May 11, 1957

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Rudolph stumbles on love

His penchant for bringing things homo— like Aunt Mildred’s pet duck and a strange girl’s baby—kept his master Martin in hot water. But it also brought romance, and a future Martin thought he’d lost By Kem Bennett26 min

MY BIRTH AND DEATH AS A NAZI

or exactly half of my thirty-two years I lived under the rule of dictators. I spent eleven and a half under Hitler and four and a half under Stalin. If today I were a stubborn fanatic, it would not be surprising. All my education and all that confronted me during my formative years was designed to turn me into a mental automation, living by a narrow set of rules others implanted in me. By KLAUS E. NEUMANN22 min

The lost children of British Columbia

Canada’s strangest children's residence is the New Denver Dormitory, hidden away on a lake surrounded by mountains two hundred and sixty air miles northeast of Vancouver. Within its walls, for the past four years, an unusual experiment has been in progress. By SIDNEY KATZ21 min

How can the Maritimes get in on the boom?

Man for man they’re the smartest Canadians. Paradoxically, they’re the worst off. Here are the chief problems of our most troubled provinces and what’s being done to solve them By ERIC HUTTON19 min

The sage advice of a legendary doctor

For no other reason than that they are full of a shimmering wisdom rarely met today, Maclean’s herewith presents a diverse sampling from the writings of one of the most extraordinary Canadians who ever lived. Their author is, of course, himself immortal. By Sir William Osler17 min

The piano with the all-Canadian tone

From the beginning of this century until the middle Twenties the piano was as essential to the furnishing of a well-ordered parlor as the brass firedogs, the aspidistra and the picture of the Prince of Wales. Since the middle Twenties, however, one Canadian piano manufacturer after another has been forced out of business by gramophones, radios and television. By McKenzie Porter15 min

LONDON LETTER

Baxter’s lively haven in St. John’s Wood

It Was Lord Beaverbrook on the phone. He had just returned from his annual hibernation that begins in the autumn in New Brunswick (which is his shrine) and ends in the Bahamas where he luxuriates in the sun and counts the days until he can return to London and the newspapers over which he no longer exerts direct control. By BEVERLEY BAXTER9 min

April 271957