Patriot Hearts

by John Furlong

  But David poured everything he had into this project. I had nothing but admiration for the effort he put into trying to understand who Canadians were, where we came from—the parts of our past that formed the vertebrae of this amazing country. As he learned we all learned.

  For instance, as he put the broader story together, David wanted to include music associated with different parts of the country. In the process we found out from him how much fiddling is a part of Canadian culture—and not just Acadian culture. As it turned out, fiddling is an important part of Aboriginal culture as well. It’s big in Newfoundland and Labrador, the Ottawa Valley, Cape Breton, the Prairies and even on the west coast. So it belonged in the show.

  One difficult aspect of the show was the French element, and not for a lack of effort on our part. David’s team had developed a spectacular segment around the well-known Quebec song “Mon Pays,” a beautiful piece written and arranged in 1964 by well-known chansonnier Gilles Vigneault. David thought it would be perfect for the opening because it was such an iconic song in Quebec and it had a winter theme. The song’s opening words are “Mon pays, ce n’est pas un pays, c’est l’hiver” (My country is not a country, it’s winter). The lyrics talked about the winds, cold, snow, ice and solitude of wide-open spaces. I think David was also aware that the song had become a rallying anthem of sorts for Quebec nationalists. Gilles Vigneault was associated with the separatist movement, but we thought the song would send a strong message of how much we were embracing Quebec culture. After all, these were the Games for the many not the few. It was incredibly important to us that we had this song.

  David had to clear every piece of music that was going to be in the show with the rights holder. In this case, that person was Gilles Vigneault. It didn’t take him more than a second to inform us it was a no-go unless strict conditions were met. The first was that the song could not be performed anywhere where there was going to be a Maple Leaf displayed. And it could not be used in any kind of setting that effectively promoted Canada as a country that included Quebec. It was a devastating setback, as inflexible a position as I had ever encountered. Obviously, we were never going to give in to those outrageous demands.

  I don’t think David anticipated getting that kind of response. He had built an important section of the show around this song and poured his heart into it. It was going to be beautiful and emotional, sung by Quebec star Garou, and designed to make every Quebecer feel an enormous sense of pride and connection to the Games. And David had already spent a fair whack of our dough designing the opening ceremony with this song a key part of the portfolio of music that would be heard. Surely, something could be done to change this guy’s mind, David said. He asked me to get involved.

  I decided to start right at the top and try Jean Charest. I tracked him down in Russia, of all places. I asked if he could intervene and find someone with enough sway with Vigneault that he might acquiesce to our request. He tried but a few days later phoned me back to say he had had no luck. He felt terrible, as if he were letting us down. He had pulled out all the stops to get friends to put some subtle pressure on him, but none of it worked. The idea was now officially dead.

  I was not happy. Here we were trying to do everything we could to design a powerful Quebec moment into the opening ceremonies, and we were being told we couldn’t. I told the premier on the phone, and others later, that I was not going to allow my people to be criticized about the French content in the opening, given the fact we were trying to do everything we could and were getting rebuffed. In the end, we had to improvise and added a new song called “Un peu plus haut, un peu plus loin.” We had Garou sing it just before the cauldron was lit, which was the climax of the show. Still, I think everyone on the inside was disappointed by the fact our original plans were scotched.

  The other part of the show that prompted some debate inside the organization was the slam poet that David wanted to use in the show. To be honest, I had never heard of slam poetry before. A poetry slam is a competition at which poets read or recite original work and are judged by the audience. The work is often very political and a take on the hot social issues of the day. I wasn’t sure how that fit into our program. But David thought it was important to have a mix of performers and include segments that had a little edge. He wanted Shane Koyczan to recite his poem “We Are More,” which was about Canada.

  While I saw David’s logic, I was instinctively against it. I thought the poem might come across on television as Canadians talking to Canadians at the exclusion of the rest of the world that was watching. I didn’t think it had the kind of humility we were looking for either. There was no French in it, which was also worrying me. I remember asking David at one point if there was any chance this guy, if he was included, could read some of his poem in French. David said no chance. This was art and you didn’t mess with it. I could tell David was becoming increasingly annoyed with the French argument.

  Anyway, as the lone holdout I got outvoted and, sure enough, we would be criticized later on for the fact that Shane’s performance didn’t include any French. Still, I must admit it was an incredibly popular part of the show, and Shane pulled it off brilliantly. The reviews around the world were uniformly glowing.

  One of the biggest decisions we would have to make was the design of the cauldron, which was supposed to burn for the duration of the Games and be visible to members of the public at all times. Also, there were safety concerns associated with having a massive burning cauldron inside a closed stadium. The idea we had toyed with during the bid phase of having the rim of the stadium double as the cauldron—a veritable ring of fire that could be seen for miles—had been scrapped. For a thousand reasons it couldn’t happen, not the least of which was the enormous cost. After the economy tanked in 2008, that discussion was moot.

  David, as always, wanted something super-creative. He also wanted it to be a big surprise. In other words, he didn’t want people to know until the last second what the cauldron looked like. He wanted something completely different—something that would produce an unforgettable memory. I thought he did an incredible job. He arrived at a design that included four silver, icicle-like arms that would be used earlier in the opening ceremonies production but disguised as Native totems, leaving people watching to wonder what on earth we planned to use for a cauldron. Secrecy was paramount, as the unveiling would be the show’s most iconic moment.

  It became evident that the structure of the cauldron and the associated hydraulic engineering needed to unveil it in the way we had planned, rising from the floor, was going to prevent us from wheeling it outside during the Games so people could see it. Nice idea but completely impractical. It was just not going to work. This meant that we were going to have to erect a second cauldron outside so we could abide by the IOC rules that stipulated it being on public view at all times while the Games were underway. Perhaps it could be a smaller version of the cauldron we envisioned for inside the stadium, some thought.

  If we wanted to have an identical version of the cauldron outside, we were going to have to find a sponsor or donor who would pay for it. That is when David Podmore, the president of Concert Properties and a great friend of the Olympics, first suggested that Terasen Gas might sponsor the second cauldron. David sat on Terasen’s board and was also one of the champions for the inspired idea of naming the plaza located outside the new Convention Centre after Jack Poole. When it came time to thinking of possible locations to put a second cauldron, Jack Poole Plaza became a runaway favourite among all possible contenders.

  The site had everything going for it: it was a wondrous spot with the North Shore Mountains and Burrard Inlet as a backdrop, and it was sure to get phenomenal media exposure. Finally, the location assured there would be plenty of foot traffic going by each day, which is just what we wanted. We never anticipated just how popular an attraction the cauldron would be. It was as if we had placed a grotto there.

  One day in the late fall of 2009, I visited Terasen CEO Randy
Jespersen to pitch the idea in person. He was immediately excited and could see the glow attached to the idea. For Terasen, the cauldron represented a perfect fit not just because it was a unique gas installation but also because it would be a long-lived legacy of the Games. As it turned out, Terasen would become our final Olympic sponsor—coming up with $3 million to have a replica second cauldron built and fed with gas for the duration of the Olympic and Paralympic Games. We had our solution at no extra cost.

  It was a challenge having the cauldron built and installed without anyone knowing what was going on. We installed it behind a towering box so no one could see, but as the Games drew closer we would have to take a few risks and test it. We did so in the early hours of the morning, but the local CTV affiliate had somehow discovered what was inside the big wooden box. They rented a helicopter, got a shot of it while it was briefly exposed, and put it on the air. I was livid. I couldn’t figure out why our Olympic partner would want to ruin this surprise for millions of Canadians.

  In the months leading up to the opening, there was enormous speculation about who might light the cauldron—a guessing game that takes place before every Olympics. There are always lists drawn up by the media of the top contenders, lots of hearsay and debate.

  Speculation seemed to centre around two possibilities: hockey superstar Wayne Gretzky and Betty Fox, mother of Marathon of Hope runner Terry Fox. I should say that wheelchair marathoner Rick Hansen was on many people’s lists, as was Nancy Greene, the only Canadian woman to win a gold medal in Alpine skiing. But Gretzky and Betty Fox seemed to be the favourites with the public. An online petition to have Betty Fox light the cauldron received tens of thousands of signatures. Polls showed Gretzky was the choice of a majority of Canadians. There were people who felt we should have the oldest Canadian Olympian light it, or the youngest. There were people pulling for a First Nations chief. A cultural icon should do it, perhaps?

  It would certainly have been simpler just to hand the job to the most popular choice. But then there would be no mystery, no excitement. And that’s what we wanted. We didn’t mind all the speculation, because it created a buzz around the process, but we were never going to be guided by what was being said in the media.

  We talked to the Fox family and said we were still trying to figure out what role the family, and namely Betty, who was the public face of the Terry Fox Foundation, might play. We knew the family was probably wondering what was going on. At one point there were suggestions by media that we should have a hologram of Terry Fox light the cauldron. I met with Darrell Fox, Terry’s younger brother who played a major role at the Terry Fox Foundation, and told him that we wanted to name an award after Terry. It would go to an athlete who best exemplified Terry’s ferocious spirit and also his incredibly giving nature. (Circumstances during the Games caused us to reconsider and award it to two athletes.)

  Eventually, given the cauldron’s design, we were on our way to a completely different kind of surprise. We would need four people to light the four arms of the cauldron inside the stadium and a fifth to bring the torch in. This allowed us to deny almost every rumour outright, as it would be a team effort and not one person. And one of the four would also light the second cauldron down at the waterfront. For all intents and purposes, the second cauldron became the Olympic cauldron.

  We talked long and hard about the type of people we needed lighting the cauldron inside the stadium, what their Olympic credentials needed to be. We strongly believed the four all had to be people of high character, who were virtually unassailable in the minds of the public. Canadian heroes. The type of name that triggered an “Of course, why didn’t I think of that?” kind of response. We agreed each one had to be a former Olympian. We wanted that connection. The only people involved in this decision were David Atkins, Dave Cobb and I, and the pressure was intense. There were some people both in my executive and on the board who weren’t happy about not being included in this exclusive little group. That was too bad. It was of the utmost importance that we maintain the integrity of the project above anything else. We couldn’t afford this information leaking out. The fewer people who knew the better.

  After a fair bit of back and forth, we decided on our four people: Wayne Gretzky, Catriona Le May Doan, Nancy Greene and Steve Nash. It was unanimous. All four met the criteria we had set out for the job: former Olympians of exemplary character. We were confident that most of the people watching the ceremonies at home, and outside of Canada, would know one if not all four. Three were gold medallists, and in Catriona’s case she was the only Canadian to win gold in back-to-back Games in speed skating. Gretzky had won his gold as the general manager of the men’s hockey team in Salt Lake City in 2002. Steve had only participated in one Olympics, in Sydney in 2000, but always gave his heart and soul during Olympic qualifying events. He was a British Columbian and an outstanding human being. He was a must. Nancy was a stellar person as well, and it would have been hard to overlook the woman named best Canadian female athlete of the twentieth century.

  It then became my job to inform all four. I recall reaching Wayne while he was having lunch with his family. He excused himself from the table while I gave him the news and, as I did with the others, swore him to secrecy. We decided not to tell any of the four who their fellow lighters would be. We also told each of them that if word got out from them that they were taking part in the lighting, that would be it. They would be switched for someone else.

  I caught Steve Nash while he was on a team bus heading to his hotel after a Phoenix Suns practice.

  “You want me to do what?” he said, not quite believing his ears. “Tell you what, John,” he said. “Call me back in 15 minutes and I’ll be somewhere quiet.”

  I called him back when he was in his hotel room. I never heard someone sound so excited. It was like talking to a six-year-old on Christmas Day. The opening ceremonies were going to take place on the Friday of what was the NBA’s all-star weekend, and Steve, fierce competitor that he is, said he fully intended to be playing in that game. I told him it wouldn’t be a problem for him to make it there and if there were any issues we would work them out with the NBA. So he was onside. It was the same with Catriona and Nancy.

  Nancy had wanted to participate in some way, so she was naturally very excited about the opportunity. We were a little concerned about her involvement getting out somehow. She was a Canadian senator now and lived in the leaky Ottawa fishbowl. I had to tell Nancy that if word got out that she was going to be a cauldron lighter we’d have to remove her from the role and put someone else in. “I’ll deny we ever had this call,” I told her.

  She understood.

  Now, I had this idea in my head that Rick Hansen should deliver the torch into the stadium, maybe breaking through a wall of dry ice. The place would go absolutely nuts when people recognized him. I believed that he would have a greater impact on the opening ceremonies playing this role than being one of the four cauldron lighters. His entry would be dramatic, and the focus would be on him and him alone. Also, he had a bit of experience in finishing tough journeys, and this was a big one at 45,000 kilometres.

  David wasn’t at all keen on the idea at first. Creatively, he didn’t think it would produce the moment I was predicting. He thought Rick would have to wheel up this ramp onto the floor of the stadium and it would be slow and might put an awkward drag on things. David could become fairly fixed in his ideas, and I had the feeling he was going to be hard to persuade on this one.

  “David,” I said to him one morning, “I don’t ask you for much and I’m really wanting you to consider this. I think it could be fantastic. I can hear the crowd. You have to know this guy is an icon in Canada. He deserves a very special moment in all this and he will not let you down—trust me.”

  David was mostly quiet. We didn’t talk about it for a while after that.

  Later on David came back to me. He said he had taken another look at the ramp, and there was no way that Rick would ever be able to get up it.
He had even put himself in a wheelchair to prove the point, and fit as he was it was tough going for him. It was a performance ramp and not designed to be wheelchair-friendly.

  “David,” I said, “you do not know this guy. He will make it up that ramp, no problem.”

  “No, he won’t,” David insisted. “I tried. It’s a brutal climb.”

  “Yes, he will,” I barked back. “I guarantee you. You try telling him he can’t make it up that ramp. I dare you. Let me tell you, David, I do not have the kind of courage a person needs to tell Rick Hansen he cannot do something. Get him over there. Let him try.”

  A few days later, David humoured me and got Rick to come over to the stadium to give it a whirl. Minutes later he called me at the office. “I thought I had seen everything,” he said. “He went up the ramp on the first go. I can’t believe it, and what a great sport he is. I think it’s going to work.”

  Victory that time was mine.

  The other big decision was who would carry in the Olympic flag, which was a highly prized, emotional moment. There would be eight people escorting the flag into the stadium on opening night, each holding a part of it. It was David who thought we should use the opportunity to showcase Canadian talent, specifically Canadians who the world might not know were Canadian. David, Dave Cobb and I put together a long list of possible candidates. The Canadian-born director James Cameron was on someone’s list. Leonard Cohen on another. In the end we settled on actor Donald Sutherland, singer Anne Murray, astronaut Julie Payette, Betty Fox, hockey legend Bobby Orr, skating legend Barbara Ann Scott, Formula One racer Jacques Villeneuve and un commander Roméo Dallaire. There was a view that a lot of people around the world probably thought that performers like Sutherland and Anne Murray were Americans, not Canadians. And they probably didn’t know we had an astronaut program either. This assembly of fine Canadians would surprise some people.