POSTING # 21

“The Prettiest Sunday Afternoon Drive in the World”; Roy Thomson Visits the Newcastle-on-Tyne Evening Chronicle; Kenneth Thomson; Short Stuff (Mini-Stories about Kids and Pets)

“The Prettiest Sunday Afternoon Drive in the World”

We enjoy driving along the Niagara Parkway, which Winston Churchill once described as “The Prettiest Sunday Afternoon Drive in the World”.

One Sunday a few years ago, when we lived in Grimsby, Pat and I decided to take a senior official from the Kingdom of Jordan to Niagara Falls. After a tour of Niagara-on-the-Lake, we entered the Niagara Parkway and I told the official what Churchill had said about the drive.

Big mistake!

I had forgotten that Churchill does not enjoy a good reputation in the Middle East. Let’s be even clearer: Churchill is one of the most detested Westerners around. Part of the anger is due to his role in carving up the Middle East after World War I, part to his support for the creation of the State of Israel after World War II and part to other things Churchill said or did.

The Jordanian official was diplomatic, but firm, “We don’t think highly of Churchill.”

We carried on to Niagara Falls with some stops to enjoy the beauty of the river.

As we got closer to the Falls, we lowered the car windows so our guest could hear the roar of the rushing water.

The Jordanian official was watching everything, but saying nothing.

As we drove slowly past the Falls, the official finally said, “Well, Churchill was right about one thing.”

Roy Thomson Visits the Newcastle-on-Tyne Evening Chronicle

Roy Thomson, later Lord Thomson of Fleet, was clearly the most newsworthy Canadian in Britain when we lived there in the 1960s. He had bought Scotland’s national newspaper, The Scotsman, went on to purchase dailies and weeklies throughout Britain, started television stations and, eventually, bought the London Times.

He had earned his success. His empire had started with tiny radio and newspaper businesses in Northern Ontario in the depression, businesses that were held together, as Canadian farmers liked to say, by ‘haywire and binder twine’ (younger readers may have to ‘Google’ this expression).

A colleague in the Canadian Immigration Office in Leeds told me that his father had worked for Roy Thomson in Timmins during the depression. When payday---Saturday--- came around, Thomson would have to visit businesses that owed him money from advertisements on his radio station or newspapers. Some weeks he collected enough to pay his workers in full but other weeks he had to ask them to take an IOU. The workers understood---times were tough---but it was hard on families.

The Leeds Immigration office recruited many of its immigrants from the Newcastle area and I spent a good deal of time talking about advertising and publicity to the staff at the Newcastle Evening Chronicle, a newspaper that Roy Thomson had bought from the Kemsley Newspapers Company.

A friend at the newspaper told me about Roy Thomson’s first visit to the Chronicle.

Apparently Thomson sent out word that he wanted to meet with all the newspaper’s staff in the private dining room. My friend said that he and the other employees thought there must be a mistake. Only the most senior executives were allowed in the private dining room. That’s the way it had always been.

He was assured that Mr. Thomson had given specific orders that the meeting was to be held in the private dining room.

Full of awe, the staff trooped into the oak-paneled and richly furnished room. As they entered the room, a stocky man with thick eyeglasses and a big smile shook hands with them.

Mr. Thomson.

When they had all arrived, Thomson moved to a table at the front of the room. Sitting on the end of it with his legs dangling, he talked to them.

He told them---in what my friend said sounded like an American accent---that they had nothing to fear from his purchase of the newspaper. He would not interfere in the editorial policy of the newspaper.

He said his concern was that the paper should be profitable. He had examined the balance sheets carefully and he felt sure that the paper, which had been in financial trouble, could make money. He was asking them to help him turn the paper around.

As he spoke, my friend told me, he swung his legs and the newspaper staff could see that he was wearing bright red socks, socks my friend said that could have been worn by a County Durham coal miner at the pub on a Saturday night. The socks were not only a brilliant red, they were also too short. A good bit of bare leg was showing above them.

My friend was not sure how he and his colleagues were going to adapt to all this change---it was so different from the way the Kemsley Newspapers had operated.

I said that the important thing was not to underestimate Roy Thomson, despite his informal approach, his accent, his eyeglasses and his red socks. People, who underestimated him, generally lived to regret it.


Kenneth Thomson

Kenneth, Roy Thomson’s son, took over the family businesses on his father’s death. Kenneth did not have his father’s flamboyancy but he had his father’s knack for making money through shrewd business deals and careful management of his enterprises.

Peter Newman’s article for Maclean’s on Kenneth’s death provides many revealing insights into this quiet, complex person.

Kenneth was brought up in the depression and he never overcame the need to ‘pinch pennies’. Newman tells the story of a friend finding Kenneth in a supermarket with his cart loaded down with hotdog buns that were on special. He planned to put the buns in his deep freezer.

Here is a story that I heard recently from someone who once worked for Kenneth. Apparently, Kenneth was visiting a friend in Belleville who had recently completed an office building that would serve as the new headquarters for his businesses.

The friend asked Kenneth to go with him to an office supply store in Belleville to look at office furniture for the new building. The two men priced desks, chairs, filing cabinets etc and decided that they might do better in Toronto. They jumped in the friend’s Rolls Royce and took off on the 401 for Toronto. Outside Toronto, seeing a billboard advertising an office supply company, they decided to try that store.

Kenneth’s friend gave the salesman the list of items they wanted. The salesman said it was a big order---it would probably take five trucks to carry all the furniture to Belleville---but not to worry, the company would provide free shipping. The company would also do its best to give him a good price.

The salesman excused himself, went off to calculate the total and came back with a sum. Kenneth and his friend immediately said they were sure that the store could do better than that. The salesman said that was as low as he could go.

Could they see the manager?

The manager came and took a few dollars off the total but Kenneth and his friend were not sure they had the best deal possible.

Kenneth said, “We understand that you can’t go any lower. Perhaps it is time to talk to the owner.”

The salesman---who was still participating in the discussions and who had recognized Kenneth Thomson when the men came into the store but hadn’t let on---said,” Well, Mr. Thomson, your company bought our store seven or eight years ago…..”

Kenneth turned to his friend with a smile, “It looks as though we have the best deal we can get.”

The papers were signed and the two men, laughing, got back into the Rolls Royce and returned to Belleville.


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Although the depression scars he bore caused Kenneth to worry about the pennies in everyday life, he was enormously generous to cultural and charitable causes. Toronto, Ontario and Canada are much in his debt.

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David Thomson---Kenneth’s son---is now in charge of the Thomson businesses. Before the financial meltdown that started last September, Forbes Magazine calculated the Thomson family wealth at about US$19 billion. In March of this year the magazine said the family was worth some US$13 billion. It was the richest Canadian family, with the Galen Weston family having about US$5 billion.

So, the family has lost some wealth but there is still enough to buy a lot of hotdog buns.


Short Stuff (Mini-Stories about Kids and Pets)


Our 13 year old child wanted to go to a rock concert in Ottawa with a friend. Pat and I flipped and I lost. I would accompany the two kids to what was certainly going to be a noisy event.

I was sitting back, trying to ‘enjoy’ the music when our child leaned over and shouted at me, “Take those ear plugs out. You’re embarrassing me.”

I shook my head. (Despite my industrial-strength, yellow ear plugs, my ears rang for a couple of days after the concert.)

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A friend also had to take his children to a rock concert. He had to work late at the office but agreed to meet them outside the hall. Wearing his suit and tie, he bought the tickets and waited with his children in a line of scruffily-dressed teenagers. At the gate, the attendant took the tickets and waved them in. Our friend was surprised that he hadn’t stamped their hands or given them back a portion of the tickets.

“But what if I have to come out and then want to get back in?’ he asked.

Looking at the suit and tie, the young attendant said, “Oh, we’ll remember YOU, Sir”.

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See you next Sunday for Posting #22 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting, or email me at johnpathunter@cs.com.