Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Plunges into Canada

by Bathroom Readers' Institute

  4. Home to Big Money

  Toronto has 10.8 million square meters (116 million square feet) of office space, giving it the largest concentration of businesses in Canada. Most Canadian corporations are headquartered there, as are the banks and the Toronto Stock Exchange (seventh largest in the world). Toronto is where your boss (or your boss’s boss) makes those cold decisions that can end up costing regular Canadians a pay raise, advancement, or job. It touts a multitude of economic sectors, including aerospace, telecommunications, transportation, media, publishing, software production, medical research, education, and tourism.

  5. Hard on the Have-Nots

  But it’s not all glitter and gold in Hogtown. Despite its persistent ranking as one of the most livable places in the world, Toronto has more than its share of problems. In recent years, researchers have identified a disturbing trend that shows the poverty rate in Toronto is growing faster than in other parts of Canada. One report from 2007 revealed that almost 30 percent of Toronto families (some 93,000 households) were living in poverty. That number represented nearly a doubling from 20 years before. The world financial crisis of 2009 also impacted Toronto. In July of that year, Toronto’s unemployment rate hit a whopping 11.5 percent, the highest in Canada, before bouncing back to a more reasonable rate. In the meantime, owning even modest homes continues to be out of reach for much of the city’s population.

  “Mr. Toronto” kicks up his heels in a still from the film, Let’s All Hate Toronto.

  6. Okay, Some Envy Too

  But let’s face it. One of the driving forces behind Canadians’ disgust with Toronto may be envy. True, it’s a crowded and smoggy city, but woven into that bigness are more than 60 distinct ethnic communities, each offering its own dining, entertainment, and shopping opportunities. It is home to 5,000 restaurants and a potpourri of theaters, art galleries, dance studios, shops, and markets. It’s hard to imagine a more exciting Canadian metropolis. Kind of makes you want to move there (or maybe just visit).

  Aces of Diamonds

  Diamonds, often characterized as a girl’s best friend, have proven to be one of man’s biggest obsessions. In the 1980s, some of those men turned their attention north in search of the next big, sparkling prize.

  Looking for Ice in the Antarctic

  Once people discovered that Russia had massive diamond mines in the northerly parts of Siberia, it didn’t take long for the smart guys of the world to start wondering if there might be something similar in other Arctic areas—Canada, for example. The Russian mines opened in 1958, but their operation remained something of a secret; the government didn’t want the backlash that was bound to result from a strict, communist regime making money by selling luxury items to wealthy capitalists. So until the 1990s, when communism collapsed in the Soviet Union, the Russians quietly channeled their diamonds through De Beers, a South African company that since the 1880s had maintained a near-monopoly on the diamond trade.

  And the Russians weren’t the only ones keeping their diamond dealings quiet. In fact, diamonds have long been a controversial topic, especially recently as the world has become more aware of diamond mining and brokering practices in parts of Africa.

  In Sierra Leone, for example, a brutal civil war created rebel groups that have maimed and killed large numbers of mine workers, and children have been forced into slave labor in the diamond industry. A whopping $7.5 billion has been generated annually from these gems, now called “blood” or “conflict” diamonds; that’s anywhere from 4 to 15 percent of the world’s total diamond market. But with the diamond’s popularity still on the rise, a total boycott has proven elusive.

  So what’s a diamond buyer with a conscience to do? How about finding newer, more secure diamond sources closer to home? The time was ripe for seeking diamonds in Canada.

  Stewart Blusson

  A Match Made on High

  British Columbian Stewart Blusson was a surveyor and helicopter pilot for the Geological Survey of Canada, assigned to mapping projects in the Yukon and British Columbia. In 1969 Blusson was annoyed by Chuck Fipke, a clumsy, overly cheerful intern who joined his group for the summer. To get some peace, Blusson assigned Fipke to accompany paleontologist Bill Fritz to the top of a mountain reachable only by helicopter to search for fossils. They spent a few days on the mountain, but when due to return, the helicopter sent to pick them up crashed. Fipke and Fritz were stranded on the mountain for another week, scrounging for food and water, before Blusson was able to find a second helicopter and rescue the men himself. Both men were fine, and Blusson was now impressed by Fipke, who managed to keep his spirits up throughout the ordeal. The two became friends.

  Ahh…Diamonds

  Assigned to a desk job for the winter, Blusson met another talkative intern, who mentioned what he’d done at his previous job: searched for diamonds in eastern Canada for the De Beers cartel. Realizing he’d said more than he should, the intern shut up again, but it got Blusson thinking.

  Meanwhile, Fipke had begun a geological career searching for copper, but also ended up fixating on diamonds. He spent a lot of time prospecting for diamonds around the world and, by the late 1970s, had turned his attention to Canada. Fipke started studying indicator materials—minerals that were found in places where other, more valuable materials (like diamonds) might be. In 1981 he called Blusson with a proposition: he’d gotten financing to hunt for diamonds—did Blusson want to join him?

  Mr. Reliable and Captain Chaos Strike Again

  Both men had become well-known geological personalities. Fipke had earned the nickname “Captain Chaos” from being absent-minded in regards to punctuality and generally chaotic in nature. Blusson was more centered. But the two became business partners, founding the company Dia Met Minerals to hunt for diamonds in northern Canada. Their first job was to scour the Northwest Territories looking for kimberlite, a host rock for diamonds, and indicator minerals like garnets that are found in greater concentrations near diamonds.

  But eight years later and with no diamonds to show for their prospecting, their financial backing started to disappear. Their luck finally turned when they stumbled on a secret campsite of De Beers prospectors (one among many) quietly on the hunt for diamonds in the region.

  Canadian diamonds like these offer buyers guilt-free gems.

  A Secret Camp Gives Clues

  Fipke and Blusson surmised from the camp’s location that De Beers had found indicator minerals nearby and were using a grid system to search the area, digging up square by square searching for hidden diamonds. However, Fipke and Blusson believed that the De Beers party was way off base. They knew that the camp was in an area of great geological upheaval and gambled that the indicators were creating false assumptions because they’d probably been dragged by a glacier eons earlier from somewhere way outside the De Beers grid. So instead of relying on the indicator minerals, Fipke and Blusson followed the clues of ancient glacial movements and water flow and went “upstream,” eventually locating the minerals’ source a few hundred miles outside the Arctic Circle near Lac de Gras, Northwest Territories.

  With little money left to fund their search, Fipke and Blusson devised a new prospecting strategy: they analyzed a few mineral samples to deduce where to go next, kind of like a geological game of “warmer/colder” combined with a treasure hunt in which one clue leads to the next. In all, they took only about 90 samples—a very different approach from the traditional grid system.

  Eureka!

  In 1991 Blusson and Fipke’s decade-long diamond hunt ended with great success. They discovered what became Ekati, Canada’s first diamond mine. Ekati opened in 1998 and produces about 3 to 5 million carats a year—6 percent of the world’s diamond value. To date, it’s produced well over 40 million carats.

  Blusson and Fipke weren’t the only ones to strike gems, though. There are many other projects in various stages of mining, exploration, and testing in Canada’s frozen Northwest Territories. Near Ekati, a prospector named Grenville Th
omas staked a large tract of land that is now the Diavik diamond mine. Also, the De Beers Diamond Company finally found the right prospecting methods and got into the Canadian diamond game by buying the Snap Lake and Victor mines. From being almost nonexistent in the 1990s, the Canadian diamond industry is now the world’s third largest, after Russia and Africa.

  After the Diamond Rush

  Chuck Fipke eventually sold the bulk of his ownership in Ekati to investors. Last we checked, he’d moved on to various other diamond-prospecting projects around the world, and had developed a professional passion for racehorses. Blusson became president of Archon Minerals, a Northwest Territories diamond-prospecting company, and a respected philanthropist.

  Two loaders work at the Snap Lake diamond mine, one of two mines in the country owned by De Beers.

  The Need to Speed Breed

  Wealthy Toronto businessman and incessant prankster Charles Vance Millar left a will full of crazy bequests and provisions when he died in 1926. The most famous turned into a great race to procreate.

  Where There’s a Will

  Charles Vance Millar was a well-respected lawyer, financier, and businessman in Toronto in the late 1800s and early 1900s. He was also a prankster known for his outrageous and sometimes curious practical jokes, which he mostly used to highlight the greed he believed was inherent in everyone. One favorite was dropping $1 bills, hiding, and watching as people walked by and looked around before snatching up the money and rushing away. But Millar’s most famous practical joke was probably his final one—his last will and testament, made public after his death on Halloween in 1926. Being a lawyer, Millar put a lot of thought and effort into making sure his will was airtight and that it followed the letter of the law, especially since it included many unusual bequests. He even acknowledged this in one of the will’s clauses:

  This Will is necessarily uncommon and capricious because I have no dependents or near relations and no duty rests upon me to leave any property at my death and what I do leave is proof of my folly in gathering and retaining more than I required in my lifetime.

  In early December 1926, the will was declared genuine, and it included a number of varied and bizarre clauses. For example, Millar left three men who denounced horseracing (William Edgar Raney, one-time attorney general of Ontario; Newton Wesley Rowell, member of the board of governors of the University of Toronto; and Ben Spence, head of the Prohibition Union) $25,000 worth of the Ontario Jockey Club stock, on one condition: they had to keep the stock for several years and draw dividends. This meant if they accepted the stock, they would automatically become members of the horseracing club they had spoken out against so strongly.

  In another twist, several lawyer friends of Millar’s, who absolutely detested each other, were each given joint and equal ownership of his vacation home in Jamaica. But the part of his will that caused the most interest was Clause 9. It took on a life of its own and was quickly dubbed the “Great Stork Derby.”

  Charles Vance Millar

  Race to the Finish

  A lifelong, childless bachelor, Millar made history with the derby. It went like this: The woman in Toronto who had the most children in the 10 years following his death would receive most of his estate. And if there were a tie, the women would share his assets. Millar owned stock, land, and property, and had plenty of cash: a lot of money. The women of Toronto were more than happy to throw their hats in the ring. But questions soon arose: What constituted the legal boundaries of Toronto? Did stillborn births or miscarriages count? Would the money be taken away by an as-yet-unaccounted-for relative? And finally, was this even legal?

  Indeed, Canada’s courts proved unpopular when they tried to get the will invalidated over the next 10 years, and some of Millar’s (very distant) relatives tried to contest it. Fortunately for the participants, the procreation contest was a long one, allowing plenty of time to resolve all the issues in question. But neither questions nor legal wrangling stopped the Great Stork Derby. It started off with a bang, and continued full speed ahead.

  The Great Stork Derby promised a financial payout to the Toronto woman who gave birth to the most children over 10 years.

  Hoping for Twins

  Halfway through the derby, the Great Depression hit. Many Canadians were not only out of work but also low on funds, so some citizens took the contest very seriously! In its September 28, 1936, issue, Time magazine recounted how five women were “finalists” to win. The author wrote:

  Of these, three would be out of the money if anyone bettered their record of ten children in ten years. A fourth, now pregnant, needs twins before Oct. 31 to win. A fifth, with ten offspring sure and possibly two more off the record, is also expecting to deliver again before the deadline.

  The magazine listed the mother’s names, ages, and how many children they had given birth to in those 10 years. It even listed a dark horse:

  Mrs. Grace Bagnato, 43, sturdy Toronto-born Italian court interpreter, who habitually keeps working up to the hour of her confinement. Mother of 23 (14 living), she has already been able to produce nine to qualify for the Millar money. Last week she was due to produce again before time is called, hoped for twins.”

  And the Winner Is…

  The courts eventually lost their attempt to invalidate Millar’s will, and the derby ended on October 31, 1936, with four clear winners: Annie Katherine Smith, Kathleen Ellen Nagle, Lucy Alice Timleck, and Isabel Mary Maclean had 10 children each. They were awarded $125,000 apiece (worth more than $1 million today).

  Two other women ended up receiving a “consolation prize” of $12,500 each. Pauline Clarke had 10 children but admitted that some were by a man not her husband. Lillian Kenney actually had 12 babies, but several had died and she was unable to prove that they were not stillborn. In the end, Millar became a “father” to more than 40 children (if you count the almost winners).

  There was even a TV movie made about the contest. The 2002 production followed the travails of Kate Harrington (played by Toronto-born actress Megan Follows), a female reporter who involved herself in the lives of the women competing for the big prize and ultimately cost one woman the win. The movie was nominated for three awards: one Gemini (Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role in a Dramatic Program or Mini-Series), and two Golden Reels (for sound editing).

  Lillian Kenney (left) and Pauline Clarke were runners-up in the Great Stork Derby.

  Will Power

  Just for laughs, here are three more bequests from Millar’s will:

  •Every minister in several neighboring towns around the Kenilworth Jockey Club in Windsor, Ontario, was left one share each of the club. Most struggled with the moral implications—but it turns out the shares were worth only a measly half-cent apiece.

  •The Orange Lodge is a historical society of dyed-in-the-wool Protestants. Millar left one share of the O’Keefe Brewery Company to every lodge and to every Protestant minister in the city of Toronto, forcing them to grapple with their consciences over whether to keep or reject the gift. Why the O’Keefe brewery? It was owned and operated by Catholics. Further embarrassment came when it was discovered Millar had no claim to any shares of the brewery in the first place.

  •Millar left a sum of money to a priest he knew, but only for the purpose of saying masses and burning candles for the “soul of a certain prominent citizen,” described in the will as someone “who will need [the prayers], wherever he is…” Millar never named the person specifically—we assume this left a small circle of prominent men in Toronto each wondering if he meant them.

  Almost Heaven, Expo 67

  By many standards, Montreal’s Expo 67 was the most successful world’s fair of the 20th century.

  The Expo 67 Biosphere lights up the night sky.

  What’s a Little Competition Among Countries?

  Expo 67 Canada-style almost didn’t happen. Canada’s centennial came in 1967, and the country was hoping for a big celebration. A world’s fair seemed the perfect fit. But befor
e a country could host a world’s fair, there were certain protocols that had to be followed: in particular, any major international exhibition had to be okayed in advance by the Bureau of International Exhibitions (BIE). That was a major stumbling block.

  The BIE had been established to regulate the timing and reduce the number of world’s fairs. Too many countries had been announcing too many overlapping fairs for the international community’s taste, diluting the participation of other countries and reducing attendance. The idea was to keep the occurrence of world’s fairs rare enough to be profitable by allowing only one every five years.

  The problem was that 1967 was a significant date for more than one country. Sure, the most important was the 100th anniversary of the Canadian Confederation, but it was also the 50th anniversary of the Soviet Union’s Russian Revolution. And both countries were lobbying hard to get the fair. When the BIE representatives voted, the Soviets won 16 to 14, and that’s how Moscow became the site of Expo 67’s message of peace, freedom, and futuristic optimism.

  Hostesses from various countries welcome visitors to Expo 67.