WHEN JEAN LESAGE was Premier of Quebec he was in his office every morning by 8.15—and most weeks “every” morning meant all seven, not just five. Premier Daniel Johnson gets to the office between 10.30 and 11, Tuesday through Friday. He spends his three-day weekends in Montreal, where he lives, or in the village of St-Pie de Bagot in his riding, where he also maintains a home the year round.By BLAIR FRASER
SAM OLAN IS REALLY a very nice guy. He’s such a nice guy that, just to please his wife Marie, he squandered $150,000, roused 130 temperamental Italians to a lynch mood, seriously jeopardized Montreal Mayor Drapeau’s long-cherished dream for a permanent opera company, spurred the Quebec government into appointing a mediator to avoid what threatened to become an international incident, and then landed himself in the hoosegow.By Ken Johnstone
THE POLITICAL AND RACIAL conflicts that today hold our headlines are far less likely to destroy our civilization than the simple fact that a peasant woman in India or Africa or South America has 12 children—and that 10 of them will live. Indeed, unless strict measures are quickly implemented to control the population spiral before it outstrips our resources, we may be faced with alternatives far less palatable than corner-pharmacy contraceptives or even sterilization.By HUGH L. KEENLEYSIDE
WHEN WE WERE CHILDREN in Barrett’s Landing, a tiny fishing village in Nova Scotia, one of our favorite pastimes was hunting buried treasure. We would whisper and argue in bed at night about what we would do with all our wealth. It was more than a game: we were convinced that one day we would dig up a treasure chest.By HELEN WILSON
JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT on November 3, 1963, Ronald Gene Davis, a 25-year-old jobless gravedigger, was driving home after spending several hours drinking near Palo Alto, just outside San Francisco. Davis careened through a red light at a busy intersection at more than 50 mph.By BARRY BROADFOOT
SOME OF THE PRETTIEST GIRLS in Canada walk down Bay Street in Toronto every lunch hour. Some? Hundreds. So many, that it may seem at first glance that Toronto produces more pretty girls than any other city in Canada. The fact is, however, that most of them aren’t Toronto girls at all.By SANDRA PEREDO
THE WOMEN STRIDING purposefully across these pages, all but one, were created by Toronto artist Michael Snow. The exception is the girl from the Coca-Cola ad that appeared all over North America with the oddly appropriate slogan, “For extra fun—take more than one."
OUT IN MARLBORO COUNTRY, in Calgary, Alberta, in The Petroleum Club, which recently underwent a $350,000 renovation, conversations start like this: "Hi thur. How are yew?” "Fan. Jist fan. How are yew?" “Jist fan.” Yanks, oilmen, from down in the southwest where the big money gushes out of the ground, and they are not there, they are here, in Calgary, drinking gin fizzes at The Petroleum Club.By JON RUDDY
YOUR ARTICLE on The Sharp/Gordon Debate is timely. One would think that after the failure Walter Gordon made as Minister of Finance he would retire from public life, but his recent attacks upon American plant subsidiaries in Canada indicates that he has not been silenced.
A BEARDED YOUNG MAN came on the stage of Montreal’s Loew’s theatre wearing a made-in-Paris Union Jack for a shirt and deposited a bundle of ribboned awards. Then came Judith Crist, the once and future movie critic of the New York Herald Tribune, to preside over the tense prize-giving ritual for this year’s seventh Montreal International Film Festival (July 20-August 4).By WENDY MICHENER
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