Last summer, hoodlums were making life miserable for west coast Canadian campers.

Police Ruin Innocent Man
…For Trying To Protect His Wife, Kids
by Alan Jarvis

Last summer, hoodlums were making life miserable for west coast Canadian campers. Time after time, the roughnecks swooped down on campsites, screaming obscene curses, throwing rocks and debris.
It got so bad that British Columbia government officials suggested that campers themselves should show more spunk in chasing off the hoodlums.
Les Copan, of Burnaby, B.C., took this advice on the night of July 22, — and what did it get him? Trouble, with a capital T!
For the next eight months Copan’s life became a nightmare. A nightmare that saw him thrown into jail and financially bankrupted. All because Copan tried to protect his wife and four children — Lee, 12, Mike, 11, Steve, 10, and Gail, 8.
That was the night the Copan clan pitched tent on the shore of Canim Lake at a campsite in the B.C. Interior, to begin a fun-holiday trip. The family was in a great mood; it was Les Copan’s 38th birthday.
After he received his presents, and the kids were tucked away in the tent, Les and his wife set about last-minute chores.
Suddenly, without warning, four hoodlums from a nearby construction camp appeared on the road above the camping grounds.
For no reason, they began shouting nasty threats at Copan and other family campers in the area.
When their obscene yells were ignored by the respectable citizens, who wanted to avoid trouble, the youths began throwing rocks and huge chunks of wood down onto the tent tops.
This couldn’t be ignored after a rock hit Mrs. Copan and scared the children from the tent. Copan and a second camper shouted to the boys to take off. More rocks and debris came as their reply. The more Copan shouted he’d had enough, the more the troublemakers laughed at him.
« I was worried for our safety, » Copan said. « I ran to the trunk of my car and got my .303 rifle! »
Seeing his wife and kids hiding in the tent and listening to the language of intruers above them proved too much for Les. « I aimed the rifle high, above where the boys stood laughing, and fired! » recalls Copan.
But the hoodlums only laughed louder. « Go ahead and shoot again, Mister — kill us, go ahead. We dare you! » shouted one young thug.
Copan fired a second shot! There was silence from above the road. The toughs disappeared.
Believing they had been driven away, Copan huddled his family back into the tent and retired himself, praying that the rest of the camping trip would be happier.
But the toughs wanted more trouble. Driving to a phone booth, they phoned the Royal Mounted Police at nearby 100 Mile House, a town on the Cariboo highway, to report that one of them had been shot by camper Copan.
Jack Henderson, 19, had been hit — by Copan’s second bullet, which had a cupronickel casing and had shattered when it hit a tree making a fragment strike Henderson in the jaw. But the wound turned out to be slight, though the RCMP didn’t know it at the time of the call.
« At about 5 a.m. I was awakened by Corporal Purdy of the 100 Mile House RCMP detachment, » says Copan. « After I dressed, I was led away, under arrest like a common criminal. I’ll never forget the look of fright in my wife’s eyes or how my kids stared at me! » says Les.
Though the RCMP were courteous and apologetic, they drove Copan to their station 26 miles away and booked him into a cell, charged him with assault causing bodily harm. « I stayed in that cell till 10 the next morning, » he recalls. « I couldn’t believe it was happening! »
In court, the hoodlums pleaded guilty to charges of creating a disturbance and were fined $200 each, and walked away. But bail for Copan was set at $500 cash that morning!
(…) « Worried sick, we headed home to Burnaby. My husband was so concerned about the black mark on his record. He’s such a respected citizen in our town! »
(…) At the Sept. 9 trial, the judge indicated sympathy, too, when he convicted Copan on a lesser charge of common assault and fined him only $50.
But, for Copan, his fight was just beginning. He was determined to appeal the conviction and clear the criminal mark from his personal record. (…) « It would’ve been easy at this stage to just say ‘okay, I’ll forget the appeal,’ and try to get back on my feet, » says Copan. « But my nose had been clean for 38 years and a criminal record could hurt me in many ways for years to come. I was determined to get it off the books! »
He did. On March 26, ’65, an end came to Copan’s months of sleepless nights, when three Appeal Court judges ruled that Les Copan be acquitted of common assault.
Says the man whose record was wiped clean: « The judges recognized that my family was being assaulted and that I shot in self defence. A man has a right to defend his family and not be punished for it for the rest of his life! »

Midnight, May 24, 1965.

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Sports Column by Red Ruffansore.
Montreal, Canada — Yours truly has never understood why sports reporters are dispatched to cover the Olympic so-called games. What we have goin’ on here is the usual slow-motion, nonviolent version of World War III. No one here is indulging in what you and I, gentle reader, would call a sport. At best, they perform exercices which might be considered warm-ups for sports… or suitable events for half time entertainment. Buncha Goddamn acrobats and ballet dancers, is all.
No football. No baseball. And so, naturally, the poor old U.S. of A. comes out looking bad in the standings, having very few able-bodied youngsters whose idea of an afternoon’s athletics is jumping around in a bathing suit waving a ribbon in time to a scratchy Shostakovich record.
Water, which has never struck old Red as much of a drink, also fails to impress as a playing field. Take my word for it, watching a swimming race live is even more boring than watching it on television.
Naturally, the holier-than-thou squeaky-clean cyptosocialist Olympic committee rejected the recommendation from this corner and others more august to install parimutual machines at all track events and post the odds, to add a little interest to the spectacle of a bunch of people trying to do what horses and machines were invented to do better, viz, run.
If there’s no way to get sports back into the Olympics — and by sports I mean teams, a ball, physical contact, and some real money changing hands — this man’s country had better leave ‘em alone in the future. All we get now is a black eye in the propaganda department and a collective national Charley horse.
And by the way, Montreal was a great choice of sites for the summer games. Where they gonna hold the winter games? Jamaica?

VieilleMarde a aussi pour vous une autre lecture alternative des Jeux olympiques de Montréal.

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Quand on aime la bière… y’a pas mal mieux que de la 50, mais joyeuses fêtes quand même.

— C’est encore les mêmes qui travaillent pendant les Fêtes
— Ouais, on s’est fait passer un sapin…
Joyeuses Fêtes quand même.
Labatt 50 … quand on aime la bière !

Pub de Labatt 50, janvier 1983.

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Le 20 juin 1985, René Lévesque démissionne de son poste de chef du Parti québécois et quitte peu après ses fonctions de premier ministre du Québec. Dans son numéro d’octobre suivant, le magazine CROC se souvient…

Notes pour un portrait de René Lévesque

De — Directeur de la publicité
À — N’importe qui qui a une idée
Objet — Image du Premier ministre
Bon ça y est : y’est parti ! Ça n’a pas été facile mais Pierre-Marc et Bernard vont être contents…
L’affaire c’est que maintenant, c’est moi qui est pris pour faire l’oraison funèbre pour les médias et je ne sais pas trop quoi dire !
Quels mots peuvent décrire un démocrate qui forçait ses ministres à démissionner dès qu’ils se mettaient à penser tout seuls, et qui menaçait son parti de démissionner quand celui-ci ne faisait pas exactement ce qu’il voulait ? « Autocrate démocratique » ? « Démocrate autoritaire » ?
Quelle expression peut décrire un social-démocrate qui avait proposé l’abolition de l’universalité des programmes sociaux ? « Social-démocrate de centre-droit » ? « Robert Bourassa » ?
Quel terme utiliser pour nommer un indépendantiste qui a réussi à perdre le droit de veto de sa province ? « Fédéraliste involontaire » ? « Nationaliste distrait » ?
De quel surnom affubler un joueur de poker qui se laissait bluffer par sa propre police ? « Machiavel niaiseux » ? « Rusé gogo » ?
Comment qualifier un politicien qui a laissé de côté un « préjugé favorable pour les syndicats » et réouvert une convention collective qui ne faisait pas son affaire deux ans après sa signature ? « Honnête crosseur » ? « Incorruptible hypocrite » ?
Faire le portrait de René Lévesque ? Facile ! Il n’y a qu’à trouver les mots pour décrire un homme qui est en même temps indépendantiste, péquiste, étapiste, souveraineté-associationniste et fédéraliste.
Il soutenait tellement de positions politiques à la fois qu’après avoir dépassé les libéraux sur leur gauche, il était en train de dépasser l’Union nationale sur sa droite, tout en se définissant comme un homme du centre. En fait, René Lévesque est le premier politicien de l’hémisphère occidental qui a réussi à occuper simultanément tout le paysage politique. Il me semble qu’une seule définition peut décrire son option politique : le centre périphérique…
En plus de tout ça, il a eu le front de dire, en parlant d’un de ses adversaires politiques, que « c’est à leurs actes qu’il faut juger les politiciens… » !
Une expression pour décrire un gars auquel ça a pris un an pour comprendre que plus personne ne voulait de lui : le « Bouché de New Carlisle » ?
En tout cas, si personne n’a d’idée, moi aussi je démissionne !
— Le directeur de la publicité

Magazine CROC, numéro 75, octobre 1985.

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Tiré du même manuel scolaire des années 1950 qui nous renseignait sur la mort d’un colon…

- Des Iroquois entourent les maisons.
- Ils tuent tous les Français qu’ils rencontrent.
- Ils n’ont pas de pitié pour les petits enfants.
- Ils font périr les animaux de la ferme.

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Country music of the 1950′s
Rapportez le « Violon & Steel musique westerne » des 1950
HILLBILLY NIGHT appearing at: THE WHEEL CLUB
8 P.M. every Monday night
Live, continuous music, old songs and instruments
Fun till 1 A.M.
3373 Cavendish just below Sherbrooke
OLDSTYLE COUNTRY MUSIC
Country – Bluegrass – Cowboy – Fiddling & Pickin
Tel.: 489-3322 Bookings call 514-362-9325 or 450-691-6999
HILLBILLY HISTORY BEING MADE IN MONTREAL!!!

YES! The Wheel Club has been voted Montreal’s Top Country and Western Club by Sympatico users. You can check it out on the web at montrealplus.ca or the diploma on the bulletin board. Our web site: http:www.bobfuller.has.it

Cliquez sur celle-ci pour l’agrandir :

OLD TIME COUNTRY MUSIC CLUB OF CANADA
Dedicated to preserve and promote authentic country, oldtime and bluegrass music.
Howdy neighbours: I am your single entertainer, and I would like to take this opportunity to say « hello », and welcome you into the happy family of country music. I am the secretary of the above organization, and will be glad to sing the old, dear country songs for you. I would also be glad to help you locate any old records you are trying to locate, as we maintain a large collection of hillbilly, cowboy and all other branches of country and western music.
Like many other Canadian singers, I was born in Nova Scotia, and you may like to hear down-east songs. Just write your request on a scrap of paper and send it in.
Sincerely,
Bob Fuller.
Could you please play my request
1st choice…………………………..
2nd choice…………………………..

Nous vous avions déjà montré quelques artéfacts du Wheel Club et de sa soirée hillbilly, ouverte à tout le monde chaque lundi… depuis 1966. Même (et surtout) lorsque le 1er janvier tombe un lundi. La personne derrière cette soirée est le vénérable Bob Fuller, Montréalais d’adoption, légende locale et homme aux 250 000 disques.

Vous n’êtes pas sortis à Montréal si vous n’êtes pas passé au Wheel Club un lundi soir.

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