WEEK FINISHED SEVERAL MORE FEATURE COLUMNS, RECOGNIZING IT AS ONE OF CANADA'S LEGENDARY COLD CASES. IT WAS PART OF THE 95TH ANNIVERSARY RECOGNITION OF HIS DEMISE.     ADDITIONALLY, WITH THE LENGTHY RESEARCH AND MATERIAL PUBLISHED EARLIER THIS MONTH, ON WILLIAM HENRY SMITH, AND THE NAMING OF THE TOWN OF GRAVENHURST, IN AUGUST 1862, AFTER A BOOK HE HAD WRITTEN THE SAME YEAR, I'M WORN DOWN HERE AT THE KEYBOARD. I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO TURN MY HEAD MORE THAN A COUPLE OF CENTIMETRES LEFT OR RIGHT SINCE THE START OF THE NEW YEAR. I GNASH MY TEETH WHILE WRITING, AND IT COMPLICATES MY NAGGING JAW DISORDER. SHORT VERSION, WRITING IS BAD FOR MY HEALTH. BUT I'D RATHER DIE AT THE KEYBOARD, THAN BENEATH A PINE FLAT TO THE WALL, FALLING OFF A PICKER'S TRUCK......WHILE A CUSTOMER, ABOVE, ASKS IF I COULD PLEASE DO BETTER ON THE PRICE.

REBOUNDING AND KNOWING HOW TO RE-BOOT IS THE TOUGHEST PART OF WRITING

     The problem with writing for me now, is staying motivated. I began writing for publication back in the mid 1970's, and I've only ever had a year hiatus, when I hated everything connected to the writing industry. I left two local newspapers disgusted by the way I was treated, and vowed never to involve myself in the publishing industry again. Suzanne, bless her heart, kept working me out of my funk, and put a focus on kicking the bad memories aside, and pushing onward with a different perspective, and an open agenda. I did go back to the newspaper business, but always on a freelance basis, and generally, for the re-payment of services, with an appropriate advertisement exchange for whatever promotion I required. What Suzanne did, over a number of months, was suggest books to read, that might bring me back to my roots, and interests in writing. So the first book I read, was Stephen Leacock's "Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town," and it took about three days to finish. It happened to be at a time, when a bad snowstorm had us all buried, and it just wasn't safe to navigate to our shop in Bracebridge. But really, it was one book, that got me back on track, writing the stories I had wanted to pursue for most of my life.
    For one of a dozen reasons, I stuck to news and feature stories and not much more.  Maybe I did start imitating Leacock, just to see if I could get back my mojo. Gradually, over many periods of trial and error, and frustration, I found the reason to work out some style issues, and read more and more, of the kind of work closer to my field of interest. Garrison Keillor, the legendary American storyteller, was certainly a huge inspiration, and one of the voices I loved to hear on his regular radio show.....talking about the days at Lake Wobegon, in Minnesota. His characterizations of the citizens of the community, so intimate and humorous, that it all became so wonderfully human and familiar, as if the listener had been in that town his or her whole life.......and understood, and laughed about, each foible of character, we could picture in our minds......by the charming grace of the story teller, allowing us entry into his imagination, and the colorful world he saw and experienced.
     Folks who have been close to me, or our family, know that I'm always working on similar biographical sketches, and while not stand-alone books, are profiles that fit into the mosaic of our neighborhood, community and region. If I know you at all, I guarantee, I've got your biographical profile in my mind. It's just the way I am, but that doesn't mean that you will wind-up in a column or book, because of my hobby profiles. I have been called on many times, for quotes from other writers and researchers, about relationships I've had with local politicians, community leaders, athletes, poets and artists. This goes back to my news-hound days with the local press. When I was out researching an event or news tip, the human sources of the gathered research, were always intimately imbedded in the story, whether it seemed that way or not. It was a necessary part of the job, to understand those who wished to talk to us, in order to determine how genuine the information was, or if we were being duped by a citizen, for unspecified gain. So before I wrote any story, I had a pretty good knowledge of the subject or the source of the information, just in case. People suffering from mental disorders often found gullible reporters, looking for a big scoop. You had to know how to spot a less than responsible source of information. So by the rigors of the job, I started making these mental biographical studies, most of which have remained in my inventory of stories-completed, and many times, these recollections have proven enormously helpful, when a parallel or repeat story, from the same angles and situation, arises in the present tense. The material isn't written down, but I never forget the mood and intensity of past interviews.
     I can't turn it off, dear friends. I'm a biographer in waiting, and even if we're having coffee, and small talk, I'm remembering the occasion, as if it might be as important later in life, as it is at present. While some might feel this is an invasion of privacy, if they know me at all, it is soon realized I have no interest in financial gain, and I have never written a "naming-names" expose, because this doesn't serve my interests as a community writer. As for the intimacy thing, I can tell anyone concerned, that my standard of confidentiality, has never diminished since my days as a reporter, and I would go to jail to protect a source. In news reporting, I found myself many times, in situations, when there was danger to both myself and to someone other than the person I was interviewing. I'll give you an example.
     I came into the former Herald-Gazette office, one morning, to find the receptionist agitated, and I immediately assumed, someone featured in a news story, possibly a driver nailed with an impaired charge, was going to take a round out of me before my first full cup of coffee. I never more than sip, a wee bit, from coffee brewed at home. "There's a gentleman in your office, who wants to talk to the editor." Well, that was pretty typical, for the day after the newspaper was on the store shelves. If you got your paper by mail, this was generally the case. I was always on guard on these days, as I had to answer for the editorial work and integrity of all our contributing writers, including community correspondents. I dodged a lot of waving fists in those days. Most ended with a hand shake, but there were tense moments let me tell you!
     The gentleman pacing in my office, indeed, wanted to speak to a writer. The idea was that I would write a story about the way his wife was being manipulated by a member of the local clergy, and how she had been convinced to leave him. He was a big man, and he was very angry and wouldn't settle in one place to talk. He moved through the large office, belonging to the publisher, and I wondered why he kept putting his hand into his left jacket pocket. I did believe, at this moment, had I given him the bum's rush, out the door, he may have taken out his frustration on me. I paused him, and offered an apology, and asked another reporter, to come into the room, as potentially the staffer who may be assigned the story. It got worse. He didn't want to reason it all out, or relax, but instead get even. He thought we could expose this clergy member, and initiate a complaint against the church, for what had happened. What it came down to, was that the man was accusing the church official, of having an affair with his wife. It put this on real shaky ground, and it took us about an hour, to finally address some of his concerns. I studied him as close as if he had been a biography project, times ten. I really did believe he would have lashed out at one of us in that room, if he had sensed we were just trying to pacify him for the moment. This required us to be patient and sympathetic. We never resolved the issue, but just the fact we had listened to him, and allowed steam to release in our presence, calmed the situation enough, that he believed we understood his circumstance....and that we would carry-on with the investigation into his claims. We did in fact, and we found out that it was a very tragic circumstance, and he had simply tried to tie the minister, and church, into what was a timely decision to leave an abusive relationship. That was it. No misconduct. Just a domestic problem....with spin-off. For police, domestics can turn deadly. I didn't want any one to suffer injury on that day, and the case eventually resolved peacefully for all involved.    I've sat down with those preparing for death, and although sad for all concerned, I have found some of these conversations to be incredibly enlightening, and inspirational, once past the general feeling of inevitability, and sensing the fragile realities of mortality. I listened intently to those people, about to embark on incredible adventures, and have such high hopes of achieving personal milestones and career, artistic, literary and athletic successes. I've been a party to conversations after monumental failures and huge disappointments. I have found all of these conversations interesting, and worth investing in, because of the potential for knowledge sharing, and I've seldom been disappointed. I enjoy conversation of all kinds, and although I might not be able to understand some aspects of the subject matter, I'm eager to learn more. There have been times when I might have felt better, crying along with the subjects, or cheering them on with a high five and a "right on!" But mostly I've just listened, and allowed the story to form without interruption. A majority of these conversations have, of course, never made it to print, and there's little chance of this happening in the future. These chapters are my own personal archives. I've learned a lot from them.
     There was an instance, when a friend attempted to kill his wife, but was only successful in taking his own life. I wrote a column about it, and it created quite a controversy. I didn't take sides, but I presented a profile of my friend that others hadn't known. They were judging him on one act of desperation, and not on an entire life spent being a good citizen. We all have moments and occasions of weakness and frustration, and this particular gentleman had a serious medical condition. And he was not taking his medication, and he told me this prior to the incident. I listened to his stories, when he'd come into our mainstreet antique shop, and like the tales heard by bartenders the world over, my antique counter was a perfect place to rest an arm and unload the woes of the day, week, month or lifetime. I knew he had been going through serious marital problems, as he told me much about the problems he had experienced recently losing the love of his life. Yet he was one of the kindest people I've ever known, and there was never a time of day or night, if I needed help, the man would be there in a flash to intervene.
     I remember an occasion when I was having some difficulty, as a football referee, with a couple of angry players, who stayed behind after the game to have it out. My friend hadn't left the park either. I just didn't know it at the time. As I was getting ready to exit the park, the two chaps stepped in my path, and suggested I should learn how to referee before the next game. I tried to get past, but they wanted to make sure I got the message. My friend had been suspicious this might happen, as he had heard sideline banter, and all of a sudden, he came out of thin air, to stand with me against the disgruntled players. He wasn't a fighter, as such, but we knew that if he was involved in an altercation, it would certainly be long and drawn out, as he was tenacious at everything he did. He'd been in to see me the day before the shooting, and he seemed fine. We talked for an hour or so about local stuff, and general conversation, and there was nothing I saw in him, that day, to give me any suspicion of events to unfold within twenty-four hours. I did my biographical thing, but he was the same guy I'd associated with for years. But it was a condition of the heart at play here, and I missed whatever signs I should have, that afternoon, that might have caused me to either call police, or spend more time with him.....asking many more questions.
     I was standing with Suzanne at our sales desk, when I heard the news report on the radio. There were no names given, but a location was noted. I told Suzanne, at that precise moment, that it was our friend, who had turned the gun on his wife.....and then shot himself. What a terrible burden I felt then, recalling all the friendly discussions we had enjoyed in our years of friendship. I had failed my own stalwart commitment of "attention to detail" as a still-active reporter / biographer. How in the hell could I have missed this in our conversation? I knew him well enough, and understood his many mood swings, and there must have been some clue he presented, that he was planning an exit strategy, and not just for himself. It was tragic in every way possible, and I lived with a feeling of guilt for many years after. When I wrote about it, shortly after the event, I was accused of being indifferent to spousal abuse, and violence against women, siding with a mad man who treated his wife as a chattel, and not as a human being. I remember one woman, stopping me while crossing a street, in Bracebridge, demanding a chance to talk to me at the side of the road. She was wildly angry about my editorial profile, and yet, by time we'd had a few moments to look at the other side, she took me by the hand, and thanked me for explaining my decision to write the piece in the first place. How could anyone condone such a violent, vengeful act against another human. But there were two humans in this crisis. Not one. Even the biographer didn't see it coming.
     In the case of the angry husband, and the interfering member of the clergy,...... as he had threatened bodily harm to the minister, I felt it was incumbent to contact the minister first, just in case, the chap made his way to the church for a more intimate confrontation. I couldn't believe how indifferent he was to the situation, and seemed unfazed by the fact his whole family might have been in danger. I wanted to contact the police, but the minister refused to carry-it-on past our call, and we decided to wait and see if the man would pay us a second visit. It wasn't a story we followed-up on, but I did keep that memory locked away, just in case the man's name came up in other news or community events, after our interview. So it's been a habit of mine since those story hustling days of the late 1970's onward, that I made "biographical study," a pivotal part of my life, whether professional or social. It has flaws. But you know, others close to my friend, confessed the same thing....."we just didn't know how bad it had become." A lot of us shared guilt for his idea of marital resolution.
     I hope to do quite a few more biographies in the future, but I have one important project currently in negotiation, and it will be a gem if everything works out. There are a lot of incredible stories right here in Gravenhurst, and South Muskoka, that should be documented, because they serve to remind us, how small towns can turn out big talents, and major accomplishment.....while remaining modest about it all. It's regretful however, when one of these important stories remains unknown, even amongst the citizenry....and good neighbors. Some folks just don't want to brag about the adventures experienced in their lives. I don't call it "bragging." I do understand, in the case of misfortune and tragedy experienced, why there is reluctance to share these stories. Yet, even in tragedy, there is something to learn and share about the experience, that reminds us all of courage and resolve to face obstacles. I don't exploit these stories for personal gain. I record and relay them, because I understand their importance in the grand scheme.....of knowing ourselves and our neighbors.
     Thanks so much for joining today's blog. Please visit again soon. Remember The Good Brothers Concert, on Sunday evening, beginning at 7:30 p.m. at Rotary Gull Lake Park, in Gravenhurst, as part of the summer season, Music on the Barge concert series. This is the final concert of the year. You better get there early for a good seat. We're looking for sun and fun for this final concert presentation. But bring some rain gear just in case.