Running for office

Or, how to get into real trouble

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard

Many years ago, there was an upcoming municipal election looming. I resided in Huron Park where there was probably the largest number of voters in Stephen Township. I was pretty well known as a helper, a doer and a goer in the community, therefore, I was approached to run as a candidate. My backers said no one else in Huron Park would runagainst me. Ha ha. When it came time to declare our intentions to run, three Park residents submitted their names. Well, you can guess the outcome; none of us got in.
The next time I was asked to run in an election was with the UAW. I was at the time an employee at one of the union plants. The UAW committee was dominated by mainly women. We were not very pleased with the situation and felt that there was enough dominance at home. Since we couldn’t do anything about the homefront, we thought there was a chance to change things at the union level. Guess what? I won. Whoop dee doo.
There was only one small problem. I had no idea how to do any of the objectives of a president. I tried but to no avail and had to resign and send the job back to the ladies. I began to take courses with the UAW to learn what unions are intended to do for the workers.
One course I took at Port Elgin (which is the UAW school) was a women’s course; there were two males and 128 women. Boy, did I learn a lot.
I was later involved in some intense negotiations, which at times were scary. One set was held in Stratford. The deadline was set for Sunday at midnight. All day at a motel, with the company reps in one room and four or five of us in another, an arbitrator moved back and forth between the rooms bringing offers or rejections for the two teams. The men back at the plants had barrels, signs, picket duties and wood for burning all set to go.
At about 11:30, word came down that the company people wanted to see us in their negotiating room. Up we went. They were all smiles and we were told they had accepted all of our demands. Then the party began.
In the 40 years that I have lived in Stephen Township, I have never been approached by a federal or provincial candidate to give them my vote. I have had correspondence with parliament members and did go with a delegation to see Carol Mitchell in Goderich about funding for our sewers, which were being shoved down our throats.
We finally got some help but not by politicians but by the super efforts of one of our residents. She went and talked to the provincial finance minister and somehow got us $1-million, which worked out to about $3,500 per household. As I resident, I thank you for that.

In the London Free Press two weeks ago, how to reach your federal party:
Conservatives – www.conservative.ca
Liberals – www.conservative.ca
Who are they backing?
Since Rita and I always use our right to vote, we are going to do so a little differently this time. We don’t know any of the candidates, but we do have favourite colours. Mine is red and hers is green. Now our ballots are not a secret.

Toilet humour

What to do when you have to go

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard

At Protective Plastics Limited in Huron Park, we built fiberglass reinforced plywood panels, roofs, and doors for the trucking industry. You didn’t need to be on dope to work there because after a day in the plant you were pretty well flying.
As in other companies, PPL had its share of entertainers. For instance, while standing atop 50’x11’ roofs, grinding at the excess resin, all of a sudden the air supply would stop. You’d check the grinder and the hoses and then holler for someone to turn the compressor back on. “It is on,” someone would reply. It wasn’t until you were frustrated that someone would pop up from under the trolley that the mold was on and yell, “Surprise!” The son of a gun was under there crimping the hose to stop the air supply.
Over in plant #5, there was only one washroom. One morning about an hour in the shift, one of the employees had to go. He got to the washroom only to find it was occupied. He told the occupant repeatedly to hurry up, but to no avail. He finally couldn’t wait any longer and ran to the next building to do his business. The stall stayed occupied all day meaning that the others had to travel to do their thing. When you looked under the stall door, there was a pair of boots with coveralls down on the top of them, so you surmised that it was truly someone in there.
What had happened was a prankster entered the stall and placed the boots and coveralls to look as though there was someone there, locked the door and crawled out underneath and went to work.
Another time, he put a pair of boots at the toilet facing the back wall, took off the tank cover, disconnected the water hose so that the water kept running (to make a sound as if someone was urinating), exited the same way as before and carried on as if nothing was amiss.
There are many humourous stories of the fine crews that made their living in those plants in Huron Park, and the atmosphere was such that you were happy to get to work each morning to find out what was going to happen that day.

Wanted: vacuums

Oh where, or where, did our little vacuums go?

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard

A lot of strange and wonderfully humourous goings-on occurred in Huron Park in the 70s and 80s.
One time I was employed in the stock room at Hughes Columbia Yachts and was asked by my boss to come in on a Saturday morning to help him do an inventory of all the boats.
Each boat had a kit lock up, in which was stored most of the parts and installation equipment for the employees to use and install in and on the boat. Well, we got at it and spent about four hours checking items against the boat inventories.
At about noon, one of the lead hands approached my boss and asked if he could find a vacuum cleaner as the one off his line had gone missing. We hunted all through the plant to no avail. It seemed all the vacuums had disappeared. This was a strange occurrence. With all the vacuums in the plant gone, someone either went to the store or brought one in from home.
An investigation eventually found out what had happened. Word got around that one of the employees need a few dollars. He rounded up all the vacuums, took them home and had a yard sale.
Case closed.

A cat and mouse tale

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard

Back in the good old days – the early 70s, that is – there was a company in Huron Park by the name of Hall Lamp. It was a large employer that produced taillights and mirrors. The company used most of the industrial park’s hangars.
In the southwest corner of Plant 3, the shipping department was staffed by two very competent forklift drivers and a clerk typist who knew virtually everything there was to knw about shipping, especially how to get those shipments across the border by car, truck or airplane. Her name was Julie.
Now in that office there was a baseboard that ran around the perimeter; it was about 5” high by 3” wide. Along the baseboard ran one of Julie’s pets – a mouse. She would place peanuts, candies or whatever she had left over from her lunch on the baseboard. You could walk in almost any time during the day and watch that mouse chomping down on the goodies.
A year passed and Julie felt it was time for a birthday party for her pet. Arrangements were made at the Club Albatross, decorations were purchased, a cake was made and invitations were sent to all management personnel and a few workers who we knew could get away. The mouse had a mouse house that we took to the bar, in which it had a TV set, a portrait of Mickey on the wall, and a sofa with two little mice seated watching a Disney “Mickey Mouse show”, probably Annette and the Mouse Club.
The day arrived and everyone gathered at the Albie on the dance floor. Tables were set and balloons and hats were provided. A toast was made and everyone sang “Happy Birthday”. Then we ate and imbibed a little more while presents were opened. It was a wonderful party. S/he got lots of neat gifts, mostly food.
One day a stray cat arrived on the shipping office doorstep. It was a cute little dirty furry mess. Julie, the animal lover, took it into her domain. It had to have some place to stay so a house was provided with a blanket, a bowl and a litter box; we called it “Julie’s cat house”. Of course, with a little imagination, you can figure out what we called the cat.
We had a lot of fun with that cat and it got along well with the mouse. An elderly foreman, Vic, would take the cat home every weekend for a cleanup. He rigged up a length of twine and tied a foam seal from a Chrysler taillight to use as a leash and would take the cat for a walk through the plant. The women on the lines loved that cat.
One day Julie set the cat on her desk and he pawed the electric typewriter. The words that appeared on the sheet of paper made us realize we had been calling him the wrong name. Apparently his name was OIY OIY.

Come on out to the Crediton Harvest Family Fun Day September 6 at the park. Lots of entertainment, fun and games, and plenty of good food. Get your tickets for the top prize of $5200 worth of gas in aid of our building fund.

A day at the beach

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard

Hey kids, who wants to go to the beach?
That was a stupid question to ask on a hot summer’s day. I ended up with nine kids loaded into my good-sized car. I put some pieces of cardboard in the trunk for the sand dunes and off we went. In those days, there were no restrictions on seatbelts or number of people in a car.
We arrived at McPherson’s corner and turned west. Just behind the restaurant there’s this huge dune, where we pulled over. The kids jumped out, grabbed the cardboard and climbed the hill. Going down is fast and easy. There should be a skilift erected to take you back up. The kids don’t mind the climb, but I did it once and quit.
After they had worn themselves out, it was back in the car and off to the beach. Someone spotted a store in Port Franks, so we had to buy popsicles. You have to keep kids happy, and the popsicles kept them quiet for a little while.
At the beach I gave them all instructions about staying close together and keeping close to shore. I stood at the edge of the water and kept counting one to nine continuously so I didn’t lose anyone. An hour or so of swimming and it was back to the dune for another hour or so, then back to the beach. I must have ended up with enough sand in my car to fill a sandbox. We had a great day and all arrived home safe and sound.

Kids aren’t the only ones who like to play in the water. The Optimist Club of Huron Park periodically held dances in the rec centre on the industrial side. One night in particular, we had a good crowd and everything was proceeding well until time to close. As a member of the setup and cleanup committee, I looked around for my helpers. Most of them had disappeared.
I did a lot of cursing, but it didn’t bring them around. Finally they began to show up. It seems they had slipped through the side door, gone into the dressing room to strip, and then went skinny dipping. One person kept a lookout while the rest had a good time. I found out that this had been going on for some time.

Be sure to get your tickets for the Crediton Community Centre building fund draw. You could win $5200 worth of gas. Watch for sellers in your area.
Plus: Remember to purchase your tickets for the Crediton Roast Beef Dinner held on August 19th –5:15-7:15 at the Recreation Hall in Exeter.

Remembering the early days in Huron Park

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard

The air force had recently moved out of Huron Park when we moved from London in April 1968. There were very few tenants in the community, so when five of us army guys moved in, we had our choice of houses. Gradually, as time passed, word got around and the houses filled and the community came alive.
It’s probably hard for people who haven’t been to Huron Park to realize how good of a place it was to live.
For example, we had an arena and a curling rink, two swimming pools (one public and one private), a four-lane bowling alley, and recreation centre with basketball and volleyball courts. There was a tennis court, a walled-in lit baseball diamond, and a quarter-mile track surrounding a soccer field. All of the above were situated on the industrial side of the county road.
On the housing side, the elementary school had two ball diamonds, and a play area with slides, teeter-totters, and a sand box. The school had a large gymnasium with the standard basketball courts and a stage.
The school contained classes for kindergarten to Grade 8, and later included Huron Hope school for special needs children.
There was plenty of employment in Huron Park. We had a postal outlet, IGA grocery store, fire department with full- and part-time firemen, and a garage with a mechanic and gas pumps. The airport had (and still has) a well-lit combination of runways and a searchlight. Centralia College of Agricultural Technology occupied dormitories and classrooms vacated by the air force. There was a veterinarian department with meat inspectors and labs. There were roughly 300 students at any given time, and the college employed cooks, kitchen staff, caretakers, cleaners, teachers and administration staff.
Numerous companies occupied the various large hangars and smaller buildings. Hall Lamp (450 employees) leased most of the hangars assembling taillights and mirrors. Hughes Boats built sailing yachts for customers from around the world. Accumold blasted dies for the mining companies. Dunline built pads for the oil fields. Acme Neon Signs employed crews. The Club Albatross supplied after-hours refreshments for the tired workers. They also ran a snack truck for the industries.
I have probably left our some of the smaller outfits that operated in the early years. My apologies.
Many changes have been made since that time. Companies have moved out and new ones have moved in. We, too, moved out only a few years ago, but it remains a great place to live.
(Editor’s note: 1960s RCAF Centralia is the setting for former resident Anne-Marie MacDonald’s 2003 novel The Way the Crow Flies, a fictional account of Lynn Harper’s murder at RCAF Clinton, of which Steven Truscott was convicted and eventually acquitted.)

One night wasted at the Albatross

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard

During the years I worked (mostly part-time) as a waiter and bartender at the Club Albatross in Huron Park, there always seemed be someone ready to cause some kind of annoyance.
I recall one night I was working along when two men and a woman came in, sat down and ordered drinks. We became chatty and were having a bit of a time telling jokes, etc. Other patrons began arriving so the three got up to leave. They said, as they were heading out, “We’ll see you later.” I replied, “I hope so.” Little did I know it would be so soon.

The bar quickly filled up to almost overflowing. We had two bartenders, three waiters and two doormen on duty. Business was brisk when all of a sudden, every door in the building was opened and in poured 38 OPP officers.
This was shortly after 9 p.m. They blocked all the doors and had officers inside the washroom. After closing the bar, they began to send people into the dining room to be checked for ID and whatever else they were looking for.
At one table on the dance floor, they found a 14-year old girl with a glass of beer. She was dolled up to look like she was in her 20s. When she entered the building with three other patrons, she immediately went to the women’s washroom while her friends found a table and ordered a pitcher of beer and three glasses. After a short time, the teenager made her way to the table. One of the friends went up to the bar and got another glass. No one served the girl, yet the waitress in her area was charged with serving a minor.
The OPP overlooked a number of minors in the room where I was working. Maybe it was because the three undercover cops who were in earlier gave me a break for being so friendly with them.
People were getting antsy after a while because they couldn’t leave and weren’t able to get a drink. One fellow stood up and gave the Nazi salute and hollered, “Zeig Heil! Zeig Heil!” Well, the cops rushed over and ordered him to sit down and shut up.
Another man (a local company manager) got up and started to leave. Four cops confronted him, telling him he wasn’t allowed to leave and that he had better sit back down. He told them that he had come in to have a drink and if he couldn’t get one here he would go somewhere else where he could drink. They insisted that he would not be allowed to leave until the raid was over. He became so adamant that one of the inspectors came over to find out what the commotion was all about. After assessing the situation, he told the officers to let him go. I don’t think anyone else was allowed to leave.
The sting stunk. They didn’t nail anyone else. Since the bar didn’t reopen that night, we lost a lot of revenue and because we couldn’t sell any drinks, we lost all of our potential tips. All the raid did was create a disgruntled crowd of patrons and animosity toward the OPP. And it must have taken a big chunk out of the police budget: 38 personnel and their vehicles don’t come cheap.

Want $5200 worth of gas from any Esso station? Every Crediton citizen is selling tickets to the gas draw, with proceeds going to the Crediton Community Centre building fund.

One for the history books

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard

Even though I spent 18 years in the army, I was never trained as a fighting man. My first two years were spent doing some foot drill, learning how to be a storesman and getting more education. Next, I was posted to London’s 27 C.O.D., where I worked in shipping, loading and unloading trucks.
After a couple of years there, I wanted to go to Germany. The only way I was able to go there was to get a posting to 1RCR in Ipperwash. I grabbed the chance and ended up in the clothing credit department, where I stayed for the next eight years (Rita and I were married in Germany, and our two eldest sons were born there). Since I had been with the battalion so long, I figured I might as well transfer and I became a member of the regiment.
A few years later, in 1970, we shipped out to Cyprus. I was still not a trained infantryman.
One night, at 11 p.m., my buddy and I headed out to do eight hours on an outpost that we had never seen before. The men we were replacing were in a hurry to get back to camp, so they didn’t have time to bring us up to date on what was expected of us or what - if anything - had been going on in the area. A Turkish attachment was 100 yards to our front, and the Greeks were 100 yards to our rear.
About an hour into our tour, my buddy became sick and ended up in a corner of the outpost. He couldn’t move, so he would be unable to ride the bike or walk back to camp by himself. I couldn’t leave the outpost unattended, so I was of very little help to him. I tried to call back to base, but our phone was out and our radio battery was dead. It seems the previous crew was in such a rush to get out that they neglected to tell us about the equipment problems, and forgot to mention it to anyone back in camp. The outpost had no communications, and a sick soldier moaning and groaning.
About 3 a.m., I noticed a lot of movement on the Turk side and none on the Greek side. I didn’t know what to do as I couldn’t contact anyone back at base for assistance and as I mentioned this was my first time at this outpost.
I figured I should even the sides, and walked down to the Greek post and asked for someone who spoke English. A sergeant appeared and I told him that the Turks were moving up more troops. I then went back to my station and watched for any Greek movements. Sure enough, there was a rush of troops, so I went to the Turks and told them to watch for the Greeks moving up.
At 7 a.m., when our relief arrived, I told them about our night and equipment problems and explained that I would make out my report and get them new gear sent out. I loaded my buddy on the bike and pushed him back to camp.
When I reported to the orderly sergeant and told him of my problems, he said they were just beginning; the company commander wanted to see me. The CC wasn’t very happy. He told me that the British and UN headquarters were reporting that the Turks and Greeks were on the alert, getting ready to go at it. I explained what happened and that I wasn’t trained to handle the situation; I said I just wanted to even the sides and that my partner was of no use.
I almost became an item in the history books as the man who started the next Battle of Cyprus; turns out the movement on the Turkish side was just a normal shift change.

A divorce in Cyprus

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard

After living in Lizard Flats for a few months, the monotony of the same routine and weather day after day with very little excitement, we waited for something interesting.
It just so happened that two corporals living in the signals shack had a disagreement resulting in one throwing the other out – lock, stock and barrel. A complaint was made that Corporal J. was fooling around on Corporal G. with the latter’s donkey. Corporal G. filed for a divorce.
A court was set up on the patio of the junior ranks canteen. Sergeant T. was asked to preside as judge and to hear the case. He was agreeable and set up court during the noon hours.
Both complainant and defendant acquired lawyers. A court clerk and bailiff were assigned to court duties. Also, there were MPs in attendance. Each day after lunch, the judge allotted a certain amount of time for the sessions.
As soon as the complaint was read, the defendant became belligerent and charged after the complainant, knocking over a table and taking a swing. Quickly, the MPs restored order. Each side’s lawyer presented his client’s case and charges were made by both.
Numerous times over the next couple of weeks, the judge had to quiet things down to try to restore order in the court. As the days went by, word got around to the rest of the battalion and the gallery increased to overflowing. It was the best entertainment on the island.
But as all good things must come to an end (it seems some people just can’t take a joke), in the middle of the trial it was brought to our attention that the company commander had received mail from some wives at home who wanted to know what the devil was going on over there.
The trial was quickly dispensed with, and everyone went back to their normal duties. The donkey was never brought to court, and the two belligerents – to the best of my knowledge – never did reconcile.

What a trip!

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard

Sunday morning. Club Albatross, Huron Park. Hockey game in Detroit.
Most of us arrived at the club early as usual. About three hours ahead of bus departure time.
As there were 45 passengers, quite a bit of alcohol was being taken with us. While we were waiting, it was only natural for us to sample some of it. This went on until bus time.
Where was the bus? Phone calls were made to the bus company. The bus had left the yard on time and should have been here by now. An hour or so later, the bus pulls up to the door. It seems the driver didn’t know where Huron Park was and ended up in Vanastra. This was only the first time he got lost on this excursion.
We loaded onto the bus with only a part of the original supply of refreshments and headed for Sarnia. By the time we crossed the border, we were getting very low on booze.
Just outside of Port Huron, we had the driver pull over so we could restock. With that done, we carried on.
Most of us had never been to the Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, so considering the shape some of us were in, it was inevitable that something would happen.
As we were departing the bus, one of the fellows tripped over a case of beer that had been left in the aisle and he broke a finger.
Once inside the arena, a few of us got separated from the group and arrived late to our allotted seats. It seems that one of the older gents slipped on the cement steps and bounced on his butt a number of times before he could get stopped. He was hurt, but how badly wasn’t evident until we were leaving. He had a difficult time the rest of the way home.
The weather was terrible when we left Detroit. A vote was taken to cross at Windsor and visit our friend Scott at the Recess Tavern in Tilbury. He, his wife and staff were very welcoming during our stay. I was hungry and went next door to a restaurant. On my way back to the bar, I slipped on some ice and cracked my head on a brick wall.
We headed out for home and it wasn’t long before the driver, unfamiliar with the area and disoriented because of the weather, became lost again. Jimmy P. had to take over the wheel and drive the rest of the way home.
When we arrived back in Huron Park, most of the guys were met by wives or others to take them home or to the emergency ward in Exeter. Altogether, seven of us sustained some sort of injury. Overall, a great trip. Score of the game? Who knows?!

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