Ted:
It's time to wrap up our week long look at the closure of the Newfoundland School for the Deaf. We've heard many people question that decision and the philosophy underpinning it. They've also disputed the official story of why it closed. They wonder about the future. Today we hear from the Minister of Education, Darin King. He's on the line now. Dr. King, good afternoon.
Dr. Darin King:
Good afternoon.
Ted:
Now I want to take you back to, you announced in August the closure of this school but I want to take you back to 2003. In August, you cited declining enrollment as the reason, but in 2003, before you were the Minister of Education, we've had several people tell us that back then there was a decision made to exclude the specialists from the School for the Deaf from the meetings that happened every year to determine whether or not a child would go to the School for the Deaf. They told us that as of 2003 it became solely a Department of Education decision. No one from the School of the Deaf would determine who got in or who didn't. Why was that decision made? Do you know?
Dr. Darin King:
Well, I guess, the decision as you're communicating it is not totally accurate, as far as I understand it. My understanding is that the administration process changed whereby the final stamp of approval came through the Department of Education. I'm not aware that there was an exclusionary process where people were left out of the process, but as I understand it, Ted, back at that point in time there were a number of students attending the school. The admission was a little looser than many people thought it ought to have been, and there were a number of students there that it was felt could have been better served in different locations with other resources to support them. So the collective decision of the Department of the day and the Minister of the day was that the final approval process would go through the Department of Education, but I'm not aware that any professionals were left out of that process.
Ted:
Well I know that your Department has been listening all week and getting transcripts and all of that. We had several people tell us that people from the School of the Deaf were told, no, you can no longer attend those meetings, the Department of Education is going to hold those hearings, and once that change happened people stopped being sent to the school.
Dr. Darin King:
Well that, you know, again, I mean I don't want to debate hearsay and what one person or two people or three people may have said to you. I have talked to many people as well and that's not the process, as I understand it. You know, the reality is that when a child registers or indicated an interest in registering for the School for the Deaf, as with any other child in the province, their first line of contact with the school system is through their local school, and from that the districts will make a referral that if they felt a student would be better served by coming to the School for the Deaf, just the same as they do now, if they feel that there are other services beyond the normal services provided for, for the regular classroom. I mean, the districts will make the referral. In that particular scenario that's what existed. The only difference was that when the referrals came forward, the final decision was made at the departmental level and not at the School for the Deaf itself.
Ted:
Doctor and again, we're talking about at the time before you were minister, but Dr. Barbara O'Dea, who is a linguist, who taught at the school for 13 years, also told us that around the same time they stopped doing the preschool outreach programs and because parents, she said that because parents weren't brought to the School for the Deaf. They weren't shown what the school could do for their children. So people didn't sign up. They didn't know enough about the school to sign up.
Dr. Darin King:
You know, I guess there is a couple of things. Number one is you're asking me to react to a statement made by somebody who wasn't even working at the School for the Deaf in 2003; and you're asking me to react to a statement prior to a time when I was minister. But, you know, I have no information provided to me that will confirm that what she said is accurate. That's the most that I can say about that.
Ted:
All right. Well, look, I will talk about your time in a minute but I also want to talk about the overarching philosophy here. Regardless of why there was that decline, the immediate effect seemed to be that there were fewer and fewer children being admitted to the School for the Deaf. That led to a precipitous decline in the enrollment, and it seemed to most of the people that we were talking to that this was a self fulfilling prophesy. The government or the Department of Education discouraged people from coming. That led to fewer people enrolling. That led to you saying this year nobody is going so we need to shut it down.
Dr. Darin King:
Well, first of all, let me contradict something you said there because you made a statement that fewer were being admitted. That's not the case. The case is that fewer were applying to admittance to the school. And there is a difference between applications coming and being rejected and applications not coming. So we need to be clear upon that.
Ted:
But we've, but we've had parents tell us they wanted to send their kids there and were told they couldn't do it.
Dr. Darin King:
Well, you know, I can't confirm that, and if people have information they want to supply to me on that I would be more than willing to listen to them, Ted, but, you know, the fact of the matter is that fewer applications had been coming in for admittance to the School for the Deaf. And I have listened to lots of your comments over the week from people you've interviewed and your own, you know, and with the greatest of respect, I noticed that up until my interview today they've all been for the negative. I could provide you, for example, with the Atlantic Province Special Education Authority that deals with Special Education across the Atlantic Provinces who are supportive of this. I could provide you with the Newfoundland Chapter of the Canadian Hard of Hearing Association, Myrtle Barrett, who's totally supportive of this. I could provide you with the most recent principal who worked in the school in the era while we've been in government, contrary to the two employees that you've interviewed, who's totally supportive of this. So, you know, the fact is that I guess the interview with me today has been set up in the negative and I accept that. I have no difficulty with that as long as people understand that, that there are people out there who speak positively to this move. There are lots and parents and students
Ted:
Well I can tell you we've had a hard time finding them because once, when we did the original stories on this then were started getting e mails from people saying look, this isn't how it happened. I didn't want to send my kid somewhere else. I wanted to send them there and I was told I could not.
Dr. Darin King:
The e mails that I'm getting are contrary to yours, and most of the media statements that I've heard from parents, with the greatest respect, for their opinions are based on anywhere from five and six years ago to 30 years ago. The people that I heard the most vocal about the closure of the School for the Deaf have been organizations with connections totally outside of the Province of Newfoundland and Labrador; from Saskatchewan and Manitoba and these kinds of groups and from individuals who are no longer working in this province or connected to this province. The parents of students who are attending schools in this province, I've been in contact with a number of them and they've made contact with me and they're expressing support. The fundamental principle here is that parents have made choices over the last number of years that have resulted in fewer and fewer students attending the School for the Deaf. Now, if you have parents who say to you that they don't feel that there was an option and the school was closing, I would suggest to you that they were very likely told of the program that could be offered to their son or daughter as that school got down below 20 students and below 15 students and down below 10, and eventually this year would have been perhaps lower than that if we had maintained it, and therefore, they made conscious choices to put their children in a learning environment where they could get a better quality program, access to their peers and to better supportive activities to help them grow and be nurtured as children in the school system.
Ted:
We'll bring up the peer issue in a moment, Dr. King, but first I want to talk to what happened on your watch, and that was the decision to close the school. When was that decision made?
Dr. Darin King:
I don't have the exact date in front of me but I think we communicated somewhere, somewhere in mid August.
Ted:
That's my recollection as well. The reason I want to ask is that I want to play a couple of clips now that have led me to feeling a bit confused. The first one I want to play is you and Yvonne Jones, the leader of the opposition in the House of Assembly this past May, the 27th of May. Yvonne Jones: "On April 10th, 2008, the former Minister of Education informed the House of Assembly that the government had no plans to close the School for the Deaf. And I asked the minister today if that is still the case."
Dr. Darin King: "Mr. Speaker, our intentions for the School for the Deaf have not changed since the previous minister spoke in this house. The School for the Deaf still operates and we still offer governmental support to the same degree that we have in the past couple of years. There are no changes at this point in time from government."
Ted:
All right. Again, that's you in the House of Assembly on the 27th of May this year; but here's what Irene Coleman, the Grandmother and Guardian of a child who attended the School for the Deaf told us on Wednesday. Irene Coleman: "In May, we had ISSP meeting because every year we have the ISSP meeting and then request that he go to School for the Deaf. When I went into this ISSP meeting, they told me that it is no longer no more School for the Deaf. That he will be Eastern School District. They had the principal from the Eastern School District, they had the principal from the School for the Deaf, plus they had staff from the Eastern School District." Ted:
Irene, do you remember what day that was in May? Irene Coleman: "It was around the first week of May. I don't know exactly. I think it was May the 3rd." Ted: So if that happened the first week of May, that's three weeks before you stand in the house and say the school is not closing, she says she was told then it was. Well how do you explain the contradiction?
Dr. Darin King:
Well, first of all, I guess I don't see a contradiction. You know, I stand by the comments that I made at the house in May. I made my comments which were reflective of the circumstances that we were dealing with at the time. Hopefully
Ted:
But if I can stop for you one second and I will let you carry on. How is there How do you not see a contradiction? If you say on the 27th, the school is not, there are no plans to close the school but three weeks before she's told the school's already closed?
Dr. Darin King:
Well, as I was about to say to you, that I don't see a contradiction, because on the 27th of May I answered the question based on the information that was available to me. I don't want to get into a discussion and I can't get into a discussion about the specifics of the case that you just identified, but I can say to you that no parents were advised prior to me announcing in August that the School for the Deaf is closing, that it was closing. Parents would have been advised of the kinds of programs and choices that would have been available to students given the pattern of enrollment that we were seeing and the indication that officials would have been receiving from parents and students and what their choices were to going to be for the fall. No doubt the lady that you just, the clip you just played and others perhaps would have been told that here's what's happening and, you know, here's the kinds of scenarios that you're going to face, and by way of an option, if you choose to do what others are doing here's what's available to you. But no official would have been in a position to communicate the School for the Deaf was closing because the decision frankly was not made.
Ted:
Yet, that's what she says.
Dr. Darin King:
You know, I can only say what I just said to you, Ted. I don't want to get into he said/she said and I certainly don't want to say somebody is misstating. I am only telling you the facts as I know them and there was no decision to close the School for the Deaf until I communicated it publicly. I can't be any clearer than that.
Ted:
Okay. All right. Well, look, let's talk about another issue. Above and beyond enrollment, what seems to be at play here more than anything are the two competing philosophies, that out of inclusion including deaf and hard of kids in the mainstream school system and exclusion keeping those same kids together in a separate school of their own and it seems to me from past conversations and statements you've made, you and the Department of Education come down squarely in the inclusion camp.
Dr. Darin King:
Absolutely. You know, from my, from my professional perspective, parking the fact that I'm a politician, from my professional perspective, having spent many years in the system and having been well read in education over the years, which is part of my role as an educational leader, that children who are placed in an inclusive environment and have the opportunity to spend time with their peers and to learn with their peers, learn from their peers, be assisted by their peers and to participate in activities with their peers develop much better and learn many more things and create many more lifetime and life advancing opportunities for themselves than those who are placed in a very isolated exclusionary setting.
Ted:
All right.
Dr. Darin King:
And in particular in this case where we're talking the last time the school operated with less than 20 students.
Ted:
All right. You use the word "peers" there several times and I want to play another quick bit of tape for you. This is Barbara O'Dea, the linguist who we talked to earlier in the week, who says that hearing kids and deaf kids are not peers with kids with regular hearing. Dr. Barbara O'Dea: "Everybody is looking for people to be what they call normal. And for them deaf people are not normal. We hear it constantly from the minister. They will be with their peers. Well, no, they won't be with their peers. He believes that hearing people are the norm. I mean, he must because he says that they are the peers. So the hearing people are the peer and these deaf kids have to try to be as much like them as possible. So immediately the deaf children are psychologically put at a disadvantage because they're now trying to be a peer to somebody who can't even communicate with them. So are they with their peers? I would say no." Ted: Dr. O'Dea says they're not in a peer situation.
Dr. Darin King:
Well, I guess Dr. O'Dea and I have a fundamental disagreement in how we define the word "peer". And obviously, you know, since many people or many media outlets in the province are relying upon Dr. O'Dea, we have a fundamental disagreement in philosophy. You know, my definition of a "peer" is a student of the same age group being able to spend time with other students of the same age group. Now if Dr. O'Dea has a different definition, well fair enough. She can base her opinion on her definition, I don't want to debate that. My definition of a peer is what I just explained to you. That it is students of the same or similar ages who go to school together, who participate in activities together, and who learn things together and grow up together, and from my perspective students who are with their peers are much better off. And I believe, by the way, I believe that you will find literature and research to support what I'm saying to you. That children who have those opportunities are far better off than students who are isolated and put in a totally remote setting with very few, of other individuals of similar ages trying to learn in that manner.
Ted:
Well, let's just hear from one of those kids now. One last bit of tape here, Dr. King. This is Nicole Maher. She was a mainstream student in Bishop's Falls until she was 13 and then she enrolled in the School for the Deaf. Nicole Maher: "I've come home crying almost every day because everyone would pick on me. (Inaudible). (Inaudible) I would just sit there reading a book because they didn't understand. Then when I came here I actually have friends. I can talk with them. They could understand. If this place didn't exist I would have probably dropped out of high school. I wouldn't be in university or anything. In the mainstream by myself I just felt like I was strange. That there was something wrong with me. When I came here I found that (inaudible), and I knew that if everyone else could do it, I could do it too. I could be something." Ted: So there's one student who says in the mainstream system she felt lonely, she felt isolated, she was bullied, she was picked upon. She goes to the School for the Deaf, she sees kids around her functioning really well and she says, you know, I can make something of myself. What do you say to her and kids and who feel the same way as her?
Dr. Darin King:
Well, first of all, I say it is a very unfortunate situation and I empathize with her and, you know, I wish, I wish someone could have done something to help her out, but let's be very clear, and I hesitate saying this because I don't want to make this about this particular student, but being lonely and isolated and bullied is not a function of deaf education or not limited to deaf students. We have students in the system today who are lonely and isolated and bullied. There are a lot more factors that contribute to that than the fact that someone is deaf or hard of hearing. I mean, fundamentally Ted, let me say this to you, we have an obligation to provide the best possible educational opportunities we can provide for students. And let me say this to you, there is no one in the Department of Education and no one in the school setting that comes to work each day and says I'm out to get that student. I want to make sure that we make them suffer. We're all trying to do the best we can, and information changes and circumstances change and society changes. And as I said before, with the greatest of respect to the subjects that you've chosen to use as part of this program, I could provide you with lots of others that will give contrary views to that and I could provide you with individuals and groups who are here today a part of the system, not those who participated years ago. I mean, at the end of the day our obligation is to provide the best possible experience we can for students. I mean, ultimately you would know as well as I do that everything we do in education is about making sure we set students up to succeed, and if the move that we're making now to provide them the opportunity in the mainstream system to be part of an environment where undoubtedly there are going to be challenges at times, there is no question about that. But let's face it, what do you think will happen when a student leaves high school and leaves university and they have to go to work and they have to maintain a home? They are all at some point in time going to have to be more independent than perhaps they've used to been. Well, part of our role in education is to provide them with a set of circumstances that will hopefully lead to better opportunities for them as a result of that. And we believe, and I firmly believe based on my experiences in education and my research in education, that these students will be better served with appropriate resources put in place that I've already committed to by being in schools with their peers and taking advantage of all the opportunities that provides them.
Ted:
I take it there is nothing that would persuade you to revisit this decision to close the school?
Dr. Darin King:
The decision was made based on a lot of thought, based on a lot of research and based on a lot of reading. And it was not made on a whim. It was not made for purposes of saving money. It was not made for infrastructure needs. The decision was made based on the best interest of children and based on the fact that parents chose to move their children to other settings, other schools where they felt that their children would be better served and where they wanted them to attend. And so we were left with a situation with a huge building, a lot of employees and no students enrolled.
Ted:
All right, Dr. King, we'll leave it there. I will get a hold of your people next week to get the names of those people who think this is a good idea. We do want to hear from everybody.
Dr. Darin King:
Thank you very much for the opportunity.
Ted:
All right.
Dr. Darin King:
Bye, bye.
Ted:
That is Darin King. He is this province's Minister of Education. What do you make of what you heard? Call Talk Back and let me know, 1 800 465 6846. If you'd like to send us an e mail the address is onthego@cbc.ca.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
My Week: The cod have gone and the bears invade: C J Fox returns to find his native Newfoundland beset by ecological disaster
Independent News UK
August 4, 1993
My Week: The cod have gone and the bears invade: C J Fox returns to find his native Newfoundland beset by ecological disaster
By C J FOX
Thursday: A London-based writer, I've returned to my native Newfoundland for a family reunion. This North Atlantic island, once 'Britain's Oldest Colony' but since 1940 part of Canada, is now gripped by possibly the worst ecological disaster this side of the Amazon. The talk in my home town, St John's, seethes around the apparently indefinite moratorium imposed on Newfoundland's main industry, cod fishing, after the once-swarming Grand Banks were virtually fished out by juggernaut vessels, local and foreign. One commentator laments: 'The shoals of cod that Cabot (discoverer of Newfoundland) was able to harvest in baskets dipped over the side half a millennium ago are now gone.'
Gone too are 25,000 fishery jobs - the equal in this sparsely populated province of 2.5 million layoffs in Britain. The federal government provides the equivalent of pounds 200 a week under a retraining package for each of those affected, but next year the welfare bonanza runs out, and after that . . .
Friday: A break in the cold, rainy weather ('a judgement', one Newfoundlander calls this summer's meteorological misery). So myself and visiting French-Canadian relatives hike to the outlying headquarters of the provincial government. We joke about meeting a moose or a polar bear. Meanwhile an engineer nephew of mine, driving to work, is hurt in a collision with a moose. Such crashes have become commonplace, even within St John's where my sister, Sheila, was flabbergasted to see one of the 1,800-pounders in her back garden. And Arctic polar bears drift further south on the ice-pans and come ashore with increasing frequency, one invading a house near the capital and terrifying the owner.
Saturday: We tour St John's harbour guided by my port-managing brother, David. The sight of five crack trawlers in mothballs grimly symbolises Newfoundland's great disaster. High and dry in a repair dock is an Estonian trawler whose crew have made headlines with scavenging expeditions to the city dump. I visit Professor George Story, Oxford-educated specialist in Renaissance literature and a compiler of the extraordinary Dictionary of Newfoundland English. He cites Stephen Spender, a 1975 visitor, on the claustrophobic feel of St John's: '. . . so many squalid buildings crowding down the oblong pocket handkerchief of the harbour'.
Sunday: Entertained by book critic Alison Feder and husband, Herb. The chat swings back from Irish writers to, inevitably, the fish crisis - how much it should be blamed on voracious foreign factory ships, man-made climatic changes or the hosts of cod-consuming seals no longer hunted since the victorious protest campaigns. The frustrations of urging the EC and other foreigners to help save the Grand Banks are subsequently recounted by my environmentalist niece, Moya Cahill, just back from the UN talkfest on worldwide fish depletion. A cousin - Richard Cashin, former head of the fisheries trade union - ponders on creating a 'vision of hope' for displaced fishing people.
Monday: Starts with Newfoundland radio's answer to Desert Island Discs. It's Funk Island Discs, named for a primeval rock off the North-east coast. I visit Laurie Cashin, Richard's polymath brother, whose room is papered with propaganda sheets from the bitter referendum campaigns preceding the '49 join-up with Canada. A zealous radio ham, Laurie has been up early contacting a lone British sailor off Central America. Next, to the home (at 200 years of age the city's oldest) of retired Chief Justice Robert Furlong. Now 89, he stays in global touch through the British books and journals he devours in a spirit of scorn for the mainland North American ethos.
Tuesday: My last day sees me chauffeured down the coast south of St John's by Canada's rousing TV iconoclast, Rex Murphy, who gives me a running commentary about this uproariously Irish 'Southern Shore'. Murphy sounds like Herman Melville reborn as he enthuses over the cavorting whales which now crowd the coast enjoying the surplus of tiny fish left uneaten by the absent cod. 'People come from all over to watch the whales,' Rex reports, adding ruefully: 'We've become a theme park for eco-tourists'.
August 4, 1993
My Week: The cod have gone and the bears invade: C J Fox returns to find his native Newfoundland beset by ecological disaster
By C J FOX
Thursday: A London-based writer, I've returned to my native Newfoundland for a family reunion. This North Atlantic island, once 'Britain's Oldest Colony' but since 1940 part of Canada, is now gripped by possibly the worst ecological disaster this side of the Amazon. The talk in my home town, St John's, seethes around the apparently indefinite moratorium imposed on Newfoundland's main industry, cod fishing, after the once-swarming Grand Banks were virtually fished out by juggernaut vessels, local and foreign. One commentator laments: 'The shoals of cod that Cabot (discoverer of Newfoundland) was able to harvest in baskets dipped over the side half a millennium ago are now gone.'
Gone too are 25,000 fishery jobs - the equal in this sparsely populated province of 2.5 million layoffs in Britain. The federal government provides the equivalent of pounds 200 a week under a retraining package for each of those affected, but next year the welfare bonanza runs out, and after that . . .
Friday: A break in the cold, rainy weather ('a judgement', one Newfoundlander calls this summer's meteorological misery). So myself and visiting French-Canadian relatives hike to the outlying headquarters of the provincial government. We joke about meeting a moose or a polar bear. Meanwhile an engineer nephew of mine, driving to work, is hurt in a collision with a moose. Such crashes have become commonplace, even within St John's where my sister, Sheila, was flabbergasted to see one of the 1,800-pounders in her back garden. And Arctic polar bears drift further south on the ice-pans and come ashore with increasing frequency, one invading a house near the capital and terrifying the owner.
Saturday: We tour St John's harbour guided by my port-managing brother, David. The sight of five crack trawlers in mothballs grimly symbolises Newfoundland's great disaster. High and dry in a repair dock is an Estonian trawler whose crew have made headlines with scavenging expeditions to the city dump. I visit Professor George Story, Oxford-educated specialist in Renaissance literature and a compiler of the extraordinary Dictionary of Newfoundland English. He cites Stephen Spender, a 1975 visitor, on the claustrophobic feel of St John's: '. . . so many squalid buildings crowding down the oblong pocket handkerchief of the harbour'.
Sunday: Entertained by book critic Alison Feder and husband, Herb. The chat swings back from Irish writers to, inevitably, the fish crisis - how much it should be blamed on voracious foreign factory ships, man-made climatic changes or the hosts of cod-consuming seals no longer hunted since the victorious protest campaigns. The frustrations of urging the EC and other foreigners to help save the Grand Banks are subsequently recounted by my environmentalist niece, Moya Cahill, just back from the UN talkfest on worldwide fish depletion. A cousin - Richard Cashin, former head of the fisheries trade union - ponders on creating a 'vision of hope' for displaced fishing people.
Monday: Starts with Newfoundland radio's answer to Desert Island Discs. It's Funk Island Discs, named for a primeval rock off the North-east coast. I visit Laurie Cashin, Richard's polymath brother, whose room is papered with propaganda sheets from the bitter referendum campaigns preceding the '49 join-up with Canada. A zealous radio ham, Laurie has been up early contacting a lone British sailor off Central America. Next, to the home (at 200 years of age the city's oldest) of retired Chief Justice Robert Furlong. Now 89, he stays in global touch through the British books and journals he devours in a spirit of scorn for the mainland North American ethos.
Tuesday: My last day sees me chauffeured down the coast south of St John's by Canada's rousing TV iconoclast, Rex Murphy, who gives me a running commentary about this uproariously Irish 'Southern Shore'. Murphy sounds like Herman Melville reborn as he enthuses over the cavorting whales which now crowd the coast enjoying the surplus of tiny fish left uneaten by the absent cod. 'People come from all over to watch the whales,' Rex reports, adding ruefully: 'We've become a theme park for eco-tourists'.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Bennett Brewing Company
Bennett Brewing Company
The long and successful history of the Bennett Brewing Company began with Charles Fox Bennett, a former premier of Newfoundland. Bennett was born at Shaftesbury, Dorset, England in 1793 and came to Newfoundland during the early 1800s. Around 1827, Bennett opened a brewery at Riverhead, St. John's. The brewery continued to operate for the next two decades and in 1883 its founder, Charles Bennett, died at the age of 91.
In 1885, the Riverhead Brewery was leased to Edward W. Bennett (no relation to Charles Fox Bennett). Edward Bennett manufactured ale and porter as well as aerated waters. Once again, the brewery saw success under the Bennett name and by 1890 Edward Bennett bought out his partners interest in the business. In 1902, Edward Bennett died and his brother, John R. Bennett, purchased the brewery.
During prohibition the brewery closed for about two years, yet reopened in 1918 selling a “near” beer. With the end of prohibition in 1924, the company resumed the production of strong beers with Dominion Ale, Stout, and Golden Lager being added to its line of products. John Bennett remained president of the brewery until his death in 1941, at the age of 78. At this time, Laurence V. Cashin became chairman of the company. The brewery was purchased by Carling O'Keefe in 1962, which continued to operate it until recently.
Stoneware jug stenciled with the maker's trademark “PRICE BRISTOL” and the words “THE BENNETT BREWING CO / RIVERHEAD / ST. JOHN'S.” Tan top, cream body. Approximately 1902-1916.
Obituaries: Laurence (Laurie) M. Cashin
CASHIN, Laurence M. (Laurie)– Passed away at his home in St. John’s on March 18, 2008. He was predeceased by his parents Laurence V. Cashin of Cape Broyle and Anna (Hearn) of Bay Bulls. He is survived by his wife Carmel Bailey and his sons Anthony (Lisa), Peter (Edwina Toope) in Kitchener, Ontario and P.O. Martin with the Canadian Navy in Halifax; three grandchildren Antoinette, Michael and Bianca and his brother Richard (Patricia Canning). He was a graduate of Memorial and Harvard University. He worked in the private sector in Manitoba, Ontario and Newfoundland. He retired from the Federal Public Service in 1991 having served primarily with the Department of Regional Development and Economic Expansion. The great cause of his life was with the Deaf Community. In 1969 he served as President of the Metro Toronto School for the Deaf Parents’ Association. In the early 1970’s he was a founding member of both the Canadian Co-ordinating Council on Deafness and the Newfoundland Co-ordinating Council (NCCD) on which he served as president from its founding to 1989 when he retired due to ill health. Among his major accomplishments were negotiating the assumption of financial liability for the operation of the TTY/TDD emergency phone service by the Province. He was responsible for getting the RCMP to set up a National 1-800 emergency service for TTY/TDD users. He obtained the first Closed Caption TV decoder in Canada and arranged for the local cable company to provide this service on a special channel for Deaf and Hard of Hearing users. He was also successful in having Closed Caption service provided by all Canadian TV channels. He established and trained sign language interpreters for work in the legal, employment and medical areas. Following the training, NCCD ran a successful interpreting service. He was instrumental in supporting the creation of the Newfoundland Branch of the Canadian Hard of Hearing Organization. Perhaps his most significant effort was being the driving force for improvement in facilities, staffing and educational content for the first school for the Deaf and the creation of the School for the Deaf on Topsail Road is a testament to the success of these efforts. An ardent sailor most of his life, upon retiring he became a most active amateur radio operator. As part of this hobby, he became involved in the development of the capacity to send and receive E-mail through High Frequency Radio links. He was a major player in the development of a network of stations available for emergency communication in this Province. The system has performed well over a number of years. In 2005, he was awarded the Governor General’s Caring Canadian Award. A special thanks to his attending physician, Dr. Patrick O’Shea. Cremation has taken place. Visitation from 2-4 p.m. and 7-9 p.m. on Thursday and Friday at Carnell’s Funeral Home, 329 Freshwater Road. Funeral service will be held on Saturday, March 22, 2008 at 11:00 a.m. from the Carnell Memorial Chapel. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Lung Association of NL or the Organ Procurement Exchange of NL. To send a message of condolence or to sign the memorial guest book, please visit www.carnells.com.
He was the fix-it man of Newfoundland and Labrador
LAURIE CASHIN, 67: CONSULTANT AND ADVOCATE
He was the fix-it man of Newfoundland and Labrador
Possessing a natural genius for thinking around corners, he was described by his Grade 4 teacher as 'a most excellent boy.' He later proved to be a consummate problem-solver
J.M. SULLIVAN
SPECIAL TO THE GLOBE AND MAIL
MAY 22, 2008
ST. JOHN'S -- Laurie Cashin was Newfoundland's fix-it man. He could conclude any negotiation, solve any problem and repair any gadget. With careers in private business and public policy, he also pursued personal interests that led to breakthroughs in such diverse fields as emergency planning and aids for the hearing impaired.
His achievements can be traced to an innate skill in all manner of mechanical and electronic gadgets that went far beyond the level of a hobbyist. He did everything from mending small toys to importing Canada's first closed-caption television decoders to manning an emergency centre set up in St. John's in anticipation of a possible Y2K meltdown on Jan. 1,2000.
Laurie Cashin was the younger of two boys born to businessman Laurence Cashin, from Cape Broyle, and Anna Hearn, of Bay Bulls. The Cashin family was most prominent in Newfoundland commerce and politics. His grandfather, Sir Michael Patrick, served as prime minister of Newfoundland in 1919, while his uncle Peter John was a First World War veteran and a politician who later became premier Joseph Smallwood's most ardent and determined opponent in the fight against Confederation. His father, meanwhile, ran several successful businesses, including the Bennett Brewery (later bought by Carling O'Keefe) and distribution rights for the conglomerate that became Gulf Oil.
By contrast, Mr. Cashin may not have made headlines, but he knew how to make things happen. Ever an inquisitive young fellow man with a natural genius for thinking around comers, his Grade 4 teacher described him as "a most excellent boy." He attended St. Bonaventure's College in St. John's and graduated from Memorial University of Newfoundland with a science degree in 1962. After that, he went to Harvard to earn a master's degree in business administration. In addition to studying physics and chemistry, he had the instincts and insights of a trained engineer.
"He was always very focused on intricate technical things," said his brother, Richard Cashin, a St. John's lawyer, politician and labour activist. "Even as a boy, he had his own darkroom. "
From a young age, his projects included making his own television set as well as the usual model planes and boats. (He also made furniture and hooked a mat). He wired his own house and would turn up at family dinners, toolbox in hand, ready to cure various electrical maladies.
There are many stories of his aptitude for effecting mechanical repairs. For example, in 1974, the Fogo Island Co-operative Movement asked him to review their finances. While there, he went aboard a fishing boat and noticed it had a bad knock in the engine. It had been there since the boat was purchased, he was told, and the manufacturer had tried and failed to mend the thing. Mr. Cashin requested a set of old clothes, went down in the bilge and set the motor to rights.
A few years later, on another boat, he saw that the radar was not working. The technician had visited five times, to no avail. Mr. Cashin asked for the manual. He soon realized the compass was set to the vertical and not the horizontal, and had it working in no time.
His other positions included working with Labatt's Brewery in Manitoba as assistant to the company president, and then in Toronto with Atlantic Fish Processors Ltd. In 1966, he returned home to St. John's and it was there that the first of his three boys was born. By that time, Mr. Cashin had joined the provincial department of regional economic expansion, where one of his major accomplishments was to oversee the 1984 sale of Bowaters pulp-and-paper mill in Comer Brook to Kruger Inc. of Norwalk, Conn. He was also the key person who managed the tricky, prickly process of transferring the U.S. naval base at Argentia to Canadian hands.
While Mr. Cashin was, in one way or another, a consummate fixer in his career, there was one thing he was unable to fix in his private life. His eldest son, Anthony, was born deaf, a fact that wasn't discovered until he was a year old. A visiting aunt remarked that the child was unusually quiet. When Mr. Cashin fired a pistol, Anthony made no response. While Anthony's condition could not be fixed, Mr. Cashin resolved to do his best to remove all man-made impediments. From that moment on, he engaged his considerable energies in improving the lot of the deaf ommunity.
Over the next four decades, he helped found, or served on, such groups as the Newfoundland branch of the Canadian Hard of Hearing Organization, the Canadian Co-ordinating Council on Deafness, plus a provincial service that trains sign-language interpreters. And, while a text-telephone device (TTY/TDD) already existed for hearing-impaired telephone users, there was no equivalent to 911, so Mr. Cashin pressed the provincial government to assume mancialliability for one. Not content with that, he also got the RCMP to set up a national 1-800 emergency service for all TTY/TDD users.
He later arranged for a cable-TV company to provide closed-caption (CC) service on a special channel for the deaf. In 1981, he went one further and saw to it that CTV and CBC provided CC service. However, technology was still required to make it all work. To this end, he organized the importation of Canada's first CC decoders and persuaded Sears to sell them.
All the while, he pursued a variety of educational enhancements, including the 1987 relocation to new facilities of the St. John's School for the Deaf. Long after his own soon had left elementary school, he made sure students from remote areas - some as young as 5 - got home to their families. He raised funds to finance a charter bus that took them back on weekends. However, this still left some students stranded, especially those from the south coast, where settlements clutch against the rocks and are inaccessible by road. In place of a bus, he arranged for donations of helicopter time by the likes of Don Jamieson, a local MP who became minister of transport, and Craig Dobbin, CEO of CHC Helicopter Corp. At Christmas, and during other holidays, students flew home in grand style. Sometimes, Mr. Cashin went along for the ride.
He was completely at home with any technology. In his retirement, he became a serious amateur radio operator. At the height of the Y2K fears, he manned a fully equipped radio station supplied by the federal government. "He was there in case everything crashed," said his brother Richard Cashin. "We were in good hands. I slept well."
The work on Y2K led him to the attention of Public Safety Canada, which was in the process of setting up an emergency network against the day when satellite-based communications might fail. As it turned out, he based the new system on the ham radio network already in place.
"It has proven itself many times over. It's been adopted all over the country," said PSC regional director, Len LeRiche, who added that none of it could have happened without Mr. Cashin's input. "We relied on him quite heavily. His analytical skills and his ability to problem solve were quite considerable."
As was his forthrightness. "Laurie never minced his words," Mr. LeRiche said. "His biggest frustration was with the pace the government operates, which is very slow."
By all accounts, Mr. Cashin even assembled the radio kits himself, all the while working as a management consultant and senior public servant across Canada.
Forced to take early retirement in 1991 because of a heart attack, his health deteriorated nine years later when he was diagnosed with idiopathic pulmonary thrombosis. In 2004, he underwent a lung transplant only to learn that he had cancer in his other lung.
But this did not stop his advocacy. In 2005, he was awarded the Governor-General's Caring Canadian Award. It was in his character to keep trying to make things work and make them better.
LAURENCE CASHIN
Laurence Martin Cashin was born in St. John's on Nov. 25, 1940. He died in St. John's on March 8, 2008. He was 67. He is survived by his wife, Carmel, and by his sons Anthony, Peter and Martin in Halifax. He also leaves his brother Richard.
He was the fix-it man of Newfoundland and Labrador
Possessing a natural genius for thinking around corners, he was described by his Grade 4 teacher as 'a most excellent boy.' He later proved to be a consummate problem-solver
J.M. SULLIVAN
SPECIAL TO THE GLOBE AND MAIL
MAY 22, 2008
ST. JOHN'S -- Laurie Cashin was Newfoundland's fix-it man. He could conclude any negotiation, solve any problem and repair any gadget. With careers in private business and public policy, he also pursued personal interests that led to breakthroughs in such diverse fields as emergency planning and aids for the hearing impaired.
His achievements can be traced to an innate skill in all manner of mechanical and electronic gadgets that went far beyond the level of a hobbyist. He did everything from mending small toys to importing Canada's first closed-caption television decoders to manning an emergency centre set up in St. John's in anticipation of a possible Y2K meltdown on Jan. 1,2000.
Laurie Cashin was the younger of two boys born to businessman Laurence Cashin, from Cape Broyle, and Anna Hearn, of Bay Bulls. The Cashin family was most prominent in Newfoundland commerce and politics. His grandfather, Sir Michael Patrick, served as prime minister of Newfoundland in 1919, while his uncle Peter John was a First World War veteran and a politician who later became premier Joseph Smallwood's most ardent and determined opponent in the fight against Confederation. His father, meanwhile, ran several successful businesses, including the Bennett Brewery (later bought by Carling O'Keefe) and distribution rights for the conglomerate that became Gulf Oil.
By contrast, Mr. Cashin may not have made headlines, but he knew how to make things happen. Ever an inquisitive young fellow man with a natural genius for thinking around comers, his Grade 4 teacher described him as "a most excellent boy." He attended St. Bonaventure's College in St. John's and graduated from Memorial University of Newfoundland with a science degree in 1962. After that, he went to Harvard to earn a master's degree in business administration. In addition to studying physics and chemistry, he had the instincts and insights of a trained engineer.
"He was always very focused on intricate technical things," said his brother, Richard Cashin, a St. John's lawyer, politician and labour activist. "Even as a boy, he had his own darkroom. "
From a young age, his projects included making his own television set as well as the usual model planes and boats. (He also made furniture and hooked a mat). He wired his own house and would turn up at family dinners, toolbox in hand, ready to cure various electrical maladies.
There are many stories of his aptitude for effecting mechanical repairs. For example, in 1974, the Fogo Island Co-operative Movement asked him to review their finances. While there, he went aboard a fishing boat and noticed it had a bad knock in the engine. It had been there since the boat was purchased, he was told, and the manufacturer had tried and failed to mend the thing. Mr. Cashin requested a set of old clothes, went down in the bilge and set the motor to rights.
A few years later, on another boat, he saw that the radar was not working. The technician had visited five times, to no avail. Mr. Cashin asked for the manual. He soon realized the compass was set to the vertical and not the horizontal, and had it working in no time.
His other positions included working with Labatt's Brewery in Manitoba as assistant to the company president, and then in Toronto with Atlantic Fish Processors Ltd. In 1966, he returned home to St. John's and it was there that the first of his three boys was born. By that time, Mr. Cashin had joined the provincial department of regional economic expansion, where one of his major accomplishments was to oversee the 1984 sale of Bowaters pulp-and-paper mill in Comer Brook to Kruger Inc. of Norwalk, Conn. He was also the key person who managed the tricky, prickly process of transferring the U.S. naval base at Argentia to Canadian hands.
While Mr. Cashin was, in one way or another, a consummate fixer in his career, there was one thing he was unable to fix in his private life. His eldest son, Anthony, was born deaf, a fact that wasn't discovered until he was a year old. A visiting aunt remarked that the child was unusually quiet. When Mr. Cashin fired a pistol, Anthony made no response. While Anthony's condition could not be fixed, Mr. Cashin resolved to do his best to remove all man-made impediments. From that moment on, he engaged his considerable energies in improving the lot of the deaf ommunity.
Over the next four decades, he helped found, or served on, such groups as the Newfoundland branch of the Canadian Hard of Hearing Organization, the Canadian Co-ordinating Council on Deafness, plus a provincial service that trains sign-language interpreters. And, while a text-telephone device (TTY/TDD) already existed for hearing-impaired telephone users, there was no equivalent to 911, so Mr. Cashin pressed the provincial government to assume mancialliability for one. Not content with that, he also got the RCMP to set up a national 1-800 emergency service for all TTY/TDD users.
He later arranged for a cable-TV company to provide closed-caption (CC) service on a special channel for the deaf. In 1981, he went one further and saw to it that CTV and CBC provided CC service. However, technology was still required to make it all work. To this end, he organized the importation of Canada's first CC decoders and persuaded Sears to sell them.
All the while, he pursued a variety of educational enhancements, including the 1987 relocation to new facilities of the St. John's School for the Deaf. Long after his own soon had left elementary school, he made sure students from remote areas - some as young as 5 - got home to their families. He raised funds to finance a charter bus that took them back on weekends. However, this still left some students stranded, especially those from the south coast, where settlements clutch against the rocks and are inaccessible by road. In place of a bus, he arranged for donations of helicopter time by the likes of Don Jamieson, a local MP who became minister of transport, and Craig Dobbin, CEO of CHC Helicopter Corp. At Christmas, and during other holidays, students flew home in grand style. Sometimes, Mr. Cashin went along for the ride.
He was completely at home with any technology. In his retirement, he became a serious amateur radio operator. At the height of the Y2K fears, he manned a fully equipped radio station supplied by the federal government. "He was there in case everything crashed," said his brother Richard Cashin. "We were in good hands. I slept well."
The work on Y2K led him to the attention of Public Safety Canada, which was in the process of setting up an emergency network against the day when satellite-based communications might fail. As it turned out, he based the new system on the ham radio network already in place.
"It has proven itself many times over. It's been adopted all over the country," said PSC regional director, Len LeRiche, who added that none of it could have happened without Mr. Cashin's input. "We relied on him quite heavily. His analytical skills and his ability to problem solve were quite considerable."
As was his forthrightness. "Laurie never minced his words," Mr. LeRiche said. "His biggest frustration was with the pace the government operates, which is very slow."
By all accounts, Mr. Cashin even assembled the radio kits himself, all the while working as a management consultant and senior public servant across Canada.
Forced to take early retirement in 1991 because of a heart attack, his health deteriorated nine years later when he was diagnosed with idiopathic pulmonary thrombosis. In 2004, he underwent a lung transplant only to learn that he had cancer in his other lung.
But this did not stop his advocacy. In 2005, he was awarded the Governor-General's Caring Canadian Award. It was in his character to keep trying to make things work and make them better.
LAURENCE CASHIN
Laurence Martin Cashin was born in St. John's on Nov. 25, 1940. He died in St. John's on March 8, 2008. He was 67. He is survived by his wife, Carmel, and by his sons Anthony, Peter and Martin in Halifax. He also leaves his brother Richard.
He was the fix-it man of Newfoundland and Labrador
LAURIE CASHIN, 67: CONSULTANT AND ADVOCATE
He was the fix-it man of Newfoundland and Labrador
Possessing a natural genius for thinking around corners, he was described by his Grade 4 teacher as 'a most excellent boy.' He later proved to be a consummate problem-solver
J.M. SULLIVAN
SPECIAL TO THE GLOBE AND MAIL
MAY 22, 2008
ST. JOHN'S -- Laurie Cashin was Newfoundland's fix-it man. He could conclude any negotiation, solve any problem and repair any gadget. With careers in private business and public policy, he also pursued personal interests that led to breakthroughs in such diverse fields as emergency planning and aids for the hearing impaired.
His achievements can be traced to an innate skill in all manner of mechanical and electronic gadgets that went far beyond the level of a hobbyist. He did everything from mending small toys to importing Canada's first closed-caption television decoders to manning an emergency centre set up in St. John's in anticipation of a possible Y2K meltdown on Jan. 1,2000.
Laurie Cashin was the younger of two boys born to businessman Laurence Cashin, from Cape Broyle, and Anna Hearn, of Bay Bulls. The Cashin family was most prominent in Newfoundland commerce and politics. His grandfather, Sir Michael Patrick, served as prime minister of
Newfoundland in 1919, while his uncle Peter John was a First World War veteran and a politician who later became premier Joseph Smallwood's most ardent and determined opponent in the fight against Confederation. His father, meanwhile, ran several successful businesses,
including the Bennett Brewery (later bought by Carling O'Keefe) and distribution rights for the conglomerate that became Gulf Oil.
By contrast, Mr. Cashin may not have made headlines, but he knew how to make things happen. Ever an inquisitive young fellow man with a natural genius for thinking around comers, his Grade 4 teacher described him as "a most excellent boy." He attended St. Bonaventure's College
in St. John's and graduated from Memorial University of Newfoundland with a science degree in 1962. After that, he went to Harvard to earn a master's degree in business administration. In addition to studying physics and chemistry, he had the instincts and insights of a trained engineer.
"He was always very focused on intricate technical things," said his brother, Richard Cashin, a St. John's lawyer, politician and labour activist. "Even as a boy, he had his own darkroom. "
From a young age, his projects included making his own television set as well as the usual model planes and boats. (He also made furniture and hooked a mat). He wired his own house and would turn up at family dinners, toolbox in hand, ready to cure various electrical maladies.
There are many stories of his aptitude for effecting mechanical repairs. For example, in 1974, the Fogo Island Co-operative Movement asked him to review their finances. While there, he went aboard a fishing boat and noticed it had a bad knock in the engine. It had been there since the
boat was purchased, he was told, and the manufacturer had tried and failed to mend the thing. Mr. Cashin requested a set of old clothes, went down in the bilge and set the motor to rights.
A few years later, on another boat, he saw that the radar was not working. The technician had visited five times, to no avail. Mr. Cashin asked for the manual. He soon realized the compass was set to the vertical and not the horizontal, and had it working in no time.
His other positions included working with Labatt's Brewery in Manitoba as assistant to the company president, and then in Toronto with Atlantic Fish Processors Ltd. In 1966, he returned home to St. John's and it was there that the first of his three boys was born. By that time, Mr.
Cashin had joined the provincial department of regional economic expansion, where one of his major accomplishments was to oversee the 1984 sale of Bowaters pulp-and-paper mill in Comer Brook to Kruger Inc. of Norwalk, Conn. He was also the key person who managed the tricky,
prickly process of transferring the U.S. naval base at Argentia to Canadian hands.
While Mr. Cashin was, in one way or another, a consummate fixer in his career, there was one thing he was unable to fix in his private life. His eldest son, Anthony, was born deaf, a fact that wasn't discovered until he was a year old. A visiting aunt remarked that the child was unusually
quiet. When Mr. Cashin fired a pistol, Anthony made no response. While Anthony's condition could not be fixed, Mr. Cashin resolved to do his best to remove all man-made impediments. From that moment on, he engaged his considerable energies in improving the lot of the deaf
community.
Over the next four decades, he helped found, or served on, such groups as the Newfoundland branch of the Canadian Hard of Hearing Organization, the Canadian Co-ordinating Council on Deafness, plus a provincial service that trains sign-language interpreters. And, while a
text-telephone device (TTY/TDD) already existed for hearing-impaired telephone users, there was no equivalent to 9]], so Mr. Cashin pressed the provincial government to assume fmancialliability for one. Not content with that, he also got the RCMP to set up a national] -800
emergency service for all TTY/TDD users.
He later arranged for a cable-TV company to provide closed-caption (CC) service on a special channel for the deaf. In 1981, he went one further and saw to it that CTV and CBC provided CC service. However, technology was still required to make it all work. To this end, he organized the
importation of Canada's first CC decoders and persuaded Sears to sell them.
All the while, he pursued a variety of educational enhancements, including the 1987 relocation to new facilities of the St. John's School for the Deaf. Long after his own soon had left elementary school, he made sure students from remote areas - some as young as S - got home to their
families. He raised funds to finance a charter bus that took them back on weekends. However, this still left some students stranded, especially those from the south coast, where settlements clutch against the rocks and are inaccessible by road. In place of a bus, he arranged for donations
of helicopter time by the likes of Don Jamieson, a local MP who became minister of transport, and Craig Dobbin, CEO of CHC Helicopter Corp. At Christmas, and during other holidays, students flew home in grand style. Sometimes, Mr. Cashin went along for the ride.
He was completely at home with any technology. In his retirement, he became a serious amateur radio operator. At the height of the Y2K fears, he manned a fully equipped radio station supplied by the federal government. "He was there in case everything crashed," said his brother Richard Cashin. "We were in good hands. I slept well."
The work on Y2K led him to the attention of Public Safety Canada, which was in the process of setting up an emergency network against the day when satellite-based communications might fail. As it turned out, he based the new system on the ham radio network already in place.
"It has proven itself many times over. It's been adopted all over the country," ," said PSC regional director, Len LeRiche, who added that none of it could have happened without Mr. Cashin's input. "We relied on him quite heavily. His analytical skills and his ability to problem solve were quite considerable."
As was his forthrightness. "Laurie never minced his words," Mr. LeRiche said. "His biggest frustration was with the pace the government operates, which is very slow."
By all accounts, Mr. Cashin even assembled the radio kits himself, all the while working as a management consultant and senior public servant across Canada.
Forced to take early retirement in 1991 because of a heart attack, his health deteriorated nine years later when he was diagnosed with idiopathic pulmonary thrombosis. In 2004, he underwent a lung transplant only to learn that he had cancer in his other lung.
But this did not stop his advocacy. In 2005, he was awarded the Governor-General's Caring Canadian Award. It was in his character to keep trying to make things work and make them better.
LAURENCE CASHIN
Laurence Martin Cashin was born in St. John's on Nov. 25, 1940. He died in St. John's on March 8, 2008. He was 67. He is survived by his wife, Carmel, and by his sons Anthony, Peter and Martin in Halifax. He also leaves his brother Richard.
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