PAGES FROM HIS OWN PLAYBOOK PAGES FROM HIS OWN PLAYBOOK PAGES FROM HIS OWN PLAYBOOK

Tales of Whistler’s ultimate storyteller, Paul Burrows, by the players in his own stories

By Glenda Bartosh

The First Story

Paul Burrows

EVER TOLD ME THAT REALLY STUCK IN MY HEAD INVOLVED A CHAUFFEUR-DRIVEN LIMO, INTERPOL AND A KIDNAPPING.

An extraordinary force of nature who profoundly shaped the trajectory of Whistler, Burrows started Whistler’s first real newspaper; sat on council for years; led the first pro ski patrol; helped start Whistler Search and Rescue; and, overall, impacted so many aspects of the resort community that his personal story mirrors Whistler itself.

Burrows died recently at his home in Salmon Arm. He was 85. His wife, Jane, predeceased him in 2018.

Although born in York, England, in 1937, Burrows’ Irish roots ran deep, including the time-honoured Irish penchant for telling stories. In fact, his Irish mother, Nancy, a nurse, was a writer and storyteller herself; and Paul and his younger brother, John, were taught both Irish and English, all of which helps explain why he often came across as something of a leprechaun.

On the other hand, his dad, Dr. John Desmond Burrows, was a force of nature of a different sort: A well-to-do, entrepreneurial Brit who owned big tracts of land in Ireland and what was then-Rhodesia, he was stern, strong-willed, and emotionally distant. Interested in politics, farming and aviation, he graduated from two of London’s most prestigious medical schools, then rose to Major in the Royal Army Medical Corps during the Second World War while working in the jungles of Burma and India. And he lies at the heart of Paul’s kidnapping tale.

One pleasant Friday in June 1947, a chauffeur-driven limousine pulled up to the Quaker-run boarding school in Waterford, Ireland, where Paul and John were pupils. Under the guise of taking the boys to tea, Dr. Burrows had the headmaster pluck them from their classrooms. Once en route in the limo, with the boys ensconced in the back seat and papa up front—and this is where Paul would affect a twee English accent in the telling of the tale—his brother asked, “Daddy, where are we going for tea?”

“Actually,” papa replied gruffly, “we’re not a going to tea. We’re going to Rhodesia.”

What ensued was a 12-day escapade through Paris and Marseilles, North Africa, Sudan and Uganda, all the while being chased by Interpol. Paul’s parents divorced shortly thereafter.

The whole caper was just one chapter in Paul’s adventurous life. He lived on a 2,800-hectare “farm” in northern Rhodesia surrounded by baboons, leopards and lions. He attended Michaelhouse in Natal, one of a dozen high-end private high schools in South Africa run by the Church of England. So if Burrows came across as a fearless and intrepid adventurer— and a very good storyteller—it was with good reason.

ACROSS THE HIGH SEAS—TO CANADA

After several years of studying medicine at Cape Town University, Burrows’ “mischievous antics” ended it. Whether he said it wasn’t for him or they said he wasn’t for them, we’ll never know, but he switched gears and returned to England to attend the London School of Printing. Soon after, he was on his way to Canada with 42 British pounds in his pocket, a cardboard suitcase, and a letter from the Graphic Arts Union.

In 1962, he landed in Vancouver where he found a wellpaying union job and friends who were avid skiers. It may come as a surprise, but Burrows was a highly regarded printer, who worked for some of the best printing outfits in the city. He became an advisor to the printing department at Langara Community College, which eventually led to his position on the advisory board for the school’s journalism department—and me.

When it came time for me to graduate from Langara’s J-school in 1981, there was a teeny typewritten ad posted on the bulletin board: “Wanted: Reporter for The Whistler Question.” I had no idea where or what Whistler was—I’d been living in the States for 10 years and never skied in my life—so I asked the department head, Gerry Porter, if it was a good opportunity.

He hesitated a bit then looked me square in the eye and said, “Glenda, you could do better, but you could do a hell of a lot worse.”

Eight months into the job, Paul and Jane asked whether I might like to buy The Whistler Question and the associated printing operation. We closed the deal in 1982—the start of one of the worse recessions in Canada and one of the worst chapters in Whistler’s history. The interest rate on my loan to buy the business was 18 per cent. Paul and Jane, subsequently, took off on a year-long trek around the world, travelling by horse, train, bus, helicopter—you name it—through South Africa, France, Tahiti, and more.

But I didn’t regret my decision for a second. After all, I never would have heard that amazing kidnapping story.

When Your Boss Literally Digs You Out Of A Hole

When Your Boss Literally Digs You Out Of A Hole

When Your Boss Literally Digs You Out Of A Hole

“IT WAS THE SECOND SEASON of Whistler’s operation [1966-67], and Paul and I were ski-cutting— doing avalanche control on Paleface, a slope just down the ridge below the Roundhouse. I made the first ski cut. Nothing released. And then Paul ski cut. Again, nothing released. So I skied down, enjoying the nice deep powder snow—and as I was getting near the bottom, Paul started to ski down, releasing the whole slope, which avalanched and buried me almost up to my chest. I absolutely couldn’t move. I was stuck solid. So here’s little Paul, my boss, trying to dig me out with just his hands, apologizing profusely.

There’s some friction in snow during an avalanche, and when it comes to a stop, it sets up pretty hard, like a snowball. I was pretty scared while it was happening, to be honest, but then it was kind of funny watching Paul working so hard to dig me out.”

- BC Ski Hall of Famer Hugh Smythe Member of Whistler Mountain’s first pro patrol; former president, Intrawest Mountain Resorts

IS THERE ANY WHISTLER ICON BURROWS WASN’T PART OF?

IS THERE ANY WHISTLER ICON BURROWS WASN’T PART OF?

IS THERE ANY WHISTLER ICON BURROWS WASN’T PART OF?

Besides starting Whistler’s first community newspaper of record, a quick check of the Whistler Museum’s archives and various other resources reveals the kinds of adventures and stalwart community undertakings that Paul (and often his wife, Jane, too) started or had a big hand in. Here are just some of them at Whistler:

Alta Lake Ratepayers Association – member, and president 1972-73

Whistler municipal council – three-term councillor, 1984-90

Whistler (Alta Lake) Search and Rescue – founding member

Whistler Mountain pro ski patrol – first leader, 1966

Whistler Television Society – member

Advisory Parks and Recreation Commission (RMOW) – member

Whistler Museum & Archives Society – board member

Whistler Public Library Association – member of the first board of trustees

Whistler Resort Association (now Tourism Whistler) – director of arts

Whistler Museum and Archives board – founding member

Whistler’s Mature Action Committee – chair

Rotary Club of Whistler Millennium – founding member

Rotary Club of Whistler – charter member

Citizen of the Year – 1977

Whistler Chamber of Commerce – director

The list goes on. Paul and Jane also had roles in local health-care and the school district, and in Salmon Arm after retiring there. One thing, though, they weren’t part of—the infamous Toad Hall poster.