When the world’s greatest radio receptionist, Irene Madoche, called me on the phone that morning in 1990, I knew something big was up.
“Tomorrow morning,” started Madoche, who could remember anyone’s name forever just from hearing it once, “you better come to the station.”
“OK,” I obeyed, “But … why?”
“We can’t tell you,” Madoche replied. “Just be here.”
Understood. I frequented the station because I was writing an editorial for both stations on disability issues.
The next morning I caught a cab to the 930 CJCA/K-97 studios, a red brick building on the north side of 102 Avenue and 108 Street.
When I arrived I noticed several men, dressed in suits and ties and sunglasses, were walking around the station’s east entrance.
I didn’t think the police should be called. It turns out, the cops were already there.
Big time.
As soon as I went inside, two more of the men in suits with the very trendy sunglasses came right towards me.
“Oh, that’s Cam,” Madoche piped up from behind her desk. “Yep, I have him on the list.”
Madoche then filled me in: the men in suits all had ear pieces. That morning, 14 of them were patrolling the radio station, keeping their eyes on everyone in the station, and every nook and cranny.
That’s what happens when the sitting prime minister of Canada is in the building.
Brian Mulroney made his mid-morning stop to be on the Ron Collister Show on CJCA.
Mulroney was on the air when I arrived. The station’s staff of around 50 were told to gather in a circle under the skylights which separated the creative writing department, where commercials were penned, and the advertising department, where some of the true characters sat.
Mulroney would, we were told, come by when he was off the air.
I was beside CJCA morning man Gord Whitehead, who was always up for a prank … especially at my expense.
“Hey Tait,” Whitehead said, “I’ll give you 50 bucks if you go up to one of those guys with the ear pieces and ask them what radio station they’re listening to. And, if they’re not listening to one of ours, kick ‘em out.”
Full disclosure: my net worth is, and will forever be, $50 short.
Then, Mulroney walked into the circle. There was a sense of statesmanship in the building — a feeling of being in the presence of someone who had great vision, great leadership and great diplomacy.
Yet, even a greater sense of warmth and a genuine urge to connect with everyone.
I sensed it, getting stronger and stronger, the closer Mulroney came to my six o’clock position in the circle.
I was nervous, and didn’t know what to say when he approached me.
But with a warm, firm hand shake and a wide smile, he put me completely at ease.
“Good morning, sir,” he offered, his eyes deadlocked on mine.
“How are you?
“What do you do here?”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Do you enjoy it?”
A few more questions we asked before he, one more time, shook my hand, and went to speak to the person on my left — and, in that soothing baritone voice, asked the same questions with just as much passion and enthusiasm.
The stories of the type of man Mulroney was have been swirling since his death, and Saturday at his state funeral.
I am thankful for that interaction — not even a minute long — I had with Brian Mulroney: a daily reminder of how Canadians should, and can, conduct themselves.
camtait58@gmail.com
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