A LTHOUGH he didn’t realize it, Jack McNaught, who wrote “The Battle of the St. Lawrence” on page 7, began his research on this story almost 10 years ago as a deck officer in the Canadian navy. His research at that time consisted of sailing the Atlantic on convoy duty and being torpedoed at by the same submarines about which he is writing here with such authority.
For five tragic months 'of 1942 U-boats hunted in St. Lawrence waters, scoring 23 kills. Here's a story that's never been told
ON MAY 12, 1942, newspapers all across Canada screamed with headlines telling that a merchant ship had just been sunk in the St. Lawrence River by an enemy submarine. In Ottawa that afternoon a rumor got around that not one but two ships had been sunk.
The man who speaks for Canada abroad says bluntly in this exclusive tape-recorded interview with Maclean’s that we won’t be anybody’s satellite. Here’s our foreign policy, nailed down plank by plank
IN THE article which follows, Maclean’s presents the frankest, the most authoritative and most complete statement of Canada's foreign policy ever to appear in a magazine. It is the result of an interview, lasting an hour and a half, between the Minister of External Affairs, Hon.
AFTER Harry Spencer had wandered around a while, inhaling the fabulous salt air, soaking up the fabulous sunshine and feeling a little out of place with all his clothes on, he paused in front of a beachfront restaurant. It wasn’t Mocambo. But it was clean and inviting.
PROFESSOR John Satterly’s annual demonstration of liquid air to the first-year science students at the University of Toronto is a noisy, smoky, fast-moving scientific free-for-all that goes on for about an hour and a half amid cheers, laughs, crashing glass, shattered goldfish, breaking balloons, rockets and explosions.
Men also suffer a definite change of life. To some it brings an acute depression and a sense of utter futility. But there’s a commonsense way to avoid a crackup
WHEN wealthy James Forrestal, former U. S. Secretary of Defense, leaped to his death on May 22 from the 17th floor of the naval hospital at Bethesda, Md., he left behind a few melancholy lines from the Greek philosopher Sophocles: Better to die and sleep The never waking sleep than linger on, And dare to live, when the soul’s life is gone.
IN ACTS ballyhooed as breath-taking displays of feminine pulchritude Canada has this year been exposed to more strutting bathing beauties than ever before. Billed as contests an honorable label not open to wrestling shows—most of these parades of girl meat on the hoof (the Miss Canada Pageant is an exception) are as phony as a speak-easy membership, as easy to get into as a bingo game and as naive as the dunce at a school for half-wits.
Her duck shooting was high, deadly and fancy. That was because she was a little shooting fool with an aim that never missed, whether it was a duck — or a man
JOHN TABOR eased forward the safety catch of his gun as a soft rush of wings in the outer darkness whispered of approaching daylight. Narrowing his eyes, he could already make out the outline of the nearest decoys on the black waters. As he waited, the long fingers of his right hand caressed the inlaid stock of his hammerless gun, a custom-built job by a London gunsmith.
A team’s got a Grey Cup chance today when it lays $100,000 on the 50-yard line. Ledgers not linemen rule big league rugby
A THIN MAN from Montreal named Joe Ryan concluded 1949’s biggest piece of football business on a dreary day last February. By employing a whispering, confidential tone to express such sentimental phrases as “$25,000 for two years” and “a shot at the coaching job in 1951,” Ryan induced Frank Filchock, an American who had played two seasons of football at Hamilton, to join the Montreal Alouettes.
Tougher than hardtack is what the Canadian lake sailors say of Captain Norman Reoch who's at the wheel of the world's greatest fresh water fleet
THERE IS not the slightest doubt among seafaring men that Captain Norman James Reoch, general manager of Canada Steamship Lines and salty skipper of the largest fresh-water fleet in the world, is tougher than hardtack. A hulking Cardiff-giant of a man with a short thick neck, small red-rimmed eyes, battering-ram fists and a voice like the boom of thunder, he has in the past three years battled his way to national prominence as the fighting skipper who has sworn to blast the Canadian Seamen’s Union from the Great Lakes.
In clothes at Camp Forestia columnist Scott was covered with confusion. The next day he took them both off. And found that nudists are just ordinary folk
A FEW miles south of Seattle, Washington, in the late afternoon of a bright summer day I turned my car off the main highway onto a secondary road and proceeded seven miles, as instructed, until I reached the red barn. A hundred yards on I came upon a rough, newly bulldozed road leading up into the woods of a small mountain.
HIS Royal Highness the Duke of Kent was commander-inchief of all the military forces stationed in the Halifax area 150 years ago. His summer home, Prince’s Lodge, now a pile of ruins on the west side of Bedford Basin, Halifax harbor, was both the military and social centre of the area in the years 1790 to 1800.
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DEATH was administered to a coal miner at Sydney Mines, N.S., as a shot in the arm from an innocent-seeming hypodermic needle in the hands of a competent doctor, assisted by a competent nurse in a recognized hospital. It was the spring of 1946.
WHAT do you know about your body? Perhaps you didn’t have the opportunity to study anatomy or physiology. Perhaps you’ve never been sick a day in your life. Still, most persons acquire a huge fund of medical information just by listening to friends enumerating their symptoms, operations, doctors, remedies, etc., etc.
The Ones That Got Away— Matrimony is a method of finding out what wonderful men your wife used to go with. -Guelph Mercury. And Painfully—“Bad cooking practices die slowly,” says a writer. The victims, however, sometimes die quite quickly.
THE LIGHTSshone brightly on the stage of Trimble Park, in Vancouver. The drawing of the West Point Grey Community Association had reached its climax and a shiny new $2,300 car stood by, waiting to be taken by the lucky winner. Miss Vancouver, Marjorie Hildebrand, drew the winning numbers from the barrel.
Orchids to Maclean’s for bringing to the people of Canada a story by a brilliant writer and soldier. The story in Sept. 15 by Colonel W. W. Murray, O.B.E., M.C. and bar, on “How We Tricked the Nazi Spies” is a very interesting and timely piece of writing.
THIS ONE reached us in a roundabout fashion from a Parade scout in Vancouver who overheard a woman there recalling to a friend the highlight of her days as a student nurse in Winnipeg. It happened the first day she was left on her own with six patients to care for in the male surgery ward, and she hustled to get them all cleaned up before the supervisor made her daily inspection.