The Scope

Happy 105th, Virgin Berg!

It was 105 years ago on this day that St. John’s photographer T.B. Hayward captured a snapshot of the legendary Virgin Mary iceberg — come to be known as “Our Lady of the Fjords” or “The Crystal Lady” or, my favourite, “The Virgin Berg.”

Kodak had just five years earlier produced the “Brownie,” the first mass marketed camera, and some say this photo is the oldest purported to be a depiction of a supernatural Christian apparition — definitely the beginning of a long tradition.

In a research paper called “Kodak Catholicism,” Jessy Pagliaroli called this “miraculous photography.” Pagliaroli says this kind of thing has popped up because of a “a desire to re-awaken what [the Roman Catholic Church] perceives is a lost sense of the sacred in the modern world.”

The photo has inspired a number of creative works…

Michael Francis Howley, the Catholic Archbishop at the time, wrote a sonnet which was published in the Newfoundland Quarterly in 1909:

Our Lady of the Fjords

Hail Crystal Virgin, from the frozen fjords
Where far-off Greenland’s gelid glaciers gleen
O’er Oceans bosom soaring, cool, serene
Not famed Carrara’s purest vein affords
Such sparkling brilliance, as mid countless hordes
Of spotless glistning bergs thou reignest Queen
In all the glory of thy opal sheen
A Shimmering Shrine; Our bright Atlantic Lourdes.
We hail thee, dual patront, with acclaim,
Thou standest guardian o er our Island home.
To-day, four cycles since, our rock-bound strand.
First Cabot saw: and gave the Baptist’s name:
To-day we clothe with Pallium from Rome.
The first Archbishop of our Newfoundland!

Contemporary author Wayne Johnson says his father grew up in a house blessed by water from this iceberg, which they called the “Virgin Berg.” Johnson wrote about the iceberg in his memoir, Baltimore’s Mansion:

In 1905, on June 24, the feast day of St. John the Baptist and the day in 1497 of John Cabot’s landfall at Cape Bonavista and “discovery” of Newfoundland, an iceberg hundreds of feet high and bearing an undeniable likeness to the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared off St. John’s harbour. As word of the apparition spread, thousands of people flocked to Signal Hill to get a glimpse of it. An ever-growing flotilla of fishing boats escorted it along the southern shore as it passed Petty Harbour, Bay Bulls, Tors Cove, Ferryland, where my father’s grandparents and his father, Charlie, who was twelve, saw it from a rise of land known as the Gaze. [...]

How relieved he was when the Virgin Berg and her attending fleet sailed out of sight and his parents and the other grownups stood up and blessed themselves. Soon the miracle became mere talk, less and less miraculous the more they tried to describe what they had seen, as if, now that it was out of sight, they doubted that its shape had been quite as perfect as it seemed when it was looming there in front of them.

They heard later of things they could not see from shore, of the water that ran in rivers from the Virgin, from her head and from her shoulders, and that spouted from wound-like punctures in her body, cascading down upon the boats below, onto the fishermen and into the barrels and buckets they manoeuvred into place as best they could. Some fishermen stood, eyes closed and mouths wide open, beneath the little waterfalls, gulping and gagging on the ice-cold water, their hats removed, their hair and clothing drenched, hands uplifted.

You can read more of this excerpt here.

I’d say, though, that if a similar iceberg were to float by these days, people might interpret it slightly differently.

Soccer as Esperanto: An interview with author John Doyle

Soccer ball in front of Cape Town’s Table Mountain. Photo by Don Bayley.

From June 11th to July 11th, the entire world will be watching soccer.

St. John’s is slowly, slowly becoming more of an international city. Yes, people are moving here. Yes, you might hear someone speaking another language as they walk by. Yes, there are black people (OMG!) More and more people are coming and giving it a go here in St. John’s, as Newfoundlanders.

But what about integration? What about points of contact between ‘new’ Newfoundlanders and ‘old’ Newfoundlanders? For such a small city, they seem far and few between.

Could the World Cup provide some of those points of contact? Absolutely. Over the next month, soccer fans and non-soccer fans alike will be swept up in World Cup fever, to be a part of this truly international event.

The World is a Ball is the new book from Globe and Mail columnist John Boyle. Part travelogue, part social history, the book is not just about the sport. I got a chance to sit down with him recently to talk about the book and a few of these ideas.

Multicultural snapshot

In the introduction to your book you talk about your experience watching Iran versus…
Oh, the Ireland/Iran game. Watching that on TV…

Yeah. The experience of watching them on television in a public place, it seemed like a really interesting multicultural event…
In international soccer it can be like that. I wrote about that particular game and those few hours in an Irish bar in downtown Toronto, early on a Saturday morning because it was a vignette. It was a snapshot of multi-cultural Toronto. It was just a – it underlined so much about the complexity of big multi-cultural cities like Toronto.

What happened was that television brought these two very different groups of people together.

…To an Irish bar.
To an Irish bar at an unholy hour of a Saturday morning, and everybody intermingled and got along. Everybody was there because of the game. There was this acknowledgement that the other side is entitled to support their team as well, but we’re all here together because of the game. That’s okay. It was very peaceable.

So it was okay to be rooting against the other country’s team.
Yes. That’s all right, because really it’s only a game. That tends to be emphatic in international soccer tournaments these days. There’s often someone with a giant banner in the stadium that says “It’s only a game.”

That’s a reminder of what it is. It matters enormously, but there’s that truth.

The experience of watching it in a stadium versus watching it on television — what’s the difference?
From the first time I went to a World Cup, I began to see that as much a part of the theater and drama of a tournament as the two sets of players on the field. I find it fascinating the way the whole culture that surrounds the game, the traveling army of fans, how they behave and what they sing. As much of the drama takes place, the interesting drama, takes place outside of the stadium as on the field. On the train to the stadium and in the city afterwards where you have tens of thousands of people.

There are places in every city and every country in the world where the World Cup is celebrated even if soccer is not the number one sport in that country. People are drawn together by the occasion of the World Cup to go and celebrate their country, their community and to join with others in doing that.

The first African World Cup

How will this World Cup be different, do you think?
Interviewee: I think the fact that it is being held on the African continent is monumental in a symbolic way. It’s important that it happen and it had to happen. I think that will make it a very interesting World Cup and perhaps a great World Cup. If we were to go use the example of the first World Cup held in Asia which was so distant from the normal base of soccer powers in Europe and South America – that distance from home did tend to create this sort of psychological disconnect for some of the teams. It was sort of alienating to be in a place where they weren’t used to being and where they thought of soccer as being a secondary game.

You were there when the Cup was in Japan and Korea – could you feel that psychological disconnect?
Yes. Yes, you could. Certainly there was – I remember anyone who played South Korea during that World Cup I think was astonished by the level of support by the atmosphere in the stadiums.

European teams would be used to fanatical support at home. That took the fanaticism to a new level. It was astonishing to see and feel. It wasn’t just a visual or the sound of the fans. It was the fervor of it – how much it mattered. That can be intimidating to a team from another country and from another culture. It’s true that in Asia France, Portugal and Italy did not do as well as expected. South Korea and Turkey did very well. That was unexpected. There were many upsets. USA did well. My suspicion is that this World Cup could be like that. Some of the African countries will do well. The consensus was when the draw was made that they had very tough draws, which they did. But it’s one of the things I write about in the book is that sort of unearthly power, that other world thing that can take over in a key game, that motivates a team and a group of players to play above their level. They are underdogs but there’s a different narrative that’s being written that they can intuit and they can intuit victory when logically they should know they’re playing a vastly superior team.

I suspect Africa and South Africa could have those kinds of results. Smaller countries, African countries, will do well at this I think.

Soccer: An alternative to war?

You mentioned soccer can even serve as an alternative to war…? But do you really believe that?
Well, it’s stretching a bit to take that seriously, but it’s still fair to say. I think somebody has said we don’t have world wars anymore. We have the World Cup.

The fascinating thing about international soccer for me is that there are so many layers of meaning to it all. On the one hand you can say that soccer is an extension of the tribal impulse to compete. Soccer, international soccer, is sort of war by proxy.

Simultaneously, it’s something that unites because the game is the same all over the world. The rules are the same and it’s the sort of game…

You call it an Esperanto.
Yes. It is. Yeah, an Esperanto, a lingua franca. Whatever phrase you want to use. But there are very few things in the world these days that actually link so many countries and so many cultures. We live in a time when it used to a Cold War, not it’s really the West and Islam especially fundamentalist Islam; the two sides in this world of tension.

Iran and Iraq, they play soccer by the same rules as they play in England or France or in the U.S. or Canada. So there are very few things in the world today that you can say has linked a Jewish person in North America, a Christian in Europe to someone in a Muslim country. Soccer is it. Everybody knows the rules are the same. Everybody knows the best players in the world. Everybody has seen the best teams in the world. I think that’s something for which soccer should be acknowledged and celebrated in that there’s so few. Hollywood entertainment doesn’t do that – it just alienates in some countries. Soccer manages to achieve that.

The ref as fallible God

In your book you talk about soccer being a place where dreams are possible, and where you can overcome insurmountable obstacles. You also talk about dreams being shattered in the game as well. That happens in other sports, but why in particular does it make soccer so appealing to you?
It’s a great part of the pleasure because it means that there’s a rawness to the drama of international soccer which is unlike other professional sports. For a start, outside of a handful of Olympic sports, there are very few occasions where a vast number of countries play each other. I think that one of the reasons why we’re probably not going to see video replay technology, goal-line technology and all of that in international soccer is that the purity of the game is in the upsets that happen. It’s in the raw, brutal reality of it. International soccer as drama is much truer to life than most professional sporting events are because as in life, cheaters can prosper. The underdog, the valiant underdog doesn’t always win. It’s not like in movies.

So the ref makes mistakes?
Oh, absolutely. But that referee makes the decision. That means that if you’re watching the game on television, the referee makes a decision and the cameras can replay what just happened and you can see the referee was wrong. But that’s the way it is. It’s closer to the brutality of life. It’s also kind of symbolic in a way because the referee is a God on the field.

But he’s a fallible God. To the players he’s infallible. What he says he saw is what happened, not what actually happened. That’s part of the attraction of it. That you know that there is an uncertainty involved in it. Someone can fall over, the referee can see that it was a penalty and a lot of people can see it and say that it wasn’t. The referee makes that decision, that’s the way it goes. That’s part of the attraction to it, but it’s a dangerous kind of attraction. There’s no objective truth in soccer.

Why is it like that?
There was a qualifying game for a playoff qualifying game for this World Cup between Egypt and Nigeria. Bitter rivals. Very bitter rivals. The two games were played, both in front of 75,000-80,000 people who were on tenterhooks. If a goal had been scored, the referee was unsure and in hockey it goes upstairs to someone who looks at the video replay. You’re stopping the game for 2-3 minutes and then you decide “No, actually Nigeria didn’t score.” You would have 60,000 people whose passions would simply overflow — it would be unacceptable.

So that tends to inform and improve the extraordinary drama of international soccer.

That’s a lot of trust in a ref, for sure.
Interviewee: There are people who have legitimate complaints about bad refereeing decisions and so on. The only way it can improve is to have better referees who are better trained and the second thing that has happened is FIFA, the governing body of world soccer, it will get rid of a referee who has a poor game. He’s gone from the World Cup. He’s not going to be handling another game. That sort of thing does happen.

•••

Looking for a place to watch the FIFA World Cup here in town? Check our handy guide-y guide.

The World is a Ball, by John Doyle, is published by Doubleday Canada.

Where to watch the FIFA 2010 World Cup in St. John’s

What you see a fraction of a second before a diving header.

Forget the Olympics, the FIFA World Cup is the most widely viewed sporting event on the planet, and it’s happening from June 11 to July 11. Though the games are happening in South Africa, you can still get in on the madness. Here are the choice spots to catch the games, even the early ones, around town.

Refugee and Immigrant Advisory Council
204 Water Street
The Refugee and Immigrant Advisory Council will be showing all the games for free at the Centre For Social Justice, just above Coffee and Company. The first game, South Africa vs. Mexico, is on June 11th at 11am.

The Duke of Duckworth
325 Duckworth
The Duke will definitely be a key spot. They’re not sure yet if they’ll be officially opening early for all of those late morning games, but if it’s an important one, they’ll be there waiting for you. They’re also there in the mornings anyways, so if you bring a bunch of your friends down to knock on the door, there’s a good chance that they’ll throw the game on for you.

Bitter’s Pub
MUN Campus (Map)
“Newfoundland’s premier gathering spot for students from around the world… Featuring World Cup extended hours, Bitters will offer the venue to cheer on your team and get caught up in World Cup excitement with other football fans! Come join us for great specials, prizes and of course atmosphere!” – From their Facebook event page.

O’Reilly’s Pub
13 George Street
O’Reilly’s will have their TVs blazing, too. They’re not sure yet whether they’ll be opening early for the 10am matches, but they are sure that if enough people ask them to, they will.

At home
It’s where you live
There’s no harm in throwing 10am soccer parties, either. If you prefer to drink in your pyjamas with a mob of your closest friends, the CBC will be streaming all the games online at www.cbc.ca/sports/soccer/fifaworldcup/

The Pedestrian’s Manifesto

A spectre is haunting St. John’s—the spectre of pedestrianism. Powers have entered into a holy alliance to exorcise this spectre: poor city planning, snow-covered sidewalks and aggressive, careless driving practices.

It is high time that Pedestrians should openly, in the face of the whole City of St. John’s, publish their views, their aims, their tendancies and meet this nursery tale of the Spectre of Pedestrianism with a manifesto.

{Thanks to
Kevin Hehir
Pablo Navarro
Malin Enström
Costa Kasimos
John McConnell
Joan Scott
Michelle Butler Hallett

Compiled and edited by Sarah Smellie and Elling Lien}

It could have been the car that struck an eight-year-old boy on February 3rd and then promptly drove away…

Or it could have been the car that smacked a 20-year-old woman and then fled on March 8th…

There are hundreds of reasons to assemble a group of concerned citizens—from wheelchair users to marathon runners—and assemble this Pedestrian’s Manifesto.

Here we are.

Why we are angry.

Because we have been nearly hit, and because we have been hit.

Because we are required to walk where it is not safe.

Take, for example, the winter’s snow-covered, icy sidewalks, which confine any of us with mobility issues to our houses for the winter and push vulnerable pedestrians out onto the road.

Then there are the mounds of street snow piled at intersections, blocking the button for the walk signal, and forcing those crossing on foot to dart out into traffic during what small breaks can be found in the lines of fast-moving vehicles navigating slippery roads.

We are the children on their way to school, forced onto Thorburn Road by the icy snowdrfits on the sidewalks.

We are the woman with a baby strapped to her chest dancing over icy walkways with two hands full of groceries.

We are the person with forearm crutches trying to get to the bank machine on an unshoveled sidewalk downtown.

Have you ever tried to push a stroller or steer a wheelchair outside in winter? There’s only one street from Duckworth to Water that doesn’t have a flight of stairs, and its sidewalk is steep and narrow, and covered in snow for half the year. That means that any of us using a wheelchair or scooter has to book a ride with Wheelway just to go have a coffee at Atlantic Place—downtown’s only accessible retail spot.

We can even forget about a casual, summer trip to the mall or even down Monkstown Road. Those sidewalks are far too slanted, crooked and potholed to support a wheelchair.

If we had a dime for every time we heard a newcomer say that the drivers were “really crazy here,” we’d have a lot of dimes. Take the intersection at Empire and King’s Bridge Road, by Memorial Market Dominion, for example, where drivers whip blindly around onto Lake Avenue as if there’s a food shortage.

Coffee-sucking zombies nearly mowing down entire families as they careen into one of the city’s drive-thrus get special mention.

As do all those asleep, or texting, or phoning, at the wheel anywhere across the North-East Avalon Peninsula.

Yes, we acknowledge that sidewalk snow-clearing efforts have been steadily improving. We are grateful that funds for the Traffic Calming Study were found.

But as city council repeatedly congratulated themselves for being at the helm of a city that was selected by the Conference Board of Canada as one of the best six Canadian cities for migrants to settle in, we couldn’t help but shake our heads.

Most of the newcomers we spoke with were apalled by the snowy, dangerous sidewalks and the crappy public transit system.

And most of them had plans to move to another city.

Who we are.

This document and this movement takes “Pedestrian” to include everyone who, theoretically, would be using the sidewalks. We Pedestrians are people on foot, people using walkers, people using wheel-chairs, people using crutches, people using scooters, people pushing strollers, people carrying babies, people pushing strollers and carrying babies. Many Pedestrians are also drivers, so Pedestrians are not all anti-car. But we are all pro-Pedestrian.

Whether you like it or not, you are a Pedestrian. Even if you drive everywhere, in that place between stepping out of your car and stepping into the place you’ve driven to, you’re a Pedestrian.

Pedestrians are not too poor to afford a car, nor are we stupid or useless.

We are not obligated to walk on slippery, treacherous sidewalks when the road is much safer.

We do not relinquish our rights to not be struck by a car if we cross where there isn’t a crosswalk.

We are not blocking your road.

Like drivers, Pedestrians are people going to work or school or the grocery store, or we’re going to pick up our kids or our paycheques or a package. Or maybe we’re simply enjoying a nice day. We’re bringing life to the streets, and we’re initiating conversations and connections between one another that wouldn’t be initiated if we were all tucked away in our own individual cars.

According to urban philosophers like Jane Jacobs, we are essential to healthy cities.

Pedestrians are voters. We may even have elected you, and we probably expected more of you. We may not elect you again.

Most importantly, Pedestrians, like drivers, are commuters. Our destinations and our right to arrive at them in a timely fashion, and in one piece, are just as important as those of the drivers.

Our demands are as follows.

Better snow clearing and winter city planning. Expand the streets that the city’s snow clearing bylaw covers and enforce it. Expand the city’s sidewalk snow clearing routes. Clear the snow sooner after storms, and on weekends. Stop piling street snow on sidewalks and at corners. Learn from cities like Helsinki, or organizations like the Winter Cities Institute, and embrace the fact that St. John’s is a winter city. Imagine it as if the tourist season occured from November to March.

Put as much effort into sidewalks and walkways as you do the roads. Fix and/or replace old, potholed, slanted sidewalks; put ramps at either ends of crosswalks instead of blunt curbs; repaint the crosswalk lines on the road each year so that cars can see where to stop; cut back the trees than hang in front of crosswalk signs so that motorists can see them clearly.

We intend to make our plight known. To this end, and with this document, we officially challenge every member of city council to leave their cars at home for one full week. In the meantime, we will write letters and plan demonstrations. We will stop shrugging our shoulders and sighing. We will demand more from city council, and we will make Pedestrian issues election issues.

Invest in clear, visible signs at confusing intersections. Rawlin’s Cross, for example, is a nightmare when it’s full of tourists in rental cars.

Require accessibility. Demand that all new buildings be accessible. Demand that all public spaces and buildings, no matter how historic, be accessible. Have a wheelchair user determine whether or not that demand was met. Create more accessible roads and sidewalks to the downtown area, even if it means getting rid of stairs or building extra ramps. Show that you consider wheelchair and scooter users, and all persons with mobility issues, to be equal citizens.

Stop the ongoing sprawl in the city. Put a moratorium on further box-store development and promote the establishment of more resident-friendly stores in the city centre. Promote a walkable city so that there are more of us walking and talking and bringing life to the city.

What we will do.

We will be more aggressive towards careless drivers.

We will take note of license plate numbers and report them to the police.

We will start a a web forum where we post your plate numbers.

We will scream and cause a scene in the middle of intersections.

Rocks?

We will hang up on people who call us while driving.

We will take our space and cross the street and expect drivers to stop, instead of huddling at the corners, waiting for someone to let us cross.

And we will stop waving in thanks to those who do. As Pedestrians, we have the right of way at all times.

You are required to stop.

To drivers.

Make room for us. Expect us to be on the roads in the winter. After all, the city only plows about 100 kilometers of sidewalk. Drive slower. If you don’t like us on the roads, phone your city councillor and ask them to do a better job at making the sidewalks safe for Pedestrians. Or leave your car at home for a day and join us.

Look for crosswalks and slow down before them, whether there is a Pedestrian there or not. Stop, every time, if a Pedestrian is there.

Put down your cell phones, your iPods, your handheld whatevers. Gaze up from your GPS screens. Pay attention.

Be better drivers. Get out of your climate-controlled space bubble and take stock of reality: All of us are stupid human beings. Drivers are in control of a multi-ton hunk of steel, travelling faster than your brain. Drive with Pedestrians in mind,

And if you do kill one of us, you will have that on your conscience.

The Scope’s Comic Contest – 2010

Yes Ma’am, it’s time for our annual Comic Contest, which means this year might just be your chance at (regional) fame and (minuscule) fortune! Think you can do it? do you have what it takes? Then the Scope’s Third Annual Comic Contest is for you. Submit five installments of your single-panel or multi-panel comic to us at:

Comic Contest
c/o The Scope
P.O. Box 1044
St. John’s, NL
A1C 5M3

Entries must be post-marked on or before Friday, April 16, 2010. A judging panel made up of local cultural icons and assorted miscreants will have a nomination round, and then the top comics will then be presented to Scope readers for a public vote.

The winners will earn a paid, one-year run with The Scope (online and in print). First runner-up will win $100, and second runner-up will win $50. The winners and select submissions will get some exposure in our annual Comics Issue, slated for May 20.

The contest is open only to residents of Newfoundland and Labrador. The comics should be black and white only, and can be any shape (please stay consistent), so long as they fit on an 8.5 x 11 page.

Please don’t send originals because we can’t return them to you; good photocopies or files on CD are fine.

Questions? E-mail elling@thescope.ca. No phone calls please.

***

Autobiographical!
Political!
Well Drawn!
Poorly Drawn!
Photo Comics!
Arty!
Poetic!
Absurd!
Mysterious!
Historical!
Animal Related!
Non Animal Related!
Serial Adventure!
Cereal Adventure!
Single Panel!
Multi Panel!
Super Hero!
Romance!
Journalism!
Girl Comics!
Boy Comics!
Weird Comics!
Not-Weird Comics!
Gag Strips!
Not Quite Comics!
Etc!

Roll call

Roller derby in St. John’s.

Terri Jane Maxwell has been dying to try the contact sport for almost a year now. Finally, now that a Hollywood movie has whipped up public attention for the sport, she and a group of like-minded girls are getting ready to roll out a league for the city.

All they need are skates, a rink, helmets, outfits, alter-egos, some skating practice…

Well, they do have quite a ways to go. But they’ve got momentum and the power of a good idea behind them.

For those of you who are interested in watching—consider this your first notice.

For those of you who are interested in participating—now’s your chance to get in on the ground floor.

Elling Lien spoke with Terri Jane Maxwell about the glitz, the gore, and the glory of roller derby.

Photos by Ryan Davis.

Terri Jane Maxwell

So you’re in full preparation mode. When did you first have the idea to start up a local roller derby league?
A year ago, the Toronto band Cougar Party were in town, and when I was checking out their MySpace page I noticed the derby groups in their friends list. So I started talking to my friends about how I wanted to start a derby group here in town.

Nothing really came of it at the time, but then eventually I needed something to keep myself busy. So I started putting a lot more effort into it.

What’s your previous exposure to derby? As far as I know they haven’t really happened here.
Not a whole lot, honestly. Most of us are going to be learning it together. I saw it on TV when I was a kid, whenever it was, so I saw it then.

And after we started the group we found out that movie [Whip It, directed by Drew Barrymore] was coming out, so we went to see that of course. And there are some documentaries out there.

Was watching the movie one of the main reasons for the interest now?
There’ve been ups and downs with it. I started the group a while ago, and it was only me and five of my friends. We were thinking to ourselves it just wasn’t going to happen. Then word just started spreading. I’d get more excited. Five more people joining… Five more people! Now it’s close to 200 and still growing fast.

Yeah, of course, once we watched the movie it got people pumped. Everyone wanted to come up with their derby names after that. That’s a fun part.

The real acid test is how many people will follow through with it.
At the last meeting we had about 24 or 25 of us that are going to skate. So that’s enough for a few teams to start. It’s actually really big for a league starting off. A lot of the girls want to be a part of it somehow, but some of the girls can’t really skate, or getting injured would mess with their livelihood. A lot of people want to help out with other aspects.

Team-wise I think we’re going to have at least four teams.

There’s a scene in Whip It where a bunch of the girls are showing off their bruises. Doesn’t that scare you?
I can’t wait to show off the war wounds!

So is that part of the appeal? The violence of it?
Yes and no. We want to do the whole tough thing, but a lot of us just don’t want to get hurt. We were talking about lots of padding—padding the walls for practice even. Lots of padding!

You could wear pillows!
Yes, I think the first few practices will be like, “let’s learn how to fall today.”

Aside from the violence, what’s the appeal of derby for you?
Actually, the whole girl aspect of it too—not to sound too 1990s ‘girl power’ or anything, but I find it gets harder after high school for girls to interact with other girls. There are fewer places to hang out. This is an opportunity for a bunch of girls to get together—and we’re allowed to be catty if we want.

The costumes and personas are also a huge part. We’re all just looking forward to getting our names and picking our teams and going for it.

Even if we’re going to be on opposite teams, we’re all going to be learning and helping each other.

It’s interesting because burlesque seemed to pop up in St. John’s a couple of years ago, and in the beginning it was just two or three passionate people who started collecting others around this powerful idea… Then all of a sudden there was a lot of people who were doing it. Am I wrong or is there similarity here?
No, you’re not wrong. A lot of the girls who are into burlesque have been talking to us, and we said it’d be funny— they’d be covered in bruises! I don’t know how that would go over.

One of the other girls helping organize this, Micheala Penney, has her tattoos done by Alicia Simms Young at Troublebound, and she got Alicia to join the group. Alicia is involved with the burlesque scene here, and she was really excited. Eventually more burlesque girls signed on.

I think, again, the dressing up thing is probably part of it…

Will any guys be allowed?
My friend actually asked that same question. “I can totally skate,” he said.

“No, it’s just girls, Aaron.”

So it is girls only. Exclusively.
Well the teams are girls only, but we’re not rejecting the guys. The guys can help out and be refs and announcers and stuff. [laugh]

What’s you time line?
Right now we’re waiting to hear back from gyms we’re going to be renting to finalize the dates. We’re looking for the first practice to be on December 1st. We’re hoping it won’t take us that long to figure out who can do what. We’ve been doing it slow just to make sure we’re doing it right and that it’ll be lasting.

We’re trying to follow the rules of the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association. We’re taking our time. About four or five months from now we’re hoping to have a solid foundation for teams and then start looking to have public events around town, which a lot of us are gearing up for.

We really want to do it now, but we have to put in a lot of work.

I know Flat Track Association has mentoring programs where you can call someone in for help. That’s for some of the more established groups.

Dave Munro, also of Troublebound, he’s from Ontario and he has connections in the derby world up there. One of his friends is willing to come down and help us out. That’s something we’re looking forward to, hearing more from him about that.

So your derby name “Cemetery Jane”. How did you come up with that?
I didn’t actually come up with it, my ex came up with it. [laugh]

It’s something I’ve had for years now. He was coming up with punk handles for everyone. He had several names for me, but that’s the name that stuck. I’ve been using it off and on for stupid things.

But it seemed like an appropriate derby name.

What are the other names people have been tossing around for themselves?
One of the girls is going to be Helen Rage, like Helen Page, Doctor Beverly Crusher, Onya Knees. I can’t think of all of them now, but there are a bunch. And a lot of good ones.

How easy is gear to come by?
We’re talking to sports places to get them to bring in derby gear. One of the places was Maverick but where they were by Pasta Plus which burned down, they’ve been busy with relocating, so we’re waiting for him to get back to us. A lot of us have been ordering online.

You have to know what you’re looking for, and it can get pricey, but we’ve found a group that can give you everything you’re looking for for a little over two hundred dollars.

And then your outfit is your own.
Exactly. That will probably be the least expensive part.

Have you guys been thinking about that much?
Not so much. The outfits are more of a team thing. We’re just trying to organize the league. Once we’re broken down into teams, whatever those people want to do, they do.

One of the girls who skated in Victoria said they did it with live music, alcohol… It was a big party really.

Uh oh! You’re going to be competing with Legend City Wrestling league in town.
I know! But who would you rather see? A bunch of half dressed, greased up men or…

Check the 709 Derby Girls group on Facebook for more information, or to get involved. They are hoping to have their very first practice on Tuesday, December 1st. You can find the group at www.tinyurl.com/709whipit

The edge of history

If the world was an elementary school class, archivists might not always be picked first for dodge ball or be voted class president, but they would definitely kick ass at show and tell.

Since November was recently named Archives Month by the provincial government, and, well, archives are cool anyway, we thought we’d call up a few people at local archives and ask them to talk about their favourite artifacts. Here is some of what they had to show.

From the City of St. John’s Archives
495 Water Street

“This is a letter written November 30th 1894 by D.W. Prowse [author of the much revered A History of Newfoundland] to St. John’s city council. He’s complaining about a number of matters. First of all, back then council used to collect “night soil” barrels outside people’s homes, and he was complaining that goats and roaming dogs keep knocking them over at night and leaving a mess. In the letter he even draws a better design for the barrels so they won’t get knocked over as easily.

He’s also complaining about the goats eating his flowers. My favourite quote is right at the end… “I would require a gattling gun and a park of artillery to guard an unfenced flower bed here.”

Apparently there was a problem with roaming goats in St. John’s, and the idea of them causing havoc in the streets is really funny to me.”

— Helen Miller, Archivist

•••

From The Rooms Provincial Archives
9 Bonaventure Avenue

“This is a Beothuk vocabulary list, compiled by Reverend John Leigh between 1819 to 1820 and learned from Mary March (Demasduit). We have the original here at The Rooms Provincial Archives, and it’s about 17 pages…

It’s really fascinating to see the actual document. These are Demasduit’s words, and so it gives the document a certain kind of authenticity. Although it was compiled by Reverend Leigh, it was one of the last Beothuk who actually gave him the information, and these are her words.

Written on the front is ‘A vocabulary of the native red Indian’s language, Newfoundland, from Mary March, a female red Indian who was caught by Mr. John Peyton on the 5th of March, 1819 and presented to the Society … propagation of the Gospel in foreign parts…’”

— Melanie Tucker, Archivist with The Rooms Provincial Archives Division

(Note: The originals are restricted for conservation reasons, but reproductions are available.)

•••

From the Memorial University Library’s Archives and Special Collections
L1006 on Level 1 of the Queen Elizabeth II Library

“Ever heard of Victor Campbell? Robert Scott? Expedition to the South Pole? When Scott set out for the South Pole in 1912, there were two groups of people that were part of that expedition: there was Scott and his five or six men and they were to go to the Pole, and then there was a second group under the leadership of a British Naval Officer named Victor Campbell. He was to take what was called the Northern Party to do research. Scott, as we know, perished on his way to the Pole.

“Victor’s group completed their work, but missed the ship back. It couldn’t reach the rendezvous point because of pack ice. So they ended up spending the winter in the Antarctic in a cave carved out of the ice. They soon ran out of the provisions they had [six weeks worth], so what they lived on was what they could forage [seal and penguin].

“Every single one of them survived, and one of them was asked many years later, ‘how did you survive?’ And he said, ‘because I was so afraid of Victor Campbell I was afraid to die.’

“In the 1920s, Victor Campbell settled out near Stephenville in a place called Black Duck Brook, and spent the rest of his life in Newfoundland. He had one son, who gave both Victor Campbell’s book collection and papers to Memorial, and these are some of the photographs. We also have the diaries—which were eventually published in a book entitled The Wicked Mate ”

— Bert Riggs, Archivist

Victor Campbell, centre, and two members of his research expedition after their rescue.

How to start an awesome festival in 7 easy steps

Well, maybe not easy.

Created in 1989, the St. John’s International Women’s Film Festival is celebrating its 20th year this October. 672 films and 349 hours of screening time later, they’ve become one of the most important and consistently exciting festivals in the province.

They’re so good, in fact, that their story might as well be a model for how to start your own festival.

Here are some wise words and a look back from some of the people who have poured their hearts into the fest.

By Shawn Hayward.

1. FIND YOUR NICHE

When the festival began in 1989, there was no annual film festival in Newfoundland and Labrador, and few in the world devoted to women filmmakers.

“That criteria has made us unique,” says Kelly Davis, who has been executive director of the festival for the past five years. “There are few other opportunities where women filmmakers can come and feel supported and celebrated. They all leave here totally inspired to make more films and come back to this festival.”

The people who originally started the festival did it to support women filmmakers in an industry dominated by males. Only three women have ever been nominated for best director at the Oscars, and in 2006, only seven per cent of the top 200 films were directed by women.

A film must be written, directed, or produced by a woman to be shown at the festival, though male collaborators are allowed. It gives women filmmakers an audience to show their work.

Peg Norman, who was a member of the festival steering committee in its early years, says there was a strong group of women filmmakers in St. John’s when the festival began, partly thanks to the Newfoundland Independent Filmmakers Co-Operative (NIFCO), which supplies training and equipment to those interesting in making a movie. Their help gave the first festival a solid selection of films to show in its first year.

“There’s an appetite here for a film festival and I think there always was,” Norman says. “The women who organized the first one knew there was an appetite. There was a burgeoning women’s film community here, and having a venue to show their work was really important.”

In the past 20 years, the festival has screened 672 films made by women from this province, other parts of Canada, and all over the world.

2. FIND A SUPPORTIVE COMMUNITY

A film festival can’t thrive just anywhere. It needs the love and attention of an active artistic community, which St. John’s has proven itself to have.

“St. John’s is a fun city and very supportive of the arts community,” says Davis. “The festival has lasted as long as it has because it is in St. John’s, and it has been so well supported.”

The festival gets funding from all levels of government and corporations, as well as NIFCO, which donated $10,000 this year.

It’s the support people show filmmakers by going to screenings that sets St. John’s apart, according to Norman.

“We’re out in the middle of the cold Atlantic surrounded by water, and there’s something about island cultures where we do rush to support those kinds of endeavours,” she says. “We’ve got such a vibrant, thriving arts scene here, and it’s got a dedicated audience.”

3. THINK BIG, STAY INTIMATE

The festival has become much bigger since 1989, occupying multiple venues and showing more films than ever. But Davis says it’s kept its intimate atmosphere, which bring people to the festival year after year.

“Filmmakers have a chance to meet with industry representatives face to face, whereas with the big festivals that’s a rare opportunity,” she says. “That’s another reason people keep coming back.”

4. TREAT YOUR PEOPLE LIKE ROYALTY

Davis says it’s important to give the filmmakers all the luxuries of home, making sure they get rooms in good hotels and are entertained during their stay in St. John’s.

“Treat your filmmakers like royalty,” she says. “We make them feel special. They really felt like they were being celebrated, whereas in most festivals you’re just one of many.”

5. WORK YOUR ASS OFF

Most people who help with the festival are still volunteers, and they’re responsible for everything from decorating to collecting tickets. Norman says volunteers are essential for a non-profit organization like the festival to keep going.

“It was amazing what the festival could do with little money,” she says. “It required many hours of volunteer time. They’ve been so dedicated.”

6. GROW, GROW, GROW

For the first time, this year’s festival will open and close with full-length feature films by Newfoundland filmmakers. The festival will present 93 films this year, in formats ranging from animation to documentary, which organizers selected from a pool of 440 submissions.

Norman has seen the festival evolve from a small event at the LSPU Hall to what she says is one of the most important festivals for women filmmakers in the world.

7. STICK TO YOUR GUNS

The spirit of 1989 hasn’t been lost at the St. John’s International Women’s Film Festival, according to Norman, it’s just expanded so more people can experience a week dedicated to the celebration of women in film.

“It was exciting that there was a women’s film festival, and how cool it was,” she says. “There were so many women filmmakers doing such fabulous work. It just made sense, and it worked.”

The St. John’s International Women’s Film Festival runs from October 20-24. Check their website at www.womensfilmfestival.com

Now I hear it

What did Ol’ Queen Elizabeth sound like? Photo illustration by Elling Lien.

An audio documentary by local producer Chris Brookes has been chosen to open a prestigious media festival in Berlin. Kerri Breen gets the scoop.

Bruce Smith, author of The Acoustic World of Early Modern England, once asked himself: Are the sounds of the past gone forever?

Inspired by Smith’s question, Chris Brookes, a local audio documentary producer and self-described sound nerd went on a quest to discover what Elizabethan England sounded like.

For two weeks, he wandered around England recording sounds people have been hearing since Shakespeare’s days.

His research brought him to a farm to record the snorts and squeals of Gloucester Old Spot pigs, a breed that’s been around since Elizabethan times, and to old churches whose bells have been ringing for hundreds of years.

The result of his work, and that of co-producers Paolo Pietropaolo and Alan Hall, is an audio documentary called Hark! The doc, which runs just under an hour, has been chosen to open the Prix Europa Festival in Berlin on October 18.

Normally North American features do not qualify for the prestigious festival, but Hark! was given the OK because it was co-produced by a Brit and aired on BBC. Hark! has also been featured on CBC radio and broadcasts in Finland and Australia.

Last summer it won the international Prix Marulic prize for radio documentary.

Brookes says Elizabethans had a pre-scientific, almost spiritual conception of sound—with which Hark! was made in recognition of.

“They thought of listening differently,” he says. “They had this idea that you heard a sound and it kind of circulated through your body, kind of like a spiritual fluid or something.”

Hark! doesn’t intend to be an accurate audio portrayal of Elizabethan life, nor could it be. For one, Brookes says it was impossible to isolate the church bells from London’s brash traffic sounds.

“Part of what we try to do is try to get people to imaginatively subtract all the 21st century sounds.”

The program juxtaposes sounds that have existed for hundreds of years with those of modern day London. Brookes had to get creative to collect those sounds as well.

“I spent a long time phoning payphones in London trying to get someone to answer, and when they did I’d ask if they could just hold the phone up for 30 seconds so I could just record the sound in that particular spot.”

Listen to Hark! at batteryradio.com

FAQ: Blessing of the Animals

If you have an affinity with a non-humanoid creature from the Animal Kingdom, you can bring them to the Anglican Cathedral of St. John the Baptist today to have them blessed in the name of old Saint Francis. Right inside the cathedral.

I know Father Jonathan Rowe, the curate at the cathedral, so I asked him a couple questions about the event.

There are lots of excited animals, so was there much poop involved last year?
We have a team of volunteers to clean up afterwards, but we didn’t see any poop last year. We encourage owners to clean up after their pets, and frankly, most of the people who would take their animals in to be blessed are going to be the kind who are responsible about that kind of thing anyways.

What’s the most unusual animal you’ve ever blessed?
It’s mostly been cats and dogs, but people have brought birds and fish too. After that, it gets odd: hamsters, mice, rats, ferrets, moles, snakes, and tarantulas, as well as goats and Newfoundland ponies, but the grand prize goes to a six-foot-long iguana. We have also been asked to bless the cremated remains of people’s dead pets, which is odd, but quite touching.

How do you sprinkle a fish with holy water? ..Do you use holy water?
We don’t actually sprinkle the animals with holy water. Instead, we lay our hands on them, unless their owners tell us that they’re the nervous, bitey type, and we say “God bless [Fluffy] and all those who care for him.”

What’s the strangest reaction you’ve encountered?
This didn’t happen to me, but one year when the Dean was blessing a Newfoundland pony, it sneezed in his face. Of course, that clip made the evening news!

Do Ewoks count?
We’ll bless any animal, assuming it’s appropriately restrained (on a leash, in a carrier/fishbowl/terrarium), so yeah, I guess Ewoks, too. But I can’t abide those Jawas… disgusting creatures!

The St. Francis Blessing of the Animals service happens today, October 3, at the Anglican Cathedral at 2pm. They describe it as a city-wide service for people of all denominations.

Running for change

Jennifer McCreath is a marathon runner, and she’s a she. But she hasn’t always been that way—at least on the outside.

In January of 2007, after a long battle with depression, she reached the conclusion that she had been dealing with Gender Identity Disorder—also known as Transsexualism. McCreath knew she wanted to become a biological woman.

As a way to get fit and prepare herself mentally and physically for the process—the surgeries, the social issues­—she decided to take up running. As it turned out, running, and marathons in particular, soon became a passion.

Just this year she successfully ran three marathons in eight days. Then she brought that tally up to five marathons in 30 days.

McCreath is officially “in transition” and fighting her way to becoming legally and socially recognized as a female. She is undergoing hormone therapy, and has had her testicals removed. She’s “part op”.

For competing in sporting events, transsexualism brings up some unique issues. Later this month, for example, at the World Outgames in Denmark, she will compete in a third gender category for athletes in transition.

Elling Lien got a chance to sit down to speak with Jennifer about her transition, and about running life.

Photo by Mark Bennett.

So when did you start running?
I used to be fairly athletic in my teen years. I played high school tennis somewhat competitively. Then I became somewhat of a couch potato. I beefed up… ballooned up… until I was fairly heavy. I stayed that way for quite a while and then I realized it was time to start the transition journey (early 2007), and one of the first things I felt I needed to do was get in good physical shape.

Transition requires a certain level of physical fitness. You don’t have to be a marathon runner, but physical health is important and it also crosses over into good mental health. It was kind of the first step in my transition. “I’m going to lose some weight. And meanwhile, before I go and talk to a doctor or ask for a drug or anything, it’s going to give me some time to really think about this.”

Can I ask how heavy you were?
January 1st, 2007 I weighed 238 pounds. I had been as high as 255 at points in my life. I set a goal: 60 pounds in six months. That would give me six more months to think about the Jennifer journey. How do I do this? What are the steps? If I could do that, I figured I could do anything. So I started running.

And did you make it?
I did. It started with a run around the block for ten minutes. I said, “we’re going to do this tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day.”

Did it hurt?
It was challenging, but I did a little bit of research on why people take up running, and it’s usually because they want to lose weight. It’s not necessarily because they want to run a marathon. But I knew the pitfalls to avoid: Too much, too soon, too fast. If you do any of that, you’ll get hurt and you’ll quit. So I was careful.

Slowly and gradually I increased the distance and the speed. I wanted to be a little bit more careful about what I ate. I wouldn’t say I’m a nutrition nut… Though I am eating a chocolate Canadian maple doughnut right now. I don’t eat doughnuts very often. [laugh] Marathon runners tend to eat healthy. But some don’t! But that’s a whole other topic.

So I went to one of my doctors and said, “I want to lose weight,” and they said one kilogram a week—2.2 pounds—is kind of the maximum. So I figured, okay, I can handle that.

And it was working.

I’m known for setting very high expectations of myself. I’m a perfectionist, and I often set goals that I can’t reach. I set what I felt were very ambitious, challenging running and weight loss goals, and I was not just hitting them, I was shattering them. Destroying them!

It got to the point where I had to set even tougher goals.

How did you get into running marathons?
You don’t have to know much about sports to understand and respect the word “marathon”. So I figured that was the ultimate in endurance sport. If I can run marathons, I will probably lose the weight I want to lose. I will probably gain respect and credibility in the process.

So I slowly built up my training, and I was losing the weight as scheduled—two pounds a week. Boom, boom, boom. And the runs went from 10 minutes to 15 to 20 to higher and higher. I kept challenging myself, and then once a week I would do a “long run”. And the long run got a little longer each week.

Where would you do your route?
At this point I was living in Toronto, so I was just running in the neighbourhood around the streets. Running around the block a second time, and a third time. And it didn’t take long until I reached the point when I was doing a marathon. A marathon is 42.2 kilometers. I think it was five or six weeks into it. I had only lost 12 or 13 pounds, and I ran 42 k around the block…

What was that like?
I remember that night really well. It was midnight, or one o’clock in the morning, and I realized I hadn’t taken my run that day. I was going to go to bed, but I decided finally to do a lap. Once I did that, I did another one. And one more. Another…

That’s not the way to plan to run a marathon, but I tend not to follow the book usually.

By four o’clock in the morning I had finished 42 k, and it hit me: I had run a marathon. I didn’t have a heart attack. I didn’t pass out. I didn’t die. It was an incredible feeling. Once I realized what I had done—almost on a whim—I thought, “let’s try that again next week!” And after doing that a couple of times, I thought, “maybe I should go and run an actual, official race.” There was one coming up in Mississauga, so I signed up for it.

People are impressed to see a marathon finishing medal, or a picture of you crossing the finish line. You tell people that you ran 42 k around the block, it doesn’t quite have the same feeling to it. Some would say that I love the spotlight and to not necessarily be boastful, but to express pride, and it was appealing to me to have my accomplishment documented on the race website, and to have a finishing medal and a t-shirt that said I did it.

So I did it. It was exciting.

At this point I was still 200 pounds on the nose, and I had set a goal of running the marathon in four hours and thirty minutes, and I crossed the finishing line in four hours and 18 minutes. I felt fine. I felt great. I didn’t pass out, I didn’t have any serious health effects. So I wanted to do it again. Then people were saying, “no, don’t do that. You need time to recover.”

Who was telling you that?
Everybody. People who were experts and people who weren’t. It’s funny how some close family and friends like to give you advice, even if they’re not necessarily experts. I have to be the judge of my own body and I thought, “there’s another marathon the next weekend in Cleveland. I want to go.” So off I went to Cleveland and did the marathon faster. Two marathons in 8 days. Then I got a job offer here in Newfoundland. I had to organize the move, but before I left, I knew there was one more marathon in Buffalo. So I ran the Buffalo marathon, which means I did three marathons in 14 days at 200 pounds. I did it, and I ran that one even faster.

How were your knees?
They were a little sore. [laugh] You ask a lot of your knees when you’re carrying weight. 200 pounds is not necessarily obese or anything, but most marathon runners weigh a lot less. I crossed the finishing line at the Cleveland marathon and the MC said, “we’ve got our first couch potato! Look at this!”

This was all before the transition.

Then I got to Newfoundland, and I still had the transition in mind… When would I do it? How would I do it?

So you had made the decision before moving here…
Yeah, I had made the decision, and it was something I needed to do. But I hadn’t actually started talking to people about it. First things first, I was unemployed, I was in debt, and I was unhealthy. So I needed to fix those things. I needed to get in shape, and I needed to get my finances in order, since I knew most of the transition-related matters I would have to pay for them myself.

I grew up in Nova Scotia, so the thought of coming back east was exciting. I’m going to get to live on the ocean again! I’m going to be able to go swimming in ponds, and I had heard nothing but great things about Newfoundland.

Transition was on the back burner for a while. First things first: let’s try to settle into my new job and try to meet some new friends. I thought I would come to Newfoundland and work for a couple of years and then go back to Toronto again.

But it just so happened that I couldn’t wait. I realized I needed to start the Jennifer journey here in Newfoundland. I didn’t come right out and tell people I was a transsexual, but I started dropping hints that there was this side of me.

How did you do that?
I put in earrings. I bought a purse and carried it around at work. I dressed up as a girl for Hallowe’en at work, just to see what sort of reaction I would get. Generally, it was really positive, so once I had done that it was easier to say I was ready. Once you set the table, it’s easier to digest the meal. Then I went and talked to people: “that wasn’t really a Hallowe’en costume, here’s what’s really going on with me.”

So it was generally a positive reaction?
Yes…

Do you think it would have been any different in Toronto? Newfoundland’s a small place!
In Newfoundland, I would say in general, people are open and accepting of diversity. Even if there’s not necessarily a lot of diversity. I think Newfoundland feels isolated by the rest of Canada, perhaps? I think that’s a fair statement. So people here often can understand what it feels like to be different. So on some level, I think people here can identify with what I’ve done. Not necessarily from the transsexual perspective of course, but I think people can appreciate someone who’s a little different who’s struggling to gain societal acceptance. They know I’m still a human being. That was the most important component to “going full time” as they say.

A lot of trans people will start off part time, and they’ll present themselves one way, but still be their old selves at work. But you’ve got to go full time eventually. One of the standards of care (Harry Benjamin Standards of Care for Gender Identity Disorders) is that you must go full time, and be full time for a year to prove that this is right for you before you can get a recommendation for surgery. I knew going full time was an important thing to do, not just because of the protocol, but because it was who I am. It was what I needed to do. I’m Jennifer. I’m a woman. Why not start now? I’m ready. And once I found out that the people at work were open to that at the Hallowe’en party, and that they would help me with it, I changed my name.

I’ve always loved how on Hallowe’en people can express themselves like that…
Way back when I first decided on the transition journey, I sensed that Hallowe’en would be the perfect opportunity to come out to a certain extent. Here is an excuse to dress up at work in women’s clothing and it won’t be totally off the wall. And there will be a hidden message that some people will get. I knew that Hallowe’en was going to be a very important part of it. The reaction I got at work would determine whether or not I felt this was the right place to do this. And the reactions I got made me realize that yes, this is the place to do it. You don’t have to go back to Toronto, you can do this here in Newfoundland. You’re going to be accepted here. Go for it.

And off I went.

—

Let’s take a step back. How did you know you wanted to transition?
There was a moment when I was living at home, out of work, where I was dressing up part time, thinking it was just a hobby.

A hobby?
A hobby, a fetish, I don’t know…

Then I looked at the laundry basket. I hadn’t left the house in a week and there were all womens’ clothes in there. I started shaving my legs and underarms without really understanding why I was doing it. All these things started adding up to the realization that I was a transsexual, not a transvestite or anything else. And that really hit me, and I went through a bit of a panic attack. [laugh] “Oh my goodness! Now what? Can I do this? How can I do this?” I knew the implications. This was going to divide my family, my friends… Every time I walk out the door, I’m going to face scrutiny and a spotlight. A microscope. I knew it was going to be challenging, and it would require a lot of patience.

Can I ask how your family reacted to your decision?
Generally, the longer people knew me, the tougher this was on them, because I masked this well.

People liked who I used to be, and they had no clue that I was confused and unhappy. I even had myself confused. It takes a lot of time to undo 33 years of being a male. Newfoundlanders only knew me as a man for a short time, and most people I know now have only known me as Jennifer. So it was generally tougher on the older, longer-term friends. I have lost people over this. It’s unfortunate, but there’s really not much I can do. I can’t decide not to do this on their account. I need to do this.

And that would be my message to any transsexual that thinks they can’t do this. You can. This is doable. I would like to think that over time, society will better understand this, and be more helpful toward the process. There’s the idea of societal descrimination. People may not discriminate against me as an individual, but I think society descriminates just based on the way society is. The fact that buildings only have two bathrooms, and there’s no third one [for people in transition...]

And at the World Outgames, where I contacted them and said they should consider having a third category for people in transition. Not just for me, but for others like me. There’s no reason they can’t let us run, or swim, and it’s nice to see some movement.

—

How did the transition go along with your running?
I had introduced myself to the running community here at that point. I was running and living as a man, but then the time came where I decided, “I want to run a marathon in a pink skirt.”

So I went to Toronto and did that.

Like Hallowe’en, a marathon is like a party, and some people dress up when they run. I knew that people were going to see, what they thought was a man wearing a skirt. Fair enough. I knew they wouldn’t know why I was in the skirt, but still, it was more acceptable to wear a skirt while running a marathon than in everyday life.

I was slowly edging myself along like this.

A week after the marathon there, I was in Newfoundland, running the Cape to Cabot 20k run. That was October, 2007. So on went the pink skirt and all that, and, quote, “Jeff McCreath,” as I was known then was wearing a pink skirt running from Cape Spear to the top of Signal Hill.

And again, I know people saw me and thought, “okay, that’s interesting!” [laugh] I was setting the table. The reaction that day was fine, positive… indifference, even! I had more people laughing or yelling or pointing fingers in Toronto!

Running up Signal Hill there were people cheering “come on! Keep going! You can do it!”

And shortly after that was the legal name change.

It was at that point, I guess, that I had gotten the competitive bug. I didn’t want to run marathons just for fun any more, I wanted to see how well I could do.

And you say the words “Boston Marathon” and it means something to people who run.

Even outside of the running community…
Yeah, it ranks up there with words like “Wimbleton” and “Stanley Cup”. You don’t have to know anything about sports to know those are important sports events. If you tell people that you’ve run the Boston Marathon, it’s going to bring instant respect. Many people are under the awareness that you have to qualify in order to run, so only the best runners go to Boston. It immediately became the goal. I knew the hormones were going to start soon, and I knew that would slow me down, so I was on a mission: I need to qualify for Boston before I start the treatments. That’s when I started running multiple marathons.

I ran the Mississauga marathon a year after my first race, and I did it an hour faster. But just missed the Boston qualifying mark by a couple minutes.

What is the Boston qualifying time?
It’s based on age and, interestingly enough, sex. [laugh] I was shooting for the male 35-39 standard, which was three hours and 15 minutes. And they have a grace period of what I thought was 59 seconds. I was doing great in Mississauga until I had a cramp. I was a little dehydrated. So it was tough. So I lost a couple of minutes.

But there I was, I bettered my personal best. I ran a 3:19, but I was really frustrated with myself at the end. “I suck! I can’t believe it! I failed!” So back I came to Newfoundland a couple of weeks later, where I ran the Eastern Marathon — another chance to qualify. It’s a really tough, hilly race through Portugal Cove-St. Philips, but I thought, “I can recover. I’ll be fine. I may not be 100 per cent, but I think I can do it.”

Again, I came up a little bit short in that race.

One week later I was back at it again in Nova Scotia, and I was just too sore. I had to slow down.

That’s also when I started the meds. The first one was a testosterone blocker.

Then the next marathon was in Toronto.

Did the meds slow you down?
Oh yeah. I could notice, already, an effect. But that race was where I posted my best ever result: 3:16:59. The magic number for qualifying for Boston was 3:15:59.

Here I was, seeing the seconds tick off, and thinking, “darn it! I was so close!”

Then I started estrogen, which would make it even tougher. And I knew I wanted to run the Newfoundland Marathon, so I trained extra hard. I trained my butt off over August and September. I came in on race day thinking I could do it, but I just wasn’t able.

That’s when I started thinking, “maybe I’m never going to get there. Such is life.” It was more important that I become Jennifer and take the hormones. Boston wasn’t going to happen.

Then I called Boston. I said, “I’m a transsexual, here’s what I’m doing. I was this close. I’d love to run your race.”

And then they explained they had that unwritten policy, beyond the fine print: if you’re within two minutes of the qualifying time, they’ll still let you run.[laugh]

It was pretty anticlimactic. [laugh] I thought I would look up at the end of a race and see the finishing time and shout “I made it! I’m going to Boston!” And here I was, sitting at home on the phone hearing about an unwritten policy. It was in November that I had that discussion.

By that point I was Jennifer, and I had my testicles removed in December of 2008. The next goal for me was to continue to run as many marathons as I could, not worrying about time but to gain acceptance outside of the male label.

What are the Marathon Maniacs?
It’s a club organized by some folks in the States. Membership is exclusive to people who do maniacal things related to marathons, like running multiple marathons in short time frames. I thought that was pretty neat. They have a criteria—from one to ten—and their level five criteria was to run three marathons in nine days in three different states or provinces. So I figured, if I’m flying to Boston, I might as well run a couple more when I’m on the mainland. So that’s what I planned on doing.

Were you competing as a male at that time?
Boston initially said you qualify as a male, we want you to run as a male. You had the sex operation in Pennsylvania, fine, but this is the way we do it here. So I thought, okay, how about I run three marathons in three sex categories? Because others were fine, and said they would let me run as a female, or enter you into the system as “neutral” or “other”. So that became the catch phrase: “three marathons in three gender categories.” I actually contacted the Guinness Book of World Records people to see if that would be acceptable as a world record.

What did they say?
They said, “fill out these papers.” [laugh] Yeah, they said they would consider it, and when I called Boston again, I explained myself: “I’d really like to run as a female. I’m not going to win your race, and it would mean a lot to me from a dignity and respect standpoint to run as a female.” And they said okay!

So I was happy. At that point I had decided never to run as a male except for this Boston race, and in the end I didn’t even have to do that.

So off I went. I ran Charlottesville, Virginia, and two days later I ran Boston, and then five days later I was in Ontario. Three marathons in nine days.

What was your time for Boston?
Four hours and 28 minutes. Some runners criticized me though, and said “you’re disrespecting Boston by not showing up in tip top form.” [laugh] But at that point, no matter what I had done, the times would have still been slower because of the transition. I wanted to cross the finish line with a smile on my face. I didn’t care what others thought.

I came home from that trip feeling awesome. I did it. I ran three marathons in eight days, having just had fairly major surgery on my genitals a couple of months earlier.

I felt good about myself.

A couple of weeks later I was running two more marathons, to make it five in 30 days. Now it’s a bit of an obsession. I got my level five in the Marathon Maniacs club. I love being recognized as “Jennifer McCreath, the Marathon Maniac.”

And Denmark is next, right?
Yeah. The World Outgames. But a scary thing that’s happened recently is that I found myself in the emergency room a month ago with breathing difficulties. Something going on with my lung, and they’re not really sure what. There are conflicting opinions from the doctors I’m working with as to what exactly is wrong with the lung. Bottom line is I’m having trouble running right now, which is making running an awful lot more difficult. I may not, in fact, make it to Denmark. It’s going to be a last minute decision, “do I go, or do I not?”

I hope I get to go, because I feel it’s important to do this.

I ran 20k yesterday, slower, but at the end it had felt like I had sprinted the whole thing, and I was exhausted. I don’t want to have a heart attack. So this race will probably be my slowest race ever.

It’s frustrating. I don’t want to be recognized as a declining athlete. I want to be recognized as an exceptional person who has perservered through so much hell.

McCreath will be a guest speaker at this year’s Pride discussion forum on the queer experience in local healthcare. She will be discussing transsexual health issues.

As well, fingers crossed, McCreath will be competing in Denmark at the World Outgames on July 26. You can read her blog at jennifermccreath.blogspot.com and check out her website at www.geocities.com/jennifermccreath

How To Have The Best Freaking Newfoundland Summer Ever

We know you’re excited, but let’s take a deep breath. Think for a second. Summer on the Avalon barely lasts two months, so we have to spend this time wisely.

Lucky for you, we at The Scope are experts at both budgeting time and telling other people what to do, so we put our heads together and compiled this list of things you should do to make this your best Newfoundland summer ever. So get some friends together and give ‘er.

Illustrations by Bryan Melanson.

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GO FLY A KITE

We’re perpetually amazed by how few people fly kites here. I mean, there’s plenty of wind, there are plenty of open fields, what’s the hold up? If you think flying a kite is boring, you obviously haven’t tried it recently. Stunt kites are especially cool, because, well, you can make them do stunts. If you’re looking for a way to spice it up even more, you can shoot fireworks at the kite while it’s in the air or tie extra spools of string to it and see if you can fly it literally to the moon. Or to CBS. Or even further if you’re already in CBS. There are plenty of places you can buy kites. We know Travel Bug on Water Street had a whole catalogue at one time.

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GO SEA KAYAKING

If you’re thinking of the kayaking you see on videos where people are rolling and shooting down rivers, you’re thinking of whitewater kayaking, which, in our opinion, has pretty much nothing to do with sea kayaking. There’s nothing like sea kayaking on a calm day. Gliding over the water, creeping around the rocky shoreline, you get the very strong feeling that nature is all around you—because, duh, it always is. Stan Cook is the local go-to guy for sea kayaking, and his crew has daily coastal tours ranging from two and a half hours to full day trips. Check www.wildnfld.ca

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CALL A PAYPHONE ACROSS TOWN

The next rainy day you are bored and have no one to talk to, remember, although most payphones don’t accept incoming calls, some do. At least according to www.­­payphone-project.com. There are a bunch listed from Newfoundland on the website, including a phone at the Esso on Torbay Road (576-0168), and one in the Village Mall by Winners GoodLife Fitness (364-9921). The point of this isn’t to make a prank phone call, but to make a semi-random connection with someone halfway across the city, trying to extend the conversation as long as you can without being creepy. Good luck!

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EAT A PUFFIN

Attention tourists: It’s our provincial bird, and it’s delicious. It’s not usually on the menu, but if you ask, many local restaurants will serve you up a helping of puffin and chips.

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DRESS FOR SUMMER

Newfoundland doles out summer in brief spurts, interspersed with blasts of fog, wind, and occasional freezing rain. Wear what you like, but always bring layers. Layers, layers, layers. That’s all you need to know.

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BUY A STEAK AND A SIX-PACK AT HALLIDAY’S

‘Nuff said.

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WALK THE GRAND CONCOURSE AT NIGHT

It’s dark, it’s quiet, and on a warm summer night, there’s nothing quite like it. Whenever we hear the song “Summertime Clothes” by Animal Collective, we think of walking the Grand Concourse at night.

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WATCH THE SUNRISE FROM SIGNAL HILL

There’s something spectacular and magical about seeing the sun come up over the ocean. These days though the sun is rising at 5 am, so you may have to set your alarm clock.

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WATCH THE SUNSET

It sneaks up on you: first the sky’s blue, then it’s pink and orangey, and then it’s night. Any west-facing shore will do, like Topsail Beach, or anywhere in CBS really. Or anywhere on the eastern sides of Conception Bay, St. Mary’s Bay, Placentia Bay, yadda yadda. Or, if you’re in a pinch, the park benches in Bannerman Park also work well. You’ll need some blankets. And some (alcohol free) wine. And perhaps some cheese and a baguette. If you’re in Bannerman Park, all the punk teenagers crawl out of the shadows once the sun’s down, allowing you to reminisce about how much of a jerk you were when you were fifteen. It’s magic.

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THROW A MUSTACHE PARTY

No, this isn’t innuendo. We mean have a party and get people to wear fake mustaches. Things are always more fun with fake mustaches.

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WALK UP SIGNAL HILL TEN TIMES

Local adventurer and eccentric TA Loeffler has more energy than any battery we know of, and she’s definitely climbed more mountains than you. In fact, this year, she’s planning on climbing to the highest peaks on three continents. Soon she’ll be making an attempt at Russia’s Mount Elbrus—the highest mountain in Europe at 5,642 metres (18,510 ft). Before she leaves, to celebrate turning 44 on June 24th, she’ll be hiking up Signal Hill ten times. “It will take about five hours and I’m looking for folks to come join me for an ascent or two… or six,” she writes on her. “In lieu of gifts or cards, I’m asking for folks to wear sky blue that day and to consider making a donation to the Canadian Prostate Cancer Network.” She might even do it in her full blue lycra superhero outfit, weather depending.

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READ LISA MOORE’S ALLIGATOR

Although she has a new book out called February that’s most definitely worth reading, her 2005 novel Alligator is an essential read for anyone living though summer here. It perfectly captures the erratic, eccentric, energetic, insane feel of this city in summer, and there are even spanworms in there as a symbolic thread.

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RESCUE SOME OF THOSE SNAILS ON LONG’S HILL

On warm summer nights, hundreds of snails slither out to the sidewalk near the Kirk, going up Long’s Hill. We don’t know why they do it, but we always feel a little bad when we hear the crunching sound under our feet. Why doesn’t anyone think of the snails?

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TRASH YOUR CAR

Cars are so last century. The Newfoundland and Labrador Lung Association are hosting a campaign to take your crappy old vehicle—as long as it was made before 1995, has been registered and insured for the past six months, and is in running condition—and turn it into $300 cash. Cash! That’s kind of like magic, isn’t it?

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HANG OUT ON THE HOLDSWORTH COURT BALCONY

As much as tourists guides would like to tell you otherwise, George Street, with a few notable exceptions like the Rock House and The Fat Cat, and the occasional other bar, is not a good place to look for original music. It is the domain of “hits of the 90s” cover bands and bands playing “We’ll Rant and We’ll Roar.” Bands or musicians in town whose music lies outside the mainstream—or even just happens to write their own songs—probably first started gigging at either CBTG’s, Distortion, or Roxxy’s (now The Levee). Holdsworth Court remains one of the best places in town to see new and interesting bands, and it’s usually the cheapest place to see live music in town. The deck itself is arguably the most important part of the experience. The deck is the best socializing opportunity this town has for young music lovers and local freaks to meet up and shoot the shit or talk shit about other bands.

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GO SWIMMING WITH THE CAPELIN AT BEACHY COVE

They should be rolling by early July, and we imagine swimming with them would be exhilarating.

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GET A TEMPORARY TATTOO SUNBURN

Local musician Danny Keating had this happen to him a few years ago—he had a stick-on tattoo of a dragon on and got a sunburn. The tattoo peeled, but the tan mark didn’t.

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GO ON A STREAK

First, get some friends together. You’ll need a pair of running shoes and a hat with a brim, because this is a small town, and what works best is if you plan out a safe and private starting point and ending point. Make sure they aren’t too far from each other too, because you’re definitely going to be running and laughing, and you’ll be out of breath, and you don’t want to be running for more than six or seven minutes. And you definitely don’t want to be last in the group.

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CATCH A CAB AT 3AM

There are plenty of techniques for catching a cab when the bars start pouring people out their doors. Unfortunately, the advice is all over the place. Some people say to walk west towards Mount Pearl. Some guys recommend getting their girlfriends to do the hailing. Some people say walking up the hill towards the Basilica is the way to go. The best piece of advice we heard was to befriend a cab driver and get his cell number. Bingo.

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GROW YOUR OWN FOOD

Living in a city, even one as small as this, it’s easy to roll to a grocery store, crack open a freezer door, and chuck a bag of frozen green beans from China into your cart. Nothing wrong with China or green beans, but why the hell would you buy something like that when you can grow a couple of your own green beans? If you’re curious but don’t know where to start, get in touch with FEASt (Food Education Action St. John’s) at growing.local@gmail.com or 237-3417.

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GET AN ICE CREAM HEADACHE

Because really, it just isn’t summer without lightning bolts shooting through your brain and Turtle Cheesecake running down your hand. But maybe you’re not a fan and want to prevent ice cream headache? “Touch the roof of the mouth with the tongue, or eat very slowly,” says Lisa Ryan, frozen dairy ringleader at Moo Moo’s Dairy Bar.

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BUY A PIECE OF LOCAL ART

If you’re visiting the province, or even if you’re out walking around, it’s tough to resist the urge to break out your camera and snapping a few off at the scenery. Look around you and you’ll notice hundreds of people around you doing the same thing. Odds are, however, that your landscape photos are going to suck real bad, and your ecstatic Newfoundland moment will be lost forever. The A1C area code in downtown St. John’s—it is rumoured—has the most professional artists than any other area code in Canada. Sure, there’s good art and bad art, but instead of snapping digital photos like a maniac, why not wander into a gallery (or restaurant) and buy a piece of art?

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EAT MUSHROOMS

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GO HITCHHIKING

Going hitchiking in Newfoundland is, potentially, the most fun you’ll have in your life. You’ll meet interesting people, and it may even reaffirm your faith in humanity. That said, depending on the weather, or if you’re stupid about it, it’s potentially the least fun you’ve ever had in your life too. We’re no experts, but we’ve been known to thumb our way around the island, and here’s what we learned: 1) Be clean. If you look like a weirdo, drivers will just as easily choose not to pick you up. 2) Spend a little time drawing a nice sign describing where you’re going. It lets them know you have it together. 3) Choose a place where cars can pull over safely. 4) Make sure you have enough food and water with you. 5) Carry your bed with you.

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BANG A GONG IN BANNERMAN PARK

(Or a drum, or a tambourine…) If you’ve ever been to Montreal in the summer, you probably know about the weekly gathering known as Tam-Tams at Parc Mont-Royal. Sure, it’s mostly dirty hippies, but it’s a cool, spontaneous gathering of human beings who have gotten together just because being around other people is interesting. Well, here in town, something similar has started up on Saturdays at 3pm (or Sunday, if rained out) called Jam-Jams. So you never know what kind of things the future has in store. We’re just about due for some medieval duct-tape sword fighting and zombie attackness. www.tinyurl.com/jamjamsNL

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RIDE A BIKE OUT OF THE CITY

Riding out of the city on your bike is a little like taking acid. Once you’ve done it, you’ll never look at things the same way ever again. Is the city really holding onto you so tightly? No! Hop on and GTFO. We’re in Newfoundland. Even in the heart of downtown St. John’s you only have to walk 10 minutes to reach an area where you can pick berries. Speaking of which…

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FIND A SECRET BLUEBERRY PATCH

Don’t pick the ones near telephone poles, because legend has it they are sprayed with defoliant. The blueberries don’t have to compete with the trees for sun, so they grow there. But the berries are full of sorrow.

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DEFEND YOUR SECRET BLUEBERRY PATCH

The trick is to tell no one. Especially not us.

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HAVE AN AUTHENTIC NEWFOUNDLAND EXPERIENCE

We could suggest Wal-Mart at 4 am—we were there for a late-night fan in the middle of last summer’s heat wave and watched a gnarly group of teenage boys get busted for shoplifting. But that’s probably not what you mean. I also hate to break it to you, but cod—the kind John Cabot claimed he could catch by throwing a basket overboard—is currently being considered for listing under the federal Species at Risk Act.

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HECKLE A SHAKESPEARE BY THE SEA PRODUCTION

Well, it’d be pretty rude, but if you have to do it, at least do it right:
“Thou dost talk nothing to me!” “Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!” (from The Tempest) or “She speaks, yet she says nothing.” “Thou sham’st the music of sweet news by playing it to me with so sour a face.” (from Romeo and Juliet)

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GO TO SAINT-PIERRE AND MIQUELON

Saint-Pierre and Miquelon is right there. It’s France. You know, the France with the wine, bread, mopeds and cobblestone streets? It’s down there. They speak French there, and they’re not joking. It’s no historical reenactment. Unfortunatley, you do need a passport to get there, but knowing that as of June 1 everyone visiting the US will need a passport too makes it a little better. Saint-Pierre is Newfoundland’s own little parallel universe.

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CLIMB UP A CLIFF

Newfoundland is made of rock, so it’s no surprise people who go rock climbing here say it’s awesome. In order to go without a guide, you’ll need a month or so of learning the basics and practicing indoors, says Leo Van Ulden, director of Wallnuts Climbing Centre, and he can get you started for as low as 34 bucks. He first tried it himself during the summer of grade 9. “I was on holiday to see family in BC during the summer of grade 9. One of my older brothers took me climbing outside in a place called Squamish,” he says. “I was hooked the first time I had a harness on.”

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GET EATEN BY A HUMPBACK WHALE

If you think watching a whale is cool, just think how awesome it would be to be ingested by one of those sons of bitches! Unfortunately, it ranks up there with pigs learning to fly, since, A) humpbacks have no teeth, B) they can’t swallow anything bigger than your fist, and C) they’re peaceful, zen-like buddha creatures. Actually, scrap C. They’re likely only as smart as your smart dog, and have been known in rare circumstances to harm human beings when they feel threatened. They are wild animals, after all.

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GO TO BELL ISLAND

Ride your bike on the ferry, walk up that steep hill, roll around for a few hours, then circle back and have some fish and chips and a beer at Dick’s. Then hop back on the ferry.

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VOLUNTEER FOR A FESTIVAL

Being a volunteer driver for the Magnetic North Festival was how Scope contributor Sarah Smellie was introduced to the city. She met tons of people, went to some kicking parties and learned the general layout of the city. And a few months later she got a phone call from a friend in the Yukon saying that an actress staying at her hotel told a hilarious story about being in St. John’s for the festival and getting a ride from a “fresh-off-the-boat redhead who screamed her way through Rawlin’s Cross.”

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RESCUE SOMEONE WHO HAS FALLEN IN THE HARBOUR

We were curious: since we’ve been pumping raw sewage into the harbour for, like, ever, is there a set number of immunizations for someone who falls into the water? If there is, Dr. Jim Hutchinson at the MUN Faculty of Medicine doesn’t know about it. “Most people who come in contact with that kind of material don’t get sick, so it’s not like it’s a giant risk for horrible things. However, people would obviously find it gross,” he says. “But coming in contact with stuff that has human excrement or animal excrement in it doesn’t in and of itself constitute a giant risk.” If you’ve ever fallen into a manure pile on a farm, you probably know what he’s talking about. Although coming into contact with harbour water wouldn’t be doing your immune system any favours, the vast majority of the population is immunized against serious infectious diseases so there wouldn’t be any serious infectious diseases hanging out in their poop. Rescue away! (Or maybe try a rope first.)

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AUDITION TO BE EXTRA ON THE REPUBLIC OF DOYLE

You too could be Dead Body #4 or Sad Man with Ladle! CBC-TV’s dramedy The Republic of Doyle is one of the biggest budget television series ever produced in Canada, according to the self-congratulatory press release from the provincial government, and it is indeed a pretty huge deal for the local film and television industry. Why not try to get in on the action? The Film Development Corporation is putting together some workshops for people interested in auditioning on June 21. We don’t have a lot of details, but you should get in touch with maggie.keiley@me.com if you’re curious.

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DANCE LIKE NO ONE’S WATCHING

We contacted Stacey Tuttle, voted 2008’s Best Fan in our annual Best of St. John’s Readers’ Poll, to ask her how she manages to get up and dance when no one else is dancing. “It gets the party started,” she says. “It endears the band to you, other people feel less self conscious about dancing, and next thing you know, everyone’s having a time. Forget how ridiculous you look, and flail to your heart’s content. Nine chances out of ten, no one gives a fuck, and if they do, they likely look at least as ridiculous as yourself. If you paid $5 or $10, you might as well get the most out of it, and you’re going to have way more fun dancing up front than standing around.”

You probably have plenty of other suggestions, so crank that laptop and leave a comment below. What do you like to do here in the summer?

Carts his kids around in a bike trailer

Len Zedel
(Photo of Fern Zedel by Len Zedel)

One of the most common concerns we hear about cycling in St. John’s is that it’s too dangerous. Zedel proves that with a little planning, some common sense, and a couple helmets, commuting by bike in St. John’s is very possible.

So, you use a bike trailer to cart your kids around?
That’s right. I have two kids and my Chariot Cougar trailer takes two kids! In terms of weight though I’m getting to the point where technically we can’t put them in the trailer anymore. The kids are four and six and the trailer only safely carries just over a hundred pounds. But we’ve had it for six years now, it’s been going strong for six years. We’ve put a lot of miles on that thing.

How do your kids like it?
They love it! They own it! [laughs] They prefer it to the car. It’s their limo.

Do you take them to preschool in it every day?
The only thing that stops me is snow, and that’s just because the snow piles up and makes the roads too narrow. But yeah, I take the kids to preschool (or school now), drop them and the trailer off there and then continue in to work (at MUN) on my bicycle. That’s a normal day for us. Sometimes I’ll be able to go pick them and the trailer up again, sometimes my wife has to take the car to go get them. But it avoids at least one commute with a car.

My season usually goes from March to November. In the fall, I’m riding in the dark, so I put flashing lights on the trailer and on my bike. And I always, no matter what, have the kids wear a helmet. And of course, I don’t go too fast or anything like that. Just common sense.

And you feel safe taking them on the city streets?
We live in the West End, so we’re cutting through there. I’m very cautious about where I ride with them. I’ve been riding bikes in cities for about 30 years or so, so I’m generally cautious and aware of the common problems. When I have the kids, I’m doubly so.

But here, most of the traffic is very accommodating. St. John’s is both good and bad for cycling; good for its size and bad for its hills. Some of the city’s geometry is awkward, some of the streets are not planned for bikes. So we take a carefully planned route consisting mostly of residential streets parallel to LeMarchant, which would be the more direct street. I adjust the bike route to accommodate the street. It’s not necessarily the busyness of the street that you need to weary of when pulling a kid trailer, but the available space in the street.

Do you find you can get most places you need to go by mapping out alternative routes?
There are almost always alternative routes and you just have to bite the bullet and take your time and plan your route.

What are some the biggest misconceptions about biking with a kid trailer in St. John’s that you encounter?
The perception that a trailer is a toy or a recreational device. You know, on a sunny day, how nice, let’s take the kids out, but on a rainy day, no way. But no, it’s a mode of transportation, and a very underused one at that.

Most people don’t realize that it’s a viable option, it’s cheap, and it’s great exercise for free. We never have to look for parking, so events like the Regatta are fantastic.

But yes, it’s not a toy, it’s a tool, and it should be used more.

Any advice for people looking into it?
I don’t know. I really like the trailer. You could do a behind-the-seat system, but I don’t think that’s quite as safe. The trailer is not as wide as you might think, because it’s being pulled a bike, which needs width for the handlebars.

When the kids are really young, you can just pile junk into it! [laughs] When you go shopping, you can carry big sacks of flour. You name it!

Also, don’t get a cruddy trailer. Again, it’s not a toy. You need it to work and be safe. Ours has been working perfectly for six years.

The kids will fall asleep in the trailer too. So I’ll get lots of exercise pulling them, but they won’t get any. So when you get to where you’re going, you’re tired, but they’re just up and ready to go. So you don’t want to go very long distances.

Unicycling across canada

Dave Cox
Photo by Kerri Breen

If you’ve ever seen a person unicycling in St. John’s, it was likely Dave Cox. After three years of unicycling to work, now he’s kicked things into high gear. He is en route from Victoria, BC to St. John’s. On his unicycle.

Are you nervous?
A little. I don’t think it’s totally sunk in yet. My plane leaves at 6:30. Tomorrow morning I probably realise what I’ve gotten myself into. When I’m standing in line.

I saw on the blog that you’ve been packing very carefully.
It’s actually a little bit of a balancing act because you can’t take very much at all with you on a unicycle. There’s no where to put a pannier bag or anything like that. You’re kind of limited to what you can put in a back pack and what you can tie to the back of it. I’m reading about ultra lightweight backpacking on the internet. All these crazy ideas for shaving weight, just to be able to do the trip in the first place.

A photo of all Cox’s gear laid out.

One of them was a pop can stove?
Yeah, which is a really neat thing. It runs on gas line antifreeze and it cost me the can of pop I got to drink. It works pretty well. It takes seven or eight minutes to heat up a meal. You’re not doing much else out there on the trail.

So what possessed you? What got into your head?
I think it was a long time ago I wanted to do something big like ride across the country. And it wasn’t always on a unicycle necessarily. But in the past few years I’ve done a lot of big, long distance things on unicycles so I thought, why not do it on a unicycle. It’s more interesting than a bike for sure. That’s pretty much why I guess I’ve been doing it for fun. To prove I can do it.

What kind of long distance stuff have you done on a unicycle before?
I did a tour through the Mediterranean which is something like 1200 kilometres in 19 days. I was at the International Unicycle Convention doing the marathon race there and also did Ride the Lobster [a unicycle relay race] that happened in Nova Scotia. That’s 800 kilometres in four days. Seeing some really good riders and seeing what’s possible kind of led me to believe this was possible.

Really good riders… unicycle riders?
Yeah, unicycle riders breaking world records in the field of unicycling. As bizarre as that may sound, there are distance unicycling and speed unicycling records. They’re actually starting to get pretty scary fast, and it’s pretty cool to watch the sport grow.

I imagine it probably grows in tandem with any other kind of cycling as the technology develops.
Well, exactly, but in a way unicycles are like a hundred years behind the times. And I say that because it’s only recently–in the past two or three years–we’ve had the ability to put up a shiftable gear on a unicycle. Which is what mine has, and it’s really rare. You have to pedal backwards. On a bike you have a derrailer and it’s very easy to build, but it’s very difficult to build a unicycle like that. It’s interesting, the technology is just starting to come in line with what people need, and all kinds of cool things are starting to happen.

It makes it possible for me to cruise at like 30 kilometres an hour over long distances, in the right conditions. Otherwise I’d be spinning like a hamster, spinning along incredibly quickly. Whereas with this, I can pop it in high gear and in a more relaxed way go quite fast.

And that’s probably what people are imagining when people think of going on a unicycle across Canada. It’d look just crazy. It would look like a hamster in a wheel.
Well, it still kind of does look like that. It totally looks ridiculous. I think I’ve seen so many people riding for so long it looks normal to me now. I wake up in the morning, have my coffee, hop on the unicycle and go to work, and then I ride home at night. That’s just the way that it is, and I don’t really find it weird, but also I always find it great that every day there’s someone… you look at them and you put a smile on their face and they’re a little bit happier for having seen you do your crazy thing that day.

And you ride in the winter! I’ve seen you around.
DC: Yeah, I’m always trying to keep in shape. [laugh] It’s my way of exercising.

For this ride you’d have to be in very good shape.
Yep, and actually it’s good because I’ve had the time to prepare for it properly and do some really nice rides. Up to a hundred kilometres in a day kind of thing. My legs are getting pretty beefy now. (laugh)

Have you measured them?
No, I haven’t measured them. But it’s easier to get up Prescott than it once was.

I’m really curious about technically how you change gears. Can you walk me through that process?
The hub is an internally geared bicycle hub. It’s a really big, fat thing, as opposed to a narrow kind that you have on a bike. There’s a whole planet gear system in it. The crank attaches to the hub. There’s a little button—a gold one and a silver one—and of course the gold is the high button, because of course why not. As your foot comes around you kick your heel in and it contacts the button and pushes it in and it moves the whole thing sideways and goes ca-chunk. You freewheel a little bit then all of a sudden you’re riding in high gear. It’s kind of hard to describe, unless you’re a unicyclist, the total amazement of being able to do it. But it’s a very cool thing.

How long have you had it?
It’s only been two weeks now.

Holy cow! And you’re headed across Canada with it.
I’ve been starting to break it in. I’ve been riding 36” wheels for quite some time. That’s what we did the Mediterranean tour on. Everyone was on 36, and they can still go quite fast and cover a lot of distance. The gear is taking a little bit of time to get used to though, that’s for sure.

What’s your favourite ride in the St John’s area?
Just recently I rode to Petty Harbour and back. It’s the route where you go up to Cape Spear and you turn off to Petty Harbour then you go back through the Goulds. Absolutely gorgeous ride. I hadn’t realised. I hadn’t actually ever been to Petty Harbour, even though I live so close to it my whole life. I was like ‘wow, this is great.’ It’s a nice little 40 kilometre loop that’s just really nice to ride.

How long did it take you?
I’m usually averaging 17-18 kilometres per hour. I don’t really push myself too much when I’m in touring mode I guess. It probably took me a little over two hours to do the loop.

So you say you use your bike… your unicycle… Do you call it a bike?
Sometimes, but it’s usually an accident. I’m always correcting people when they call it a bike.

Do you say uni?
Uni, yeah some people say that for sure. This one would be a “guni” because it’s geared. You can get mountain unicycles as well and they’re called “munies”. Pretty common terminology in the unicycle world anyway.

So you use it for commuting. How long ago have you been doing that?
I’d say since the day after I got it. When I got my first 36″ wheel it must have been three years ago now. A week later I rode it across Nova Scotia to get to Halifax, which was totally ridiculous because I didn’t know what I was doing, but after that I started to ride it everywhere. First of all, my bike was broken, so I didn’t really have a choice. Second of all, it was so much fun it was impossible to not want to go for rides all the time.

So it helped that you bike was broken?
I think so, because sometimes you’re late for something and you’re like, “I could ride or I could hop in my car.” And, you know, you usually take the one that gets you there on time. So that probably did help, yeah.

And your employer is probably saying…
“You’re five minutes late but it was totally entertaining to see you pull into the parking lot.”

[laugh]
“So we’ll let it slide.”

So you got into it a while ago, I hear, after seeing the local magician Peter Duchemin on one.
Yeah, he was just riding down the road, and I was walking with my friends, and I was like “where did you get it?!” And the rest is history, pretty much.

Have you turned many people on to unicycling?
I really don’t know. I think the thing about unicycling is it has a really high learning curve. It takes about two weeks of an hour’s practice a day to learn how to ride. Some people can do it in 15 minutes, and some people need a year, but generally it’s about two weeks. So you get a kid who’s like “I’m going to go skateboard” and can get on the skateboard and go, at least, when he first gets it, but with the unicycle you’re basically stuck within two feet for the first couple hours, so I think that’s one of the barriers for why it’s not really widespread. But I think there have been a few people who have started, or at least ridden more, just because I’m around.

What’s one of your favourite things about unicycling in Newfoundland in particular?
It’s a difficult one to answer because I haven’t ridden a whole lot in other places. It’s actually nicer riding everywhere else. Less hills, less wind and it’s warmer and there’s more bike trails and people to ride with so I think I’m just sticking it out here in some ways.

[laugh]
You know, it’s just so much fun. Hopefully I won’t stop anytime soon.

We were going to ask what’s the worst thing about biking in Newfoundland, but we thought the question was too negative. [laugh]
The scenery is really great, I just don’t appreciate it more because I’m always surrounded by it. But that would probably be it.

What’s one of the biggest misconceptions about unicycling?
The question that I get asked the most — after “where’s your other wheel?” — is “how do you go up hills on that thing?” But it’s not really any more difficult than riding up hills on a bike. You just kind of point yourself at it and go towards it. But no one seems to be able to understand that you can stay upright up a hill on a unicycle but its totally possible.

Where’s your centre of balance?
You’re leaning a little bit forward of your centre of balance so to keep yourself upright you have to peddle. That’s the physics of it. You’re slightly forward so you don’t fall backwards and hurt yourself.

I’m excited to read your trip as you blog about it. How often do you think you’ll be updating the site?
As often as I can. On the route there are a lot of towns. Which is another nice thing about places other than Newfoundland. [laugh] There are a lot of towns that I’ll be passing through, and I’m going to have to stop and get supplies and food and hang out with the locals. I’m going to be trying to find internet once a day. That’s the plan. We’ll see how that works out for me. I think people really like having something to follow along like this. I know when I’m reading other people’s stories of their trips it’s always fun to see updates. I’m going to try my best to provide for anyone that might be following along in the way that they might provide for me.

There’s a message on your Facebook group that reads “I pray for your crotch.”
Sometimes I do too. [laugh]

Unicycle seat technology has actually advanced quite a bit in the last few years.

…Thank God!
This guy, Kris Holm, he’s a mountain unicyclist from Vancouver Island and he’s put a lot of money into seat molds and does research on this stuff. I have padded bike shorts too. As long as your riding position is okay it’s not too bad. But after you add a 30 pound backpack, it can get a little uncomfortable after a couple days of riding. But, you know, the nice thing about it too is that if I get tired or if I start to hurt in some way I can get off and take a break and ride some more when I feel like it. That’s really nice.

Just consider donating to a sperm bank before you do this.
[laugh] Yep, my children are going to have weirdly-shaped heads or something.

One last question: Does your unicycle have a name?
No. And actually that’s another thing with these trips. People grow more attached to their equipment, and I’ve always found it’s my equipment and I take care of it, and I maintain it but I don’t tend to personalise it. It’s just gear that keeps me going.

Well I wish you good luck. Any thing else that I missed?
I just wanted to make sure people knew I’m not totally nuts — I’m only kind of nuts. I know a little bit about what I’m doing, I’m not totally unprepared, and it’s not quite as brain-dead as it might seem to ride a unicycle across the country. I’ve been training for it, I’ve done a lot of research and I’ve put a lot of time into planning routes and finding places to stay and thinking of all the possibilities. I don’t have them all, but I think it’s going to work out.

That’s part of the fun of it too—the unknowns.
The trick to travelling I found is you plan just enough so you know where to sleep and you’ve got enough to be comfortable, and after that you just leave it to chance, and that’s where all the adventure happens.

You can follow Dave Cox’s adventure on his blog at tinyurl.com/­unicycledave

Cycling across Europe painting cows

 
Sarah Hillock
Photo by Brian James Williams

Part adventure, part fundraising effort for local artist-run gallery Eastern Edge, Hillock is headed to Italy with a bike and a trailer with an easel strapped on. She plans to ride her bike 2700km across the continent.

Where do you plan to go on your European bike tour?
I’m going from Rome through Florence, and up to the Hall of Bulls. That’s where the first ever drawings that man created are, and they’re of bulls. Since I paint cows, it’s pretty much perfect. Then I’m going to Paris, and to the Netherlands, and then to Glasgow.

How long do you think it will take?
I’ll be painting along the way, so I’ve given myself two, two and a half months.

Why have you chosen to do this by bike?
Well, first I really enjoy biking. Tourism caters to your need for exploration and adventure and experience, but it’s also fairly destructive in that it encourages things like fuel consumption through lots of driving and flying. I figure that if I bike, it will even out. Hopefully people will see me or hear about me and think, “hey, that’s a great idea.”

What sort of equipment are you going to use?
I’m taking a bike and a BOB trailer. My boyfriend is going with me as a fundraiser for pharmacy students, he’s a prof at MUN. He’s got a fancy new touring bike, but I’m just using my old courier bike. It’s a road bike—a Frankenbike—put together from various other bikes that’s I’ve had. I took a crank from here, brakes from there.

Does your bike have a name?
Cosmo. [laughs]

Do you bike a lot here in St John’s?
A fair amount… but I don’t bike here as much as I should or as much I’d like to.

Why not?
Good question. Well, for one thing, I live and work downtown, so it only takes me a few minutes to get to my job. Also, people are not as aware or used to cyclists on the roads here, and that makes it more dangerous than it has to be. It’s not their fault, they just haven’t had the exposure. And part of it is being in good enough shape to take the hills. Newfoundland is a great training ground! Olympic athletes could totally come here and train!

I have ridden out of the city quite a bit. My favorite rides..well, it’s a toss-up between Bell Island and Bay Bulls or Witless Bay. Or out to Lester’s, that’s a great ride.

The Bay Bulls/Witless Bay direction is great, though. My friend Jen is kayaking around the Avalon this summer and she’s planned it all out so that she knows approximately when and where she’ll be. So when I get back, I’m going to bike out and meet her, maybe at LaManche.

So your bike fills a lot of roles for you.
Yeah. It’s primary use is professional, or commuting, but I’ll be using for tourism and also as a mobile artists’ residence, in a way.

What do you think is the biggest misconception about cycling in St. John’s?
That it’s hard! Like anything, it takes momentum. All you have to do is keep pedaling. In fact, it’s easier than walking, you get to glide down hills. If you learn how to do it right, you can do it for the rest of your life. It won’t hurt your knees or your legs or anything if you learn about the proper techniques and tension.

Also, people think that it’s dirty. But there are all kinds of equipment to avoid the grease. You can tuck your pants into gaiters, you can get good rain gear, that kind of thing.

Sarah is asking the public to support Eastern Edge Gallery by donating one penny for every km she rides. You can follow her progress across Europe on her blog at www.cowride2009.blogspot.com

Bikes to school

Conrad Trela
Photo by Piotr Trela

Conrad is 10 years old, in grade 4 at Bishop Field Elementary. He and his dad bike to school each morning and then his dad carries on to work.

So when did you and your dad start biking to school?
I think it was near the end of grade two.

How long does your bike ride take you each morning?
Umm, about ten minutes.

Do you like biking to school?
Yeah. My favorite parts about it are saying hi to my friends that are walking and feeling the wind.

Are the cars kind to you on the way?
Yes, I don’t have any trouble.

So you always feel safe?
Yeah.

Do other kids at your school bike there?
Not really… sometimes two of my friends walk. And another friend, who lives nearby, he walks.

How do the other kids react to your biking? Do they think it’s cool?
[he gets a bit shy] Well… I don’t know.

Do you wish more kids rode their bikes to school?
Yeah, to help Mother Nature. And it’s fun.

Do you bike on the weekends or on holidays?
Yes, sometimes with my friends, we just bike around.

—

Here’s a project Conrad wrote for a grade three writing assignment:

Cycling index

Commercial

Bill’s Cycle & Sport Shop
115 Long’s Hill
753-6410
For gear, repairs, bike rentals

Canary Cycles
294 Water Street
579-5972
For mountain, road and hybrid gear, repairs, cycling groups and tours, races, and copies of the city’s Cycling Plan.

Cychotic Bikes
7 LeMarchant Road
738-6222
Specializing in BMX and mountain bikes and gear, small selection of road and hybrid bikes, repairs, mountain bike rentals

Earle Industries
51 Old Pennywell Road
576-1951
Specializing in road, mountain, and hybrid bikes and repairs, Chariot bike trailers and strollers for kids

Freeride Mountain Sports
153 Water Street
722-7433
Specializing in mountain and hybrid bikes, gear and repairs

Turndown BMX
5 Waterford Bridge Road
237 0285
BMX bikes, parts, ramps

—

Organizations

Bicycle Newfoundland and
Labrador

http://www.bnl.nf.ca/

Facebook group: Bicycle Newfoundland and Labrador
Recreation advocacy, information about mountain and road biking in the province, organized rides and races, training programs and home of the Newfoundland and Labrador provincial cycling team.

MUN BikeShare
munbikeshare@gmail.com
Facebook group:
Rents bikes to MUN students, staff and faculty each semester for 20$, repair shop for BikeShare bikes, maintenance and cycle touring workshops, sustainable transportation advocacy. For a bike, go to the MUN University Centre May 11th and 12th from 11am to 2pm with MUN identification.

Newfoundland BMX Community

http://www.nlbmx.net/

Online discussions about BMX biking in the province and buying/selling bikes and parts

—

Events

Critical Mass
The last Friday of each month
cmsj@riseup.net
Facebook group: Critical Mass St. John’s
Group rides to promote biking, sustainable transportation, and raise awareness about safety issues. Their slogan says it all: “We aren’t blocking traffic, we are traffic!”

—

Places To Ride/Trail Resources

www.bikely.org
Online database of great road cycling routes around the world. Log in and add your own.

White Hills (mountain biking)
Just across from Quidi Vidi lake, the trails up there are clearly marked. Watch for hikers, as some parts intersect with the Sugarloaf Hiking Path.

Mundy Pond Skate Park (BMX riding)
A huge outdoor skate park at the corner of Blackler Avenue and Mundy Pond Road

Dirtworld

http://www.dirtworld.com/trails/­NewfoundlandMountainBiketrails.asp

A few local mountain biking trails

Geological Survey of Newfoundland and Labrador

http://www.nr.gov.nl.ca/mines&en/geosurvey/

Can supply detailed maps of almost anywhere—and any trail—in the province.

On the 2009 NLAC award winners

The Newfoundland and Labrador Arts Council had their annual awards ceremony here in town last night, so we decided to dig through the online archives and find what we could about a few of the winners. Here are a few notable quotes on or about three of them…

—

Sherry White (screenwriter, filmmaker and performer)
Artist of the Year Award
“I’m much more interested in making something that’s a little bit more challenging. If I were to make something that was just a joke, then I’d be telling a joke. But I don’t want to tell a joke.” – Sherry on her short film Diamonds in a Bucket.

Rob Power (performer and music educator )
Arts in Education Award
“I hadn’t really done much bodhrán playing before I came here where the teacher at MUN is Rob Power. He makes a good point of trying to get everyone well-versed on a lot of things. There’s a lot of sessions. He did congas once, and he did bodhrán once and I really enjoyed it so he helped me out and got me a lot of materials to work with. And that’s when this whole thing was starting. That’s how I got involved in traditional music.” – Rich Klaas, of The Dardanelles.

Rick Boland (actor)
Hall of Honour Award
“My vision is the United Nations set up shop on Bell Island… In fact, let’s give B.I. to the U.N. An unfettered state without a market.” – Rick Boland in our Big Ideas Issue.

—

Other award winners:

Hall of Honour Award: Central Newfoundland Visual Arts Society (CNVAS)
Rogers Arts Achievement Award: James Anderson (photographer)
CBC Emerging Artist Award: Kellie Walsh (choral conductor)
Patron of the Arts Award: Drs. Jean and Angus Bruneau

Back in the ring

Legend City Wrestling and the history of professional wrestling in the province.

By Sarah Smellie. Photo by John Pike.

Dan Bjorkdahl’s arms are approximately the size of refrigerators. When he walks towards me, they swing casually, stuck out just a bit to make way for his lats. I’m not looking forward to his handshake.

Bjorkdahl, 27, is more widely known as the professional wrestler JX Phlexx, a tanned, blond and goateed hero-type. In his wrestling photos, he’s often shown with a huge smile on his face. In reality, when he’s not giving someone an affectionately hard time (which, admittedly, is often), he’s a serious guy who thinks hard before he speaks.

He and I are inside the CLB Armory, waiting for Steve Clarke, who wrestles professionally as the smooth talkin’ ladies man Lance Romance. JX Phlexx and Lance Romance once formed the Newf World Order, Republic Pro Wrestling’s Tag Team Heavyweight Champions. These days, their partnership is of the business variety—they’ve just started Legend City Wrestling, a pro wrestling promotions company, or “promotion” in the parlance of their trade. They’ve also just bought the 16 by 16 wrestling ring that once belonged to now-defunct RPW. This morning, they’re going to set it up for the first time.

Clarke strolls in with coffees and a cellphone to his ear, tall, lean, and in baggy jeans—a lot younger-looking than his low, gruff voice lets on. He’s followed by Nick Byrne, who used to wrestle with RPW; Tim Kendell, a Legend City recruit; and Andrew Roil, who wrestles as Lance Romance’s tag-team-partner-turned-nemesis Too Damn Hype. Their rowdy greetings bounce around the empty hall and they start hauling massive steel bars from the armory’s closet, laughing, half-yelling, and getting digs into one another at a dizzying rate.

★★★★

The mid 80s was a bit of a golden age for pro wrestling. The World Wrestling Federation (WWF) was taken over by the notorious Vince McMahon, who shoved aside the sport aspect of pro wrestling in favour of the entertainment aspect. Pushing over-the-top theatrics and unlikely characters, he dreamed up the Wrestlemania events, and he found Hulk Hogan.

Hulk Hogan, and his legion of Hulkamaniacs, was a flat-out phenomenon. His virtuous dude persona, heroic athleticism, clean wrestling style and maniacal shirt-ripping made him one of the most famous pro wrestlers of all time. Many wrestling buffs attribute a huge chunk of the WWF’s success to him. He somehow made pro wrestling, which McMahon had publicly revealed to be scripted, larger than life and entirely real for millions and millions of fans.

These days, fans and viewers have grown a lot more cynical. The WWF became World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE), characters and plots got more outlandish, and journalists and academic types started questioning where professional wrestling lay on the sport-farce continuum. In 1993, the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) hit Pay-per-View and, with its emphasis on real, unscripted, and unchoreographed fighting, began sucking viewers away from pro wrestling. In 2006, its pay-per-viewership surpassed that of professional wrestling’s and continues to do so today. Local sports bars are packed on UFC nights. Most don’t have pro wrestling nights.

In Newfoundland, the problems are even more pronounced. Despite the fact that St. John’s was the birthplace of Sailor White, one of the most colorful big-time Canadian wrestling characters to date, this province has laid waste to all of its pro wrestling promotions. When White retired, he started training wrestlers here, including a young Steve Clarke. He formed All-Star Wrestling and, when it went bankrupt, he joined Cutting Edge Wrestling. He also inspired various other promotions, like Newfoundland Championship Wrestling, the Provincial Wrestling Alliance and RPW. Those, too, have folded. Small audiences, large travel distances and not many resources – the same old story.

So exactly what are Clarke and Bjorkdahl thinking?

Well, for starters, they’re thinking. A lot. And they’re feeling. Legend City Wrestling isn’t just some business venture for these two—they’re not even looking to quit their jobs about it. They’re taking this potentially ruinous financial risk to try and restore that mid-80s glory to pro wrestling and reestablish it as the meaningful art form—and brotherhood—they believe it to be. And they think that the history of pro wrestling being a no-go in this province is actually going to help them do it.

And here I thought pro wrestling was all about sweaty meatheads in tights stroking their egos.

★★★★

Nine years ago, Clarke, then 22, got a concussion within ten minutes of his first match. “I had only had a few weeks of training. They just threw me in the ring,” he laughs. “After that, I decided I was actually going to get legit training.”

Pro wrestling school is an intensely huge deal. Students usually attend at least three days a week for six solid months. Their teachers, or trainers, are expected to have been in the business for at least fifteen years. Neither Clarke, a nine year veteran, nor Bjorkdahl, ten years in, qualify. “If I were to set up shop and do some training here,” says Clarke, “I would probably get flak from guys across Canada. Even though I’ve been in it nine years, I’m not seasoned enough.”

On the athletic side of things students learn how all the moves—piledrivers, suplexes, body slams, rope climbs—are executed. They learn how to fall when they’re victim to these moves and how to keep their own victims safe. This is not uncomplicated. Consider your run-of-the-mill piledriver: You pick someone up, invert them, and then make it look as if you’re slamming them into the mat headfirst. One slip is either going to put the guy in intensive care or get you booed by an audience for faking, both of which are going to kill your career. On the other hand, you’re the upside-down participant, praying you’re not about to eat mat which, for medical reasons, would also bring your career to a grinding halt.

You’ve also got to learn to work the crowd, or “sell” your match. Grunts, yells, and looks of agony need to appear at exactly the right times, or you’ll lose the audience’s belief—or, rather, their suspended disbelief. Students learn to develop and perfect their character, they learn about acting, and they learn about marketing themselves.

At the end, they walk away with a portfolio and maybe a few broken bones.

“It’s really not for everyone,” says Bjorkdahl, who went to wrestling school in Vancouver, where he was born. “You get the absolute shit knocked out of you.”

Both Clarke and Bjorkdahl were both taught in the classical style of mid-eighties good guy types, like Hulk Hogan and Roddy Piper: quick, well-executed old-fashioned moves and holds, and very little gimmicky stuff. “Those guys didn’t rely on huge, complicated flips or stunts to draw in their fans,” explains Bjorkdahl. “They could tell a story well enough with their personalities and their demeanor.”

“A series of classical moves, like they used to use, tells a better story than one big flashy move,” echoes Clarke. “It becomes like an art form. You rely on your charisma and perfect execution and you master your craft. That does more for the crowd, in the end.”

This is the style they’re hoping that Legend City Wrestling will be known for.

★★★★

Of the group of twelve pro wrestlers that Legend City has taken on, just over half are experienced. The others need more training. For that, Clarke explains, he’s going to have to import. “There’s Gary Williams, in the Maritimes, who trained with the Harts (as in, Brett the Hitman and family), there’s Mike Hughes, who’s about to tour Puerto Rico. We’re going to fly these gentleman in to give seminars for the boys every few months. And while they’re in town, I can use them for a show.”

One of the Legend City future wrestlers, Tim Kendell, has never even been in the ring before. He, like all who came before him, is paying his dues.

21-year-old Kendell is stocky, and has a chest like a barrel. He’s been hauling out the ring with the rest of the guys and tends to be the subject of a few more jibes.

“Tim’s got a long road ahead of him,” Clarke says, sitting back and chuckling, but looking pretty proud of young Kendell. “He’s got 6 to 8 months before he even puts on a pair of boots to get in. Until then, he’s gonna have to do what he’s doing today—set up, tear down, drive people around, put up posters, sell tickets, ring the bell. Whatever it takes to learn his craft. Then, once he gets in there, we’re gonna beat him up pretty bad, to see if he’s got a bit of respect for it. If he wants to stick with it after that, we’ll work on getting him ring ready.”

I ask Kendell if he’s sure he’s okay with all this. He gives me a confident nod. “It’s all part of it,” he says, all nonchalant. “You gotta pay your dues.”

Respect, says Clarke, is one of the main things he has to look for in any recruits. Respect and commitment. “It’s an investment,” says Clarke. “And most times, there aren’t many returns.”

Watching all these guys interact, it’s clear that those traits form the backbone of their relationship not just with each other, but with pro wrestling itself. Clarke routinely refers to trainers and seasoned pros as “gentlemen.” All the guys are well-versed in wrestling’s history. They speak reverently about the athleticism and entertaining skills of their favorite wrestlers. And though Kendell takes the odd ribbing, it’s in a brotherly way – it’s instantly clear that if someone gave him a legitimately hard time, that someone would be promptly and thoroughly regretful. Accordingly, Kendell, who is incredibly self-assured for someone so young, isn’t afraid to give it right back.

Within reason.

★★★★

The frame of the ring now stands mighty and assembled in the middle of the room. The thick metal poles gape inwards after years of supporting the weight of wrestlers launching themselves from the top ropes. The guys smack big wooden planks down on the frame, and pile in on top of them. Headlocks and drop kicks ensue. Bjorkdahl tosses Byrne down and farts on him. Roil gives Clarke’s arm a nasty twist and a flawless look of unbearable torture rips across Clarke’s boyish face. Guys are flipped and whacked onto the planks back-first.

The sound of them slamming into the wood is almost deafening. I have to yell at Nick to ask him if there’s supposed to be padding or on top of the board. He laughs. “Well, we’ll toss on those mats,” he says, prepping for a flying elbow and nodding to a stack of interlocking rubber mats. “We jump off the top ropes, we need them!”

He jumps and plants the elbow into Bjorkdahl.

The rubber mats Nick pointed to are only about an inch thick, and I realize that those thwacking noises you hear when a wrestler lands hard on the mat are the result of high-velocity flesh meeting some very real wooden boards.

No wonder Clarke’s mother can’t bring herself to watch any of his matches.

I’d been pretty worried about asking these guys about the whole pro-wrestling-is-a-sham issue and how they feel about UFC fighters and fans trashing their trade for being “fake.” I couldn’t imagine it does anything but suck for them.

I also wasn’t too keen on the idea of pissing off a group of pro wrestlers.

But they were surprisingly open about the whole issue. It’s the reality of the business, and they can’t really avoid it.

“The rivalry [between UFC fighters and pro wrestlers] is really on the Pay Per View level, not on this level,” Clarke says, dismissively. “I don’t think we need to worry about it right now.”

I ask him if he thinks a UFC fighter would say that what he did was fake, and whether he or she would be justified. “That would depend entirely on their perspective,” he shrugs. “This is real, but it’s choreographed realism. You’re still in there, flipping off ropes, landing from fifteen feet high on your back, and once in a while you’re going to get a punch in the face or a kick by mistake.”

“There’s this one move,” he adds, laughing, “a diving head butt from the top rope. That hurts.”

“Any gymnastics routine you see in the Olympics is choreographed and rehearsed,” Bjorkdahl points out. “They go out there, they’re athletes, it’s a sport. Well, I go out there, I beat the crap out of someone, I get thrown to the floor, I get real martial arts submission holds put on me that I’m going to try and break and then do it to my opponent. But to everyone, that’s fake.” He holds out his hands, palms-up, and shrugs.

“It’s been kinda shitty with all these reality shows, and every Tom, Dick and Harry that wants to be a pro wrestler or ultimate fighter is wrestling in his backyard,” he continues. “It really took away from that mysterious aspect of pro wrestling, when everyone thought it was a real competition.”

The actual amount of choreography involved has to be kept to a minimum. A successful match incorporates a good amount of improvisation. The wrestlers are constantly communicating with one another, and always need to be aware of the crowd’s responses. “New guys will plan steps and they’ll try and pull off almost a dance in the ring,” he says. “I try and get them out of that. With Andrew and I, if the fans aren’t reacting, he’ll flip me over and put me in a headlock and say ‘let’s change this up.’ We’ll cater to the fans instead of having the fans cater to us, but it takes a lot of time and skill to get that comfortable.”

★★★★

Clarke, a downtown bartender, is not looking to Legend City Wrestling to replace his job any time soon. “That’s a long ways down the road yet,” he says.

In the short term, he wants to set up a permanent practice spot and regular seminars for him and the guys. He’s happy to put the time in and produce some quality wrestlers for Legend City. Then, when they’re ready, they’ll start touring the island.

“There is a future for this here in Newfoundland,” he says. “There are a few shows that come by once in a while, but there might only be twenty shows a year in the whole province.”

As a result, he says, the audiences here haven’t been exposed to much live pro wrestling. “The fans here are not as wise,” he says. “Some towns you go to, the fans actually believe its real. It’s crazy. Even in some of the bigger towns. You’ll run into someone in the store and they’ll be all like “I can’t believe it, are you okay?”

Bjorkdahl has experienced the same thing. According to him, since Sailor White passed away, there haven’t been any pro wrestling schools in the province. That’s kept the newer, spectacle-laden styles, and the accompanying disillusionment of the fans, from seeping in. “Newfoundland is different from the rest of Canada in that it’s still 1984, 1983 in terms of pro wrestling,” he explains. “That’s not an insult, it’s a comment about how people here love their professional wrestling. There’s not a lot of that cynicism about it. People start crying if you get attacked with a chair. They’ll come up to you on the street and say ‘Hey, you’re so and so!’ St. John’s is cool in that we could still turn it back to what it was before, the opportunity really is there.”

They’re focused on maintaining that mid-80s golden age attitude, and encouraging that appreciation for classic wrestling, clean moves, good characters and graceful athleticism—essentially, wrestling as an art. Both worked briefly with RPW and toured the island. The crowds, they say, were extremely responsive to their style. “We got those kind of ‘Wow, did you SEE that?’ reactions,” says Bjorkdahl. “That’s what we want.”

So on one hand, pro wrestling’s spotty history in this province does look discouraging, what with the small audiences, the logistical hurdles posed by the region’s geography, and the trail of failed promotional outfits. But on the other hand, Clarke and Bjorkdahl see it as a way to reinstate wrestling’s good name, and good sport, and to bring it back to the respectable, good guy era of Hulk Hogan.

“You get to go out there and entertain people,” says Bjorkdahl with a big grin. “When kids see you, you’re larger than life to them, you’re a role model. So I say the right things, I don’t get in trouble with the law, and I behave appropriately when I go downtown.”

When the guys are done goofing around in the ring, they all climb out and stand around it, giving it one last look over. The first Legend City match is on the 26th and the ring needs to stand up to it.

“There’s not a thing wrong with it boys,” says Clarke, arms crossed and all smiles.

★★★★

Legend City Wrestling, April 26th, Junction’s, McMurdo’s Lane 9:30 pm bell time, tickets $10, IDs for 19 required. Hosted by K-Rock’s Big Tom. Main event—Legend City Street Fight: Lance Romance vs. Too Damn Hype / JX Phlexx vs. “Nsty” Nick / Sheik Aziz vs. Matt Burns / DC Money vs. Peter Walley / Loco vs. Mike Burry / Kris Krimzon vs. Blake Maxwell and a 10 man BATTLE ROYAL, with the winner earning a spot in the upcoming Legend City Wrestling Championsip Tournament, which will take place throughout the summer.

Sticks & stones

For some the word still cuts right to the bone. For others, it slides off the back. For even more, it has been chewed up and swallowed; used to help define who they are.

No one knows for sure where the word “Newfie” first came from, but it wasn’t truly until after April 1, 1949 that it started seriously taking root in our minds and the minds of other Canadians.

What is a Newfoundlander?

Newfoundlanders, what are we?

By the late 1960s, 20 years into Confederation, Newfie jokes had spread themselves thick across the mainland. For many Canadians, the word and the jokes became the first things to spring to mind about us and our island in the middle of the North Atlantic.

Flash forward to 2009—past the eventual collapse of the cod fishery, the outmigration of thousands to the mainland, and past years of economic reliance on the rest of the country—we have found ourselves in a position of relative, if tenuous, prosperity.

“Have” status. A “revolution between the ears.” “I don’t think the Newfie joke is there anymore,” our premier has said.

But even now we can’t honestly look at Newfoundland identity without also looking at that word. No matter how much some people try, there’s no scrubbing it away, burying it, or drowning it. Has it taken on new meaning? Is it less insulting than before?

What does it mean now?

It depends on who you ask.

Compiled and edited by Sarah Smellie, Elling Lien, and Bryhanna Greenough. Photos by Elling Lien.

—

FEATURES:
“Newfie”: Responses by e-mail from Bob Hallett, Kevin Blackmore, Brad Gushue, Ray Guy, Ryan Cleary, and more.

“Newfie”: Panel discussion with Ruth Lawrence, Tom Power, Bruce Johnson, Dan Banoub, and Neil Butler.

WHAT DO YOU THINK?:
What do you think of the word “Newfie”? When’s the last time you heard it? Speak your mind here.

“Newfie” panel discussion

NB: Neil Butler
Actor and writer. Tracks the online use of the word “Newfie” at ­—

What do you think when you hear the word “Newfie?”

NB: I’ll tell you what I want it to mean. I want it to mean someone whose misrepresenting Newfoundland at this point. I’d like to see the word redefined somehow. Someone that’s been removed so long they don’t actually know what’s going on here. But that doesn’t stop them from getting their back up whenever they’re talking about “Newfie”-land or whatever. Somebody misrepresenting Newfoundland. Let’s take the word back.

RL: It’s funny, I do think the term is going to change, I really hope it does. That other N-word I can’t say has become a prominent part of black culture, and after really so many people worked so hard for so many years to distance themselves from that word. How does the grandmother of an 18-year-old feel when she hears him say the N-word? She must think “my god, I failed, I failed.”

BJ: There seems to be two contexts for the word “Newfie”. Or there has been traditionally, when I heard it as a kid. One of them was from outsiders talking about Newfoundlanders—a “Newfie”. But then there was the export of the term “Newfie”. The “Newfie” brand was exported.

But now I think the culture has come into it’s own in a whole other way. Not that it hadn’t in the past, in the 70s that happened with CODCO, and lots of other things, people coming into their own. But I see a new kind of assurance these days. I work a lot with artists who are here. Twenty-somethings, thirty-somethings, and I think some of their attitudes are very self-assured.

NB: Newfoundlanders are always known, I guess, for going away. In the past it was on boats, I guess, but now Newfoundlanders are going away, seeing the world, and coming back.

BJ: Like going to the Giller Awards.

[laughter]

BJ: It filters into this idea that interests me—this nationalism that has popped up again now, and it’s beginning to be a bit of a fashion again. We’re reconsidering Newfoundland nationalism.

NB: I hope it lasts longer than a month this time.

BJ: Well I think there’s good reason now. Plenty of people are happy about lots of things. That “have”/”have-not” status change meant a lot to all of us, including people like me who had been a CFA 16 years ago. Changes are coming, and I think the word “Newfie” could be reclaimed. Just look at “queer”— that got reclaimed.

NB: About a year ago I changed my point of view on the word “Newfie”. I was like you, Ruth, and I said I wasn’t going to use that word, shag that word.

I self-identify as “fag.” I love that I’m a fag. Deal with it. But I realised there are people I respect and they call themselves “Newfie”. Nobody has a right to tell me what I’m going to call myself, so if someone says “I’m a Newfie,” well then, I’ve got to look at that word again.

RL: I have lots of friends who use it.

DB: A lot of people are not being mean when they’re saying it. I work at Fred’s and all summer I heard “I want to hear some ‘Newfie’ music.” They’re being nice, and they really do want to hear music from here— but should I tell them the word is kind of annoying? I’m always in that weird position. ‘You’re a nice person, you don’t mean anything bad by it, but you’re still kind of pissing me off.

RL: I’ve totally had people say it to me in an endearing way. It’s just one of those things that’s hard to judge. But its roots—in my experience the word has its roots in degradation. Anything that has its roots in degradation I have a really hard time seeing the other side of.

BJ: But even at Fred’s, when someone really nice comes in and says “we want to see the ‘Newfie’ section,” though it’s nice in intention, it’s based in paternalism, right? Like the minstrel show.

NB: I totally hear you. If it’s not that bad, it doesn’t have the violence associated with it that the other N-word does, should we suck it up? If we’ve been able to live on this rock with no topsoil for 500 years, why are we getting our jeans in a knot about it?

RL: Look at the cultures who’ve been joked about. The easiest example is Ireland. Suddenly Ireland became a thriving economy, with lots of their money coming from being the knowledge sector, as opposed to farming and traditional way of life, and suddenly, whose out making Irish jokes?

TP: Everyone. When I was in Europe, instead of two mainlanders and a Newfie, it was two English and an Irish. The Irish are still being made fun of.

And they’re still perpetuating the whole shamrock thing in a lot of areas of Ireland. You find in Cork they’re not so bad, but if you got to somewhere like Dublin, to the Trinity bar—the Irish jokes, the Irish pubs are there.

RL: It’s not that different from George Street in St John’s. I fully expect to hear a Newfie joke if I walk down George Street.

—

BJ: We often overlook the stereotypes that we like, that we embrace.

I went and asked a bunch of people today who were born here about the word “Newfie” and I was surprised by a lot of the answers, because a lot thought it was “endearing”, “it’s okay”, “it doesn’t bother me”, “why are you going on about it?” But immediately after I said that, these three people said, “well we like the name because we are such hospitable people, because we don’t have the kind of problems they have elsewhere; we aren’t racist…”

There are a lot of stereotypes there. Look at our tourism ads. They’re based on a stereotype we love, about Newfoundland being a friendly, safe place. And they’re based in some reality, I’m not saying they’re not. This is a safe place to bring up your kids, and people are generally friendlier than other places, but we do add a bit of hyperbole. And that hyperbole is an export, and we like to believe it.

So I think that goes with the word when we use it too. It goes with these other stereotypes which aren’t just about keeping your head down but are about keeping your head up. I think they both exist here.

TP: Maybe somebody whose dad owns the Irving in Appleton would have a completely different viewpoint on all this. …There’s a part of me that’s really hesitant to say anything because I feel like we see Newfoundland in a different way than many do. I’ve never had to live in Fort MacMurray and feel that loneliness and desperation and have to identify in that way in order to get along.

NB: Nope, I’m done pitying the “Newfies.”

TP: No, I’ve also never been in a place where you want to identify with other people who identify themselves as “Newfies.” I’m just saying, I’ve never been in that situation and I don’t think any of us have.

—

TP: …I really want to talk about Simani. They’re the best-selling Newfoundland group of all time, they sold more tapes of any other band within Newfoundland, and they’re not shilling to Alberta, they don’t play outside of St. John’s, and when I hear their music I love it. This is what real Newfoundland music is to me. And they have the line in one of their songs: “By the Lord dyin’, by the t’underin’ gee, how are you doin’, you son-of-a-bee? You can’t fool your old man by dressing like that, you’re still just a Newfie in a Calgary hat.” [Saltwater Cowboy] Why doesn’t that make me feel like they’re being pejorative? They’re not wearing oilskins, they’re not wearing rubber boots, and they’re not selling anything to mainlanders—they’re not even dealing with mainlanders. But it feels down home, the way people would talk to one another, and would never use it with anybody else. In kind of a “Oh, you’re a Newfie, b’y” way.

DB: We sell a lot of Simani records at Fred’s.

RL: Because, you know, it’s listenable. It’s good Newfoundland music. It’s appealing, and it’s not hurtful and I think you’re right, there’s an uneasiness about the word. In certain situations like that we can accept it, and then other situations we find it a little bit harder to. It’s interesting to see where that’s all going to go.

BJ: Well, we wouldn’t have had this conversation twenty years ago. I think we’re more conscious as a society across the country, but I honestly think we have a different sense of self-assuredness in the province now. I’m not saying that we weren’t self-assured before, but it’s different.

TP: I think I might disagree there because I know that, well, let’s take the “Newfoundland Renaissance” as they put it in that article in Saturday Night magazine about Al Pittman, about Pat Byrne, about Gerry Squires, this was the first crop of Newfoundland born artists who were making serious art movements in Canada, and I think they were really concerned with identity. And then out of that sprung CODCO, and the Wonderful Grand Band. So, yeah, I think this debate’s been going on for a really long time.

BJ: I agree. I just mean that no one’s willing to put up with the Globe and Mail in this province saying certain things any more. I agree that the artists and a whole bunch of people were fighting that, but now no one’s willing to have people say things like that. The province is self-assured of its place in this country.
This place could change in radical ways in the next twenty years.

RL: Oh, it will.

BJ: It could change in terms of who lives here, in terms of what we do, and all that’s going to change everything. I mean, some core things are going to stay, but everything could change in radical ways.

RL: Well, if you look at how our population is changing, with the in-migration and out-migration, it already is changing. Rural and urban Newfoundland is changing.

DB: But it’s in-migration to St. John’s or just outside St. John’s. Rural Newfoundland is not in the best spot right now. Trinity’s a good example. A lot of people bought up the houses that were left there, and they come here for a couple weeks in the summer and they hang out. Soon I could imagine that’s going to be the only kind of life that’s in rural Newfoundland, people coming for a few weeks to experience being around the bay.

TP: Kind of like a reality show.

DB: Survivorman: around the bay.

BJ: I think the divide between urban Avalon, and maybe some other urban centres, and the rurals, is huge.

TP: It makes me uneasy, man. It makes me uneasy talking about all this without having someone who is currently living in all those communities being here. On a personal level, nothing outside of that, but I feel uneasy talking about it.

BJ: The youngest person in the community where I bought up a house—I’m one of them—is about 52.

RL: One of the things that I was going to say earlier is that it’s interesting… I don’t know why we do this, but definitely in Newfoundlanders there are often divisions between the traditional and the contemporary. I have and I know lots of people who have an appreciation for such a wide breadth of the traditional and the contemporary. Like you were saying about a Newfoundland artist being a Newfoundland artists and all the things that go with that. I can’t help but wonder if the larger discussion is about how we look at ourselves and about how we pit ourselves against each other, and maybe the use of that word exactly exemplifies what we’re doing, and how we’re acting as a culture. There doesn’t appear to be an overall embracing of anything of this place. Some people appreciate this part, and some people appreciate that part, and maybe that’s why there’s such a contention, because we can’t really find…

BJ: Because we divide the traditional and the contemporary! But the best art here is on that continuum, the Lisa Moores, the Michael Crummeys are from a long tradition of very similar work. And even Hey Rosetta! with that kind of orchestration, and their work reminds me so much of the music that I’ve come to know since I’ve been in this place that values music, and a radically different type of music that I would have grown up with in Nova Scotia. A different sense of instrumentation.

NB: More piano. [laughter]

BJ: So I see it all as a continuum most of the time, but we tend to divide things.

RL We do. Well people say well, we can’t really fund that because you’re not really writing about here, and I’m like, well, I fucking live here, of course I’m writing about here. Take people making a living: the way people make a living here is so different from how they made a living here sixty years ago. My family’s profession is practically dead, so now they’re spreading out in all kinds of semi-related areas—they’re working on barges in Thailand instead of on draggers in Fortune Bay.

TP: I really liked that question [Elling] asked Hey Rosetta! in that Scope article a while back: you asked Tim Baker “how did being from Newfoundland affect their music?”, and Tim said it absolutely did not.

Josh—the bass player—I was talking to him three days ago and we were talking about this. Maybe we could all say that some way or another it crept into their art, but they just don’t identify as a ‘Newfoundland group’ at all, except that that’s where they’re from.

NB: That’s good for them. That doesn’t make them traitors. And maybe that’s part of the new Newfoundland identity, it goes back to your reaction about the word “Newfie”— the “well, I don’t really care” reaction. Some people don’t have an opinion on it.

It’s the same thing: “How does Newfoundland shape your music? Because it does! It must!”

“Well, I don’t really think about it.”

TP: Outside of the Thomas Trio, they are the first act to really make it big without playing traditional music.

And maybe you guys are right, maybe this place is really changing. Yeah, I think it’s those changes that are going to lead to the change in the word “Newfie”.

I find, I really do, that more people on the mainland are saying to me these days “I know you don’t like to be called a ‘Newfie.’”

NB: Good! And you know, if someone came up to me and said that, then fine, they can get away with calling me a “Newfie” and I don’t really care how they mean it. Just acknowledge that I’ve got a problem with it. And you know what? What is the problem with mainlanders, anyway?

[laughter]

—

WHAT DO YOU THINK?:

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