Times-Advocate, 1979-02-28, Page 4Times-Advbcate, February 28, 1979
A
inION
• - ..........i ----- T|- - , , i'-......-i........... -i -.irm.------t —
Carrying a grudge
Acts of vandalism are disturbing at
any time, but two incidents in the area
last week indicated more involved than
the usual wanton destruction evident in
most cases of property damage.
The smashing of a window at the
Exeter OPP office and the slashing of
all the screens on the windows at Ex
eter Public School suggested an attack
against authority, and public authority
at that.
The perpetrators of the two crimes
apparently had a grudge against
someone, obviously not an uncommon
excuse for muqh of the vandalism
which plagues society.
Unfortunately, it represents a
grudge against authority, and the
public should be concerned, because in
reality it is an attack against the
public.
In terms which more people will
perhaps understand even better, it is an
attack against the public purse as well,
because the damages will indirectly
come from the public coffers.
While the destruction of private or
public property for nothing more than
“some kicks” is a sad commentary on
the mentality of some within our
midst, it is not as dangerous as the in
cidents of vandalism perpetrated by
those who carry a grudge or display
retaliation for authority.
They obviously need some help to
protect them from themselves.
Bigger and better
For a million years or so, human
beings have been developing their bodi
ly defences against the earth’s natural
hazards — things like smoke, dust, dis
ease, decay, and various kinds of
predators and parasites. Those who
were less able to survive didn’t. Those
who were better equipped to survive
passed on their
descendants.
But now, in
defences built
generations have been rendered
useless. They have been bypassed, by a
host of new hazards. Dr. Donald Chant,
vice-president of the University of
Toronto and founder of Pollution
Probe, stated in a recent interview that
there are now about 150,000 man-made
chemicals in the world, and new ones
are being added every year. “Yet we
know precious little about most of
them,” he said. “Some of them may be
as deadly as DDT.”
In addition, each of these new
chemicals contains impurities about
which we know absolutely nothing, Dr.
Chant stated — not even what most of
these impurities may be, let alone their
effect on human life and the world as a
whole.
strengths to their
a single lifetime,
up over untold
And however these substances are
used, in the end they hre dumped, or es
cape into the environment, filtering
their way into the food we eat, the
water we drink and the air we breathe.
So, should civilization give up on
‘progress?’ Should we go back to the
caves? No. But we can and should de
mand greater maturity from our
business and scientific communities.
We ought to view the years since
the Industrial Revolution as a kind of
adolescence. Like a teenager risking a
lifetime as a cripple for a few minutes
of thrills, we recklessly filled our skies
with ashes, our rivers with pulp mill
wastes, and our lakes with toxic
trickles from mines.
It’s time we grew up.
Unfortunately, in the present situa
tion, each individual cannot simply
look after his or her own safety. We are
too dependent on the actions of others.
We should expect — we should demand
— that those who produce the new
chemicals will test them for risks,
beyond any doubt, and will have enough
sense of responsibility to control what
they use.
It’s the least one can expect from
adults.
BATT’N AROUND .......... with the editor
Not what's eaten...just how much
1
Perspectives
XT; -
»k I
By
SYD FLETCHER
The fastest job I ever got
was with a big construction
company north of Bramp
ton.
As I walked through the
door a big stout man, chew
ing on a dead cigar, pointed
at me and roared,“You! ”
“Who me?’’
“Yeah you. Can you drive
a tractor?” Though I wasn’t
any too sure I agreed and not
half an hour later was sitting
on the seat of a big old
yellow Oliver in front of a
many-wheeled outfit called
a packer.
We were building a new
four-lane highway. My job
was to drive the brute wide
open in second gear at about
three or four miles an hour
and pack down the gravel
which was being laid down
by a never-ending stream of
trucks. Exciting, eh?
Well, believe it or not
there were some things that
broke the monotony. One
thing I learned was not to go
too close to the edge of the
embankment and with four
teen tons behind you even
two feet was too close.
The first time I didn’t
even know what was happen
ing. I just was going slower
and slower, then looking
around I saw about three or
four yards of wet clay being
Time* Established 1873
pushed ahead of the packer’s
wheels. I panicked and tried
to switch into a lower gear.
That was disastrous. From
four miles an hour I came to
an abrupt stop.
The grader operator was
an artist. He could peel off
an inch of gravel, perfectly
crowned to the centre of the
road without blinking an
eye. He gave me the royal
hee-haw when I hiked back
to where he was working but
came back willingly enough
to pull me out.
He wrapped a cable
around my front axle, then
put some tension on it. No
way. By this time he was
pulling about twenty-five
tons of dead weight. Then he
made the mistake of rocking
back and forth and jerked
once a little too hard. That
old cast iron hook snapped
as if it were a toothpick in
stead of an inch and a half
thick and the cable curled
back around his cab like a
striking snake.
It took a bulldozer finally
to get me out. The guys took
it in stride though. Everyone
of them had got in a similar
mess at one time or another,
either by carelessness or by
somebody’s idea of a prac
tical joke.
The truckers now, they
were always trying
something on the other guys.
Like the character who
fastened the tailgate shut on
a fellow trucker’s vehicle.
When the poor guy tried to
release the load the gate
wouldn’t open. The load
shifted and there the truck
was at twenty miles an hour
pointing straight up at the
sky, only his back wheels on
the ground. Gets a little dif
ficult to steer.
I happened to be coming
along and fastened my cable
on the truck. After about
two bounces and a little blue
air he was ready to go again.
Then there was the
character who liked to give
me my daily thrill. He drove
a big earthmover right
by me about every half hour.
Now my machine was noisy,
but his had it beaten by a
mile. His favourite sport
was to coast up behind me as
I poked along, then open it
up full blast. I think he had a
small bet with himself that
he could raise me at least a
foot off the seat. Believe
me, sometimes he came
close.
The one other thing I got
out of that summer was a
sunburn. Now there are sun
burns and there are sun
burns. I can still feel that
one.
The first couple of days
were either cloudy or rainy
so I was able to survive with
a little baseball cap. Then it
got sunny and I got burned ,
so I got one of those African
type helmets. Ever try to
wear one of those after a
fourteen ton packer rolls
over it?
Then I got a big sombrero
and it was perfect. If it went
under the load I just went
back, shook off the clay and
put it back on. Other than a
face swollen like a
watermelon and streaming
like a dirty creek from
breaking blisters, I was all
set for the rest of the
summer.
It’s often difficult to comprehend
how some civil servants can lose sight
of reality and end up making such fools
of themselves.
While there are numerous case
histories relating the pompous at
titudes of the people who create and en
force some of the regulations to which
people are subjected, none has quite
touched the nerve centre to the extent
of a recent edict from the director of
environmental health for the Durham
Regional Health Unit.
Dr. J.E. Watt has advised local com
munity groups that they cannot comply
with regulations of the Public Health
Act in the provision of meals, even on
an occasional basis, technically ending
church suppers and community events.
According to press reports, the
residents of the region have been ad
vised that food prepared at home and
served at such places as churches or
community halls is contrary to the
Public Health Act.
“The traditions of rural Ontario are
too valuable to fall prey to the
pressures of big government,” Oshawa
MPP Mike Breaugh advised health
minister Dennis Timbrell in a letter
denouncing the action of the director of
environmental health. “Please accept
my assurances that these meals are
not only delicious, but they are
prepared and served by the best and
most conscientious cooks in Ontario,”
Breaugh continued.
Most people would probably agree
that the only health problem that could
be of any concern at church and com
munity dinners is that associated with
the gluttonous attack they muster on
the bountiful supply of edibles with
which they are favored, particularly on
the dessert table.
The environmental health in Durham
Region must be at unusually high
levels if Dr. Watt has nothing better to
do than worry about the health factors
associated with church and community
dinners.
w * *
Most readers will agree that the
following excerpt from Harpers
Magazine fairly sums up the world
situation:
“It is a gloomy moment in the
history of our country. Not in the
lifetime of most men has there been so
much grave and deep apprehension,
never has the future seemed so in
calculable as at this time. The
domestic economy is in chaos. Our
dollar is weak throughout the world.
Prices are so high as to be utterly im
possible. The political cauldron seethes
and bubbles with uncertainty. Russia
hangs, as usual, like a cloud, dark and
silent, upon the horizon. It is a solemn
moment. Of our troubles, no man can
see the end.”
Perhaps it should have been men
tioned at the outset that the item
appeared in Harpers in October, 1847.
* ★ ★
Speaking about the political cauldron
bubbling with uncertainty, someone
has suggested that it is w’thin the
realm of possibility that Gerald Ford
could become president of the United
States again, maybe after the next
election. If Joe Clark should be the
Prime Minister of Canada at the same
time, a meeting between the two
statesmen would be memorable.
Can’t you just picture the scene. U.S.
Airforce One lands at Ottawa. The
door opens and the President bumps
his head on the frame, inflicting a nas
ty gash. He then falls down the stairs,
to be caught by well-prepared
attendants who have been through this
before.
In the meantime, the Prime
/X
Minister, recovering from a large
bump on his head after walking into a
rifle carried by a member of the guard
of honor, has wandered off somewhere
and is found introducing himself to the
chauffeur of the presidential limousine
whom he has mistaken for Mr. Ford.
The situation would certainly prompt
the necessity of having their staff
members enrol in a St. Johns Am
bulance course.
*r ★ W
It’s no doubt a sign of the times that
the town dump has become one of the
major items of discussion for council
members. It appears quite frequently
on the agenda, despite the fact our
method of disposing of refuse has
changed considerably over the years.
Older readers will recall when their
refuse was hauled to a site just west of
the outskirts right on Highway 83. It
was hardly the type of “welcome” that
impressed visitors approaching the
community.
It was later moved to the Hay
swamp, fairly well hidden behind
trees, although the black smoke which
encircled the location on most days
hardly made it inconspicuous.
Now, however, the act has really
been cleaned up. It has even enjoyed a
name change, going under the
nomenclature of land fill site.
The final touch came last week,
when ratepayers were advised that
they would have to have a pass to even
visit the scenic spot, and if you happen
to take along a bag of refuse with you,
it will cost you $2.50 to deposit it at the
site.
That’s just a little less than the price
of a good movie ... so, whatever turns
you on!
Advocate Established 1881
imes - Advocate
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SERVING CANADA'S BEST FARMLAND
C.W.N.A., O.W.N.A. CLASS 'A' and ABC
Published by J. W. Eedy Publications Limited
LORNE EEDY, PUBLISHER
Editor — Bill Batten
Assistant Editor — Ross Haugh
Advertising Manager — Jim Beckett
Composition Manager — Harry DeVries
Business Manager •— Dick Jongkind
____Phone 235-1331
rhinl£ small
1 by Jim Smith
Freedom To Fail
Roughly 50,000 small and
medium-sized Canadian firms
sank into oblivion last year,
gone but not entirely forgot
ten. Indeed, some economic
analysts are more concerned
with these firms after death
than during the firms’ exis
tence.
50,000 deaths: the statis
tic suggests spectacular car
nage. But is small business
really a fast road to destruc
tion? And is there something
that should be done to en
sure that fewer small firms
fail? The two questions are
among the most hotly debat
ed issues in government to
day..
First, the truth is less dis
mal than the appearance.
Small business does not guar
antee bankruptcy (in fact,
the biggest firms all began as
modest concerns). Moreover,
the collapse of a single firm
or group of firms is not, in it
self, bad news for Canadians
in general (though the ejJ|je-
rience may prove quite un
pleasant for the unfortunate
firm’s principals). A surpris
ing number of business clos
ings involve nothing more
serious than a desire by the
owner-managers to retire.
And other owner-managers
discover newer, more profit
able projects and abandon
their existing firms for green
er pastures.
The most important as
pect of the question, how
ever, is even more basic: the
vast majority of business clos
ings do not involve bankrupt
cy. Of the 50,000 firms which
close their doors annually,
fewer than 5,000 are bank
rupt.
At its fundamental best,
it’s worth recalling, a thriv
ing economy should feature
a continual turnover of firms.
Old firms which have served
their purpose and are no
longer useful to the consum
er should fade away, replaced
by new firms which meet
new needs. Such is the na
ture of a competitive econo
my. A nation which has no
business failures likely has
no growth, either. Failures
in some sectors are necessary
for success in the overall eco
nomy. Despite 50,000 disap
pearances, at least 60,000
new enterprises were created
last year. So as long as busi
ness births are greater than
business deaths the economy
is basically healthy.
All of which brings us to
the second issue: should new
programs be introduced to
guarantee that small firms
will not fail? Or, to put the
matter in another light,
should government offer so
many subsidies and direct aid
programs that the business
cannot help but stay alive?
There are bureaucrats who
believe that costly expanded
assistance programs to pre
vent firms from failing would
be highly desirable. These
people miss the point of a
competitive economy, how
ever. Firms which cannot
stay alive have outlived their
purpose; in business, as in the
jungle, the rule is survival of
the fittest.
If assistance for the small
businessman is required, it
would be most valuable in
terms of reducing the burden
of taxation and the excessive
levels of red tape and paper
burden,or in protecting small
firms from the monopoly
power of big government, big
corporations and big labour
unions.
Small business, in other
words, can function best
when market forces are al
lowed to work and when
governments recognize that
the freedom to fail is as im
portant as the freedom to
succeed.
"Think small" is an editorial
message from the Canadian
Federation of Independent
Business^
-----------------------------------------------J
cioNun memory Icin^
55 Years Ago
The girls of the Short
Course organized a Junior
Women’s Institute on
Tuesday morning. The of
ficers are: Pres., Amy
Fisher; Vice-Pres., Flossie
Hunter; Sec-Treas, Verna
Coates; Directors, Madge
Doupe, Vera Coates, Irene
Stewart; auditors, Mabie
Neil and Fern Francis. They
expect to meet one night a
month.
Mr. Roy' Goulding was in
Toronto last week, taking in
the Mendelssohn Choir
concerts.
Pitch-holes are bad on
many of the roads. There are
some deep ones on the
London Road, just south of
town. They were ploughed
out on Monday.
The sawing match at
Farquhar was attended by a
large number of spectators,
in spite of the fact that the
day was cold and the roads
were in bad condition. Rev.
G. M. Chidley was time
keeper. The logs were of
hard maple, 20 inches in
diamenter, and three prizes
were awarded in each class.
30 Years Ago
Saturday morning the
pupils of Eden School (SS 4
Usborne) with their teacher,
Miss Elaine Mitchell, were
heard in a program over
CKNX Wingham.
Harry Strang won top
honours at Huron County
Seed Fair held in Clinton
Collegiate Institute.
Sixty years ago the women
of Main St. and James St.
churches organized a WMS.
Mrs. E. A. Follock was
honored Sunday being the
only living WMS charter
member.
Alf Scholl of Hensall is
making extensive im
provements to the interior of
his meat and grocery store.
20 Years Ago
The Riverview Park
project received a major
boost this week when the
Ausable Authority agreed to
purchase the Ray Frayne
property and assist the town
in the development of the
area.
Mr, & and Mrs. Harold
Whyte and David, who move
to Bracebridge soon, were
honored by the Lucan
community at a presentation
euchre and dance last week.
Mr. Whyte served 12 years
as hydro manager in Lucan
after serving a number of
years in Exeter with the
HEPC.
The Ladies Auxiliary to
Exeter Legion gave
unanimous approval at the
meeting Monday night to a
proposal to donate $250 in
bursaries to SHDHS
graduates to be awarded
annually.
The Main Street building
owned by John Ward has
been purchased by William
Parker who recently bought
the barber shop business of
the late Norman Hockey.
15 Years Ago
Two leap year children
will celebrate the fourth
anniversary of their bir
thdates, Saturday, February
29. They are Elaine Powe,
daughter of Mr. & Mrs.
Elmer Powe, RR 2 Cen
tralia, and Alvin Lavery, son
of Mr. & Mrs, Milton Lavery,
Hensall. They’re two of a
number of district residents
who’ll welcome the extra
day this month as a once-in-
four years birthdate.
Two plaques com
memorating those who
served in both world wars
were unveiled in connection
with the organ dedication at
James St. United Church.
Edward Lindenfield and
Luther Penhale were chosen
for the ceremony from
among those who lost
members of their families
during the conflicts.
Students at SHDHS again
won the broomball game
when they defeated the
teacher’s 3-2. The game
lasted half an hour and was a
highlight of the paper staff
skating party.
The annual banquet of the
1st Crediton Cubs and Scouts
was held in the Community
Centre on Friday With 78
present. Guests included
Rev. R. Hiltz, Exeter, Rev.
A. M. Schlenker, Crediton,
and Reeve and Mrs. G. Webb
of Dashwood.
When I leaped from the swamp of
editing a weekly newspaper into the
quagmire of teaching in a secondary
school, I didn’t realize it was frying-
pan to fire.
Like most people, I had a
stereotyped idea of a school teacher.
Someone who had quit work while I had
still two hours, plus overtime'or night
work, to go. Someone who was fairly
bright, rather shabby, not well paid but
never really poor, looking forward to a
steady pension after a mere 35 years of
work.
Someone who always had a modest
home and a secondhand car, the re
quired two or three children, a dowdy
and modest wife, and a simple, rather
sedentary profession that would enable
him to live and collect his pension until
he was 90.
But most of all, someone who had a
week’s holiday at Christmas, another
in March and two whole months off in
the summer.
I am forced to admit, as well, that I
rather looked forward to having a
touch of authority. I had none over my
kids, because I loved them too much. I
had none over my wife, because •— well
any of you married men know.
True, I had been an officer in the
RCAF, which suggested authority, But
fighter pilots had no authority. An
army lieutenant could scream and
curse at his men and degrade them.
And himself. If we tried that with some
ground-crew chap, he’d merely give us
the finger. We were merely the curious
young chaps who flew the things. They
were the people who made the things
fly.
Only once did I have a chance to be a
leader of men, and thus throw my
weight around. It was after I’d been
shot down and captured. I wound up
with about 40 Canadian soldiers. Short
ly afterwards, their only two officers,
who cursed and screamed and treated
them like peasants, escaped. I was the
only officer left.
I was pretty keen to show that I was
officer material and leadership
calibre. I talked about morale, and try
ing to escape. The only comment was
made by a grizzled sergeant, who said
flatly, “Screw that!” The others mere
ly laughed.
So I found out that my authority con
sisted of cutting loaves of black Ger
man bread into equal portions of six,
with a dull knife, under the guillotine
eyes of 38 of the rude and licentious
soldiery. And the Only reason I had the
job was that they didn’t trust each
other.
So much for authority. But I knew it
would be different as a school teacher,
I would be firm, but just, a wise and
benevolent father figure, but one who
would brook no challenge to his
decisions.
Yes, a regular Mr. Chips, accepting
confidences, doling out gentle but
profound advice, having tea with my
students, my wife hovering in the
background, enjoying the way I twitted
the youngsters.
What a pipe dream! I “went into”
education, as it is nefariously known,
just about the time of the big baby
boom at the end of the ‘50s. New
schools were being built, and looked
like, a chain of new shoe factories.
Any body of any sex, and I mean any,
that was warm and breathing and had
anything approaching a university
degree, was being dragged off the
streets and stood up in front of 30 or 35
kids who were just getting into drugs
and permissiveness. Every third stu
dent was a barrackroom lawyer.
Hair became the thing for males.
Jeans so tight a touch would have
blown them up, and T-shirts with
messages so explicit a marine would
have blushed, became the thing for
females. Language that would curl a
sailor’s hair became the thing for both.
And not only among the students.
Teachers ranged from fitness freaks
to alcoholics anonymous, from
pedants to pederasts. The started
appearing in long hair and desert
boots, in gasp-revealing cleavages and
mini-skirts and sadistic high boots and
Afro wigs. Any day now I expect to see
a lady teacher, if that has not become a
Please turn to Page 15
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