The Tartan Magazine (Issue 1: SFU 50th Anniversary Special)

THE PEAK PUBLICATIONS SOCIETY PRESENTS

THE PEAK PUBLICATIONS SOCIETY PRESENTS:

THE TARTAN VOLUME 1, NUMBER 1 FALL 2015 th 50 Anniversary Special

TOP 50 SFU PEOPLE Our not-so definitive rankings of the most interesting characters to ever frequent SFU’s halls.

4

22

36 Statue

or

Bust!

Animal Bowl The story of the once annual UBC-SFU Shrum Bowl Football Classic and all its drunken shenanigans.

A look at how monuments to Terry Fox and Gandhi came to be, and how Simon Fraser was left behind.

FEATURES

FICTION

Margaret J ones

The Only Escape

11th Wonder

A profile of one of SFU’s longest serving employees.

by Tessa Perkins

A peek behind the curtains at the early years of the theatre: the original artistic hub of SFU.

by Tessa Perkins

“He doesn’t dance around naked anymore due to his foot problem, but he still gets by.”

by Ryan Hoben

pg. 34

pg. 11

pg. 44

Mr. Student Union Building

Macra-Mafia

A soon-to-be SFU alumnus explores the value of a post-secondary education.

by Ben Buckley

The little-known origins of a SUB at SFU and the man who fought for it despite the odds.

by Brad McLeod

“Someone is trying to tell me something, and they’re using wool to do it.”.

by Daryn Wright

pg. 42

pg. 15

pg. 50

Poetry

Piped U p

Dream Images

Creative writing from Laura Balsor, Rachel Carrier, Ryan Fitzpatrick, Johnny Hamilton, Rachelle Tjahyana and more.

An exploration of the past, present and future of the SFU Pipe Band.

by Hannah Urquhart and Jasdeep Gakhal

“It’s hard to look for food when one only wants to cry all the time.”

by Dylan Hughes and Joseph Leivdal

MISCELLANY

Why go

to university?

pg. 58

pg. 30

pg. 56

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CONTRIBUTORS Oliver Baker (“Making Ends Meet” pg. 55) is a graduate student in the department of Humanities. He has an MA in English Literature and has published a number of articles on 17th century satire.

Ryan Hoben (“11th Wonder” pg. 44) is an English major who occasionally can be found smoking cigarettes and working on his first novel from the comforts of his tiny one bedroom apartment in East Vancouver.

Tessa Perkins (“The Only Escape” pg. 11) is the current Arts Editor for The Peak. She has a BA in English and French literature (with a minor in Publishing) and is working on a post-baccalaureate diploma in Communications.

Laura Balsor (“Vondel Park” pg. 64) is currently pursuing her passion for knowledge through a post-baccalaureate diploma program in Humanities, to be followed by a Master’s degree.

Dylan Hughes (“Dream Images” pg. 56) despairs in the suburbs of Vancouver, worshiping nature while reading very slowly and writing songs and poems.

Erik Sagmoen (photography for “Statue or Bust” pg. 36) is a fourth year Psychology student who has always had an interest in photography.

Sydney Jordan (“What it’s like” pg. 60) is a fourth year English major at SFU. She writes prose fiction, is an avid photographer, and hopes to pursue graduate work in Cultural Studies.

Madeleine Smiciklas (illustrations for “Mr. Student Union Building” pg. 15) is a first year student studying at the Beedie School of Business, and also taking courses through the Visual Arts program. She is hoping to turn her career into something that incorporates her love for both the arts and business.

Andrea Bolland (photography for “Piped Up” pg. 30) is a fourth year Communications major with a passion for photography and design.

Benjamin Buckley (“Why should anybody go to university?” pg. 42) is an SFU student, soon to graduate with a joint major in Mathematics and Computer Science. His hobbies include reading books, juggling, sculpture, and self-hatred.

Rachel Carrier (“#22” pg. 63) is a fourth year English and Communication joint major.

Her particular poison is poetry and descriptive narrative, which pair nicely with her affinity for talking without end.

Nancy Chen (illustrations for “50 Greatest SFU people” pg. 4) is a third year SIAT major who recently won Surrey’s 2015 Public Art Street Banner Design Competition and enjoys illustrating and reading.

Austin Cozicar (“Animal Bowl” pg. 22) is a third year Communications major. He formerly worked as The Peak’s Sports Editor and is still on the ground covering SFU’s sports scene.

Anisa Maya Dhanji (“Thick”pg.63) is currently studying Linguistics and French up here at SFU. She likes her tea green, her music jazzy and her poetry refreshing.

Ryan Fitzpatrick (“This Racket Seems to Like a Good Poem” pg. 64) is a PhD student in English at SFU and is the author of two books of poetry: Fortified Castles (Talonbooks, 2014) and Fake Math (Snare, 2007).

Johnny Hamilton (“Autononymous” pg. 61) is an author of poetry and fiction. After completing studies in English Literature and Creative Writing at SFU, he does work in the fields of television and theatre.

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Jasdeep Gakhal (“Piped Up” pg. 30) is a fourth year English major and History minor at SFU. Joseph Leivdal (“Dream Images” pg. 56) is a graduate of SFU and writes prose, poetry, and essays. He currently lives in Prague where he is working on a novel titled “Alone in Savoury Heights.”

Jarielle Lim (illustrations for “50 Greatest SFU people” pg. 4) is a third year SIAT major with a passion for doodling and drawing. She currently does freelance art jobs and aspires to be a concept artist or animator.

Christy Lum (illustrations for “50 Greatest SFU people” pg. 4) is a SIAT major who currently manages 4 Instagram accounts, ranging from lifestyle photography to fun, little vector illustrations of poop.

Samara Malkin (“Baby Shoes” pg. 49) wishes her life were a musical. It’d make writing so much easier if she could expect people to break out in encouraging song and dance on the daily.

Brad McLeod (“Mr. Student Union Building” pg. 15) is a Communications major entering his fifth and final year at SFU. He created this magazine.

Kyle Michels (“Manners” pg. 52) is an undergrad student in English at SFU. Geoffrey Morrison (“Puppets” pg. 53) is an SFU alumnus now living in Toronto and working on a Doctorate in Humanities. His poetry can be found in Lemonhound and ditch,.

Rachelle Tjahyana (“The Divorce” pg. 58) is a firm believer in the healing and therapeutic properties of the creative process. She plans on following her dream in becoming an art therapist, so that she may also help others to express and understand their own, unique stories.

Hannah Urquhart (“Piped Up” pg. 30) is a fourth year English and French Literature joint major.

Jonny VanElslander (Photography for Poetry section pg. 63 & 64) is an Environmental Science student doing his honours research on Forest Ecology. He spends his free time taking film photographs and wandering in the woods.

Sam Weselowski (“Her Spirit Rose Under Its Influence” pg. 62) is a fourth year English major who spent the better part of the last year studying in England, meandering in Berlin and working as an adequately unskilled labourer in his hometown of Maple Ridge.

Daryn Wright (“Macra-mafia” pg. 50) writes biographies for Canada’s Early Women Writers and is currently working on her Master’s in Publishing. In her spare time you’ll find her either making cakes or flipping through food magazines.

Andrew Zuliani (Cover art & fiction illustrations) is a graduate student in the department of English at SFU. He studies material and embodied poetry, writes prose fiction, and lives near the beach with his wife.

Maggie Benston Centre 2900 Simon Fraser University 8888 University Drive Burnaby, BC, Canada V5A 1S6

The Tartan operates out of The Peak office which is located on the second floor of the Maggie Benston Centre, underneath Higher Grounds coffee shop.

MANAGING EDITOR

Brad McLeod ASSOCIATE NON-FICTION EDITOR

Austin Cozicar ASSOCIATE FICTION EDITOR

Andrew Zuliani DESIGNER

Andrea Bolland PEAK PUBLICATIONS SOCIETY BUSINESS MANAGER Maia Odegaard BOARD OF DIRECTORS Tamara Connor, Katherine Gillard, Max Hill, Melissa Roach, Natalie Serafini

SPEACIAL THANKS TO . . .

Michelle Curran, Rita Mogyorosi, Joy Rowe and the rest of the SFU Archives staff; Stephen Harman; Rob McNeil and the SFU Pipe Band; M. Diane Rogers of BC Genealogical Society; Brady Wallace and Enoch Weng; Monika Ullmann; George Drake; Arvind Thakore; Tony Buzan; David Mustart; Wayne Elwood; Allen Garr; Mayling Weaver; Rick McGrath; Gurpreet Kambo and the staff at CJSF; Samuel Kerr of Elective Magazine; Alison Roach; Leah Bjornson; Chris Beaton; Steve Frost; Dave Cutler; Jim Jardine; Farhan Lalji; Wayne Holm; Fred Hume; Jason Beck; Frank Smith; Jay Prepchuk; Scott Vass; Brian Pound; Alan Cochrane; Jamie Clayton; SFU Football Alumni Association; Don Andrews; Bruce Leitch; Tim Dumas; Tom Kerr; Penn Lewis; Iain Baxter&; Margaret Jones; John Buchanan; Alan Bevan; Shelley Howieson; Joan Bryans; Andree Karas; Adam Henderson; Glen Cairns, John Howcroft PRINTING COURTESY OF

MET Fine Printers

O

INTRODUCTION

n September 9, 1965, Simon Fra- Purple Period, to Cheap Thrills: a magaser University officially opened zine dedicated to “the unprogrammed exits doors. There wasn’t much posure of what’s going on around us”, to here at first — even the fourth wall of the SFU Komix: “the only REAL SFU comics”, Academic Quadrangle was still under con- to Vulcan Mail: “the semesterly magazine struction — but one thing it did get very of The Gamesters of Triskelion”, as well as quickly was a student publication. a number of literary magazines from The Printing its first rough, mimeographed, Peak and other student groups, SFU’s destapled-together issue on September 17, sire for broader and more diverse media The Tartan was SFU’s “instant” student has never been fully realized. newspaper. It ran for six issues before the In 1995 however, in becoming fully aucreation of a rival paper forced a merger tonomous from the student society, The for what would become The Peak.

Peak Publications Society was created.

While The Peak is the only publica- While the organization has grown expotion that has survived, it was not alone in nentially since the society began, it has SFU’s early media landscape. For the first continued to attempt to do everything two years, the students also produced an under one publication. While news has stayed as a extremely consistent The Tartan is not only a professionfocus of al Yearbook celebration of SFU’s 50th The Peak, a which did not A nniversary but a pilot for a lot of other feature the typical pic- regular semesterly publication. writing has never had tures of the a permanent place.

Fiction and poetry graduating class, but instead told the story of the year with photos and text which are have never had a consistent home and to this day some of the finest historical re- long-form features have never quite got cords we have for the early years of Simon the space or spotlight they deserve either.

Fraser. There was also a briefly published The new Tartan is an attempt to hopemonthly opinions-magazine entitled Com- fully inspire an increase in a variety of pass which went beyond the capabilities publications and media at SFU. This speof a newspaper and gave students a place cial first edition of The Tartan magazine to voice their uncensored thoughts on a is not only a celebration of the milestone broad range of topics. of SFU turning 50 years old, it’s a pilot Both Compass and the Yearbook faced for what we hope can become a regular the same demise due to one simple rea- semesterly publication. While it may end son: lack of money. Since 1965, there have up being just another here-today, gone-tobeen countless publications which have morrow SFU publication, we believe that, come and gone due to funding problems. with your support, The Tartan could be From the off-colour science newsletter The the start of something wonderful.

www.the-peak.ca/tartan Contact: tartan@the-peak.ca THE TARTAN, FALL 2015

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50 (of the)

GREATEST

I

n the past 50 years, a lot of people have passed through this university’s halls. From students to teachers to administrators, athletes, mascots and more, so many people with strong connections to SFU led fascinating lives.

While we wanted to write a comprehensive countdown of the top 50 SFU people ever, there’s no way we could honestly have the

proper knowledge to make that list.

Regardless, here’s a list of 50 great people who went to SFU. Past the first couple, the order doesn’t hold any real meaning.

And of course, these aren’t the only 50 amazing people our school has to offer, but each one of them represents something about SFU that makes it such an unbelievable institution.

TERRY FOX

SFU 1 PEOPLE from the past

50 YEARS

At 18 years old, Terry Fox was His number four might be raised to a young kinesiology major just the rafters in the gym, but he’s definitely trying to make SFU’s junior varsity number one in our hearts (and on this list). basketball team. At 19, he was just trying to beat cancer. And at 21, he was changing the world.

Fox is without a doubt the greatest person to ever attend Simon Fraser University. His 1980 ‘Marathon of Hope’, in which he attempted to run across Canada with a prosthetic leg, inspired global events that have since raised over $650 million for cancer awareness and research.

MAGGIE BENSTON

2

While most students are more familiar with her as a building name than a person, Margaret Benston is one of the most amazing people to ever set foot at SFU. Not only was she a faculty member in SFU’s Department of Chemistry in 1966, who switched to Computer Science in the late 80s, but she founded the university’s Women Studies program in the mid-70s.

Beyond her academic work she was a notable feminist and social justice activist, not to mention a musician 4

who played a leading role in establishing the Vancouver Folk Music Festival.

Although in 1991, at only 52 years old, she tragically passed away after a long battle with cancer, she will never be forgotten at Simon Fraser.

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GORDON SHRUM

3

Love him or hate him, this university wouldn’t exist without him. After being called up out of the blue by Premier W.A.C. Bennett in May of 1963 offering him the Chancellorship, he was put in charge of selecting the site for SFU, building it and getting it going

by September of 1965.

Although he may not have left on the best of terms (he retired following a ton of turmoil involving student and faculty protests, which forced the dismissal of his friend and inaugural president Patrick McTaggart-Cowan) there was

rarely a dull moment when he was around and his legacy remains strong to this day.

Gordon Shrum will always remain integral to the university he decided to put on top of a mountain. (Read about the classic UBC-SFU football game named in his honour on pg. 22)

ARTHUR ERICKSON

4

No, SFU was NOT designed to be a prison. While its architecture might seem a little cold at times, the man who designed it was trying to do something revolutionary, not imprison students. His idea to house all the departments in a single structure (the AQ) instead of separate buildings was unheard of and genius. He went on to have a distinguished career in architecture, but SFU was his first masterpiece.

PAULINE JEWETT

7

In 1974, Jewett joined SFU to become the first woman president of a Canadian co-educational university. Apparently she had a miserable time at SFU in the wake of all its early radicalism, but she did end up getting a residence building named after her, which isn’t too shabby. She also served as a Member of Parliament before and after her presidency.

SIMON FRASER

9

Although the explorer who discovered the nearby Fraser River was not well educated and never dreamed of founding any sort of educational institution, he managed to become the namesake of a top university. He almost became the face too, but a planned monument was axed in 1968 (read more on pg. 36). His Scottish heritage has inspired the majority of SFU’s traditions including our world-famous Pipe Band.

LORNE DAVIES

5

At SFU, athletics are synonymous with the name Lorne Davies.

Despite being a surprise choice for Athletic Director in 1965, he went on to change not only SFU but university sports across the entire country.

Although for the first few decades his decision to offer athletics scholarships was shunned, it has since swept the nation. Clan athletics are what they are because of Davies.

JACK LEE

6

Before a merger with the Port Moody Pipe Band in 1981, SFU’s Pipe Band was just a student club like any other (read more on pg. 30). As the pipe sergeant since that time, Jack Lee has led the Simon Fraser name on to six World Pipe Band Championships. He is also an accomplished solo piper and in 1999, along with his brother Terry, he received the Meritorious Service Medal from the Governor General of Canada.

PARMINDER PARHAR

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Even now that we have a couple of Starbucks, Renaissance Cafe is still like the Starbucks of SFU. They are everywhere! Parminder Parhar founded the SFU coffee hot spot back in 1996 and has been a beloved member of our community ever since.

He is also a champion of fair-trade, a philanthropist, and without him we wouldn’t have Subway.

SHAD

10

Years before he earned international recognition as the new host of CBC’s flagship interview show Q, Shadrach Kabango was working on his Master’s degree in Liberal Studies at SFU. The Canadian “rap sensation” was a part-time student at SFU’s Vancouver campus even while winning Junos in 2011, when he beat out fellow Canadian rap artist Drake for ‘Rap Recording of the Year’ for his album “TSOL.”

JAY TRIANO

11

Perhaps the greatest athlete in SFU’s history, by the time he graduated in 1981, he had broken or equalled eleven school men’s basketball records, scored 2,616 points and was drafted by the NBA’s Los Angeles Lakers. He went on to play in two Olympics, coach in the Olympics and become the first Canadian-born NBA head coach when he was hired by the Toronto Raptors in 2009.

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MINH LE

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In 1999, while he was still a Computer Science undergrad at SFU, Minh Le created a mod for the popular video game Half-Life called Counter-Strike. The game spawned a popular franchise and Le, nicknamed online as ‘Gooseman’, has since gone on to develop and work on several more popular games.

IAIN BAXTER&

NADINE CARON

13

As a contemporary artist who was hired to teach at SFU in 1966, Baxter& had some unique ideas. When asked to instruct a two hour class once a week for 13 weeks, he instead decided to do a single 26 hour straight class (read more on pg. 11). He’s gone on to do a lot of interesting things including legally changing his name to include an ‘&’ symbol in 2005.

TONY BUZAN

RYAN BEEDIE

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An eccentric genius, Buzan was the first student society president at SFU. During his tenure, he was known to play five classmates at chess, at the same time, and win every game.

He left graduate studies at Simon Fraser after only a year, but went on to become the inventor of ‘Mind Mapping’, and the writer of over 100 books about the brain and thinking.

CHRISTY CLARK

17

She may not have graduated or become student society president, but Clark has definitely managed to scrape by. An intimidating politician even as a 20-something year old SFU undergrad, Clark served in the BC legislature for almost a decade before leaving to host a radio show and then returning to become Premier of the province in 2011.

In 2011, Ryan and his father Keith donated $22 million to his alma-mater and SFU Business was renamed the Beedie School of Business. It was the largest gift the school ever received and Ryan, who took over as president of Beedie Industrial in 2001, is known not only for his innovation and vision, but his charitability.

PATRICK MCTAGGART-COWAN

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Although the man who was affectionately nicknamed ‘McFog’ was quite popular during SFU’s first couple years, as he had a reputation of being approachable and nice to students, McTaggartCowan’s run ended pretty poorly. After a number of protests concerning the wrongful firing of five TAs and a CAUT (Canadian Association of University Teachers) censure, the Board of Governors had him dismissed. Despite this unfortunate ending he was a great first president who is responsible for a lot of the tradition we carry on to this day.

STAN WONG

19

One third of the famous SFU Wong brothers who were highly involved in everything during SFU’s formative years, Stan is now the CEO of the Hong Kong Competition Commission. While at SFU, Wong served as the university’s fourth student president and was one of SFU’s inaugural student senators (SFU was unusual at the time for allowing students to be on the Senate).

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Caron did it all at SFU, and then went on to do even more after she left. As a Kinesiology undergraduate student she was a star basketball player and the winner of more than 20 academic awards.

She then went on to become the first female First Nations student to graduate from UBC’s School of Medicine and completed her Master’s at Harvard.

KEN STRAND

20

Look back at old articles of The Peak and you get the impression that this guy was the devil incarnate.

Listen to old faculty members or administration reminisce about him and you’d think he was the second coming.

As the eventual replacement of McTaggart-Cowan as president, Strand started his term by calling the RCMP on students ‘occupying’ the faculty lounge. For better or worse, his presence settled down the raucous campus into becoming what it is today.

50 GREATEST SFU PEOPLE

WILF WEDMANN

21

During his time as a student at SFU, Wedmann was a member of the Student Council, was Editor-in-Chief of the student newspaper, was on the track and field team and was an Olympic athlete, representing Canada in high jump at the ‘68 games in Mexico. To cap it off, in 1972 he was the university’s first ever Rhodes scholar, which paid for two years of postgraduate studies at Oxford.

He later served as the school’s athletic director.

ROBERT TURNER

23

After receiving his PhD in Physics from SFU in 1973, Turner went on to join a global group of his peers and helped create MRI (magnetic resonance imaging), the most widely used method of mapping brain function. His further contributions to MRI scanners earned him the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 2003.

ORVILLE LEE

22

In the late 80s, Lee was recognized as quite possibly the greatest running back ever developed in Canada.

He held 15 Clan records when he graduated and once had a game so good where he rushed for 422 yards of offense, scored five touchdowns, set seven records and was the first SFU athlete to be named NAIA national player of the week, a feat which earned him an appearance in Sports Illustrated. He was taken first overall in the 1988 CFL Draft by the Ottawa Rough Riders.

JO-ANN ARCHIBALD

24

A member of the Sto:lo nation, Archibald is a notable Indigenous scholar who has dedicated her 40-year career to creating culturally relevant education programs for Aboriginal students. In 2004, she was a panelist alongside the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu and she was also the recipient of the 2000 National Aboriginal Achievement Award for Education.

RON BAKER

26 28

Despite being SFU’s first major football star and a first overall CFL draft pick, Holm never made it into the BC Football Hall of Fame. He did however make it into the BC Restaurant Hall of Fame as the co-creator of Spectra Foods who helped develop The Boathouse Restaurant and Milestones.

25

As the first Student Union Building committee chairman at SFU, he inspired a dream that is still being fought for to this day. Pulsford was also fundamental in the evolution of the student newspaper, as well as bringing a number of early student services to SFU. He tragically died at age 25 due to his struggles with hemophilia (read his story on pg. 15).

BING THOM

The first faculty member hired by President McTaggart-Cowan, Baker was the Director of Academic Planning and the first head of the English department. Although his contributions often go unheralded behind characters like Shrum, he was integral to the unique early course offerings and is responsible for the first trimester system in Canada.

WAYNE HOLM

DON PULSFORD

27

When Arthur Erickson was busy designing SFU’s Burnaby location in the mid60s, Thom was still a student at UBC working his way to a Bachelor of Architecture. By 1972, however, he had joined Arthur Erickson’s architecture firm. Ten years later he had his very own firm who went on to design SFU’s new Surrey location in 2004.

MARTIN LONEY

29

On July 17, 1968 an article in the Vancouver Sun entitled “Who is he?” profiled SFU’s biggest radical, a 24-year old rabble rouser from Lancashire, England named Martin Loney. Before arriving at SFU in the summer of ‘66, Loney had already been involved in two university ‘revolutions’ in England. From leading the charge in getting president McTaggartCowan removed, to becoming student society president and trying to change the school’s name to Louis Riel University he certainly was a bundle of excitement and turmoil.

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NATVERLAL THAKORE

KATY HUTCHINSON

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An integral part of erecting the bust of Mahatma Gandhi (story on pg. 36) in a courtyard just off the AQ, Thakore was a devout Hindu who earned a Master’s degree from SFU. He taught the philosophy of education in the early 1970s and has an annual award named in his honour which has been presented every year since his death in 1997.

TOM BOTTOMORE

32

Hired by Gordon Shrum as the first head of the Political Science, Sociology and Anthropology department, despite being a well-known Marxist, Bottomore was one of many early radical SFU faculty members. He left in 1967 following the first academic freedom crisis. He went on to teach Sociology at the University of Sussex from 1968 to 1985.

A passionate advocate for restorative justice, Hutchinson wrote a book in 2006 entitled Walking After Midnight. It told the true story of the 1997 murder of her husband, a fellow SFU grad, and her search for the killer. Inspired in part by the writings coming out of SFU’s Centre for Restorative Justice she has reached out to the man responsible with compassion. She’s transformed this into a speaking career which has played a big role in the lives of thousands of teenagers.

LIISA FAGERLUND

33

As a librarian who worked at SFU from the beginning under head Donald Baird, Fagerlund was SFU’s first University Archivist.

She worked half-time in this position from 1968 to 1975, when she left the school.

After retirement from the library, Baird would become the first full-time archivist when it became its own separate administrative department in 1978.

R. MURRAY SCHAFER

34

Both the term ‘soundscape’ and its academic study, originated with Shafer who developed his ideas as faculty at SFU’s Centre for Communication and Arts in the late sixties. He’s also a notable artist and composer and his ideas about acoustic ecology are widely studied across the world and still particularly at SFU.

MCFOGG THE DOG

35

The other ‘McFog(g)’, our school’s hilarious scotty-dog mascot, was introduced in 1996 after replacing SFU’s unofficial gorilla character. McFogg has had his ups and downs: he’s been beaten up at football games, tipped over because his head was too big and at one point really had trouble keeping his kilt from falling off. He’s a beloved figure on our campus and getting a picture with him should definitely be on your bucket list.

MADGE HOGARTH

36

When SFU opened in 1965, it only had one residence building: a women’s only pad named “Madge Hogarth House”. The woman it was named after was a notable Vancouver philanthropist and put up the money for it. Unlike the rest of campus, ‘the Madge’ was always a place of calm and tradition with Hogarth visiting once a year to drink tea with the girls.

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DANIEL IGALI

50 GREATEST SFU PEOPLE

37

During his time as a student athlete at SFU from 1997 to 1999, Igali won 116 consecutive wrestling matches for the Clan. In 2000, he won Canada’s first ever gold medal in wrestling which earned him the Lou Marsh award as Canada’s top athlete of the year. He has subsequently been inducted into the BC Sports Hall of Fame, the Canadian Wrestling Hall of Fame, the Canadian Sports Hall of Fame, the Canadian Olympic Hall of Fame, and the World Wrestling Hall of Fame.

CARLOS BASANTA

39

The artist behind “Oval Reflections”, better know nas the Avocado-Egg thing in the AQ, Basanta is a prolific local artist originally from Spain. Part of SFU’s Millennium project, the split oval with a mirror inside has entertained, delighted and confused students for the past 15 years.

JAMES FELTER

42

When the SFU Art Gallery went public in 1970, it was under the direction of James W. Felter. He was both the first curator and director, positions he served until 1985. Under his leadership, the gallery presented 127 exhibitions on campus and developed its own program of circulating exhibitions to other public art galleries, principally in western Canada.

38

Retiring this year, SFU alumnus Chu was the first non-white Chief Constable of the Vancouver Police Department. Splitting his time between the police force and university, following graduation, Chu rose through the ranks of the VPD and in 1996 developed their first website. After years of hard work and service beyond the call of duty, in 2007, he was not only named Chief Constable, but was awarded the Order of Merit of Police Forces by the Governor General.

TED DOBB

MARGARET TRUDEAU

40

SFU’s longest serving head librarian, during his 20-year career (1978–1998), Dobb was responsible for a great deal of innovation at SFU, including overseeing the opening of the Belzberg Library at Harbour Centre and creating an online catalogue for the library.

TODD WONG

43

Despite being a historical figure closely associated with Manitoba and the prairies, Louis Riel’s name has played a significant role on campus. After Martin Loney’s radical 1968 summer council weren’t able to get his name to replace Simon Fraser’s, who they called “ a member of the vanguard of pirates, thieves, and carpetbaggers which dispossessed and usurped the native Indians of Canada from their rightful heritage”, the name was chosen for the apartment style residence which opened in 1969 and closed in 2015.

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Her sister Rosalind may have been the first winner of the Miss Simon Fraser pageant, but it was Margaret Sinclair who would become a Canadian household name after she married the Prime Minister of Canada at 22 years old in 1971. She had met him years earlier while on vacation when she was an English Literature major at SFU.

THE SFU GORILLA

What happens when Robert Burns Day and the Chinese New Year happen to be two days apart? Normally nothing, but Wong — who has adopted the moniker “Toddish McWong”, and had helped out in the Robbie Burns celebrations the year before — decided to combine the two cultures in one grand celebration: Gung Haggis Fat Choy.

LOUIS RIEL

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JIM CHU

44

While not a professional looking mascot like his successor McFogg, the Gorilla was briefly the most electrifying being on campus. He was known to do backflips at football games, get in fights with UBC’s T-Bird and was famously knocked out while trying to do a trampoline slam dunk during the halftime show of a basketball game.

CHENGMAN

46

Although he was not an SFU student, the Youtube celebrity who describes himself as a “Prankster, Part-time Asian Gangster, Vlogger, and Batman Pajamas Collector” used SFU as the location of several of his biggest “pranks” including dressing up as a Power Ranger and interrupting classes in the AQ. THE TARTAN, FALL 2015

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50 GREATEST SFU PEOPLE

ALLEN GARR

48

Described with great fondness by inaugural student society president Tony Buzan as “a mini Fidel or mini Che Guevara”, Garr was the original outspoken opposition to the student government. A columnist for the student newspaper while at SFU, Garr has had a lengthy career in journalism, both on the radio and in print. He is also a notable beekeeper.

MARK LITTLE

49

Always interested in comedy, Little was The Peak’s Humour section editor in 2004. He’s gone on to make a name for himself as a sketch and stand-up comedian through Picnicface, a starring role on the CBC series Mr. D, and an appearance on Conan.

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HAYLEY WICKENHEISER

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Considered by many to be the female Wayne Gretzky, Wickenheiser briefly played softball for the SFU Clan in 2000.

As a hockey player, she holds the distinction of having the most gold medals of any Canadian Olympian and in her year at SFU helped the Clan finish 3rd in the NAIA.

CODY BANKS

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Although he may not be a real person, this classic Frankie Muniz character spent time at SFU when the rotunda was used by the movie Agent Cody Banks as the CIA’s headquarters. Other movies filmed at SFU include 1972’s Groundstar Conspiracy, Fantastic Four and Catwoman. The TV show Battlestar Galactica also filmed here.

THE ONLY ESCAPE

The Early Years

of the

SFU Theatre

Written by Tessa Perkins

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ntil 1976, SFU only offered non-credit programs in theatre, dance, film, music, and visual arts, which one might assume meant that the school cared little about the fine arts.

To the contrary, unlike UBC — which took 50 years before building their own theatre — SFU got one the day it opened.

And yes, there weren't any credits for theatre. But what that meant was that students in any faculty at SFU could partake in the arts. The theatre was home to not only dedicated actors and dancers, but to scientists and would-be business people to flex their dramatic muscles, and get an education outside of their classrooms, outside of their degrees.

“People majored in other departments, but they came to the arts because they cared deeply about [it],” said Nini Baird in a 2006 interview produced by SFU’s Retiree Association.

And unlike the quiet, inconspicuous building you now find next to Maggie Benston Centre (now called the Leslie & Gordon Diamond Family Auditorium), the theatre was a vibrant hub of creative and cultural activity. Press from Vancouver even came up the hill to see what all the fuss was about and some of the people involved even became nationally and internationally renowned artists.

Baird continued, “SFU became an example for universities right across North America for its approach to alternative environments for the arts.” hen I first got here to Simon Fraser, it was exciting, it was new,” said Penn Lewis, a charter student. He had been accepted by universities in the UK and California, but SFU was the one he wanted to attend. Having been shy in his adolescence, he liked the concept of an original university with small class sizes and tutorials.

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“My parents had somebody drive me here for the first month or two, and I got very annoyed at that,” he laughed.

“You have to get away from that. I was seventeen and extremely shy. You would never have seen me without a jacket and tie and slacks.”

Despite this attitude, Lewis was attracted to the theatre.

“It opened me up,” he explained.

“Most people knew you couldn’t even touch me – I was very hypersensitive. I would really freak out, and there was a little talk about it, but the people in the theatre helped.”

The mixture of all kinds of people — according to Lewis “there were characters [with] big egos and little egos” — made it a very interesting place to be.

Lewis preferred to remain behind the scenes — he helped the theatre with whatever they needed, whether it be selling tickets, promoting the shows, or stage management.

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The program was a fascinating learning experience where students were exposed to all kinds of ideas: “that’s what happened in the theatre.” he theatre officially opened on November 25, 1965 with a production of A Man for All Seasons directed

by Tom Kerr.

The cast included some very talented people who went on to find a great deal of success in professional theatre, film, and television.

One of the lead roles went to Norman Browning, who came to SFU straight from high school and went on to become a leading man in major Canadian theatre companies. He also has numerous film and television credits including a role in the 1997 feel-good family classic Air Bud. However, for the director himself, the endeavor was a stressful one.

“The first year at Simon Fraser was a nightmare,” said Kerr. “I was used to being in charge — things were very difficult and disorganized.”

There was an atmosphere of unrest, and the feeling that “every time you got up, there was a strike.”

Kerr found himself at SFU at 32 years of age after realizing that he was going to need a degree to be taken seriously by many people. He was known for teaching theatre and for his already impressive directing credits and awards including Best Director at the Dominion Drama Festival in 1964.

“I needed some education, so I went to SFU,” explained Kerr, “and I was asked [if I] would do the drama?”

“I’d been told I’d be doing [the drama program], but I hadn’t made my degrees yet.” The fact that Kerr was not an academic and hadn’t finished his degree turned out to be a problem.

“There was one professor who made it very difficult for me,” said Kerr.

“He asked me to write an essay about

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theatre in Canada, and then ripped it apart. I just had to get on with it.”

Kerr felt that the professor was jealous of his success in the theatre and took it out on him by giving him bad marks.

One of his friends hadn’t done the assignment for this professor’s class, so Kerr wrote the paper for him, and it received a B. “If he knew I had written it, I would have failed. So I had that to deal with.”

“I almost had a nervous breakdown,” he said, commenting that he had also been elected to the board of governors of the newly formed Peak student newspaper.

This stressful period in his life didn’t last long because he soon moved on and went where the theatre called his name.

of Marshall McLuhan [and] to see art as information.”

The non-credit nature of the programs gave the instructors a lot of freedom, and Baxter& probably took advantage of that freedom more than anyone when he decided to condense 13 twohour lectures into one 26-hour lecture.

“I thought maybe you’d learn just as much,” he said.

“I happened to be judging a fashion show, so we went to that.” The class met on campus at eight in the morning and had walkie talkies to keep in touch throughout the day. “We went downtown.

I took them to a sushi restaurant, before [they] were on every block. There are a lot of visual aspects to Japanese food.”

for (the students).” escape only the was re theat “The - Iain Baxter& “I did three terms and got the hell out,” laughed Kerr.

“Sometimes I barely got to class,” he admitted. “But I could write an essay, so I got through. I just wanted to get out and get on with my career.” was hired to be the guy to set up the visual arts,” Iain Baxter& explained.

Until Baxter&, who changed his last name to legally contain an ‘&’ sign, arrived in 1966, SFU didn’t have any Visual Arts program, but he changed all that and put his experimental ideas into practice.

“Going to Simon Fraser for me was coming to this new place where we could have new ideas.”

Baxter&, who is often referred to as “The And Man,” had obtained a degree in zoology and biology, but after a trip to Japan in 1961, he decided to do an MFA in the arts. “I became aware

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They also visited many artist studios and the Vancouver Art Gallery before returning to the university to watch movies. The final assignment for the course was to write a report about the day.

“In the early days,” said Baxter&, “basically, it was your class. I decided to just do this idea I had.”

And nobody stopped him, although there were a few criticisms. “One dean said, ‘Why don’t we just hire you for one day instead of the whole semester?’”

SFU was a place where new, unique, and unconventional ideas could flourish, and nobody was going to shut you down before you tried.

Baxter& was instrumental in founding The Centre for Art and Communication at SFU, which he described as “one of the first places in Canada that focused on art and communications — looking at the arts as integrated.”

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seminal time for me and I think for a from sociology,” Kerr said. “They lot of the people who worked up there.” had a lot of left-wingers. Frankly I Dance students were also integrated wasn’t any wing — I just wanted to with the theatre when productions get on with it.” Many people in the would need to incorporate any kind theatre shared that sense of distance of movement or dance. The dance from the political protests happening program was founded and developed on campus.

by Iris Garland, a highly regarded and Lewis remembered some of the well-known contemporary dance artist activism, which he described as coming who passed away in 2003. Garland was from the sociology and anthropology dea faculty member at SFU until her retire- partments: “They were manned with a lot ment in 2000. of Marxist scholars and that was no secret.”

With such a tight knit community in Protests would sometimes disrupt the arts, students from all disciplines rehearsals according to Juliani. “You’d would spend time together. “My girl- be in the middle of a rehearsal and friend, for a while — she was in dance,” suddenly you’d lost people because they remembered Lewis. “They would tell us were ‘sitting-in’ in the library.” to get involved in sports, but you need “What was happening in the to do dance for the fluidity and move- community was one thing; what we ment. So people would take things like were doing in the theatre was the Scottish dance, and people wondered opposite. I never thought that the thewhy anyone would take that – but it atre people, although many of the stuwould help you in the theatre.” dents in the productions were involved “The theatre integrated with all in politics, took a political stance.” of these different things,” said Lewis. All of the arts came together in the theatre. This included the music program led by R. Murray Schafer, a pioneer of soundscape studies and composer, writer, music educator, and environmentalist who led the World Soundscape Project during his time at SFU. nother thing Kerr had to contend with were protests, sit-ins, and an atmosphere of unrest.

“A lot of the fricA 1966 Program for “The Savage God”, directed by John Juliani. tion seemed to come

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Along with Baird and other staff members, they took their time and spent over a year discussing how the centre would be set up, which Baxter& found valuable because it allowed him to think in a more multidisciplinary way.

“The theatre was the hub,” explained Baxter&, describing it as a place where all major events, lectures, and performances would take place.

“President McTaggart-Cowan embraced that whole centre,” he said.

Although “a lot of [the faculty at] the university weren’t happy it was non-credit, we were protected by the president.”

With strong support from the administration and the freedom to experiment in a non-credit program, Baxter& was able to put his radical ideas to the test.

“I did another talk, up there, one time – it was a lecture – one part involved asking the audience to come down row by row and sit at a desk and I took their name, age, weight, and photo,” he described. He had thought it would be a neat idea to find out the weight and age of the audience.

“The theatre was the only escape for [the students].” hose involved with the theatre weren’t all SFU students. Students, staff, and faculty came to SFU from many different parts of the country because of well-known directors and the experimental, cutting-edge work that they were creating.

One such director was John Juliani.

Juliani joined SFU in 1966 and founded his Savage God Theatre Company that same year. He went on to perform at the Stratford Festival, and was a highly regarded director across the country until his passing in 2003.

Juliani said in a 1989 interview on the Rogers TV series, Conversations, “It was an exciting time at Simon Fraser. They were turbulent years, but certainly a

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one scandalous incident during other working on a project. “There was a production of Juliani’s The one in particular, I think we were doing Devils when a harpist from the the Centralia project in 1966 — it was Vancouver Symphony came up to extremely long and they did a workshop and we were here overnight and overbe part of the show.

“She almost stole the show. night — it was 48 hours or more.”

Through the common goal of creatShe had to sing, and she was a streetwalker wearing a tight ing meaningful theatre, Lewis said he bodice, and she was fairly developed lasting relationships and well-endowed,” laughed Lewis. trust with his classmates, describing “She came out and sang her the way the theatre helped create the tune, and there was a gasp in the strong sense of community that SFU is audience because she had made known for. little rosettes as if her bosom had “You learnt about joint efforts and popped out a little bit from her working together,” stating he also learned corset. This caused a scandal. It how to relax and feel comfortable in his was controversial . . . We sold out own skin, as that is something actors must every night.” do in order to take on another identity.

The theatre at SFU had a large part in establishing a sense of community, and promoting creative and intellectual freedom

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A 1967 Program for “The Devils”.

The theatre program at SFU was lucky because, being non-credit, they didn’t have the same level of accountability that a credit program might have. “UBC could probably never have put on several of those plays. They would not have touched Centralia [a 1967 play based on the 1919 Centralia, WA labour dispute that resulted in six deaths, numerous wounded, and still bitter feelings] because UBC was supported by MacMillan Bloedel,” Lewis explained.

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The theatre was usually supported completely by the administration and President McTaggart-Cowan.

“I don’t remember us having a real controversy about any of the plays we did. There was a warning about language,” Lewis recalled. “I remember that a couple of times in our lunch series. And, I think there was a warning to John Juliani about clothing, especially after that item in The Devils.”

The lunch series, in which student works were presented for free to the campus community, were an important part of the contemporary arts program right up until they moved to the Woodward’s campus in 2010.

Lewis described the theatre community at SFU as being very close, sometimes spending days on end with each

“They were phenomenal times,” Lewis reflected. “People were looking forward to it.”

“I was getting messages from Europe and from friends and relatives in the East, and I know other people were [too]. You were getting these phone calls, and they would say ‘what is your new play; what are you going to do?’”

The theatre at SFU had a large part in establishing a sense of community, and promoting creative and intellectual freedom.

“I had friends and relatives who went to other universities, and they didn’t come away with the same type of intellectual fervour at all,” said Lewis. “And, of course, they were looking at us saying — oh, that’s too radical. But if you don’t have it in university, when is there time to express it?”

Mr.

Student Union

Building The Instant Life and Everlasting Legacy of Don Pulsford

Written by Brad McLeod Illustrated by Madeleine Smiciklas

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hen Simon Fraser University opened its doors in September of 1965, it was labeled by chancellor Gordon Shrum as “the instant university”. In only 30 months following its conception, Shrum had established a fully-formed campus with 2,500 new students ready to learn.

From its design process, to its construction, and even its traditions, everything came together extremely quickly.

Student Union, however, was not instant.

It took more than a month to establish the first student government and years for it to evolve into its current state. In many ways students at SFU are still trying to learn how to govern themselves.

There was one student, however, who from the very beginning had instant dreams for the students of Simon Fraser.

As a member of the inaugural student society executive council, Don Pulsford

was at the forefront of all student issues.

Although he only spent four semesters at the school, he helped establish the student newspaper, fought against tuition fees, organized sit-ins and park-ins, and worked as the student society’s first Public Relations Officer.

His biggest passion, however, was the Student Union Building. It was with Pulsford that SFU’s first attempt at its never ending quest for a SUB began, a dream which is only now, 50 years later, really looking as if it will soon finally be fulfilled.

Befitting to the school he loved, Pulsford unfortunately ended up living an instant life. However, his vision is more relevant to our campus than ever and whenever the SUB finally does rise, it will be a testament to his enduring legacy. onald Arthur Pulsford was born on December 23, 1942 in New Westminster, British Columbia. His parents divorced at a young

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age and he lived a quiet life with his mother and stepfather. At ten years old he was joined by a step-brother, Ralph Allen Hanson.

As a student at Lester Pearson High School, Pulsford wrote for the school’s award-winning student newspaper The Mike and covered issues such as “pink slip” detention cards, wrote odes to student parking lot woes, and interviewed an English teacher obsessed with poetry about death.

According to classmate David Mustart, who was an editor for the publication, the young Pulsford was very bright, and a great writer.

“But of course his life was hell, having hemophilia.”

For all Pulsford’s intelligence and passion, he was clouded by darkness. As a hemophiliac, a hereditary genetic disorder that impairs the body’s ability to control blood clotting, he was unable to live the typical rambunctious childhood of a young boy.

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UBC, had been invited to SFU not only banned from their own countries,” to study English, Mathematics and Buzan explained. “Essentially the stuCreative Writing, but to run the new dent body was composed of a boiling student union. Although they should pot of United Nations revolutionaries. have been rivals, according to Buzan, it And that’s where Don ended up.” did not take long for them to join forces.

“He was interested in all this stuff “I met [Pulsford] [that] nobody else was really thinking in the student offices about at all.” - Rick McGrath with his followers,” Buzan explained of While Pulsford’s unique journey to their first encounter. “He was very vibrant and very passionate and he presented university and his extraordinary mind his case for being president. And I certainly placed him among the unitedpresented him mine. After an hour of outcasts of this new revolutionary in depth discussion, he said, there’s institution, he had an interest that few no good reason for me combatting you around him had the foresight to be because basically everything we want in passionate about. Pulsford was one of the first students to care about the SFU the Student Union, we agree.”

Pulsford therefore decided to run for student, and he did so before anyone the society’s Public Relations Officer even knew what ‘the SFU student’ was. position and have a place on council, still remember him sitting in but support Buzan’s bid for president. that English 200 class . . . he just This ended up getting the pair in some turned around, at the beginning of the controversy early on when in a speech class and said, ‘What do you think about for the PRO position, Pulsford did not that Tartan?’” mention his platform, but simply camRick McGrath, a first-year charter paigned openly for student at SFU, remembers his first “He wanted to live the life of a very Buzan’s presidency. exchange with Don Pulsford quite well, After receiving a because in many ways it ended up energetic, very natural young man.” scolding from editor changing his life.

- Tony Buzan Sam Steenhuus in It was the second week of classes in the campus news- 1965 and Pulsford sat next to McGrath paper, The Peak, Pulsford and Buzan and began complaining about The ulsford’s freedom from the dreary life of a hospital patient perfectly issued formal apologies. Buzan ended Tartan, SFU’s first student newspaper. coincided with the opening of a school up winning the election and Pulsford In Pulsford’s mind, because it was set which would immediately become took his seat on council by acclamation. up by Lorne Mallin, a student who had While their letters to the paper deny transferred from UBC, it didn’t really known for freedom.

As an older student — Pulsford was 23 collusion, Pulsford and Buzan soon have SFU student concerns in mind.

McGrath did not share his level of when he enrolled as an undergraduate became best friends at the young outrage, but agreed to go to a meeting at the new Simon Fraser Universi- university.

According to Buzan, it was not easy for where they set up a rival paper called the ty — and clearly motivated by a sense of urgency caused by his hemophilia, them as politicians as “the first student S.F. View. Instead of declaring himself he became involved in the school’s body, as we were called, was composed the Editor-in-Chief, Pulsford nominated the 18-year old McGrath burgeoning student politics right away of every dimension of revolution.”

“Simon Fraser was designed to bring as a candidate to go to a vote. and hoped to be president of the new together all the people from around the Due to McGrath’s experience student society.

He had competition though. Tony world who were involved in any kind of having had a paper route as a kid, he Buzan, a graduate of pre-med from of revolution. You know, many of them was elected to be in charge.

While he had a great interest in sports — especially the element of physical contact — it wasn’t an option for him. Even if he were to just bump something, with the impact, the blood would start filling up pockets around the joints and cause great pain. He wanted to wrestle, but doing so left him bloody and bruised.

After completing high school, tragedy struck Pulsford’s life. At the age of 18, his eight year old brother passed away.

Ralph also suffered from hemophilia and his untimely passing was directly related to it.

The premature death had a huge impact on Pulsford whose life became further complicated when his own medical struggles caused him to spend two solid years in a hospital bed between graduation and post-secondary.

Often not allowed to see friends and without television in the hospital, he was forced to be alone with only his mind.

For two years he just read books and trained his brain and his mind, day in and day out, waiting for the opportunity to be free.

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The paper eventually forced a merger with The Tartan to become The Peak, the campus’ current paper. While Pulsford left the new publication as soon as it began, McGrath went on to become a longtime editor and columnist, transitioning his skills into a lengthy career in journalism and writing.

McGrath still remembers Pulsford as being ahead of the curve on caring about student issues.

“He was interested in all this stuff [that] nobody else was really thinking about at all,” he explained. “I don’t know why he was interested in the student body. The thought has crossed my mind that he may have been passionate, but he also could have just been managerially organized and interested in setting things up his way.”

According to McGrath, Pulsford was very organized compared to the rest of the young, confused campus and was a typical ‘backroom’ guy, an enigmatic personality on campus. Being older and having a deeper understanding of history, he had a huge opportunity to make an immediate impact.

As McGrath describes, “there were no seats, the clocks didn’t work, it was mayhem and to a certain degree, there was nothing on campus for students.” After his success in getting SFU’s first true student newspaper started, Pulsford was ready to take on the rest of campus life.

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s student society PRO beginning in October of 1965, Pulsford was immediately thrown into the fire of the volatile world of student politics. His biggest concerns involved protecting the interests of his fellow students for which he received support, but also chagrin.

He was involved in all of the council’s early decisions and projects including: starting a student guide service, creating a student telephone directory, hiring a campus crier and the establishment of a soap box in the mall which according to Buzan was a hotbed of free speech.

“Every week, I or the council members, including Don, were publicly threatened with impeachment,” Buzan remembered.

“They were either ‘pinko communists’ or were ‘fanatical right-wing maniacs or ‘over the top in sexuality’. Other times students were being gay. You name it.

So my council members, and Don, had to defend ourselves.”

“I’m pleased to say that we never lost,” he added.

One of Pulsford’s early tasks was to be in charge of what posters were acceptable to be put up around campus.

While the Executive decided that “lively remarks” were alright and obscenities should not be permitted, at soapbox rallies there were calls for council to explain Pulsford’s authority to take down any posters he didn’t consider in the interests of students.

He received similar complaints about his sudden decision to call for the abolition of fees at Simon Fraser in November of 1965 when the rest of his council was only in favour of freezing them.

According to Sam Steenhuus, while many supported the movement, “Pulsford should also state his reasons for wanting to abolish fees. It would be well worth his while to do so, because alone he can do nothing.”

Personally, Pulsford was also involved in organizing a ‘park-in’ which forced the replacement of SFU’s mud-pit parking lots with gravel and, in an action close to his own struggles, chaired a Medical Health Committee who brought a Doctor onto campus.

By the end of the semester however, Pulsford had found a project that was more fitting to his interests and passion.

After less than three months, according to council meeting minutes: “Don Pulsford resigned in order to chair a committee to investigate matters concerning the Student Union Building.” he idea of creating a Student Union Building at SFU was first brought up at a luncheon between chancellor Gordon Shrum and student council members in October of 1965. While President McTaggart-Cowan had plenty of interaction with students, a meeting with Shrum was rare, which made the SUB idea quite salient to members of the council.

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looking to the end of the rainbow. In the a room for billiards and snooker. PulsJanuary 5, 1966 issue of The Peak, he is ford and his team also had extensive quoted as saying that “construction will correspondence in order to determine begin as soon as possible but will not be the feasibility and cost of a non-denominational chapel as part of the SUB. completed before September ‘68.”

By February however, the issue of fiCurrent plans expect construction for a SUB to begin (hopefully) sometime in nancing quickly deflated the air out of Pulsford’s party. On February 2, it was 2016. nder Pulsford’s leader- confirmed that building the SUB would “Construction will begin as ship, plans were pre- cost at least $4.5 million and according soon as possible but will not be pared for a SUB that would to SUB committee member and omcompleted before September ‘68.” eventually house 20,000 stu- budsman, John Mynott, a fee increase dents and the first construc- would be required if the project were - Don Pulsford tion phase was intended to happen.

Along with Tony Buzan, he became to begin in either the summer or fall of This possibility caused a lot of co-chairman of the SUB committee in 1966. The building was to be located in arguments amongst the council. Some late November and was independently the area between the Madge Hogarth members, like Dave Alder thought it in charge by early 1966. residence and the gym. At the time, this was absolutely necessary, while others, Wishing to waste no time, Pulsford set area was a parking lot but was also the such as treasurer Bob Penny didn’t in motion plans for the SUB beginning allotted space left by Erickson-Massey think it was worth it at all. Many, like in December of 1965. In order to hear (SFU’s architecture firm) for such a Mynott, stood in the middle, believing it was up to the students to decide how directly from students on what they structure. wanted included in their building, he In addition to the letters he had they wanted their money spent. sent out letters on December 19 to all solicited from clubs and students sugDespite being obviously dedicated to the directors of SFU’s already amazingly gesting how much and what sort of the SUB, Pulsford was torn as he was long and diverse list of clubs, and asked space they were interested in, Pulsford also a notable advocate for lowering for them to be returned by January 1. had a usage survey distributed to the fees. He did not want to see an increase “The SUB building, was a generic idea entire student body through The Peak of more than $3, but conceded that it would probably have to be at least [but] Don was the great fighter to make on January 19, 1966. that dream come true,” Buzan said of There seems to have been no ques- $5. Mynott’s best estimate, taking into Pulsford’s role as the SUB committee tion in Pulsford’s mind at the time as account enrollment increases, was a $10 increase. chairman. “He was incredibly commit- to whether or not the ted. He was a good leader because he project would hapwas so kind and supportive. He was pen. It was just a mat- “The SUB was like a monument in good at fighting for the good.” ter of when. his mind for caring and looking “He also was good at building teams.”

The Peak survey did after and protecting students.”

Along with his good friend Buzan, not ask “would you like - Tony Buzan Pulsford recruited a number of students a S.U.B.?” but did raise and faculty members to be on his team the question “Would Pulsford and the committee immeto get the SUB off the ground. Fellow you like a bowling alley in the S.U.B.?” students Dave Alder, Bob Swift and John and also “please indicate your prefer- diately began seriously looking at alternate financing options, but were Mynott were on the SUB committee as ence: A) 5 pins B) 10 pins”. were faculty members Dr. G. Kitchner In the first month of the project, stumped at every turn. The school and Dr. A. McPherson. The team was there was a great deal of excitement didn’t yet have any alumni who could rounded out by council culture direc- surrounding everything that could go help out, they did not wish to use adtor, Art Tomlinson, who served as Puls- in the SUB. The Bridge Club wrote ministration money as it could take ford’s assistant for a fee of $1.00. to Pulsford requiring card tables, the away student control, and their letIn early January, with the project Sports Car Club wanted a garage-racing ters asking for federal and provincial barely started, Pulsford was already pit, and “Rick Bauder (Arts 1)” proposed support were met with polite refusals.

As a building that was intended to house everything that was in the interest of students, Pulsford was first in line to lead the project. Seeing as he was nearly the only one at the university who wanted such a responsibility, the main leadership role was his.

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Even a student fee increase would be a challenge. Although the council planned a public drive for funding, according to Shrum this would not be approved by the Board of Governors.

He suggested a much smaller building which could be expanded later, a frustrating notion to the fast-living Pulsford.

Although Pulsford and Buzan set a referendum for March to find out both, whether students wanted the SUB and if they would be willing to pay for it, with the realities of bureaucracy sinking in and a lack of funds preventing the SUB from moving any further at the present time, it all became too much for Pulsford. On February 21, he quit. espite having printed quite a bit of criticism of the SUB and Pulsford in the past, The Peak’s editorial following the resignation of the man they called “Mr. SUB” was quite somber.

“Pulsford, for all his wiered [sic] methods of doing things, was a one man committee. He fathered the SUB and up until now has been playing the role of mother as well,” they eulogized.

“He thinks there will be no difficulty in finding a new chairman, and that he will be able to take over the position with ease just by reading the SUB file.

We doubt this very much.”

The Peak explained that Pulsford was “perhaps the one person on campus

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who could get his way with council and even more important with Tony Buzan” and also wrote of The Peak’s own plans for the SUB. “We were to eventually get a good portion of the basement in which to eventually produce a daily newspaper.”

While they signed off on Don and the project, and said that they would miss the copy and controversy he provided for them, he wouldn’t stay gone for long.

On March 14, two weeks following his resignation, he sent a letter requesting that the Student Council reconsider and allow him to come back.

When he had left, it had been because of lack of funds and also because he “felt it was no job for a student”. Apparently, the financial prospects were better and he had matured significantly in 14 days.

According to his letter, a major problem with other universities’ SUB buildings had been resignations by their chairmen and felt as if he would be doing the students a disservice by not continuing.

As difficult as it was for him to do, he wrote that the project would be delayed and he would be careful to take a more methodical approach to his planning.

He had wanted an instant SUB but over time had realized that he would have to slow down.

Throughout March, both the referendum signifying students’ desire for a SUB and the referendum agreeing

to a financial commitment to the SUB passed and the project was slowly moving along. Unfortunately by June, Pulsford was forced to leave the SUB project again.

This time it was not by his own volition and he wouldn’t be able to come back.

After carrying on as SUB committee chairman at a more relaxed pace, Pulsford tried to extend his political power further and ran for President of the ‘66 summer council. Buzan had left to tour the world and although he wished for his friend Don to take up his post, it did not work out.

A student named Alex Turner took the election with 94 votes while Pulsford finished third with a respectable 60 votes. While this shouldn’t have necessarily spelled the end for his SUB, he vehemently disagreed with Turner and the new council when it came to the project.

After being asked to present to council on the SUB or be dismissed, Pulsford wrote a letter to Turner, as he put it: “in reply to your ultimatum”. In the note, which they read aloud in council on June 20, Pulsford states that “since the majority of this semester’s Council members ran on a platform of an exclusively administration-built Student Union Building, and since council is in any case, constitutionally powerless to deal with S.U.B., I do not choose to appear before Council at this time.”

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Exhausted by the life of a student politician, he retreated back to the world of newspapers he had occupied in high school. In 1967, he became the Production Manager at The Peak, a refreshing change of pace.

It was at this time that he also found love. Through Tony Buzan, he met Mayling Weaver, a recent UBC graduate who began studying English at SFU in its second year.

“He was a very romantic man,” Buzan recalled.”When I left BC traveling around the world, Mayling and he fell in love.”

They were soon married and the pair worked together in the summer of ‘67 as Mayling was elected Editor-in-Chief of The Peak. While “In some cases when there’s that personal she remembers suffering, it seems to have an effect refining Pulsford experiencing a lot of the soul.” - Mayling (Weaver) Stubbs suffering due to Pulsford, worried about a lack of his hemophilia, she still looks back on that communication between the admin- time in her life fondly. istration and students, was quoted “He was a very congenial person and in The Peak warning students to not he was a very gentle man, in both senses agree to a fee increase prematurely for of the word,” she recalled. “He had a the Longhouse. The Longhouse had gentle disposition, but at the same time plans to be partially financed by the he had a very good sense of humour. administration, an element which A slight sense of playfulness there… concerned the pro-student Pulsford. very bright too. He was a very likeable Mynott dismissed Pulsford’s comments person.” and simply wrote that he hoped President After a semester at the student paper, McTaggart-Cowan realized his thoughts Pulsford was hired as the Editor-in-Chief were simply “a letter from an individual of a newspaper in Jasper, Alberta called student [and] not necessarily the opinion The Jasper Gateway. He left SFU and of the whole student body.” went off with Mayling for what Tony It was the last time Pulsford would Buzan believes was a more relaxed life. have to be criticized for speaking for “He wanted peace. He wanted tranSFU students. quility. And he wanted an environment fter the fall of 1966, Pulsford never in which he could really think and be addressed the Student Union Build- creative,” Buzan said on Pulsford’s jouring issue publicly again. At a school of ney away from SFU. “One of his great instant creation when it came to any- joys was for his own creativity . . . poetry, thing that came from the administra- music . . . when artists work, they altion, he had been unable to get a project ways feel fulfilled. So being in nature, dedicated to students past the stage of which is where he was going, in a job that was purely creative, he didn’t have squabbling and politics.

Pulsford continued by saying that he would make his report at the first meeting of the fall and keep the data inaccessible to them, with the exception of the Ombudsman.

While he was convinced that council had no power over him, there was a vote which agreed to “remove him with thanks” and a new SUB committee was immediately set up under vice-president John Kenward and science rep Doug Sandberg.

The SUB project slowly evolved into a building with less and less emphasis on students. Pulsford made one last plea for his version of the SUB in November of 1966 after fall president John Mynott pushed for a joint faculty-student building called “the Longhouse”.

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to end up in political meetings, business meetings, which he did find a little bit tedious and taxing.”

“Similarly, he needed to make sure he was taking care of himself. He could only take care of other people by taking care of himself. Because if he didn’t take care of himself, he’d be gone.”

However, while in Jasper, Mayling recalls that his health was a major concern. He had lived a fast paced life, taken a lot of risks, and now it was all tragically coming to an end. n January 27, 1968. I was in England, in London, at that time, and looking forward to going back and that is when I got the telegram announcing his death.”

Perhaps of all people, Tony Buzan was most affected by Don Pulsford’s tragic and sudden death. According to Buzan, during their conversations Don had often described a recurring nightmare he had.

“His main fear was that, he would be driving a car on his own and the car would crash when he was on his own. And he would bleed to death. And he could do nothing about it,” Buzan recalled. “He technically never drove on his own. He was always with somebody.

And once, he did.”

Pulsford was 15 miles from the town of Lake Louise, Alberta when his car collided with a snow plow on the Jasper-Banff Highway. Funeral services were held at the Unitarian Church of Vancouver and a memorial service was also held at Simon Fraser in front of the three flags at the entrance of the university.

Shortly after his death, Buzan wrote his first poem, entitled “Death of a Hemophiliac” about and in honour of his departed friend. While Buzan has gone on to have a distinguished career studying and writing about issues surrounding the brain and thinking, he has continued to be inspired by Don Pulsford.

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“It was the loss of one of the great brains in British Columbia. You know, he definitely was one of the great brains in British Columbia.” fter Pulsford left the SUB project, it was never quite the same. After a few stops and starts, in the fall of 1968, a new plan for a combined student-faculty -staff “University Centre Building” began.

The UCB project ended up being a success and was opened in 1970, although it was quite small and only really consisted of one of the amenities that students desired: a pub.

In the mid-90s the UCB was renovated and a new student service building — which received half of its funding from administration — was attached to it, creating the Maggie Benston Centre.

There was still however a need for more areas just for students.

It wouldn’t be until 2006 that a project began that matched the scale and magnitude of Pulsford’s original vision.

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After a great deal of planning, in 2013, the Build SFU campaign launched and they have since made concrete plans to bring a SUB to SFU. While they have faced similar problems as Pulsford did in regards to financing, the project is still looking like it will eventually break ground.

Fifty years after it seemed like he was the only one who cared about the SFU student, Pulsford’s attitude has spread across the entire student population with not just one student, but hundreds, if not thousands, taking on his mantle.

Current members of SFU’s student society credit the success of the most recent SUB project to having many Don Pulsfords, not just one champion.

“I would say it’s definitely been a team effort, because no single board has really pioneered it and nobody on our staff and management side either,” SFSS President Enoch Weng explained about the Build SFU campaign. “It’s a reflec-

tion of [all students’] voices, and the students that are currently pursuing it have advocated for it, and have invested countless hours and time and effort into it, those are the real champions.”

“You don’t really see them, because they’re out working in the background . . . [but] these are the people that I think should be given the credit.”

According to Tony Buzan, when the SUB opens it will be the fulfillment of Pulsford’s dream.

“The SUB was like a monument in his mind for caring and looking after and protecting students,” he said. “So that building was a monument for the love of education and students and making sure that that building was there to guarantee a better educational future for the province and the world.”

“One can fight for that and to have that building raised as an icon for the legend of Don Pulsford.”

ANIMAL BOWL THE RISE AND FALL (AND RISE AND FALL AND RISE AND FALL) OF THE SHRUM BOWL Written by Austin Cozicar

Illustration by Benjamin Buckley

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ith eight seconds still on the clock, the fans are already on the field and they're taking the southern goal posts out of the ground. The northern goal posts — away from the play — are already gone, taken out by anxious fans while there are still two minutes left.

That capped off a day filled with fights, riots, smoke bombs, and mayhem. And a football game.

SFU easily won the Gordon Shrum Trophy in the first football matchup against their natural rivals: UBC. Though the score was only 32–13, it wasn't much of a game according to some of those watching. To some, it was a disgrace.

“I can think of no good reason for continuing this game next year,” said Denny Boyd of the Vancouver Sun. “I think it was lousy football and the behavior of both student bodies was juvenile.”

But to others, it was a lot of fun. The man himself, Gordon Shrum, said the crowd had “exuberant spirit.”

And perhaps to Boyd's chagrin, the game did continue — amidst the chaos and scheduling conflicts — and became the defining symbol of the rivalry between the two schools. o begin, we'll have to go way back.

Many now know Gordon Shrum as the inaugural chancellor of SFU, and perhaps as the father of the institution.

Those from the 1960s are more likely to remember him from his time as chairman at BC Hydro, and as a master manager with a keen ability to get things done.

Lesser known, however, are his contributions to football.

Shrum arrived at UBC in 1925 as a member of the faculty of physics, coming fresh off a stint as a research assistant at the University of Toronto,

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where he gained fame for liquefying helium. The UBC football team was founded the year before.

“He was an academic,” said Fred Hume, a UBC historian. “But he also had an interest in football, and had really liked the American model.”

“He liked the idea of football bringing alumni back, [creating] school identity, spirit, all of those things.”

“T

r aditionally the of

University

B.C. has been about as

sports conscious as a grandmother in Pago Pago.”

- Dave Empey, The Sun (Oct. 7, 1967)

Shrum, who did not come from a football background, and was a self-described “novice” in sports such as basketball and rugby, explained in his autobiography, “I had always been a strong supporter of student athletics . . . Growing up on a farm, I had never had an opportunity to participate in sports, and I regretted this all my life.

I wanted to give others a chance to participate at a high level.”

Before long, in addition to his duties as a professor, he became involved in administration, quickly gaining a reputation as a skilled organizer and a hard worker, sitting on an estimated 30 committees.

Influential during the building of UBC's first sports stadium in 1937, Shrum tried to build up all UBC sports, not just football.

He raised money for the athletics program, he hired top-tier coaches, and even tried to recruit top-end talent.

In 1953, Shrum hired Don Coryell to coach the Thunderbirds — Coryell

would go on to become a head coach in the NFL twenty years later. Shrum also assisted in attempting to recruit future San Francisco 49er fullback John Henry Johnson, who retired fourth in all-time pro rushing yards.

However, Shrum's dream for an American-style football program would run into many roadblocks. UBC was more into British university traditions, centered around soccer and rugby, and as Hume puts it, “not playing sports for the glory of the school” as US universities do. And though the school had other means of financially enticing student athletes, the school did not hand out athletic scholarships — a policy that Shrum wanted to change.

The UBC football team struggled, as Shrum couldn't quite do what he wanted.

His hire, Coryell, would leave the university after two years with a 2–16 record, going back to the US, where he would later be credited with innovating the pass offence. John Henry Johnson predictably did not end up at UBC. If only Shrum could have his own university, where he could make the rules.

In 1961, Shrum was forced to retire from UBC as he was 65 years old, the mandatory retirement age — however, he had other ideas. Then-premier WAC Bennett put Shrum in charge of BC Electric — now BC Hydro — and in charge of the Peace River Dam Project.

Shrum did a good enough job, that in 1963, Bennett called him up again for a new project — to build a new university.

Now, Shrum could do things his way.

At this new institution, they would give out athletic scholarships, play against American schools, and make the other Canadian universities mad.

Thus, a rivalry was born.

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n 1965, Shrum appointed Lorne Davies, a former coach at UBC who had both playing and coaching experience in the US, to head SFU's athletic department.

Davies would also serve as the head coach of the football team for its first eight seasons.

The SFU Clansmen burst out of the gate without a league, as the Canadian collegiate system wouldn't allow them to play because of their athletic scholarships.

SFU played surprisingly decent football for a first year institution — with a 2–3 record in the 1965 season — but were left without any real rivals, and as of yet, no bowl game or playoffs to look forward to.

Shrum wanted the Clan to eventually compete in the Rose Bowl. Considering the minute funding and the fact that they weren't even in the right league, that was not even a remote possibility.

However, the perfect rivals were right here, about 30 kilometres away: UBC. In 1966, Davies called off a UBC-SFU football game, as well as a basketball game between the two schools. However, in 1967, it was game on — the two schools would meet and play American rules football.

The date: October 16. The venue: Empire Stadium (then home to the CFL's BC Lions). The prize: The Gordon

The year prior, UBC head coach Frank Gnup — who was actually hired

by Shrum in 1955 — had reportedly boasted, “Tell SFU to come around in 10 years or so when they're ready and we'll have some laughs,” calling SFU, “that elementary school on the hill.”

By the time the game did come around though, both sides made the case that they were the underdog. The general consensus, however, was that UBC would win, as they were the more experienced football team. In addition, there was a considerable age gap between the two teams.

“We were playing guys who were a lot older than us,” said SFU's Dave

1989

1990

1991

5,500

1988

4,800

1987

5,123

1982

4,101

1981

5,419

1980

4,000

1979

7,287

1978

Cutler, a kicker and linebacker who would go on to a 15-year CFL career with the Edmonton Eskimos, noting that UBC had many guys already in their mid-20's. “They were the cream of the crop in Vancouver in terms of football teams, and we were just the upstart up the hill. To play them was a huge honour, because we were playing one of the best teams in Canada.”

A number of players had previously left SFU for the UBC program.

The two schools really took to the game, which drew an interest for university sports not seen before in BC. And it didn't take long for the antics to begin.

Early one morning, SFU officials found that their practice field was defaced with the letters “U-B-C” burnt into the grass. In retaliation, some SFU students went to the UBC agriculture barn and spray-painted the cows with “S-F-U”, and released them onto the streets.

On the Sunday before the game, the UBC engineers kidnapped SFU's student president, Art Weeks, taking him to UBC, with the intention of exhibiting him at the Monday night matchup. However, on Monday morning, some SFU students went and rescued the president, with The Peak reporting that it took only four SFU students to take on the 10 engineers holding him captive.

SHRUM BOWLS BY THE NUMBERS: 9,243

1971

- Dave Empey, The Sun (Oct. 7, 1967)

9,300

1970

Grey campus and all because of three nasty letters — SFU. People at UBC don’t hate SFU... at least anymor e than they dislike famine.”

9,160

1969

are changing at the Point

12,420

1968

???

1967

3,131

1,000

4,001

5,187

5,000

“D

own with tradition. Things

12,131

10,000

14,972

15,000

Shrum Trophy, and of course, the right to be called the best in BC.

1992 1993

When the red-jacketed UBC engineers marched onto the SFU campus, and into the AQ, defensive back Jim Jardine noted that some football players had to be stopped from physically assaulting them.

“We had a number of coaches intercept members of the football team who were fully prepared to remove engineers,” he said. “That wouldn't have gone over well.”

SFU fans, for their part, organized a pre-game bonfire before being bussed to the game, where it was rumoured they would burn an effigy of UBC's head coach.

While the student body got into the antics around the game, for Shrum, the game was “the realization of a recurring dream which many of us had had at frequent intervals during the past 40 years.” In the program for the game, he continued, “Big time collegiate football has at last arrived in British Columbia.

This is only the beginning.”

“The wholesome spirit of rivalry between UBC and SFU is good for both campuses, and I hope it spreads to the whole gambit of academics, intramural, and extramural activities.”

Before the game, Shrum paid the SFU team a visit, and his presence intimidated the lot.

“He was a really tall guy, he was about 6'3, 6'4, I remember he had a really long overcoat,” Cutler explained. “I can't remember what he said, all I remember thinking was this was a big deal, we

weren't playing for marbles here, this was for the whole enchilada.”

This — plus a shoot-em-up movie that the team went to the night before (for “motivation” and so that the coaches could keep tabs on the players) — left the players fired up, ready to face their “Goliath” in front of almost 15,000 fans.

“We were a band of brothers and we were all going after the same holy grail,” said Cutler. hrum kicked off to start the first ever Shrum Bowl at 8 pm, which followed parading UBC Queen candidates in convertibles, cheerleaders from both sides, and the Dal Richards band. The game did not start without incident though.

The engineers — who had purchased a block of 800 tickets — arrived, led by Lady Godiva on a white mare (a topless woman on a horse). As part of their entrance, they shot smoke bombs at the Simon Fraser east side stands.

The game itself was a little bit of a disappointment — at least for those UBC fans there actually to watch a game of football. SFU quarterback Wayne Holm took the game into his own hands, running three touchdowns himself, and passing for another two.

The slight underdog took clear control of the game, leading 32–0, not surrendering a score until 11 seconds had gone off the clock in the fourth quarter when UBC finally put up a touchdown. According to The Peak, UBC's Ron Ritchie netted the team's second touchdown after he “took a Clan punt on his own 25 yard line and

S

2007

2008

2009

2,743

2006

1,750

2005

2,759

2004

1,440

2003

Terry Fox Field

2,500

2002

Swanguard Stadium

1,200

2001

Thunderbird Stadium

3,000

2000

5,112

1999

3,500

2,500

1998

2,700

5,116

1997

3,200

5,000

1996

4,000

4,876

1995

Empire Stadium

???

HISTORICAL FAN ATTENDANCE

took it back for a touchdown, running right past the last Clan defender who had his back turned to the play, arguing with a UBC player.” The game concluded 32–12 with SFU taking home the Gordon Shrum Trophy for the first time ever.

The antics did not end with the pregame hijinks. The crowd took over as the main source of entertainment in the first half after the engineers “kidnapped” an SFU student. As SFU supporters rushed to his aid, a melee broke out in the northwest corner of the field. It took police 15 minutes to get things back under control.

The halftime show was headlined by a marching band from Bellingham, WA, but the fans easily supplied their own entertainment. An engineer ran erratically across the field with a highly productive smoke-torch; students hammed it up on the end of a chorus line; and a student dressed up to resemble an ape to taunt the engineers.

At the end of the game, orange smoke bombs were thrown onto the field.

And yes, fans dashed away with the goalposts before the game even ended — though when the second one was taken, officials decided to call it a day, ending the game with eight seconds still on the clock.

While an untold amount of bottles, water bombs, and eggs were thrown, there was only one report of an injury.

An SFU coed was struck by one of the smoke bombs — apparently rotten egg gas in balloons — and was led to a first aid station. She returned to watch the remainder of the game with a patch over one eye.

2010

????

The rough and tumble atmosphere was hardly contained to those watching the game. There were a total of 45 penalties — 21 to UBC and 24 to SFU — and at least two players were tossed out of the game.

The event itself garnered mixed reactions.

“I must say that the display put on by both universities and the UBC engineers at the game on Monday night certainly deserves reproach,” wrote “P. Morgan,” a second year arts student in a letter to the editor of The Ubyssey.

“If this is what it represents, I feel digusted [sic] and ashamed to be a student at this university.”

Shrum, however, loved the event, praising the “exuberant spirit,” despite “the actions of a few boorish, unidentified rowdies.”

Regardless of popular opinion, with the excitement over the first UBC-SFU football matchup, it appeared to be on its way to becoming an annual institution. And that it did — for another four years. n October 21 1968, the second annual Shrum Bowl was held, and this time expectations were that the game was clearly in SFU's favour.

“We became the guys to beat,” explained Cutler.

And SFU did not disappoint — winning the game 27–7. By the first half, the Clan were up 21–0, and Davies was so confident of a win that backup quarterback Dave Syme finished the game.

While SFU did not disappoint, the event wasn't the spectacle the first one was. Only 5,187 fans showed up to the second contest — nearly a third of the fans from the first. The antics — the UBC engineers were once again led to their seats by Lady Godiva and did a lap at halftime which provided a comical moment when her horse stopped halfway around and refused to move —

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were there, but naturally, with the lesser crowd, quieter than the year before.

“It never, ever had what the first one had,” said Chris Beaton, who played right tackle for the Clan and would go on to become the longest tenured coach in SFU football history.

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SFU is going to lose. I f UBC beats the Clan, we’ll never hear the end of it. They ’ll gloat for years. A nd if SFU wins, UBC has the excuses already: ‘ we’re hurt... we’re tired...you cheat... you give schol arships...’” in or lose,

- R ichard Konwick, The Peak (Nov. 27, 1978) A clear dominance by SFU led to less fans coming out to the games, and growing animosity between the two teams.

Shrum Bowl III would be the first game that UBC did not lose, ending in a 6–6 tie. It was finally a game that SFU and UBC appeared as two equals — UBC even had a chance to win it with a last second field goal kick. It was at the end of the game though, and with no timeouts left, UBC ran out of time without kicking. The newness of the bowl was apparent when there were no rules laid out about overtime and the game merely ended in a tie when the clock ran out.

The rainy weather, however, likely downplayed whatever goodwill the competitive UBC squad brought. Attendance decreased from 4,001 to 3,131 from the third to the fourth bowl.

And whatever goodwill game number three earned, was completely

wiped off the table when SFU would put up their biggest beatings yet in Shrum Bowls IV and V, dominating UBC 61–6 and 42–0 respectively.

These losses left UBC bitter, with then-assistant coach Tom Thomson telling The Ubyssey before Shrum Bowl V in 1971, “We do studies, then play football,” insinuating the belief by UBC’s personnel that SFU’s athletic scholarships and lower entrance standards were the reason for SFU’s much greater team.

“We shouldn’t have beaten them but the score shouldn’t have been that bad,” Frank Gnup told the media following the 1971 game before adding “I don’t think they’ll play the Shrum Bowl anymore.”

While Davies met with UBC to schedule game six, a week after the fifth, due to its lopsided nature the Shrum Bowl was called off. Though a good portion of the blame was placed on the gap between the two teams, it also didn’t help that the Canadian Intercollegiate Athletic Association (CIAU) — the league that UBC played in — decided that it didn’t want its members playing SFU. The Shrum Bowl was dead. The dream was gone. n 1978, the Shrum Bowl had been dormant for seven years, and now it was about to see its first revival.

Gnup who had coached UBC for 18 years was fired in 1973, and sadly passed away three years later of a sudden heart attack. After one season under coach Norm Thomas, Frank Smith would arrive as the new head coach of the Thunderbirds in 1974. Despite going 1–8 in his first season, Smith would take UBC football new heights.

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Though Gnup was seen by many of his players as a father figure and mentor, according to the UBC Hall of Fame he had learned to accept that “UBC's players were those who came to school for an education first, football second.”

Smith changed that. In a short time he was able to turn UBC around, leading them to a Hardy Cup (the Canada West conference trophy) victory in 1976.

Smith was taking the Thunderbirds in the direction that Shrum had dreamed of while at UBC. It's only fitting that he'd be the one to lead UBC into battle against SFU once again.

In May 1978, the Canada West (UBC's conference in the CIAU) decided to let UBC (and its other members) to once again play against SFU. But the deal for a new Shrum Bowl was far from done.

Animosities over the layoff hindered negotiations. Disagreements over which sets of rules the game would be played under — SFU suggested alternating rules each year, while UBC insisted on Canadian rules (which SFU criticized, as UBC was responsible for BC high schools playing American rules in the 40s). The game looked like it might never happen.

Then UBC president Doug Kenny and SFU chancellor Paul Cote came up with an idea: a one-year, no future commitment deal for charity — the proceeds of the game would go to the United Way. The two sides couldn't argue against charity, and Shrum Bowl VI was to be held Saturday, November 25.

The one hitch was that this game was to be played under Canadian rules.

UBC wasn't the only team that looked different on the sidelines — though still the athletic director, Lorne Davies had stepped down as SFU's coach in 1972.

The week before, UBC had lost the Vanier Cup game (the CIAU

championship) and now had to play an exhibition match against their crosstown rivals.

“It's kind of difficult to come back from winning the Grey Cup and then have to play another game against somebody who isn't in your league,” said Smith.

The fans were back and over 12,000 fans crowded into Empire stadium to see the two teams. And this time, with a UBC team coming off of their best season in history, and the Clan's historical dominance, it was bound to be good.

It ended up being close, as predicted.

UBC's quarterback Dan Smith played very well and threw for two touchdowns. SFU, on the other hand, earned most of their points off the foot of Walter Passaglia, the brother of CFL star and former SFU player, Lui Passaglia.

SFU would surrender their first Shrum Bowl, largely because of a failed fake-punt on their own 20. UBC capitalized and scored a touchdown to win 22–14.

Perhaps thanks to the fact that UBC won and was competitive, the game returned as a yearly event.

Even the fans came back the year after: 12,420 fans attended Shrum Bowl VII — and were treated to a 4–3 (for UBC) borefest of a game in poor weather.

Because of the torrential downpour that accompanied the game, passing wasn’t an option and it therefore became a kicking contest.

The charity aspect may have deterred some of the shenanigans that were prevalent in the original series. The games were still rowdy — there was fight on the field in 1981 between students of both schools that interrupted a halftime presentation put on by United Way featuring wheelchair athletes showing off where its aid goes — but overall, it seemed a calmer event.

Unlike the 60s, where SFU never lost a game and UBC’s only solace was a tie, UBC seemed to have an upper hand in these contests. After UBC won the first two upon resumption of the bowl, SFU would destroy UBC 30–3 in 1980, but UBC repaid the favour swamping SFU 33–1 in 1981.

In 1982, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind who would win the game.

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The Thunderbirds had their best season in history up to that point, and just the week prior to the contest they had made it to the College Bowl and won their first Vanier Cup. While SFU was perhaps the most competitive opponent the T-Birds faced all year, UBC still racked up a 14–0 lead in under eleven minutes of play. When the heavy rain started however, so did SFU's game. Robert Reid led the charge and scored a touchdown and racked up 100 yards on 15 carries.

The bad weather didn't allow much scoring in the second half. UBC ended their stellar season by proving they weren't just the best team in the country, they were the best team in the city.

It seemed as though the game was now truly between two competitive rivals, and that there was some good football. Perhaps the event would finally be the annual game that Shrum dreamed of.

However, it was only a matter of time that scheduling problems would arise. According to The Province, “the CIAU put the kibosh on the game's late November date” — right after the

Vanier Cup. They didn't like the attention SFU was taking away from UBC's CIAU priorities — notably, they were unhappy in 1981 when three UBC players skipped their All-Canadian awards in Toronto to practice in Vancouver for the Shrum Bowl.

Once again, the Shrum Bowl would rest. he Province reported that after a “lengthy lobbying period” by Frank Smith with the CIAU, that UBC got a bye week in the second week of September 1987.

Finally, the game would become the annual event envisioned, with the teams playing 22 games in 23 years (with 1994 being the only victim of scheduling difficulties). Instead of taking place at one neutral location, the game would alternate between home fields: Swangard Stadium for SFU (which was partially built by the funds raised from the first Shrum Bowl) and Thunderbird Stadium for UBC. And while the games of the late 70s and the early 80s had been relatively quiet, the “exuberant spirit” came back in a big way.

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For the 1987 contest, The AMS (UBC's student society) tried to bring their fabled “Trojan Horse” into Swangard but were stopped by police who worried that it might cause a riot.

Earlier in the day, the 30-foot horse had been distributing condoms at the AMS barbeque and there were big plans to drive it around the stadium. The RCMP didn't let it past the gate and AMS director Tim Bird and Don Isaak were forced to spend the next hour and a half dismantling their creation which took over a week and a half to build. They only got to watch the last few minutes of the game.

SFU fans for their part, burned a UBC flag.

The contests of the 1990s really brought out the rivalry in fans.

The year: 1996. The place: Thunderbird Stadium. The game would turn out to be a 25–15 victory for SFU, dominated by the offensive line.

It began innocently enough in the stands — SFU fans drowning out UBC's chant, “U-B-C” with “K-F-C”. Thanks to apparently inadequate security and an inattentive RCMP detachment, things quickly devolved.

“[There] was never, ever an outside company that did security,” said Steve Frost, SFU's current sports information director who has followed the game through a number of capacities throughout the years. “It was always the rugby club, or the wrestling team as the security, so they were in charge of policing themselves.”

“Insults began to fly back and forth, then eggs. Then the battle was on,” wrote John Oswald in The Peak.

One UBC fan decided to cross no-man's land between the two fan bases and take on the SFU crowd by himself. “This individual was justly rewarded for his efforts with a severe pummeling at the hands of the kilt-clad Clan supporters. After this, three of the kilt-clad lot lifted their kilts and mooned the T-Bird supporters in 'Braveheart-ian' fashion.”

And nothing says fun like drunken sod fights. When eggs ran out, fans started tearing up the sod field to throw at each other. Some disgruntled UBC fans started throwing sod at the Clan bench — they were not thrown out of the game.

However, SFU fans, who shielded the players and retaliated, were tossed — home team bias the fans alleged. The Clan moved their bench to the opposite side of the field in the second half. Then some UBC fans snuck up on unsuspecting Clan fans from behind, and hurled eggs at them.

Some drunk guys from SFU wearing kilts decided to go beat up the Thunderbird and at least tore off his “head.” These same fans defended McFog the Dog — SFU’s new mascot at the time — from the same fate, outnumbered two-to-one apparently.

And it wasn't just antics and drunken shenanigans, the games brought out true school spirit.

“You could feel university sport mattered,” said Farhan Lalji, an analyst with TSN who worked as the Sports

Information Director at SFU between 1991 and 1994. “There was Shrum Bowl week, there were events on campus prior to the game.”

“Football kind of has that event mentality that it can bring.”

“T

he Shrum Bowl is the only game that a lot of people really care about.”

- Chris Beaton to The Province (Sept 7, 1995)

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hen the game started back up in 1987, the game was exclusively played under American rules. That was par for the course until the 1994 cancellation.

When the game came back in 1995, it was still played with American rules at Swangard Stadium, however, in 1996, an agreement was reached to alternate rules depending on the home team — SFU would obviously have American, and UBC Canadian.

That stayed the same until 2002, when SFU joined the CIS (formerly the CIAU), the Canadian league.

Much of SFU's competition in the NAIA, the American league they had been competing in, had jumped ship to the NCAA Division II, and at the time SFU wasn't able to make the jump, so they came back to Canada.

Now the games were more or less just another game. SFU played UBC twice in the season, though they still hyped up one of the games as the Shrum Bowl.

“I think it really lost a lot when SFU joined the CIS,” said Lalji.

“There was a unique quality to the game when both universities were playing different rules, in different leagues, with different philosophies,” he explained.

“There was just that natural debate between what was better.”

In many ways though, the game was more important than ever — playoff implications were on the line. The October date consistently held for the Shrum Bowl meant that a win or a loss often made the difference in making (or missing) the playoffs.

“It was awesome because standings were involved,” recalled Beaton. It was no longer just about bragging rights.

But the stint in the Canadian leagues was short-lived. In 2009, SFU was accepted into the NCAA, and played their last season of football in the CIS. Though they'd play one more Shrum Bowl in 2010, while SFU was playing exhibition games in the NCAA, this would put an end to the two-plus decades of a near-annual matchup between SFU and UBC. Though the two schools have spent much of their histories — and much of the Shrum Bowl's history — in separate leagues, when this new separation came, they couldn't find a way to play the game.

In August of 2011, it was announced that for the first time since 1994, there would be no Shrum Bowl.

It didn't help that the number of bye weeks — where the two interleague teams could theoretically play — in the Canada West conference (UBC's conference) was reduced from two to one. With only one bye week, in recent years UBC has vetoed the idea of playing on the one bye week to rest their players.

“I think there's been a void,” said Lalji. “More than anything, I just think that it was a very important event in the amateur sports landscape, province-wide, regardless of sport.”

With one dream accomplished — joining the NCAA — the other seems dead . . . Or is it?

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piped up How a Small Student Club Became SFU’s Voice Heard Around the World.

Written by Hannah Urquhart and Jasdeep Gakhal

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t was the early 1980s — 1981 to be exact. Then-SFU president, George Pedersen, was in attendance at a Clan football game at Empire Stadium on what John Buchanan describes as a miserable rainy night.

The stadium, which usually held thirty thousand people, was practically empty on this particular night. It had perhaps “five hundred or a thousand people,” according to Buchanan, the current head coach of SFU's golf team. There were ten or twelve players standing in the center of the field, their uniforms drenched and muddy. “[The uniforms], in a sense, represented the school at this time,” Buchanan continued, a notion “that annoyed Pedersen.” The team, visually, were nothing special to look at, and did little to foster any sense of tradition or culture at the school.

After the game, Pedersen called up Buchanan, who, at the time, was in charge of recreation and clubs — there 30

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needed to be a better representative for the school.

But what? Who could represent Simon Fraser University, a school which was named after a Scottish explorer and which had already adopted Scottish traditions as their own?

A pipe band, that's what.

SFU already had a pipe band, yes — a pipe band that consisted of pipers and drummers who attended the university, students who played for four years, graduated and moved on with their lives. However, the university, particularly Pedersen, was looking for a group of players who were more stable and could represent the school.

How could they get a prestigious pipe band that would stay consistent, as students came and went from the university?

They came up with the idea to recruit some help: the City of Port Moody Pipe Band. However, they could not possibly have dreamed what would happen

Photography by Andrea Bolland next. SFU wouldn't just get a pipe band that represented the adopted Scottish heritage of the school, but a professional band that would represent SFU on the world stage, amongst the best of the best — and rock out alongside some pop music legends. he SFU Pipe Band initially came into being in the fall of 1966 when it began more or less as a student club created by a Scotsman with an English accent by the name of Dennis Roberts. Initially, he did not receive much support from the university, which became clear by the cheap uniforms that the band of eight or nine members wore. Three or four of the members were students and the rest were friends of the students.

Scott Marshall, an early member of the club, said while speaking to SFU's student newspaper, The Peak, in 1966 after the announcement that the school was getting a pipe band, “We're trying to get some tradition going at SFU.”

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Simon Fraser, whom the university was named after, was of Scottish descent, hence the school embraced its adopted Scottish heritage. The introduction of a pipe band seemed like a natural extension of this.

The aim of the band was to build up spirit at the new university, which was something that the institution seemed to lack — SFU was trying to compete in UBC's town.

The early band — for financial reasons — was restricted to male individuals who could actually pipe. In that same article in The Peak from 1966, Marshall spoke about how the band was not going to act as a training group, they sought members who could pipe or drum well.

However, shortly after its initial creation, interest in the band fizzled out.

The band reorganized in 1973 and had some success after this. A notable highlight is when they performed at the 1975 Grey Cup parade in Calgary.

However, it wasn't until 1981 when the band really picked up steam and became the SFU Pipe Band as it is known today.

In 1981, Buchanan and Ian McGregor, the Manager of Recreation and the SFU Director of Recreation respectively, were asked by Pedersen to speak to the City of Port Moody Pipe Band on behalf of the university. Pedersen had given the piping program to Buchanan after Roberts left. Buchanan was asked to help elevate the status of SFU as a quality institution and the recruitment of high quality musicians was a way of creating that public image.

The City of Port Moody Pipe Band was led by the Lee Brothers, Terry and Jack, two world-class pipers. These two men went on to form the nucleus of the Simon Fraser Pipe Band, as their renowned reputations drew other successful musicians in.

Initially, the Port Moody Pipe Band was wary of the invitation to pipe under

the SFU banner, as it seemed too good to be true. As a result, the band set aside some money in case the deal fell through — obviously, this was not the case.

The union, however, gave the band the opportunity to perform more often than they did with the city of Port Moody. Previously, the band performed only once a year at the cenotaph on Remembrance Day. Unlike Dennis Robert's band, which didn't receive much university funding, the new band received tartans (kilts) that cost about $12,000, which shows how important it was to the university that the band visually looked the part of belonging to an established institution.

On April 1st 1981, the Port Moody Pipe Band had agreed to become the new SFU Pipe Band, and shortly thereafter, the band had its first performance at the June convocation — at this time, the mayhem that is convocation all happened on a single day.

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The SFU Pipe Band following their merger with Port Moody in 1981. (Photo courtesy of John Buchanan.)

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Robert MacNeil, the current SFU Pipe Band Society president, describes the turning point for the pipe band as a moment in December of that same year when the band won their first competition in British Columbia under the SFU name.

Previously, they had competed against the other two Tier 1 bands in the Lower Mainland, but this was the first time they had outperformed both of them, which led to more competitions. The following year, the band competed at a piping competition in Chicago, in which they placed second. The week after, the band won the Grade 1 North American Championship in Maxville, Ontario.

This victory led the band to be invited to play and compete in the 1983 Grade 1 World Championship in Scotland, which is like the Holy Grail for pipers — their Stanley Cup, so to speak. The fact that the band was being invited to the World Championship in their second year under the SFU name speaks volumes to the enormous amount of talent and dedication of the musicians combined with the support of the university.

The band had become a world power.

The aim

able to get over this,” explained MacNeil.

“In late March, we found out that the championships in Scotland that preceded the worlds were changing format so that the order in which the bands compete was going to be based upon the results from each previous championship.”

In the World Championships, when you played was everything. Going too early would likely guarantee a poor placing, so it was advantageous to go as near to the end as possible, to ensure that the judges would remember the performance clearly.

SFU’s poor placing the year before meant that the team would go fairly early — drastic measures were required.

“We thought that if we didn't play at one of those championships beforehand, our seventh place the year before would put us ninth from the end, which is pretty far, so we took a calculated risk; no band had ever done this before,” MacNeil continued.

The team flew to Stirling, Scotland and competed in the regional championship before the World’s in late June.

exhilaration.” Since then, the pipe band has gone on to win five more times at the World's — in 1996, 1999, 2001, 2008, and 2009.

The prestige wasn't just limited to competitions — the band also became the first pipe band to perform at two renowned venues: Carnegie Hall in New York City in February 1998 and the Sydney Opera House in Australia in April 2001.

On top of that, the pipe band made a dent in the world of pop music, which included gigs opening for Scottish rock star, Rod Stewart, twice during his Vancouver concerts in 1989 and 1991.

The band warmed up the Vancouver audience. Instead of performing on the stage like a traditional opener, the band played throughout the crowd surprising their audience with the sweet sounds of bagpipes.

“It was unreal,” exclaimed MacNeil. he SFU Pipe Band now has five different bands. Surprisingly enough, the band that plays at convocation ceremonies is not the same band that plays at the large competitions. The one that many people on campus have

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of the band was to build up spirit in the new university,

— SFU in a UBC town.

which was something that the institution seemed to lack was a new institution that was competing

I

n 1995, the band won the Grade 1 World Championships in Scotland for the first time. A small band from Burnaby became one of only four bands outside of the UK to gain this honour. And it came after a selfdescribed down year for the band.

“The year before [1994] we had not had a good run at the World Championships.

We ended up seventh which was out of the prize list and it was very demoralizing, but the band basically sort of knuckled under and thought we are going to be 32

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“We ended up playing seventh from the end there, but ultimately ended up getting third in that competition, which then put us third from last in the order to play for the World's. Of course, everybody was talking about the SFU Pipe Band's bold move to go play at the championship and getting third.”

Then, at the World Championships, the band won both their events cleanly, playing a medley of songs for both competitions.

MacNeil describes the feeling as “complete

heard is the younger players, or the reserves, known as the Robert Malcolm Memorial Band.

The band name is derived from the first names of two of the SFU Pipe Band’s members, Robert Barbulak and Malcolm Bokenfohr, who were tragically killed in a car accident in November of 1993. The tragedy brought the band closer together and led to the creation of a new band that was geared toward the development of dedicated, as well as talented young musicians, pipers and drummers.

The future of the Pipe Band ap- MacNeil explains that this new thriving piping culture, with various pears promising. MacNeil, one of the endeavour will be an effort to “[take] skilled bands, much like Canada. band managers, describes the steps he the best of what [pipe instructors] The SFU Pipe Band is not a university plans to take to ensure they remains know, and weave it into that type of band in the traditional sense. They do mainstream musical institution.” successful. not conjure up the stereotypical image of college kids in a marching Strategies have changed band. They are a ceremonial slightly since pipe major TerA small band from Burnaby, band — they were the City ry Lee retired two years ago Canada became one of only four of Port Moody Band. They and Alan Bevan took over as bands outside of the UK left that band because the pipe major. According to Mcto be crowned world champions. city of Port Moody didn’t utiNeil as with “any institution, lize their voice; they are now there is a necessary succesThe junior pipe band is also being SFU's most important ambassadors. sion that must take place so that the exposed to new performance expeorganization may continue.”

“But if you trace it back, it began riences to foster their interest in the with a love of Scottish pipe music He explained that the focus is on nurturing strong leaders and players for the piping culture worldwide. Typically, and to know that that started in the junior pipe bands so that they can lead pipe bands outside of the United King- early days of the university and we the future Simon Fraser University Pipe dom travel to Scotland to compete, as were able to take that mantle and Band. One way he intends to cultivate it's the country where the bagpipes carry it forward was really important,” such a strong junior band presence is by were popularized and integrated into MacNeil said. “In thinking about the “moving from a simple junior pipe band the culture. MacNeil, however, plans 50th anniversary, to know that piping to an institution styled along the lines of to take a junior pipe band to the New and drumming was an early part of Zealand Pipe Band Championships [SFU culture] is really special for the an academy of music.”

Of course, his intention is not to in 2017 as a “unique cultural experi- band and others to know.” abandon the current band structure. ence.” Surprisingly, New Zealand has a

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M A R GA R E T J O N ES : SF U C h a r te

r E m p l oy e e .

Written by Tessa Perki ns

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hen Simon Fraser University With the energy of a place full was being built in the summer of new employees, there was a strong of 1965, word spread about a sense that SFU was a place that could new and exciting place full of be shaped into what you wanted it possibilities on Burnaby Mountain. For to be — that was the appeal for many many people, the new university was an people. opportunity not just for education, but “Since it opened, people had to work for employment as well. together and help one another — they While many staff members at SFU were always looking towards where spend their whole careers here, until they could work well together ,” Jones earlier this year, Margaret Jones was explained. “I met a lot of people up one of the few current employees who had there. I didn’t find anyone complai nbeen here since the very beginning. ing about things.”

“I came [to SFU] because the univerShe described the unique environsity first opened and I wanted to get ment of open-mindedness that existed into the workforce,” Jones explained. at the time — if you didn’t like someShe mentioned that she has been on a thing, you could always propose a leave of absence due to some health better way of doing it, and people would concerns. She is unsure if she’ll consider it. Unlike some of the red tape return to work again, but her dedica- and paperwork one might encount er tion saw her continuing to work even today, in those days, Jones said, if you after retirement. needed something done, you could call someone up and they’d come and do it.

Jones noted that she was originally meant to begin her career in the ReadThere was also a strong sense of ing and Study Centre, helping with a community on campus, and it had a non-credit course in reading and study small town atmosphere where everyon e skills. But the office wasn’t quite knew each other. Those who drove up the ready, so she worked for the registrar’s mountain were aware of the failing s office registering students. of the public transit system, and took From there, she soon moved to Recre- pity on students. ation and Athletics, where she stayed “I drove up at the beginning, and I for the remainder of her career, sometimes took people up. At the bottom helping set up new programs and fi- of the hill, I would always stop and nally becoming the Special Project s pick students up who were waiting for Coordin ator. the bus. People would stop if there were people waiting there. I know I did.”

it open ed, to work people had d he lp on e together an th ey w ere an other — in g towards always look cou ld work w here th ey her.” w ell toget

“Sin ce

after repeated reports The early years at of bad weather. “I wrote SFU were also known for a letter to him and protests, radicalism, asked if he would mind and a great deal of us using that name. He student activism, but wrote back saying he’d Jones said it was imbe happy to have that portant to note that be the name of the masnot everyone was incot,” said Jones. volved, stating, “I didn’t It’s clear however find it overly radical.” nd that her legacy extends far beyo Decisions by the administration at ier Earl that of naming the mascot.

SFU were often made without much disMars, this year, SFU Athletics added the cussion or debate in the early year d garet Jones Lifetime Achievement Awar and Jones said she felt that the adin le to the Annual Clan Awards Banquet ministration always seemed flexib SFU. at ice to honour of her serv and open to new ideas. Everyone had and “I really have enjoyed it,” said Jones, work together to get the job done g when interviewed for the 40th anniver make sure the university was runnin ion. ciat sary by the SFU Retirees Asso as smoothly as possible. me “I think it’s just been great for “We were making things up as we and seeing the dramatic changes from went,” she said. Things have changed, le - the hustle and the bustle and peop as Jones notes, “nothing stays stag to e wher or do to t not knowing wha nant all that time.” Just like any new very the at g go or what was happenin venture, “it doesn’t necessarily stay to beginning to what it’s passed on the way it was intended.” now. It’s just been wonderful.”

However, over the years, one thing has Although Jones may not return stayed the same — the attitude of felto work on the mountain , this Aulow staff members. “People [at SFU] were sary gs gust marked her 50th anniver the type that you could discuss thin cadedi Her er. memb ng as a proud staff with, and there was never anyone sayi iscons is SFU tion and loyalty to ‘no you can’t do that.’” red reti of tent with the many stories One of Jones’ lasting legacies, and faculty members spending time on , perhaps the one seen most by students campus and retired staff members gg McFo cot, mas is the naming of our returning for contract work or remainthe Dog. “It was President Patrick ing involved through volunteering or McTaggart-Cowan’s nickname,” Jones ex- with the Retirees Association. plained, “and ‘McFog’ was what it was Whatever it was that kept her coming like at the university when you were is back to this mountain for 50 years in the clouds.” on probably similar to what has a hold McTaggart-Cowan , SFU’s first president so many people who come to SFU — the on who served from the school’s concepti of community, the atmosphere of e sense whil e nam until 1968, earned the nick -minded thinking, and the view of ng open duri t ogis orol mete a as ing work the mountains on a clear day. of ge char in was He II. War World I know that’s why a lot of us are hdetermining whether or not the weat - still here. er would allow aircrafts to fly safe og’ ly, and the aviators dubbed him ‘McF

STATUE or BUST A Look Behind the Human Sculptures of SFU Written by Brad McLeod

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n March of 2001, sculptor Stephen Harman was driving down Boundary Road, when he suddenly got a phone call that would change his life. He immediately pulled over to the side of the road and answered with bated breath. It was Lorne Davies.

“Is it possible for you to make a statue of Terry Fox?” The request from SFU’s founding athletic director was not one that required a lot of thought. Although Harman was quite busy, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation.

“Absolutely, I would be thrilled.”

Harman was working on another project in Calgary when Davies made the call and therefore wouldn’t be able to get started until May. With the unveiling already set for September 19th, it was going to be an extremely tight schedule, but there wasn’t a chance in the world that he was going to pass up the opportunity.

Although neither of them would’ve realized it, Stephen had been in line to 36

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Photographs by Erik Sagmoen

do the project since he was only two years old. Years before Davies had the idea and decades before Terry Fox even began his Marathon of Hope, it was destined that a Harman would create SFU’s central iconic statue.

Stephen would sculpt the statue — or bust. here are few who would disagree that SFU’s Burnaby Mountain campus is anything but picturesque.

From its famous architecture to its beautiful natural surroundings, it is truly one of Greater Vancouver’s most stunning locations.

It is also home to some beautiful artwork. However, while murals and paintings line the walls of the Academic Quadrangle both inside and out, and the campus has plenty of interesting sculptures and works of contemporary and native art, there are very few statues. Despite the popularity of the Terry Fox statue in the middle of the AQ, he is only joined by two other human sculptures, a bust of Mahatma

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Gandhi tucked away in a Science courtyard off of the main concourse and another bust of Indian human rights champion Bheemrao Ramji Ambedkar in the lobby of the library.

The artistic landscape is a far cry from that of the University of British Columbia, which features a number of human sculptures around the school. None, however are as massive as one that almost ended up defining our campus in SFU’s early days.

Early in 1967, SFU received a very generous donation of $10,000 from the Lafarge cement company. While some may not have been a huge fan of SFU’s brutalist design, the choice of material was a godsend for James Sinclair, then president of Lafarge.

As a thank you, Sinclair wanted to give back to the university. This generosity can only have been reinforced by the fact that his two daughters, Rosalind and Margaret, were both students at the young school. Rosalind was notable for being the inaugural winner of the “Miss

egated the job to the school’s architec- According to their letter, the case of the Lafarge gift “resulted in embarrassment ture firm, Erickson-Massey.

At a meeting of the Aesthetics for the donor, yourself and several local Committee held on September 7, 1967, artists, as well as members of your adviArthur Erickson presented photographs sory committee.”

In order to fix this, Elwood and co. of a clay sketch submitted by artist George Norris that recommended that the committees be In 1967, SFU received $10,000 he recommended integrated into one, the Works of Art from Lafarge President James Sinclair be installed. Norris, Committee, and that it be completenow known for his ly autonomous. This was to not allow to create a Simon Fraser Statue. iconic Crab sculp- every decision to come down to the There was only one caveat to Sin- ture outside of the Museum of Vancou- President, a fact which made it impossiclair’s gift. It was given with the express ver, was Erickson’s preferred artist for ble for him and the entire school to not purpose of creating a statue of the ex- the Lafarge sculpture. His work was face criticism with every decision. plorer Simon Fraser. This would prove recommended to him by an old friend, While these recommendations evento be a difficult task for SFU to under- Mrs. Doris Shadbolt, the Assistant tually did become a reality with the take, not only because it would require Curator of the Vancouver Art Gallery. creation of the SFU Art Gallery in 1970, them to create a statue, but because it Apparently, Erickson-Massey had McTaggart-Cowan’s immediate deciwould require them to figure out how convinced President McTaggart-Cowan sion in October 1967 was to task Iain to accept a gift. that “figurative sculpture was passé” Baxter and Joel Smith of the Works of Although the donation to SFU was and although they had certain under- Art Committee with finding him an made prior to April 1967, it wouldn’t be standings with Lafarge, James Sinclair artist as quickly as possible. until fall that any real decisions began was not aware of the changing nature nce the project was back on track, to be made. Why? Because no one had of their gift. selecting an artist was actually any idea who was supposed to be makFor his part, McTaggart-Cowan spent a relatively simple procedure. Smith ing decisions. that meeting making even less popu- presented the committees with photoAt the time, SFU had three separate lar recommendations. He showed the graphs of the works of six local sculpcommittees who all legitimately could committee several photographs of “So- tors including Tony Bissig, Elek Imredy, have taken on the project. The Works of viet realism sculpture” as a possible George Norris and Jack Harman.

Art Committee would’ve probably been alternative. His ideas were officially Harman, who was in the early years of the most obvious choice, but there was dismissed due to their unrealistic scale, establishing his prolific career in British also the Aesthetics Committee, which but one must assume the almost fascist Columbia, was the Works of Art Comwas created following the fallout from implications of their design also played mittee’s unanimous choice to tackle the a much reviled Shell gas station being into their preclusion. project. It was decided, however, by the built on campus in 1966, and the Design Once the other committees became Aesthetics committee that both Harman and Graphics Committee. aware of these plans to go against and another notable sculptor named Each group had a legitimate stake the donor’s wishes, they were not David Marshall would be commissioned in the decision making process of the pleased. It became clear that their three to send in models of their designs.

Simon Fraser sculpture, however they committee system was not working out.

Marshall and Harman were asked were also still all advisory groups to the SFU Board of Governors with the McTaggart-Cowan showed the committee several final decision, ultimately, being in the photographs of “Soviet realism sculpture” as hands of the president. Getting all of possibilities for the sculpture. these committees to be involved in the process and have their fair say would be In an October memo to McTag- to send in maquettes of their concepa lengthy and exhausting process. gart-Cowan, Wayne Elwood, the chair- tions of Simon Fraser and locations To make matters worse, in early Sep- man of the Aesthetics Committee on for the sculpture. They were paid $275 tember, President McTaggart-Cowan behalf of his group, asked for the in- each, still leaving plenty of money to bypassed them all and erroneously del- tegration of the three committees. complete the final product.

Simon Fraser” beauty pageant while Margaret would become very famous a few years later when in 1971, at 22 years old, she married the then 52-year old Prime Minister of Canada, Pierre Elliott Trudeau.

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<<

According to his own letters of correspondence with the Aesthetics Committee, Harman expected to be paid $5,000 for his work, which was well within their budget. His letter also mentions that the sculpture would be 27 feet high and the bronze bust of Simon Fraser would be five feet high.

The issue of the monument’s location seemed like the only obstacle which remained. Along with Marshall, McTaggart-Cowan originally envisioned it in the middle of the AQ. The Aesthetics committee had other ideas.

They wanted the statue to be the first site people saw as they travelled up the mountain. Their top preference for its location was at the east terminal of the then (and now) unconstructed ‘Ceremonial Way’. At the time, these roadways were not expected to be completed for ten years, but were supposed to eventually be the main entrance to the University and would quite appropriately allow the statue to overlook the Fraser River.

Unfortunately, it was soon pointed out that having the monument in this location would be a traffic and pedestrian A sketch by Stephen Harman based on his memory of his father’s Simon Fraser sculpture. hazard. They therefore went with their Marshall sent in his design first and was decided by all committees that he second choice, the intersection of Gaglarapparently did his homework for his should be tasked to create his sculpture. di Way and Curtis-Ring Road overpass. It cubist figure, which he envisioned be- According to his son Stephen, who was would overlook both roads, as well as the ing put up in the AQ. He based the four only a toddler at this time, the design Fraser River and Valley, and was agreed to be a beautiful natural setting. ton, eight-foot-high red granite piece was quite unique.

With everything in order, the SFU on the last sentence of the explorer’s “It [was] the bust of Simon Fraser and journal — the line from July 2, 1808, then a 20 foot tall concrete canyon. So board of directors finally approved which was written after he reached it’s kind of a ‘V’ with the Fraser Canyon LaFarge Cement’s Centennial Gift of a Sculpture of Simon Fraser. The exciting the mouth of the Fraser river, states: behind it.”

“The men being extremely tired, went As if that weren’t enough, the sculp- news was announced in the April issue to rest, but they were not long in bed ture was also intended to be presented of Takkali, SFU’s monthly newsletter. before the tide rushed upon the beds with two massive concrete columns and The press release ended by stating that and roused them up.” a base. While Harman was supposed to “the board expressed its thanks to the He also noted in his submission, the oversee the building of these accom- members of the Works of Art Commitred granite would stand up to the wet panying elements, maquettes of the tee and the Aesthetics Committee who climate and also harmonize with the columns, one of which depicts Simon had brought this project to such a sucred tile patio in front on the building.

Fraser’s journey and the other the First cessful conclusion.”

And, that’s the story behind how it

By January of 1968, Harman had also Nations community, were given to SFU came to be that every time we travel up completed his work and by March, it directly by Lafarge.

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Burnaby Mountain to SFU we are greet- Vancouver, to confirm that SFU’s first Stanley Park, the UBC endowment ed by the giant head of Simon Fraser. At bust would soon be installed. Although lands, or Queen Elizabeth Park. With least this would’ve been the case, if it it would take a couple of months before support of the entire Indo-Canadiit would actually see the light of day, the an community of British Columbia, hadn’t been for another big head.

In a meeting with the Aesthetics tale of the Mahatma Gandhi monument they purchased a bronze replica of the committee sometime in May, President actually goes way back to 1965 and the Howard bust created by the famous McTaggart-Cowan showed his frus- correspondence between India and an Wagh and Company of Bombay, India.

The members then approached varitration with the gift that just kept on American by the name of Martin Luther ous municipalities and their parks and giving. According to Wayne Elwood King Jr. As a follower of Gandhi’s non- recreation boards to find an appropriate of the Aesthetics Committee, “McTaggart-Cowan held up Jack’s maquette, violence movement in his efforts to site to install the bust. After receiving turned it upside down, and made an bring civil rights for African Americans denials from all of the municipalities, in the United States, Martin Luther colleges and schools that they contactunfortunate comment.”

“I suspect at that point, he was so fed King Jr. was repeatedly contacted with ed, they became quite concerned at the up with the whole issue that he couldn’t the purpose of being gifted a bronze prospect of having no place available for the installation of the bust. take any more bickering. I don’t have bust of the Mahatma.

After several weeks, Natverlal ThaThe offers were made by a group in the date for that meeting, but it was the Bombay, India called “Sarvajanik Kaly- kore, a member of the Indo-Canadian end of the project, as far as I know.”

Even though McTaggart-Cowan had an Samati” (which translates in English community who was a Master’s student been very receptive to the idea of com- to ‘a body devoted to the welfare of the at SFU, finally recommended his school bining all the committees, at this point peoples’). They repeatedly sent letters as a location. J.K. Pavri of the India club nothing was finalized and he still held from 1965 to 1966 offering to pay and sent a letter to Dr. George Suart, the all the power when it came to the gift, ship the monument to hopefully be in- Vice President of Administration at Simon Fraser University on July 24, 1969. stalled at a Children’s park in the U.S. and he decided to cancel the project.

By 1969, the LaFarge sculpture fund was transHarman’s sculpture was planned to be 27 feet tall ferred away from the statue project towards general and the bronze bust of Simon Fraser would be five feet high. art purchases. McTaggartCowan was gone. The AesEven though there were no longer While it seems as if Dr. King never thetics committee no longer existed.

While most at SFU probably would’ve answered these letters, following his three committees, permission to install been happy to never have to deal with death, his wife did accept a Gandhi bust the statue still had to pass through the another statue gift again, a sculpture which she unveiled at Howard Universi- Board of Governors and the Senate. donation would rear it’s ugly head in no ty in Washington D.C. in spring of 1969. Bureaucracy once again made it difficult time, when a little famous Indian man The monument at SFU is a direct replica to complete the project. of this sculpture.

According to the India Club “the sitdecided to drop by the campus.

SFU’s version of it was first dreamed uation became more frustrating when ear Mr. Pavri: The University Works of Art Committee has up by a group called India Club who someone raised the following quesconsidered the generous offer of the were formed by a number of Indo- tion: Why should the statue of MahatEast Indian Community of British Co- Canadians in the Vancouver area on ma Gandhi be installed at the Univerlumbia regarding the proposed donation May 21, 1969. As this year was the sity; why not the statue of the famous to Simon Fraser University of a one and 100th anniversary of the birth of na- explorer Simon Fraser, after whom the one-half times life size bust of Mahatma tional Indian hero Mahatma Gandhi, it university has been named?”

Unlike the original Fraser statue howGandhi. I am pleased to write on behalf was decided their first project be dedicated to his honour. ever, the India Club had “the spirit of of the Committee, accepting this gift.”

The club made it their mission to the great soul of Mahatma” on their side On August 8, 1969 Jack Behrens of get a statue from India of Gandhi, and and the petty arguments and faculty SFU’s Works of Art Committee wrote to Mr. J.K. Pavri, of the India Club of have it installed at a public place such as politics ended up going in their favour.

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The monument was set be unveiled in a special ceremony on January 25, 1970 in the east Science courtyard of the AQ. While one would probably not assume that a 3’ sculpture of Gandhi located in a quiet courtyard away from the main concourse would attract too much of a negative of a reaction, the sculpture unveiling ceremony ended up giving a lot of legitimacy to the years of concern about having a statue on campus.

The statue installation was meant to be the climax to a large positive event featuring guest speakers, music and film screenings. The excitement started a little early however, when 50 protesters interrupted the event just before Mr. J.K. Pavri officially gave the bust over to SFU President Ken Strand.

While 12 of the protesters were from a group called the “Hindustani Ghadar Party”, a group of pro-Maoist radicals,

the rest were simply typical SFU protesters looking to disrupt the school’s administration any chance they could get.

The protest signs featured everything from “Gandhi was a lackey of British imperialism” to “The bust is a bust” to “Strand would have busted Gandhi” and the classic “Strand is a hypocrite”.

According to an article in the Vancouver Sun, the student group believed Strand had used force against students and therefore shouldn’t be involved in the unveiling of a statue of a man of peace. They also clarified that their protest was against Strand, had nothing to do with the other group and that they were trying not to offend the Indo-Canadian people.

The chants and obscenities from the crowd began quietly as Mr. Pavri was talking, but when Strand began his thank you, according to a letter from

George Suart, “within ten seconds [he] was drowned out completely.”

Strand didn’t fight back and simply took this opportunity to move the event into the theatre, leaving the protestors yelling a mishmash of “down with Gandhi” and “down with Strand” to an empty courtyard.

In the months following the incident, the statue was kept under constant guard from SFU Security and the glasses which were originally located on the sculpture’s face, have since been kept with the Thakure family and only put on for special occasions.

Despite the early controversy, since its installation, the Gandhi statue has become the site of a yearly celebration with countless SFU presidents, vice-presidents, chancellors, faculty members, and students showing their support every year.

<<

Photographs of David Marshall’s maquette for his proposed Simon Fraser statue, intended to be located in the AQ.

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September, Stephen and his associates worked tirelessly to get the statue up. Normally, a project of this scale would have taken upwards of a year, but with tapes of Terry Fox’s epic run as inspiration, Harman got it done.

Unlike the Simon Fraser debacle back in 1968, the Terry Fox project received tremendous support from the University and was a real community affair. The cost of the sculpture was $90,000 dollars and was fully paid for less than a year after its installation.

Its cost was covered by a wide range of donors, and everyone from administration to the school’s student SFU’s Gandhi sculpture is an exact replica of a bust erected at Howard University in 1969. society and alumni helped raise the money. The final $18,000 was donated by Wayne Holm, the model, until being contacted by The president of Milestones Restaurants, Tartan, the SFU Art Gallery had Jack’s who was also an early football star at name in their database as the artist of Stephen’s sculpture.

SFU back in the late sixties.

Although Stephen may have studied tanding at 3 metres high and weighing over 1,000 pounds, at UBC, a campus which features sevthe Terry Fox statue has become the eral statues sculpted by his father and defining symbol of the Burnaby cam- he may have gone on to also create the pus. Not only has SFU held a Terry Fox Terry Fox monument at BC Place which Day every year since and helped raise features four statues of the late hero — it millions of dollars for cancer research, is only at SFU where a Harman statue is but the Terry Fox statue has taken on a beloved as if it were a friend. second life as a figure in its own right.

“Terry is a very good representation,” Every winter, students dress him up Stephen believes to this day. “I would in a toque and jacket, and everyone who be honoured to have that as something has convocated since 2001 has been led representing me, as student or alumni.” through the mall by his forward-looking Thirty-four years after it first began, optimistic vision. a Harman work became the symbol While Jack Harman may have believed of our campus. It took lessons from that he had missed out on creating the bureaucracy, politics and even Gandhi defining statue when his Simon Fraser to get there, but the long-promised sculpture never got to see the light of monument to the greatness of Simon day, his son has kept his legacy alive Fraser does exist, and it can be found with this iconic statue. In fact, due to in the Academic Quadrangle under the a misunderstanding as to who created name Terry Fox. <<

The Gandhi statue has demonstrated to SFU the power of a human sculpture to bring people together and make a lasting impact for a person’s legacy. This would be a vitally important lesson for when the next member of SFU’s small statue family joined the university more than thirty years later. fter many statueless decades at Simon Fraser University, in 2001 the idea was raised to honour the school’s most famous student in a big way.

Disappointed by the way Terry Fox’s legacy had not been honoured at the school, SFU’s first football coach and athletic director, Lorne Davies formulated the idea of creating a statue of the young Canadian hero as part of a larger movement to have his connection to Simon Fraser be more known.

After contemplating the idea for a long time, Davies finally reached out to an artist to take on this tremendous project. He decided to seek out the creator of the first Terry Fox statue, located in Ottawa from 1982.

The name he found? Jack Harman.

While Harman was not actually the designer of the statue located across from Parliament Hill in our nation’s capital — it was an associate of his, named John Hooper — the Harman Foundry did cast the bronze and sculpt it based on Hooper’s model.

That project was especially exciting for one worker at the foundry in particular: Jack’s then 16-year old son Stephen. As a keen follower of Fox’s Marathon of Hope, Stephen had donated $25 dollars to the Marathon of Hope in 1980 — a big deal at the time — and couldn’t believe he was getting to help sculpt his hero. With his father passing away in early 2001 and Stephen taking over the business, he was the one to pick up the phone when Davies called.

After getting a small wax model of a running Terry approved by Davies, as well as Fox’s parents, from May to

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Why should anybody go to university?

Written by Benjamin Buckley

W

hy should anybody go to university?

That's not a rhetorical question. It's a question I have been asking myself for the last two years of my degree. Recently, I have begun to wonder whether I've made the right choice in spending years in post-secondary education.

Years of mathematics courses have taught me that, when faced with a large, complicated problem — was it all worth it? — it is often helpful to start by looking at a smaller, simpler problem; namely, why did I choose to go to university?

In retrospect, I believe my primary reason was that I had just gotten out of high school, I had good grades and I loved learning, so continuing my education seemed like the socially acceptable thing to do. It's what everyone else does, right?

But this isn't what I believed at the time. Suppose you were to travel back to 2009. You would find Ben Buckley, recent high school graduate in smalltown British Columbia. He's planning to spend two years studying at a local community college, then finish his degree at a university. If you ask him why he's doing this, he'll give you a series of inoffensive, people-pleasing responses: “I love learning”, “I want to make sure I get a good job”, “I want to be a more culturally sophisticated person” — and he'll mean it sincerely.

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a classic case of what is sometimes called “senioritis”, the tendency for university students to lose motivation in their final year of study. What happened between 2009 and 2015 to make me so jaded?

When a person loses the ability to enjoy something, it is often a symptom of depression. In fact, I went through a major depressive episode in 2012 and 2013. Mental illness is shockingly common among university students.

Compared to many students, however, my experience was actually rather anticlimactic — after months of having every moment of every day feel like a repetitive nightmare, I got myself to SFU Health and Counselling, where I started seeing a counsellor on a semi-regular basis, and got a prescription for Sertraline (an SSRI better known on the streets as Zoloft).

But it got me thinking.

Universities put a lot of resources into increasing awareness of mental illness and making resources such as counselling and medical help available to students. This is all well and good, but when students are taking their own lives so often that universities have to take aggressive measures to prevent it, it seems to me that there's a bigger problem here. It might be time to consider the possibility that there is something intrinsically unhealthy about university studies — or at least, the way we approach it.

On the surface, there doesn't appear to be anything inherently unhealthy about going to university. There is nothing that precludes having a lifestyle that

includes classes and homework in addition to exercise, healthy eating, a positive social life, and plenty of sleep.

And yet, many students, including myself, struggle to have any balance in their lives during their studies. During my years at SFU, I constantly ate simple carbohydrates, stayed up until four in the morning doing homework the night before it was due, got very little exercise, and struggled to find opportunities to meet people.

If you had asked me at the time why I was unable to have any kind of balanced lifestyle, I would have said something like, “There's not enough time in the day.” Actually, more realistically, I would have burst into tears and said something about how I'm a terrible person who can't manage my own life. But in either case, it would have felt like there wasn't enough time.

This is a little strange though, because I actually had plenty of time on my hands. My classes only took a couple hours each day, and try as I might, I was never able to find a part-time job during my studies. I joined a few student clubs, but even that only took a couple more hours out of my week. We've established that I wasn't using the time to sleep, meditate, exercise, or catch up on my homework.

People often underestimate how much stress can consume their life. I believe that, when I was stressed out by all my problems at once — classes, my health and lifestyle, my inability to find a job, my complete lack of a social life — the distraction made it impossible for me to focus on one thing at a time.

As a result, I spent a lot of time on the internet, consuming unchallenging content, usually YouTube videos, image macros, or thinkpieces about how the latest pop-culture phenomenon is “problematic.”

I craved information, which makes it odd that I didn't harness that craving to consume the information right in front of me — namely, the textbooks I had spent hundreds of dollars on for my classes.

It's a bit funny to think that there were plenty of parts of my experience at SFU that I enjoyed — the library, the professors, the clubs, the people — but the whole experience was ruined by the one thing I was actually there to do: to take classes. University would be a fine place, if it weren't for all those pesky courses.

Even among people who have graduated from university, the courses themselves rarely make for fond memories.

When I ask people about what they remember most fondly about their postsecondary education, they are more likely to talk about the friends they made, or the clubs they joined, or the interesting events they attended. Most of them don't remember any of the material they learned in their courses.

I can't help but wonder if it would make a difference if we replaced every university with a four-year vacation resort for people who had good grades in high school. You could charge the same amount of money and still hire professors and have computer labs, libraries and clubs, but classes would be strictly optional and have no grades. It would be less stressful, and everybody would learn about as much as they were probably going to learn anyway.

I believe that I had unrealistic expectations about university. Formal education is advertised as a magical institution that you can apply to, go through a series of challenges, and emerge as an improved human being. But really, there's nothing magical about it. You go

to a building, you take some courses, then you leave.

And that's not necessarily a bad thing, if you know what you're getting into, and you know what you want to get out of the experience.

One thing that fascinates me is the number of adults who go back to school to get a second degree, or to otherwise continue their education. Several members of my family have returned to school. For example, my aunt studied social work at university when she was in her late forties. She studied alongside my cousin (her daughter) and they graduated the same year. I suspect that my aunt enjoyed her studies more than I enjoyed mine. At the very least, I bet she got more value out of the experience.

She didn't just go to university because everyone else was doing it — she made a

conscious decision to study in a field of her choice. It would be nice if we lived in a society where this is how everybody treats post-secondary education: as a conscious choice, not as a way to kill four years of your life.

As for me, I will officially graduate from SFU in October — I am still not sure if I want to attend my own convocation ceremony.

I don't want to support the idea that there is something magical about getting a degree from a university. My years of post-secondary education were not an epic story that needs a satisfying conclusion. They were just a series of events — some good, some bad — in the longer story that is my life. Perhaps if I had known this six years ago, I could have relaxed and enjoyed those years a little more.

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11th WONDER

by Ryan Hoben

I was watching Judge Judy on the TV your package, I gotta go!” Bradford, I threw the sexy negligee over top or at least pretending to watch. Out of who was already naked, gave me a wink of Bradford, I’d been holding it for the corner of my eye, from the couch and took off out the door and down some reason and the neighborhood all and through the fake wooden door, the hallway, leaping over some old bum thought he was some kind of pervert or Bradford was standing in front of the who was passed out. I remember see- fruitcake and he was in the hospital, in mirror, trying to think up jokes. I could ing his hairy, ape ass bouncing around traction for 4 weeks and he just got intell that he was doing it because he and I was laughing hard. Bradford got surance. He met his first real girlfriend always had a serene and violent look down to the bottom of the first flight at Marymount, Garfield Heights. Her in his eyes when he tried to think up as Miss Vatas was carrying up a load of name was Tammy and she was really jokes. He would practice his jokes for laundry. She never used the dryer be- into Bad Religion and NoFx and those hours and they were never funny. I had cause it interfered with her fabrics so other punky bands. They dated for the never seen Bradford do anything re- me or Bradford would usually help her entire time he was being treated and motely funny except for the time he fell up the stairs. She was struggling pretty he never took her out once. That was down the staircase naked in front of hard and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't the kind of guy Bradford was. He was Miss Vatas, in the summer of '96. That shout, it wasn't like I wanted to see all bad luck, but with just enough good summer was hot and Bradford was anyone get hurt, it was just the whole luck mixed in that you loved him and waiting for a package from his Mother, magic comedy of life unfolding before wanted to be around him. He doesn’t from Vermont. She would always send my eyes. Bradford skipped to the right, dance around naked anymore due to Bradford a birthday package his foot problem, but he still that would contain jams and gets by. e doesn t dance around naked sweet breads and a lot of differBradford was pacing around ent kinds of breads. the room and mumbling like anymore due to his foot problem We were smoking cigarettes a caveman and I could make but he still gets by and watching the funny tape, a out a few words in between collection of strange moments the bellows and panting and I that we recorded off of cable. There but so did Miss Vatas, her hair pulled could tell he was feeling a bit nervous was a segment dedicated to Mean Jean back in a religious bun and they hit each about his set the next day. Since we Burger, where the famous wrestling other, not square on, but just a bit to the got laid off from Hagen he got really announcer would travel to small towns side. Miss Vatas lost her load. Though into wanting to be a stand-up comeand open burger joints and hold burger she remained safe, Bradford slipped on dian and his girlfriend Lorna, she got eating competitions. Bradford had a a silky, pink negligee, the kind that the really sick of him always talking about very large penis and would sometimes women wore in the '40s, the real sexy it so she bet him that he wouldn’t give get completely naked and dance around ones and he went ass-over-teakettle it a try, mostly because she was a bitch the tiny one bedroom apartment we down the last flight and out into the but maybe there was some goodness shared, waving the thing around, for road and was knocked unconscious and in there. She gave him one month the neighbours and such. Miss Vatas everyone on the street gathered around and that was 29 days ago and she gave always hated seeing Bradford's penis and looked at Bradford, at his huge him a copy of all the open mics and and would always complain if she saw penis and his monkey legs twitching comedy jams from downtown and it too many times in a month. That day, and he was moaning about jams and their times and locations, and everyUPS guy couldn't get ahold of Bradford, jellies and discounted cheeses and the thing. Lorna was really mean occasionbut we both went to high school with breath finally escaped him and I thought ally, but sometimes she was an angel. him, so he knew us, but we didn't know I could see a little bit of his life move up, I don’t think all women are like that. I him. Sometimes that's how high school towards the sky, parting the clouds and don’t try and fit them into little perfect works. The guy yelled up from the street, continuing on farther to a place where boxes. I used to but I stopped. Nothing “Braddy, get the hell down here and get dead people go. ever worked out for me with women.

“H

’

,

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If Bradford didn't get up on stage and try out his material, then he'd have to pay her rent for the next month and vice versa for her if he got up there.

The problem was that Bradford had no jokes. And also no money. So I sat around, collecting my cash from the Feds and he spent his time in front of the mirror, giving himself breathing problems and acne. Ever since high

“It's gonna happen soon man.” Bradford said and he started to shake all over, so I went to him and put my arms around him and held him and smelt his scent and felt the filth from my body transfer to him and I rejoiced. Bradford fell asleep, exhausted and I slid out from underneath him and moved to the couch and watched a little more TV. It was a Thursday and also the 30th,

“I left and then I came back and was a new person, to my family, my friends and that was cleansing, but Bradford stayed and no one ever forgets if you are always around.” school, whenever something bad would happen, Bradford would get these huge breakouts of zits across his forehead and sometimes, during class, he'd pick at them and people would stare. That's the reason why he didn't lose his virginity until he was 24. For some people, the horrors of high school will just fade off into the distance. All the terror you inflicted on gentle souls, all the things you stole from house parties or people you kicked while they were down, all that can be erased. All you have to do is move away for a few years. That's what I did. I left and then I came back and was a new person, to my family, my friends and that was cleansing, but Bradford stayed and no one ever forgets if you are always around. Bradford became progressively quieter, which was disturbing so I went into his room to check up on him and he had the blankets all torn off and his fan was stuck, making a noise like a dying robot and he was begging for a cigarette, but not with words. I handed him a puff of mine and he carefully took the smoke from my yellow hands and he began massaging his feet, where his eleventh toe was coming in.

“It's sore today.” Bradford said.

“It looks very red.”

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so I was on edge because I didn’t like too many things starting with the same letter. Just like when it was the 20th on a Tuesday, a few months ago. I hate that so I knew instantly that something bad was going to happen, yet I didn’t go back to bed, I got up and went about my daily things. I always thought that was an odd trait in people, that even though all of their instincts say that today is going to be bad, they still get up and face the day. Maybe that’s why humans don’t really have many instincts left anymore, because we all learned how to ignore them. I mean we still fuck and eat and sleep and cry and go get coffee and ride a bike through Perk Plaza.

I was riding my bike through Ralph J. Perk Plaza and I stopped to enjoy my coffee, it was spilling all over my hands and making my t-shirt brown. I needed to get out of the apartment and away from Bradford for a few hours.

He knew that tomorrow was just a day away and that he had no jokes and he was constantly swearing and talking to his eleventh toe, which was forming quite nicely now, developing a toe nail and little hairs and all. I was smoking a cigarette when I noticed an old junkie, Boobs, walking in my direction. A few

years ago I tried my hand at being a bootlegger. I got a big check from the Feds because I paid too much tax so I spent it all on cheap booze. I thought that I knew enough people that liked cocaine and alcohol, so I was figuring that I could sell the booze to them after hours, at a heightened rate, maybe 20 percent over market value. I used to be kind of tough too so I thought everyone would pay, but no one did. Boobs in particular owed me at least a hundred bucks. He sat down beside me and his hair was starting to dread in the back and he had a Bart Simpson “I Didn’t Do It” t-shirt on and I was glad he was alive nonetheless. “Boobs.”

“Chrissy, long time.” He said and he handed me a ticket to a roller derby match.

“So?” “Wanna go?” He said.

“What you drinking?” He reacted like I’d just busted open his face and he pulled out a bottle of Hermits and we walked over to the parking garage down the street and got smashed and I watched him smoke crack and saw how he changed and became the person he had always wanted to be and I felt good for him.

We got to the arena late and the place was going crazy and I tried to get Boobs to smoke some crack with me but he said he was out and that if I gave him money, he’d grab some and I laughed and we took our seats. The announcer was also the DJ and he kept playing old NWA tracks and everyone, even the old timers would cheer when “Fuck Tha Police” came on and it was all very exciting. I went to buy a few pints of beers for me and Boobs and quickly snuck into the good seats and watched until I got kicked out. On the way back I saw into the dressing rooms and there were weak girls acting tough and beautiful women acting ugly and it was a nice. I got back to the seats and

Boobs was gone, along with my jacket, so I stretched my legs out and drank the giant Buds and waited for the next match to begin. It was all women, dressed up like different characters.

It was futuristic and silly. The women

When I was seventeen I hitchhiked up to Canada, to Montreal. I met an old, gay, truck driver who liked the look of me and he gave me a lift from a gas station and a few days later, he dropped me off at the Cote Vertu Metro station.

“You look different” she said. “I am” I lied. would occasionally collide with each other the crowd would cheer or boo depending on who they supported. I hate seeing woman subjected to violence and that’s always been one of my finest qualities. As the two groups of women went around and around the track, they gained more speed and a girl with strawberry blonde hair got flung to the front of the pack. When I knew her, her name was Elizabeth, but the announcer called her Messy Bessy.

I thought back to the night when I was a teenager and I took Elizabeth out to the Pizza Hut, when Pizza Huts were sit down restaurants, special occasion places and I gave her a rose and told her I loved her and she was only fourteen, but still knew enough that she didn’t love me and I cried when my Mother picked me up. Its funny how my Mother knew something was wrong, like she knew me better than she knew herself and it only took her asking “What’s wrong” for me to break down, but she didn’t tell my Father. Messy Bessy collided with a black woman named Princess Kalish. She was dressed like an African Queen and had barely any clothes on and wore a cheetah print cape and the crowd really seemed to dislike her. Both women were flailing on the ground, but Messy Bessy got up first and extended her hand to the African Queen. Princess Kalish grabbed Messy Bessy’s hand and she helped the villain up from the track, but then Kalish slapped Bessy across the face and it made me think of Montreal.

The snow was really coming down and I had an Aunt that lived on the outskirts of town and she came and picked me up. I had no money and I couldn’t speak French, so her family was getting kinda sick of me. I went out and found a job at a dusty hamster cage factory. Everyone would always be smoking really strong French cigarettes and listening to loud French pop music on the radio, so it was strange and fragrant. My job was to trim the ends off the wires that were left over after the soldering had taken place.

There were two sharp jaws slamming shut twenty times a minute and I had to feed the cages through and pile them neatly onto a palette. The French guys got all the good jobs there, but I got to sit down for 8 hours a day and the pay was fine. I still kept in touch with Elizabeth, even though my Mother begged me not too. She would send me regular

and everything was fine and I thought that this was my chance and that everything was gonna be normal for me and that she’d fall in love with the person I was when she was around. That’s one thing I always think about, is how I’d change when I was around her. I’d become the best man that ever lived. I’d pay for everything and make her laugh and I would be sweet and caring and give money to the homeless and be positive and light and I wouldn’t smoke so much. It wasn’t like I was putting on a show or anything, it was like I altered myself just enough to be lovable. It was April and we were sitting under a tree by the train station and she was gonna stay with me for a few days, then stay with her friends back in the city.

“You look different” she said.

“I am” I lied. I remember she was wearing these tiny white denim shorts and had her hair down, straight and long and her freckles were just starting to sprout. I had a few bottles of cheap wine that I picked up from the depanneur, Sur du Lac or something sweet and strong and we were drinking it under the tree. My friend Mike went by on his skateboard and stopped to talk about some vampire card game that he was really into,

“I needed to get out of the apartment and away from Bradford for a few hours.” letters and I’d send her back love letters and everything was fleeting. After a few months, Elizabeth said she was gonna come up and visit me, so I sent her some cash and she took the greyhound bus to Montreal. I was still living with my Aunt, but was paying rent, so things were a little better. Still, we lived far away from downtown. Elizabeth had to take a rail train out to meet me, so I met her at the station and we hugged and laughed

where you collected bloods or something, for points. He asked me if Elizabeth was my girlfriend and I said yes and things got cold so he took off to go roll dice somewhere. Everything got quiet after that. The traffic stopped making sounds and the rail cars passed without any interference and Elizabeth got up and started walking towards the station, carrying a bottle of wine and her book bag.

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When I got back to the apartment, with Lorna. We sipped strong drinks “Where are you going?”

Bradford was heating up knives on and were running up quite a tab be“Back to Cote Vertu” she said without turning around. I followed her the stove top, but they weren’t our cause it was looking like Bradford would be rent free for a month and closely and could see the wet patch blade knives. we both were happy. It was open “What?” from the grass on her ass and it mike night and a lot of bad spirited turned me on.

“I’ve gotta get him out.”

“Wait” I said but she kept on walk“How do you know it’s a he?” I people would come and heckle the ing so I sped up, but so did she and asked and he looked at me with rud- new comers or just watch the failure. The lights went down and we this continued on for a few minutes, dy eyes and he spat on the floor. until I got sick of it, of everything, “Don’t.” he said and he grabbed the endured lots of terrible comics getof wondering who she was with and red hot steak knives off the burner ting destroyed and our anxiety grew what she was doing, if she’d been with one hand and tossed me a rag until the guy on the PA announced for Bradford to come onto stage. He fucking anyone and if her room was with another. still messy and I came up behind her “Get some ice” he said and I did had his hair all greased back and was and grabbed her by the wrist and and watched him lower two knives limping around, trying to prop up the microphone spun her around stand because he too roughly and looked down at the eleventh toe was too tall and she dropped her had a “Property and it looked back at me and it told us bag and started of the Cincinnati running for the something as if bartering for its life Bengals” T-shirt station and I on, which the started running crowd booed as after her and into his flesh, where the new toe was she was crying so I stopped and peeking out from the side of his foot he stood in silence.

“I watched a movie the other day.” stood there, holding her bag while and as the metal touched his flesh, she ran. I went back over to the tree there was a scream, but it didn’t Bradford said.

“I love watching movies. I watch and waited for the train to take her come from Bradford or me and he back downtown and drank the wine dropped the knives to the carpet movies all the time” He continand watched, hours later as the and they smouldered on the plastic ued and his voice was shaky and Cote Vertu train ambled out of the fibres and the room filled with poi- the crowd prepared themselves for station and down the tracks and I sonous smoke so I opened a window blood. hugged her bag and went through it, and held the cold rag against his “I just watched that movie, you smelling her clothes and underwear eleventh toe and felt it squirm and know, the Never Ending Story?” until all the scent was inside of me. flex underneath my hand, like a new- Bradford said as he waited for just Years later, I found out that Cote Ver- born baby girl and for a while there the right moment. tu means odd virtue in English, so was a muffled sound of crying and “Waaaaaaay too long.” he said and I sent her book bag to her parents’ speaking and when I pulled away the the crowd sat silently as Bradford home address. Her Father died and wet rag away from Bradford’s foot, I took a swig from his drink. her Mom remarried some car sales- looked down at the eleventh toe and “I’m sorry. My eleventh toe told me man, I’d heard. Princess Kalish and it looked back at me and it told us that joke last night.” he said and the Messy Bessie were screaming in each something, as if bartering for its life crowd went wild and me and Lorna other’s faces so I got up and left and and we laughed and laughed. stood up and cheered on Bradford, a took a cab back to my bike and my Hilarities on East 4th was filled to man more brave than anyone I’d ever seat was missing so I rode it standing the brim and I had a table up front known. up, letting the wind mess up my hair.

“I

,

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…”

BABY SHOES

by Samara Malkin

I close the box and retie its pretty red ribbon. The box sits quietly on the table, the triumph being slowly sucked out of it. I lean back and place my hands upon my belly. I still feel as if there is something there, moving around inside of me. I still cannot believe that there is not. Everything had felt so real – the agitation had been real, the way I had felt; surely some of it must have been a little real, even in an obscure kind of way. The doctor explained to me what had happened, how my belly had bloated up then collapsed back down, like air being let out of a balloon. Air. Nothing more. Simply air.

What am I supposed to do with air? I picture the look on his face when I told him. He was so shocked he started laughing, and he has yet to stop. I pretend not to notice. We can always try again. This time I’m sure it will work, it has to. I tell this to him too but he hears only himself.

I want to take out the shoes and draw them to my face, feel them solid against my skin. Maybe we should keep them, in case things work out better next time. No, he won’t like it. He’s tossed them aside already; they’re no use to him in this condition. Never used means not yet used up, doesn’t it? But I don’t think he believes this. No, we had better rid

ourselves of them and start again. I can straighten myself out and he can… well he can keep himself coming home every night. That’s supposed to be enough, I think, if I cannot even manage such a thing as keeping the shoes.

All I ever wanted was a family. A family to prove we’re not just playacting. I know they all snigger into their hands behind my back, as they pass off baby after baby to their nannies. He shrugs it off like it doesn’t matter, but it does! It does to me. And it should to him. Our garden’s growing full of little buried holes. The doctors don’t have an answer for that. I cannot wrap my head around it, nor spend my time thinking about it. It’s a terrible dream. I thought this time we had gotten it right. Instead all we got was air. Cold, harsh, dried up air. I’m beginning to think he had a right to laugh. Hysterical – lord knows it is hysterical, absurd even.

But still I wish he wouldn’t laugh quite as loud. It makes us strangers. And all strangers could ever whisk up after everything is air. Hysterical.

I pick up the paper and start writing out the ad for those perfect little shoes, holding the pen firmly in my hand.

We can always get another pair.

THE TARTAN, FALL 2015

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MACRA-MAFIA

by Daryn Wright

I was making my boyfriend a knitted throat, the yarn trade, and I had to do crocheted horse’s head at the foot of the cap for his birthday when I ran out of what I had to do. I needed the yarn, so bed, next to my legs. It was immaculatethe right colour of yarn. So I went to a I had to find someone else who could ly crafted; clearly the creator knew what he or she was doing. There were long supply store downtown to find more— supply it to me. they didn’t have any. So the proprietor, a I hung up, and convinced myself I’d red and pink loops hanging from what woman named Lisa, told me she’d order done the right thing. She called back was the horse’s neck, woolen arteries it in. again. She told me I was forbidden to and muscles. This, I thought, was no A few days later she called, said it had ever enter her store again. Her voice work by the neighbourhood children. arrived. I went in, but turns out she’d was level but deep. I felt embarrassed This must be a sign. Someone is trying ordered the wrong colour. This just and also a little insulted; I certainly to tell me something, and they’re using wouldn’t do. It would mean the cap wouldn’t be paying her a visit anytime wool to do it.

••• would have a strange stripe on the top soon, I decided. half, just a slightly lighter coral than the I decided to venture over to Lisa’s That evening I woke in the middle of bottom. Not right. the night to a loud crash in the dining shop despite her warning for me to stay We were in her backroom, making the room. I padded across the floor to find away. I felt she could be the only person call for the second time. It was all very that the window had been smashed. behind this yarn, and I decided it best black-market, the rotary phone sitting in Bits of glass covered the floor like a mo- I just confront her, maybe pay her for the middle of the otherwise empty ta- saic reflecting the moonlight. I tiptoed the bundle she’d ordered for me in orble, a single light swinging from above. around the shards, trying to find the der to remove this bad blood between She spoke in hushed tones, using yarn cause. Blood pooled around the crevices us. I was just walking up to the front of of my toes, left footprints behind me. the shop when I felt someone grab me jargon I’d never heard before. from behind and slip a knitted She ordered the yarn sack over my head. Next thing omeone is trying to tell me again, this time the right I knew, I was in the back of a shade of salmon that I something and they re using black town car surrounded by needed. She was pretty muffled gruff voices. Throw good about it, really. She her into the river, I heard a wool to do it even ordered it with expedeep female voice say. I tried dited shipping so it would At last I found the culprit under the ta- to speak, talk myself out of the situation arrive in two days time.

I’d decided to wander around the city ble. It had an odd, unexpected weight and maybe reach into my pocket for that day and I came upon a yarn shop I’d to it, and I figured it must be a brick money, but I felt threads wrap around never seen before. When I went inside, I wrapped in yarn, but as I unraveled it my wrists and my eyes felt heavy. They discovered the exact shade of yarn I was I discovered that the yarn never ended; must have chloroformed the wool sack. yearning for. When Lisa called me the it just continued all the way through, Everything went black.

••• next day to say the bundle had arrived, until I was left with a long trail of thin wool behind me.

Peculiar, I thought.

I I told her, regretfully, that I’d been in a I awoke to cold water rushing around rush and had to look elsewhere for it. cleaned my foot and went back to bed, me, and something was carrying me She was furious. She began yelling at resolving to have the window fixed down – fast. I struggled to get out of my me, explaining how the yarn cost her tomorrow. Must have been kids fooling crocheted cuffs, twisting my wrists vimore than it was worth, especially with around. ciously until my hands came free. Fools, The next morning I awoke to find the additional price of the courier. She I thought, such sloppy knots., I pulled lost a lot of money on it, she said, and it something heavy at my feet. That’s the sack off my head and, quickly runstrange, I thought, I don’t have a dog. ning out of breath, began fumbling with was all my fault.

Of course I felt terrible, but it was cut I pulled the sheets back to find a large whatever was weighing me down. More

“S

,

’ .”

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51

yarn bricks. I plummeted deeper into the cold dark. Finally, I was able to undo a few of the knots around my feet, freeing the soggy bricks and swimming back up to the surface.

••• I never actually found out why Lisa had decided to off me. Maybe I knew too much. Maybe I was collateral for the money she’d lost with my order. Whatever it was, her and her cronies had already high tailed it out of there by the time I broke the surface. Needless to say, I avoided her store-front from then on,

making a yarn shop on the other side of town my home. This one was owned by a sweet little retired lady named Martha who called me dear and offered me tea and biscuits while I browsed. She was no killer.

One afternoon I was walking to Martha’s shop, on the hunt for some mint-coloured imported threads I knew she carried, when I noticed there was a sort of sidewalk sale going on. There were a few tables set up with fabrics and needles and baskets of colourful balls of yarn. I began sifting through the wares

MANNERS

by Kyle Michels

Just stop being a fucking PUSSY and TAKE IT, John says through a wet grin, and pushes a grass-covered ping pong ball in front of Nicole’s face. Nervous glances are exchanged throughout the party as we seek a way to cut the tension, the tightness around our eyes asking when our mandate of politeness is out the window. Nicole is too drunk to recognize the pedestal John constructs perpetually, and we all inwardly sigh with relief. It’s his backyard, after all.

John says babe, get me a drink and his fiancée tells him to get his own. See what I put up with? He says. It’s all a joke, just a joke that we agreed we wouldn’t put up with anymore.

But considerate patrons don’t make waves. We avoid aggression like a dreaded figure that looms in the darkness beyond warm porch lights. We dodge and parry its heavy blows in the hopes that it will tire. We smile, say nothing, and hope it hollows out its own grave before someone innocent is buried.

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when I heard a familiar voice. I looked up and saw Lisa standing there, only a few feet away, talking to Martha. I froze in place, unsure if she’d seen me or not.

Lisa came over and asked me if I needed help finding anything. Luckily my largebrimmed sun hat and dark glasses shielded most of my face, and I shook my head fiercely and robotically, leaving the table and walking away as fast as I could.

That was when I decided to ditch the whole knitting thing and pick up pickling instead.

Of course, if someone is made a victim we will of course say something but no one has been hurt (and Nicole didn’t really notice) so it’s no big deal and we don’t need to say anything to John right now—It’s his backyard, after all.

If I think I saw John sneak into his sister-in-law’s bedroom at 2am a year ago and I never told anyone, when would have been the appropriate time to say something? I don’t want to make waves until I’m certain, I say. That’s appropriate. The only person who doesn’t care about appropriateness is John, yet we say nothing: we wait until we’re certain.

The game of beer pong eventually falls flat, and John decides we are not worth his time. He leaves the door open for us to hear him laugh at his fiancée and say I don’t give a fuck what they think. Then silence. Relief bounces contagiously through the party. We are deflating, but we stopper the guilt by apologizing for someone else and politely moving on.

PUPPETS

by Geoffrey Morrison

I was in a city on a Sunday and all the passers-by seemed to have thin moustaches, wraparound sunglasses, and mossy army-surplus coats. Everybody wanted a cigarette. At this point I had very little to do; I had presented my paper at the symposium, received generous applause, and answered the questions in what I hoped were halfway-satisfactory ways.

Professor Kobelski said I had a certain way of answering as though I had already anticipated every possible question, even when I hadn’t. I didn’t tell her why I suspected that this was the case, or what it said about me. They had introduced me as “by all accounts an exciting new voice in the study of Javanese art.” But I won’t breathe another word about what they said or how I felt about it. I’d rather tell you about the city that I still found myself in a day after the conference, foolishly having booked a late flight because I was foolishly trying to save money.

It was a mill town, sort of, but uncannily molting. Taking advantage of certain booms, building condos, changing the municipal font. The university had been around just long enough to have generated the good-will required for a fairsized conference on world art history. I walked the January high street, looking into the windows of boutiques, mostly closed. Handicrafts, kitchenwear, knitware, vintage records, used clothing, bicycle design, graphic repair. Craft brewing even. But closed. It was me and the solitary smokers; I had no idea what other people did on a Sunday here but I suspected it involved a bigger city.

Eventually I found an outlet of that chain of art-supply stores that you have probably heard of. Known in bohemian districts but also provincial shopping centres with large

parking lots. Still open inexplicably, and yes it’s true I sketch a little bit with pencil when I have the time. Electronic music, high synthesizer cascades in a key more “toying” than “playful.” I assembled the limbs of the little wooden man in a pose suggesting the Olympic high-dive. Then again the mother in the Pietá. Afterwards the son. Tried to remember The Dying Gaul but could only recall the wound. His marble blood, the least realistic part of the entire piece. They never did get the blood quite down. Wax of a used candle.

Somebody was watching me; I was the only customer in the store. Without looking up I said, “I think it was the ballistae.

Archaeological or I suppose osteological evidence seems to confirm.”

A wooden voice: “In Spenser, Nature wears a veil.”

“What kind of fabric?”

“Polyurethane.”

“No, but I get it. A view of the present state.”

“I pay attention even though they don’t believe me. How many monographs?”

“One, and they love it. 356 pages. All on shadow puppets.

This is true.”

“I believe it. Title?”

“Frames of Mastery: The Biopolitics of the Javanese Wayang Kulit. Working, you understand. Aphasia UP may push for a change.”

“J’avoue j’en ai bavé pas vous mon amour...”

“I would dance it.”

“Sure. Who wouldn’t? As a child I spent an unhealthy amount of time reading about the reproductive systems of non-mammals.”

THE TARTAN, FALL 2015

53

some coffee in an unknown city, it will not be a place with cracked formica tables, a sticky red racing stripe all along the wall, aluminum swivel-stools, and a lady behind the counter with a paper hat. Nor will it be somewhere where the undercutted baristas play weird, fuzzy No Wave while tables full of denim-jacketed ABD’s churn out tortuous theory-prose. Actually it will be an establishment that wipes away any trace of grease, puts in a fake stone floor, plays smooth jazz from a satellite radio station, and belongs to a sizeable regional chain. I warmed my hands at a gas fire with a fake log.

A painting on the wall: a woman with the very high fore“Smooth, polished skull, absolutely no head typical of European portraiture in the fifteenth century. Her exaggerated hands swirled around a coffee cup that facial features, crudely carved pectoproduced effusive whorls of steam. The perspective caused her iron-latticed balcony and French windows to look flatrals, surprisingly realistic hands. Joints tened and far away. Something about it made me think of creaking like a rocking chair as he cocked Nescafe jars or packages for hard cookies meant to resemble Danish pastries: lazy deep blue and pale grey pastels as a his head a little.” shorthand for Old World sophistication. Bastardly of a bridge It was the full-sized, six-foot version of the miniature and the Hudson never Lethed you, my Seine. What do you Le wooden man. Smooth, polished skull, absolutely no facial fea- Havre in Stockholm? Oh, just a little something to München. tures, crudely carved pectorals, surprisingly realistic hands. I found a book in my bag, and read: Our investigations into Joints creaking like a rocking chair as he cocked his head a the godhead have been conclusive. There is a tiny godhead by the sea. Auden spotted him and wrote a poem: little. I had long aspired to meet a friend such as this.

“Did you envy them?”

“Some. The frog’s mouth, the seahorse barracks, the frequent manta ray. Something has a purse and I can’t remember if it is a shark. The purse shark? That seems wrong somehow.”

“Nature wears a veil but She is also a mile tall, not striding through the forest so much as knocking it over.”

“No, but I like the sentiment. Tapioca, manioc, maté, mescaline, peyote. Orange pekoe.”

“I’ll bring it to a boil.”

“Turn around.”

“Shall we form a Covenant of Best Friendship?”

“Yes, I admire this proposition.”

“And now, immediately, let us part and be silent.”

“As the grave. But first you must buy those pencils. You were going to shoplift them but I saw you.”

“The first thing I shoplifted was The Nicomachean Ethics.

The second thing was Augustine’s Confessions. I gave it to a pig.”

“Repent while you can.”

Outside again, the wind blew uncomfortably but failed to do anything exciting – like whip up little whirls of paper or whistle. It was one-thirty. I stuck to side-streets and let my mind wander to trapped places, double-binds. I vaguely remembered an Anabaptist whose pursuer fell through a frozen pond. True to his creed, he saved the drowning man – but was burned at the stake anyway. The soft, starving ice, so close in attitude to fire.

“Jesus coffee,” I said to myself. “I need a Christ.” When the ambulatory bog-body finally finds somewhere to sit with

54

THE TARTAN, FALL 2015

There is a tiny godhead by the sea: He’s in the sand, and by the bloody sea.

A little statue gentleman, you know; He’s madly there, but tiny, don’t you see.

I made a votive offering to him: Just a few ciggies, boys, by the bloody sea.

The machine flange the machine flange the flare. Careful, the flare. The machine flange the machine flange the flare.

Bandsaw bandsaw bandsaw bandsaw flare. And this – is a hand plane. Cut short early in life by unforeseen circumstances. This is a hand plane. This is a hand. 6X6 sheet aluminum 8X8 sheet plexiglass, plywood plywood plywood plywood stone. Ire of the neighbours. Ire of the taste. I have a mansion in my mouth.

I didn’t really know what the author was getting at, but I felt that it would be appropriate for me to feel unwell at this time.

MAKING ENDS MEET

by Oliver Baker

Ever been to an auction—not the ritzy Sotheby’s kind—the local estate sales?

Just remember two things: although beauty is in the eye of the beholder, everything under the hammer is always something somebody else didn’t want.

Hell, she’d been waiting for ages, so she lit a cigarette. Jayne moaned about that habit too. Money was tight, but Jayne’s bottled water, designer coffees, and personal fitness trainer — they were different. Harriett turned. Jayne had finally come. She wrenched the damaged passenger door open and climbed in. Jayne said nothing. Harriett thought, this is not a good week, nor had it been a good month. Jayne had been terminated for cause — for letting that bossy witch of a supervisor have it.

She was too impulsive — you find something else first — then leave any saying until your last day. They needed two incomes. Then the collisions — who cares about fault? Still, for Jayne’s sports car, it was a five-hundred dollar deductible they simply didn’t have. Jayne hated the pickup truck and drove it that way — with battered hatred. Now it sported a cracked side window and dented passenger door. Best not to mention anything; explanations were pointless.

The drive home and the evening were endured with silence. Harriett had to travel up-island for a Friday dinner meeting, which meant staying overnight. Jayne wasn’t pleased about that either. She was using Harriett’s pickup because until they paid the deductible, her sports car was off-the-road. Couldn’t she use a rental? Harriett had argued, if she was careful and creative, she’d be able to make-up something toward that five-hundred on her expense claim as

the per diem and mileage allowances were generous. Harriett took her pickup. Heading home on Saturday and enjoying an early lunch in Duncan, she noticed neighbourhood children taking down signs for a garage sale. Cruising past the address, she saw the usual sad remains littering the driveway. Usual, except for one item—a stuffed farm animal. She stopped and climbed out to have a better look. The magnificent black-faced ram, possibly an Old Norfolk, reminded her of a distant country and her grandfather’s hill farm. “How much?” she enquired casually.

“Oh — that goddamn thing — Hell — Nobody wanted it — Five bucks — But yer gotta take it right now!”

“Done!” replied Harriett, momentarily wondering about money for fuel, “Can you help me tie it down?”

“Sure — No problem.”

Arriving home, Harriett had barely turned into their driveway, when she was spotted from the kitchen. Flying outside, Jayne yelled, “Goddamn it, Harriett! Don’t you dare bring THAT into our house. Get rid of it!”

Now? There’s a problem, she thought.

She telephoned an auctioneer from a pay phone near Starbucks. “Could they manage one special item? No — Not furniture. A conversation piece — No — Yes — Dead — Not just the head — the whole thing.”

“What? — You’re kidding! Well — OK. But if there’s no sale you’ll have to pick it up before 5:00 p.m. the day after the

auction.”

“Done! — I’ll be right over.”

Harriett dropped by the day after the auction. She half-expected to see the ram forlornly stuffed into the back storage area. “Hi-yer, Harriett,” the auctioneer greeted her warmly. “Strange things happen, Eh? They went nuts over yer ram. It’s gone!”

“How much? — Twenny?”

“Hell — No! Six hundred and twenny.

I’ll get you your cheque.” The six-twenty less commission was enough to cover Jayne’s five-hundred dollar deductible.

There wouldn’t be much left, but she might be able to find a complete passenger-side door at the wrecker’s and install that on the pickup herself.

“What a miracle,” Harriett said to no one in particular. They would now scrape by without using plastic. She was still the only one with a job and she hoped, as they had agreed, no more credit card charges and no cash advances — period — until.

Next Saturday morning, she awoke to an empty house. Goodness, she thought, Jayne was up and out early — But why? Stumbling downstairs, she noticed that her truck was gone too.

Then she saw a note on the refrigerator door.

Harriett — Gone to garage sales in Duncan — Kisses PS— What’s that auctioneer’s phone number?

THE TARTAN, FALL 2015

55

DREAM IMAGES “Memorize scripture fast as you can, fast as you can type memorize it quickly and then write it down so that others can read it later, yourself included. It is important that you do this so dont forget that I am the one telling you now. “ Lame old beggars washed up on the sidewalks just picking at their toenails in the same way they look for edible trash in the trash bin, they are old and tired now but still they keep trucking, trucking alone looking for their scraps and dressing themselves in them. Why not suicide by means extraordinary or any means whatever just be sure to make it public, really public, ruin some childhoods, why not.

The watch sits on the book by the window, and outside the window rain falls and the steam from coffee coats the corner of the inside of the window. The rain falls on cobblestones patterned with gutters centrally placed to allow the rain not to puddle but to fall into drains where it is carried far far away 56

THE TARTAN, FALL 2015

by Dylan Hughes and Joseph Leivdal

and can’t bother anyone. Ivy greens are growing on the walls, regrettably some torn down and the sun shines through the ones that remain, which is nice but the walls sometimes ruin the scenery. It doesn’t smell much of anything except in the hallway leading to the door to the street, which always reeks of smoke.

The watch still sits on the book, though, ticking away as usual, as it usually does, doing what watches usually do, which is tick. nothing new about that at all, and we really shouldn't be surprised when we consider it, or when we consider the person sitting at the table drinking the coffee with an empty head and looking out the window. He collects his own rubbish.

Lame drawings adorned walls of green picture ivy that willowed down its side into puddles on the floor where it had built up and rotted. The floor became the proving ground of new species looking to eat their way into the world and out of the room, but till then they

just continued to hatch and fest and crawl in the ivy. One would not want to walk in there without shoes as the bugs would crawl and eat the meat of one’s toes, under the toe’s nail they would squirm and eat. Beware that floor.

And so the shoed man collecting some empties looking out the window at the rain drinking his coffee, and outside the bums on the sidewalk, oozing colour into the puddles like chalk left out in the elements, oozing and losing its consistency as it oozes. Sometimes they would get up and sift, sift a bit more in the hopes of finding something, but sure enough there would be nothing. They had already sifted those cans that day and there would be none left for tomorrow either but what else to do when one has no shoes and is stuck on the pavement. Do you know what it’s like to have to hide every time you want to take a shit? And then one needs to consider before hand, before the urge to shit approaches, what one is going to

wipe away the shit with. Then one must blues and greens, pinks and purples all cause that isn’t the case. I’m just a purget used to the worst of messes, and shit designating voltage or something. All veyor of treaties, of land deeds and titles. on one’s hand. Eating garbage does not carrying something, maybe electricity I come around every once in a while and lend itself to clean, smooth shits, but or the light beam signals from comput- evaluate the situation don’t you see? I’m the runniest, wateriest shits that splash ers, the internet creeping its way along really just a bureaucrat thats all - don’t and make a big mess needing of un- the inner rubber lining of the golden get attached at the hip and don’t expect sure wiping with any disgusting scrap coloured pinks and blues of the wires. to see me before long. It will be a great of cloth to be found. All while hiding. But while the rats eat away at the rust- while before I venture round again Then, ruined for the day, one retreats ing metal and gnaw their teeth down to but be sure that you will have totally back to the sidewalk. It’s hard to look the gums at it, the rubber persists in its forgotten me by that time. That is defifor food when one only wants to cry all colourfulness, nothing drains that rub- nite and even written into the equation, ber of colour not even the rain water there is nothing we haven’t thought of. the time.

The man who had until then been “Again, memorize the scriptures and that sloughs off the bums on the sidejot them down as I told you, you forgot walk, pooling down into gutters and drinking coffee at the window let the some way along. It was a nice story but rushing beneath the streets to settle and evaluator out the door and hurriedly that’s it don’t fool yourself into thinking sink down through the dirt, smoothing mopped up the corner with old dishwathat I approve that somehow you gutted off rocks even down there below as its ter - it was all he had. Now the coffee out something of any value. Don’t begin travels slowly down and collects again had gone cold and the steam condensed with me again this sad round of ecstatic into underwater rivers that smash at into drops that dripped down the side outpour you know where it leads, the the great tides of wires all around. They of the window, over the shallow and most miserable path to everything is remain pink and green and blue and short sill, and onto the desk, making a trodden by nothings nothings that ha- orange as the big rats crawl all over little puddle of their own, but no convenient drain, and so they just soaked into ven’t found anything that’s why they’re them and eat at the rusted metal. the wood, and to this very on the path to everyday if one runs a hand over thing so have some fun with it at least on he wires were old and worn as they were the wood there is detectable a slight warp in the wood. It the way. Don’t take it many and really none of them led to is raised ever so slightly, and so damn seriously behas a hue just a bit darker cause it’s really going anywhere at all than the rest of the wood nowhere at all for a - but its nothing that sand paper and long time still, until it finally goes somegood varnish can’t fix. If one could find where and then you can stop typing.”

Later: Beneath the gender apocalypse that Show me the dark elbows of your any of it. It wouldn’t really be worth it was his home there squirmed some sort room, what collects in them? show any more though, as the bugs finally ate of rat, that like the bugs liked to eat, them to me, allow me to draw my head holes right through the floor and the but it ate at the wires instead. The wires close and lick at them so we can find walls and it’s been notified that there were old and worn as they were many, out exactly what is there. I can’t tell exists a risk of sinkholes throughout the and really none of them led to anywhere just by looking, the corner of the cor- entire city. The wires had in fact been at all. Who they were woven by I can’t ner is far too deep and dark for that, so laid so thick, that now since they have be sure, but they were woven thick, and let me introduce some moisture into been nearly entirely digested by the though they have all rusted and so lead the equation and balance out the vari- hungry rats, there exists the very real to nowhere, were clearly laid with some ables. But that doesn’t mean that I have threat of sinkholes, and therefore only great purpose or design, very purposely to belong to this place, just because I walking is permitted and grocery trucks they were laid in the great thick bun- tasted the corner. Don’t trick yourself only manage to get to the peripheries of dles of all wonderful colours. Imagine into thinking that I’m here to stay be- the city. Who cares about a desk?

“T

,

.”

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POETRY

The Divorce

by Rachelle Tjahyana

What it’s like by Sydney Jordan Mom came over in the 70’s.

The oldest of nine, she set the shining example of the possibility of the Western ideal. She never talked about racism or discrimination, the loneliness of being the only one. Multiculturalism is a new term but its reality is the back this country was built on. I suppose it was easier being the other – clearly defined and separated – than having one foot in and one foot out. She had to earn her nationality, her sameness rooted in difference – it’s everybody’s story here right?

“I don’t like purple yam.”

Her expression is mock outrage. Since when? Since always. The beef stewed in blood. Blood. Blood. No. But Sinigang. Sour sour with the radishes I can’t pronounce. Taro root (not potato), spinach, tamarind broth, fall off the bone beef you don’t need to cut. Add the fish sauce. Bowl of white rice. A spoon to ladle it in. Slurp it up.

Finish off with coconut floats or sweet tofu and tapioca drowning in brown sugar-syrup. Mom makes all the western staples too, Meatloaf, Shepherd’s pie, Salisbury steak. Bridge the gap. When I have dinner at my friends’ houses, I use a fork and knife but at home it’s always a spoon. You eat this food with a spoon.

Filipino-Danish.

“Ohhhh, Filipino.” And half Danish. “Isn’t that a pastry?” I started saying Danish- Filipino. That would keep them listening for the other half. It is a pastry. A European pastry. They tell us to say “racial heritage” because we’re all Canadian now and it doesn’t matter. Tell that to all the other kids. I didn’t know I looked different until Chris told me he knew a really good Chinese restaurant up the street. He wanted to take me there. We were 8. I came home and asked Mom what he meant. “He thinks you’re Chinese.”

The rest of the family immigrated just in time to condense the cultural differences with my teenage angst.

Instant ‘heritage’. Alive and growing. Tita! Tito! Ate! “Maganda!” Hyper-awareness of a culture I didn’t know but was meant to be a part of. Respect your elders! Don’t talk back! Eat, Eat! Kutsinta, adobo, fry the bananas! White rice, red sausage, sugar on the sweet potatoes, palabok! Grandma made the best palabok. Although she never made us call her Lola.

It’s a funny thing growing up culturally unaware of your heritage then having it weaponized and thrown in your face. “You Filipina?” The first time one of them asked I thought I heard it wrong, then realized I’d been saying it wrong this whole time. “You speak?” How FilipinO am I exactly? “You ever go back?” Hot, wet heat, showering in the warm rain, jeepnies, icy Halo-halo from the roadside carts. Don’t sit on that rock, there’s a monster who lives there. Succubus in the forest. Brown puddles and noise. Snakes in the kitchen. Flying roaches. I’ve been back but now I’m here. I can’t speak but I can understand you.

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THE TARTAN, FALL 2015

NONYMOUS Autononymous by Johnny Hamilton

IN THE PLACE YOU’VE ENTERED AND LEFT BEFORE AND AFTER YOU EXISTED AND THE SPACE AS IT WAS CHANGED FROM WHAT IT WAS BEFORE AND HOW IT IS NOW THE PARTICLES YOU’VE COLLECTED AND DEPOSITED IN THE ECHO AND FREQUENCIES SHIFT THE DOPPLER AND THE FOCUS THEY HAD BEFORE PAIRED WITH THE FOCUS THEY HAVE NOW AND THE I THINK I KNOW THAT PERSON SHIFTED TO THE I THINK I KNEW THAT PERSON REALIGNING MEMORY WITH TENSES AND BEING WITH REFLECTION AND BALANCE AND WHERE YOU ARE AND WHERE YOU ARE GOING AND HOW WALKING THROUGH THE PARK AT MIDDAY LEAVES ODD NUMBERED FOOTPRINTS BECAUSE PEOPLE ONLY REALLY LOOK DOWN AT THEM AS THEY MAKE THEM THEMSELVES AND SO ONE PERSON’S PATH BECOMES COMBINED IN THE DOING AND THE PAIRING CONTINUES AND THE TEXT BECOMES MUDDLED AND THE RAIN FINDS SLOPE TO FLOW THROUGH AND FROM AS DRAINAGE TO BECOME FLUID BEING DEFINED THROUGH ACTION INSTEAD OF HISTORIES AND POTENTIALS. THE AUTOMATION OF SOCIETY TO PERCEIVE, JUDGE, AND DISREGARD BUT THROUGH A LENS OF THE SELF; WHAT HAPPENS ONCE THE SELF IS DISREGARDED? WHO DO WE SEE? CAN WE SEE OURSELVES? DOES ONE BECOME LESS PRESENT, OR MORE IN TUNE WITH THE OF WHAT SEEMS TO BE?

THE TARTAN, FALL 2015

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‘Her Spirit Rose Under Its Influence’ by Sam Weselowski Crossed in love, dusting the few flawed flowers in a window box, an imponderable falling of snow begins in the town square.

It is gently scheming, it is skating and all coming downwards.

The snowflakes are fluent in the sound of touching the earth.

The low sky is brushed white though somehow puzzled-seeming, charged with smaller particles than I it comes to diffuse our feelings that need a weightless snowfall– it is beginning to cover the bells of a church.

These snowflakes dandle the air and descend, filling a street for snowmen then purely repeating– a white woven into a town square with no one there.

It is difficult to explain where it ends.

We watch the unmodulated falling snow quiver the air / it is rote white.

21 January 2015 Berlin, Germany.

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THE TARTAN, FALL 2015

Thick by Anisa Maya Dhanji

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I woke with the moon The morning thick in fog and exhaustion A swelling sleeping underneath my heart, and pressing against my spine I can only imagine the feeling looking the way a forest does; when the cold October clasps woodland on wet, soulful mornings in her fingers, a balloon of smog knitting braids around forlorn trunks, tattered leaves, morose branches A dense thicket of somber trees grown to absorb the blood leaking from the space so absent, so vacant in between my leafy organs.

#22 by Rachel Carrier It becomes much easier once you accept the fact that, things fall apart. and we are all just things.

Photo by Jonny VanElslander

Vondel Park by Laura Balsor Did you know?

As you dreamed your dreamless sleep Within that temporal existence You were with me at Vondel Park You stowed away on the back of some scent-filled freesias It was just when I thought of missing you That you came to me Such a serendipitous arrival Was it you entering my dream, Or me entering yours?

I sat on a bench to catch the phrases In front of the bird refuge And, as if on command, a pelican-like creature glided by Stirring the Sunday morning air She came to rest upon her tall perch A nest in the sanctuary-sky And her love was waiting for her there

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Photo by Jonny VanElslander

This Racket Seems to Like a Good Poem by Ryan Fitzpatrick First off, my poem only shuffled the deck chairs of the digital. Perfect pixel smear into e-waste. No geography except streets, wires, toxic dumps, etc.

Like a modernist sympathizing battery fire, my poem got sunburned by all these transatlantic cables. My poem doesn’t internet date. My poem yawns and retires.

I’d rather configure rain storms a drop at a time. Or play Candy Crush. Same same.

As the sun sets across the English Bay oil slick, I’d rather go for a coffee with you.

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THE TARTAN, FALL 2015