Us And Others release party will double as fundraiser

Please indulge a bit of parental delight here, but son Graeme Cornies is planning to convert the launch party for his new album into a fundraiser to benefit Toronto’s homeless.

All proceeds from the event on Jan. 28 at the El Mocambo — cover charges, CD sales and the profits from every drink — will be donated to Serving Charity, to be split evenly between the agency’s work with Toronto’s street people and an orphanage it recently opened in Haiti in the wake of last year’s earthquake.

The release party for Patchwork, by Us And Others, will begin around 8:30 p.m. on the club’s second floor. The long-awaited album is the result of an ambitious side project by Graeme, who spends most of his working hours writing music for a wide range of clients at Voodoo Highway Music & Post Inc. The album can be purchased or previewed at this site.

Nate Kreiswirth of Cancel Winter will open the show at 9 p.m. Us And Others will play two sets — at 9:45 p.m. and 10:45 p.m. Toronto hip-hop band Toolshed will wrap up the evening from 11:45 onward. Cover is $10 at the door; $15 with a CD.

A previous post about Graeme’s Gemini-nominated composition is here.

Update (Jan. 26): The revised schedule for Friday night’s party, according to Graeme, will be:
9 p.m.: Nate Kreiswirth
9:45 p.m.: Us and Others
11 p.m.: Hue

Us And Others consists of (left to right) James Taylor on keys, Bartek Kozminski on drums, Ferg Hyde on bass and vocals, Graeme Cornies on guitar and vocals, Joel Stouffer, multi-instrumentalist, and Martyn Skrzypczyk on lead guitar.

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Remembering a soldier I never knew

A couple of years ago, I happened onto the website of Legion magazine, the English-language periodical dedicated to “Canada’s military and its heritage.” I noticed the “last post search” tool in a lower corner of the page and, rather offhandedly, plugged in my surname. I was certain I’d get a “no results” type of response. But there, in blue on grey, was the unexpected outcome: Private William Cornies. Service No. B154579. Died Jan. 19, 2003.

It surprised me, because nearly every Cornies is Canada is somehow related, however distantly. Nearly all arrived in this country during one of several waves of Mennonite migrations from Europe — either as settlers or refugees — during the 19th and 20th centuries. And with them came the dominant view of warfare and participation in it: that it ran counter to their understanding of Christian faith. They were, and are, predominantly pacifist. So how was it, I wondered, that a young man of Mennonite ancestry came to serve in the Canadian military?

I began my search with Library and Archives Canada. I wasn’t immediate family, so there were strict limits on what the Archives’ analysts could tell me. They could reveal this: He enlisted on Feb. 1, 1944, and was discharged on July 15, 1946. He served with the Irish Fusiliers (Vancouver Regiment) at the rank of fusilier.

The next step was to ask my parents (I’m fortunate both are still alive). I provided what details I had and they, in turn, dove into their multi-tiered network of acquaintances, as robust — and often as reliable — as any Internet connection. Within a matter of days, the answer came back: They knew someone who knew someone who would likely know. (Among Canadian Mennonites, the notion of six degrees of separation shrinks to two or three.)

I followed the virtual trail of DNA and, before long, was speaking to Henry Cornies of St. Catharines, Ont. Private Bill had been his older brother. During that conversation, a picture emerged of an independent-minded young man who didn’t unquestioningly accept the religious views of his parents. (His father, Wilhelm Henry, had served in the Russian army during the First World War and had become an ardent pacifist.)

After his draft notice arrived shortly before his 18th birthday, William refused to let anyone talk him out of enlisting in the army. He was determined to serve his country and didn’t want to be branded a coward — the epithet leveled at many young Mennonite men who applied for and received conscientious objector status. They served their tours of duty as farm workers, loggers, lumberjacks, miners, grain handlers, factory labourers, construction workers and similar assignments. Some served in the medical or dental corps.

In all, about 7,500 young Mennonites claimed CO status during the Second World War. There is another figure, however, that gets far less mention in official denominational circles: about 4,500 young Canadian Mennonite men (and a few women) enlisted for active military service, despite church’s historic peace position and the invocations of their elders to shun enlistment in the Canadian forces in favour of CO service. For them, church leaders deployed an unfortunate term: verlorene Soehne. Lost sons. And thus began a disaffection that, in many cases, would be last a lifetime. William was one of these. He was resolute. For church elders, there would be no saving Private Cornies.

He trained as an anti-aircraft gunner in Nova Scotia, where he met Shirley Smith, his future wife, from nearby Windsor, N.S. He was eventually relegated to the service corps and was discharged from the army on July 15, 1946, after serving about 30 months. He spent the lion’s share of his career as a steelworker and boilermaker at Foster Wheeler in St. Catharines, which, at the time, was doing a lot of work for Atomic Energy of Canada.

After his children, Billy Jr. and Linda, had grown and his wife Shirley had died, William Cornies continued his connection to a brotherhood that would never have dubbed him “lost.” He was a proud member of the Legion’s General Nelles Branch in Niagara-on-the Lake, where even today he is remembered for his loyalty, independent thought and the frequent companionship of his dog.

I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet this distant relative a few years earlier. I would have enjoyed the conversation.

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Obama’s eloquent defence of religious freedom

During an iftar dinner last night with American Muslim leaders at the White House to mark the start of Ramadan, U.S. President Barack Obama made an eloquent case for religious freedom. The immediate context was the controversy in New York over the proposed building of a mosque near Ground Zero. But his speech was an articulate plea for respect for the religious traditions of others, not mere tolerance of them. It’s the kind of speech more political leaders ought not to be afraid to give, rather than to pander to narrow interests.

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Tips for reporters on dealing with grief-stricken families

At 2:20 a.m. on Aug. 24, 1997, 20-year-old Catherine Newton stepped onto busy Richmond Street in downtown London, Ont. The bars had closed and she had skipped ahead of her girlfriends, anxious to meet up with her waiting boyfriend, Rob. As she moved through the crosswalk at Pall Mall Street, however, she was struck by a pickup truck driven by a man who would later be convicted of impaired driving and sent to prison. Catherine died in hospital a couple of hours later.

The death of Catherine Newton was one of the most memorable stories during my years as a supervising editor on The London Free Press‘s city desk. It was burnished into memory for two reasons: (1) its powerful symbolism of the hazards and tragedies of impaired driving, and (2) the graciousness with which Catherine’s parents, Al and Pauline Newton, met reporter John Herbert at their door when, a day later, he knocked on it for what in the news business is called a “pickup.” Rather than slam the door, they invited him into the emotionally charged atmosphere of their living room to paint a vivid picture of their deceased daughter.

Catherine Newton died in the early hours of Aug. 24, 1997. For its Aug. 25 editions, The London Free Press managed only a bare-bones brief, using information supplied by police.

The “pickup” is nearly a reporter’s worst nightmare. It means intruding on the private grief of an individual or family to get a story and/or a photograph, which will, in turn, have the effect of making their private grief very public. Social media such as Facebook have changed the nature of this type of newsroom assignment significantly over the past half decade — photos, personal details and lists of acquaintances are often quickly available, and tribute pages have a way of popping up within hours of an unexpected death. But for many reporters, intrusion into the lives of the grief-stricken, usually within hours of life-changing, painful loss, is still a necessary part of building context and assembling a comprehensive story.

I asked Al and Pauline Newton to visit my Journalism Ethics class this week at the University of Western Ontario to offer some suggestions to students in the graduate journalism program on dealing with bereaved individuals and families. Once again, they were gracious in their acceptance.

Al Newton began by chronicling the events of that fateful night: the 2:45 a.m. phone call from police, the anxious trip to the hospital, the pronouncement of his daughter’s death, the panicked phone call from Catherine’s sister Diane in Kingston, Ont., and the arrival of reporter John Herbert at the door of their north London home the following day. Pauline Newton then followed with tips for reporters on doing their jobs amid such overwhelming grief. She and Al both spoke extemporaneously, but the following are her 12 suggestions for journalists assigned this type of story.

1. Don’t ever say, “I know how you feel.” You don’t. Rather, say something such as, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Similarly, the line, “I’m sorry for your loss,” sounds mechanical and insincere to a freshly bereaved family.

2. Convey that you want to tell the victim’s story; that your hope is to impart personality, meaning and context to a life suddenly ended.

3. Use the victim’s name in conversation, rather than referring bleakly to “your son” or “your daughter.” He or she was, until just recently, a real person with a real name.

4. Ask family members if they would “share” the story of who the victim was, rather than say that you’d like to “interview” the family or “ask questions.” That terminology will sound calculating and aloof.

5. If family members ask to be left alone, respect that. Period.

6. Family members may be sobbing uncontrollably. Those seemingly “in control” of their emotions aren’t — they are simply in shock or denial. Remember that your interview subjects are disoriented and will find it difficult to focus on anything for more than about 30 seconds at a time.

7. Ask open-ended questions about sharing the victim’s story. It will likely differ substantially from the police report’s coldness and sterility.

8. Leave yourself lots of time. Do not rush this process. If you do, the visit will seem mercenary or disingenuous.

9. Ask to see a photo. Personalize the victim in your mind. Ask about its possible publication later, before you leave.

10. Ask permission to use extremely personal details — information that may have been offered in a moment of grief-induced weakness.

11. Expect that the story you get will be disjointed and even somewhat contradictory. Try to get facts and chronology right, even if it means reviewing them repeatedly with the family.

12. If you get a “no” at the door, ask whether there might be another individual — a relative or family friend — who might be able to speak for the family.

The full story, following reporter John Herbert's interview with the Newton family and supporters in their living room, appeared on the London & Region section front of The London Free Press on Aug. 26, 1997.

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Driving Miss Daisy at Sarnia’s Imperial Theatre

It is a taut 88-minute show with a cast of three and not a car in sight, but Driving Miss Daisy at Sarnia’s Imperial Theatre is imbued with a delightful chemistry that makes it well worth a road trip on a warm summer evening.

The Starbright Summer Festival production features Michael Learned as the aging widow Daisy Werthan and Walter Borden as Hoke Coleburn, her patient chauffeur. Cory O’Brien appears as Boolie Werthan.

Set in Atlanta and its environs between 1948 and 1973, Driving Miss Daisy is probably American playwright Alfred Uhry’s most durable story, earning him a Tony Award, a Pulitizer Prize and and Academy Award. Most of us identify Uhry’s script with the film starring Jessica Tandy and Morgan Freeman, in which the latter brought to life on the big screen the role he had played in the original stage production.

Learned is best known for her role as Olivia Walton in the 1970s television drama The Waltons (though her other stage, film and television credits are lengthy) and it was clear many patrons of a certain age at yesterday’s opening-night performance, who arrived by the busload, came to bask in a little Waltons nostalgia. Learned’s performance, however, was transcendent, powerful and poignant as the widow who ages from 72 to 97 within the space of an hour and a half, as she wages her personal battle against age, loss and bigotry.

An accomplished veteran of Canadian stage and screen, Borden is every bit Learned’s equal as Daisy’s long-suffering chauffeur. His Hoke is delightfully playful and infused with humour. Borden’s timing is impeccable; his performance carries very well the considerable weight of playing opposite Learned, who has portrayed Daisy on other stages.

Accomplished choreographer Dayna Tekatch takes a minimalist approach to the Starlight production of Miss Daisy, in which the set changes hardly at all. She defers to raw acting talent and allows Learned and Borden to carry the show, which, despite a few opening-night backstage bumps and some sound miscues, works very well. One senses that the on-stage chemistry between the two lead actors will grow as the show matures.

The limited run of Driving Miss Daisy at the Imperial Theatre includes only 14 performances; it closes Aug. 20. Click here for ticket information.

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