HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1972-02-09, Page 8WEEKLY SALE
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Phone 887-6461
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9. 1972
Business Directory
J. E. LONGSTAFF
-OP TOMETRIST-
SEAFORTH, GOVENLOCH ST. 527-1240
Tuesday, Thursday, Friday,
Thursday Evening
CLINTON OFFICE, 10 ISAAC STREET
Monday, and Wednesday 482-7010
Phone Either Office For Appointment
HOUSE OF MAX
FURNISHINGS - INTERIORS
-M. L. WATTS FUNERAL HOME
PHONE: 887-6336 or 887-6585 BRUSSELS, Ont.
CRAWFORD and MILL
J. H. CRAWFORD, Q.C.
A, R. M. MILL, B,A., LLB.
ROSS E. DAVIES, B.A., LLB.
BRUSSELS and WINGHAM
PHONE 887-9491 PHONE 357-3630
Wingham Memorial Shop
QUALITY SERVICE CRAFTSMANSHIP
Open Every Weekday
Your Guarantee For Over 35 Years of
CEMETERY LETTERING
Box 156 WINGHAM JOHN MALLICK.
GENERAL INSURANCE
FIRE AUTO
R ES ,
LIABILITY
887-164 PHONE: OFFICE 887-6100
JIM CARDIFF
REAL ESTATE BROKER
GENERAL INSURANCE
AGENT FOR HOWICK FARMERS MUTUAL FIRE INS.
REAL 4.STATE BROKER
McGavin's Farm Equipment
WE SPECIALIZE IN A COMPLETE LINE OF
FARM EQUIPMENT
Sales and Service
BRUSSELS WALTON, ONTARIO
SEAFORTH
887-6365 527-0245
aitioS RADIO and TV SALES &SERVICE
ELECTROHOME
do erlri degree a!'e.ce!lpnce. .,
QUEEN STREET. BLYTH,ONT. • P/ 523-9b40
DEAD STOCK REMOVAL SERVICE
WANTED - DEAD AND DISABLED
- CATTLE AND HORSES -
TOP PRICES PAID FOR HORSES ON THE HOOF
Small Animal Pickup
24 Hr. Fast Efficient Services
Brussels Pet Food Supplies
Lic. 2 /3-c-70 S
FREE OF CHARGE - OVER 150 LBS.
PHONE COLLECT 887-9334 BRUSSELS
Bill Smiley Brings Humor To His Column
During recent weeks, Brus- Ivy's brother in law, tne editer For a writer like pill, a
SOS Post readers have enjoyed of the WiartonEcho was drowned colourful family is a defieite
the Weekly column, "Sugar and and there was Pehody to take over asset. His wife, to whom he
Spice" by Bill Smiley.' the paper. stepped into the has referred variously as "the
we have heen asked on a num- breach and for years he lived Old Lady," 'the Battle Ax e,•,
ber Of eccasions: "WhO is this 'the happy harried life of a small or 0 (tlie Boss," is in reality an
Bill $Mlley?" Here is the answer, town newspaper editor, rushing to intelligent and attractive lady
get ads out, covering council who gets fan mail of her own.
Meetings and Women's Institute She's as interested in writing
meetings," In addition, he wrote and reading as he is, and plays
a personal column,free froma mean game of chess. If occas-
editorial and reporting restric- tonally she does something wacky,
tions. The little celumn caught like setting the mantle piece,afire
on. soon other editors were r at Christmas, it's all grist for
picking it up and some of them. Bill's mill.
paid him as much as 50 cents a
Week for it. Before long over,
eighty weeklies were reprinting
Smiley's Sugar and Spice, and
the proofreading, mailing and
billing became a family industry
for Bill, Ivy and the youngsters,
Hugh and Kim. When the Tele-
gram Syndicate offered to market
Bill's column, everybody was
delighted.No more sticky tongues
from licking envelopes and
stamps!.
The Elmvale Lance has
investigated Bill Smiley, has,
analyzed him and has come up
With some interesting con-
clusions which appeared recently
in Town. and Country under the
title "Syndicated Canadian"
Shirley Whittington tells of her
studies:
Once a week, an Ontario high
school teacher hunches over his
typewriter and stabs out a salty
little column about things like
mortgages, kids, taxes and the
cruel Canadian winter . Bill
Smiley, who seasons 150 weekly
newspapers across Canada with
his personal blend of sugar and
spice, tells it like it is.
He comments on home life.
"It is something to be borne, like
varicose veins or ingrown toe-
nails."
He talks about family
hang-ups. "Momma's tolerance
thins with the same rapidity as
Dad's hair."
About his job, he says, "Show
me a teacher in June and I'll
show you a character with a
crumpled shirt, a wrinkled brow
and a desperate look in his eye."
He has this to say about the
puzzling business of living; "The
Sixties produced the millions of
kids who are now a mystery and
terror and bewilderment to the
relics of the Frightful Forties."
To readers of his column, Bill
comes across as a wise, irre-
verent and witty man. It's an
honest projection. He writes the
way he talks. Sitting in his favou-
rite chair an uncomfortable
straight backed job - he'll curl
one hand around a drink and run
the other through his thinning
white hair. He listens, while
conversation flows around him,
then delivers a wry and usually
definitive comment, in a voice as
comfortable as a rusty porch
swing. This wiry unsentimental
wisdom is the reason acquaint-
ances from eight to 80 ask him
for advice. T his is why ex-
students invite him to their wed-
dings, and why every female he
meets falls a little bit in love
with hira. And this is why a
clipping from a Saskatchewan
newspaper describes him as "by
far our most syndicated colum-
nist."
Bill was born in Perth, Ont.,
and was studying at Victoria
College when World War Two
began. He joined the RCAF,
became a Typhoon pilot and took
part in nany dangerous missions,
like hitch hiking 380 miles on
a forty hour pass to see a girl.
He regards this escapade with
the same puckish spirit as the
time he had to circle an airfield
for a couple of hours with a live
bomb hanging from his wingtip.
The chaps down below wouldn't let
him land until they had cleared
away all the men and machines.
"I landed", he says, "like a
mouse in kid gloves walking on
eggs. Then I ran like a bat
out of hell, in flying boots, with
a parchute bumping on my bum."
The high times were abruptly
interrupted in 1944 when he was
shot down over Holland and im-
prisoned by the Germans. He
came home with a knee disabled
by an S,S,boot, and with plans
to complete his Honour English
course at U. of T. There he
met his dark-eyed wife, and he's
been announcing ever since that
she is the root of all his troubles.
They had only been married
a few months, subsisting on love
and very little money, when
biology threw a spanner into the
works. (Ivy (Susie to her friends)
became pregnant and Bill de-
veloped T.B. After a year of
separation - he in a sanitoriuni,
she at home in Wiarton - they
both resumed their college car-
eers, burning the midnight oil-
with a baby son as well as a
stack of text books. Bill had his
eye on post-graduate studies in
English with a view to teaching,
but tragedy intervened,
8—THE BRUSSELS POST, FEB
Although he was established
as an editor and columnist, the
urge to teach lingered in Bill.
Off he went to O. C. E. Ivy managed
the paper, juggling interviews,
news reports and the management
of a home and family with cheer-
ful efficiency.
He began his teaching career
in Midland; where he is now head
of the English Department of MSS.
Lately he has joined the Argyle
syndicate. The Telegram tried to
retaliate by featuring another
well known columnist inSmiley's
format, but his loyal readers
weren't fooled. As far as they're
concerned, Bill Smily is irre-
placeable.
proof of his readers' affec-
tion and involvement arrives in
his ma'roox almost every day.
When he mentioned a few years
ago that his daughter Kim was
dangerously ill with hepatitis, a
flood of letters arrived, with
prayers for her recovery. When
he said that, in his opinion cable
Tv was explotation, he was
visited by two officials from a
large cable network, who sugges-
ted that perhaps he was only kid-
ding and would like to retract
or modify his statement in a
later column. He wasn't. He
didn't. Last year he wistfully
remarked that he'd like to get
away from it all and enjoy a
summer vacation with his wife -
perhaps in the form of an auto
trip across Canada. Invitations
flowed in, offering everything
from deep sea fishing in the
Maritimes to dancing under the
stars in British Columbia. A
column commenting on the BAHAI
religion inspired a spirited if
ungrammatical, reply from an
irate Westerner.
Daughter Kim, a beautiful
redhead with a blinding smile, is
currently a student at Erindale.
College, where she is earning
professorial raves for her writ-
ing ability. Smiley's readers
know all about her. They have
been following her exploits
through Bill's column, from her
first music festival to her
summer hitch-hiking adventures.
Hugh, Bill's handsome son,
was also at university, and Smiley
aficia.na.dos remember columns
about his piano recital, his
summer working on the boats and
the time he broke a finger Indian
wresting in Mexico.
Bill's attitude to his kids is a
typical , blend of sugar and spice.
"Those selfish brats? Let them
look after themselves. I'm goirig
to enjoy life without worrying
about a pair of rotten ingrates."
As he says this, he writes out a
healthy cheque to help with
college expenses.
Is writing the column ever a
chore? Yes, says Bill. "It has
to be in the mail every Tuesday
night, and every minute writing
it is hard work. I hate it except
when it's finished. Then I either
feel the glow of knowing it came
off, or a small work of misery
starts eating away at me and I
can't eradicate it until the next
column."
Will he ever write the Great
Canadian Novel? "There are
quite a few of them around al-
ready," he says, "by fellows like
Callaghan, Richter, Hugh Garner
and Jack Ludwig. As long as I'm.
teaching, I won't have time to
start anything so ambitious."
Because there are never
enough hours in the day, Bill
often has to turn down invitations
to speak, or to conduct writing
seminars. The few speaking
engagements he has undertaken
have proven to be memorable
occasions for his listeners. To a
high school graduating class he
said, "Tonight I'm supposed to
speak to you about good reading
habits .. . The choice of speaker
was a hilarious piece of mis-
casting." In 1971, he cpened a
speech to the top officials of the
HOYal Canadian Legion this way;
',you must wonder f what a,. .
piddling little one-time flight-
loot is doing addressing such an
august body, And I wondered
the same,"
He has served on the panel of
judges for the Stephen Leaceek
Award for several years, a role
he enjoyed because it kept him
abreast of developments in
Canadian writing a subject in
which he is intensely interested.
His ambitions are stated in
this snippet from an old column:
"When I'm 85, I want to be known
in the Nursing Home as !that old
devil Smiley, who pinches your
bottom every time, you pass his
wheel ,chair."
IP the meantime, every
day night Bill returns to his cen-
tury.-old brick house and
dumps the day's crop of unmarked
essays or exams on the kitchen
table. lie settles himself at his
typewriter with a drink, (anything
wet - Coke, coffee, beer, tea,)
and a smoke ("I'll smoke till
croak!") and percolates his
weekly ration of wry comment.
Then he starts rapping with the
folks in Collingwpod andSeaforth
and High River and about a
hundred other very important
places in Canada.