Former chairman got a Sun lesson on the Thames

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When someone dies at age 93 or 94, you don’t feel the same regret as when someone dies in their prime, for the person has had a good run and lived life to the fullest.

And so it is with John Grant, who was an original on the Toronto Sun’s board of directors, and was chairman until he left in 1990 when the paper was changing to new owners.

A corporate lawyer, Grant was one of those special men who was not only liked by everyone, but trusted by all. He radiated sincerity, but his sense of humour prevented him from being stodgy.

He fit in well with Sun types, though I’m not sure he really understood the cut-and-thrust of daily, competitive journalism. As chairman of the board, he was always probing to better understand the craft.

I’ll provide an example.

On the Sun’s 10th anniversary (1981), publisher Doug Creighton organized a week-long seminar in London, England, for select Sun employees and the board of directors.

Interspersed with lectures, management meetings and reports were visits to Stonehenge, Madame Tussauds, the War Museum, banquets, etc., with the highlight a chartered ferry boat trip down the Thames River to Greenwich and the National Maritime Museum.

In late afternoon, when the ferry returned to London and was easing up to the quay, on impulse I handed my wallet and passport to my wife, Yvonne, took off my shoes, stood on the rail, and jumped fully clothed into the Thames.

Why I did it is not the point, just that I did it.

Pandemonium broke out. Those on land thought they were watching a suicide. The ship’s engines suddenly reversed, then stopped. One Sun director kept stabbing a pike pole at me. I thought for a moment he was trying to drown me, then realized he was trying to fish me out.

Once I was out, the captain of the ferry, looking ashen, seemed relieved that his passenger hadn’t drowned or been crushed between ship and concrete siding. He was more puzzled than angry, and strode off shaking his head and muttering about “bloody Canadians.”

Creighton, as was his wont, kind of rolled with the incident. He wasn’t too concerned. Just another event in the busy world of Sun journalism. He went to get a martini refill.

Not John Grant. Memory is a bit fuzzy, but the fuss rather embarrassed me. Grant, quite serious, mildly amused and very curious, asked if it was usual for editors to jump off ships into the water, or was it peculiar to just tabloid editors.

I mumbled something, but Grant persisted.

“Why did you feel you had to do it?” he asked, genuinely interested in my reasoning.

I said something that I hadn’t planned to jump but that one director, who I felt should be nameless, needled, dared, provoked and mocked me to the point where I thought, “What the hell, why not?” and jumped.

The nameless director was Herb Solway who, to this day, is adept at teasing people into doing what their common sense tells them they shouldn’t. I am very fond of Herb, and like to lecture him about baseball.

After the jump, Herb made himself scarce. John Grant continued the cross-examination, as if there was a hidden clue as to what made newspaper editors tick. If he could identify it, it would provide greater understanding of newspaper people for his role as chairman of the board.

He took his job as leader seriously. It made him revered at the Sun.

And now he is gone. Like many at the Sun, I viewed John Grant as a friend. He was better than most of us. Generous, decent, ethical, trustworthy.

In later years, recalling the Thames jump, I think he gave up trying to understand “why.” He just accepted it — and was more amused in retrospect than he was at the time.

As for me, I still blame Solway.

If the circumstances presented again, would I do it?




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