The World is now Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood

The World is now Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

The daily educational program for children debuted on PBS in 1968, after two smaller runs – in 1961 with Misterogers on the CBC, and in 1966 with Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood on the Boston-based Eastern Educational Network, a forerunner to the Public Broadcasting Service. Every day, Fred Rogers would get home from work, put on a cardigan and sneakers, and talk to his neighbours, delivering lessons on friendship, love, kindness, acceptance, and more. Viewers were an important part of the neighborhood, too. Now, the world is a great social laboratory for putting the ideas and values of Fred Rogers into everyday practice in a time of life and death – a time of the continuous present, without past or future.

As the world hits bottom – which may paradoxically be when it hits the peak for COVID-19 cases, which in the United States, now the world epicentre of the coronavirus pandemic, may come in about two weeks time in mid-April – there will be, and already are around the world, early signs of recovery of a better us, and of a better world.

It is still both late days and early days simultaneously, but the 85-year-old argot of personal recovery can be applied now to public recovery, as well, I think: “One day at a time” and “just for today” should no longer be thought of as just private lifesaving advice for recovering alcoholics and addicts, but a public signpost for all for the rebuilding task that will be ahead, one person and one community at a time. The 12-step movement, dates back to June 1935, when Bill Wilson, a failed New York City stockbroker, and Dr. Bob Smith, an Akron, Ohio physician, both recently or newly sober (particularly Dr. Bob, although Bill W. wasn’t that many months ahead of him on the sobriety curve) became friends and Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) was born in Ohio. Both sayings, “one day at a time” and “just for today” are used interchangeably as both verbal slogans and written mottoes, the former coming from AA, and the latter, also a prayer to some, and a poem to others, from Narcotics Anonymous (NA), formed in 1953. They have proved useful as something pithy and easily grasped by the still-suffering in the early days of recovery, grasping for something tangible to hang onto for just one more second, minute, hour or day, grasping for those words every bit as much as a drowning person grasps for the rung on the ladder or life preserver.

Which is probably as good a description as any of the COVID-19 world we live in today, with a March that has birthed a dread spring in a month that seemingly never ends, where waking up every morning in March 2020 has been like having the voice of Capt. Jean-Luc Picard as a personal alarm clock inside my head, uttering such classic Star Trek lines as “damage report’ and “Red alert. All hands stand to battle stations” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wV30YwXaKJg&feature=share&fbclid=IwAR1c8IoTcgboKQu3u12DNJ_rRNzvH6k0ZNDK3p3b3KLEGBIZLJ4ktx6XBMI).

Fortunately, Gene Roddenberry has been a reminder to me since 1966 that character, courage and goodness are not proprietary virtues of the religious, non-religious, believers or non-believers. We all can and do share in them. And we’re going to need those virtues, and all of us, believers and non-believers, in the days ahead. In this month of unbelievable sounds and images, where the next day’s sounds and images routinely exceeds the horror and scale of the previous day, two stand out for me, one very well known, the other not so much. The first is the image of the floating hospital United States Navy Ship (USNS) Comfort as it entered New York Harbor March 30 during the Biological Armageddon coronavirus pandemic response in New York City. Mike Segar’s photograph for Reuters illustrates why it is often said “a picture is worth a thousand words.”

Ordered to “lean forward,” a military term familiar to those who serve in the United States Navy, meaning the willingness to be aggressive, to take risks, the USNS Comfort (T-AH-20), homeported at Naval Station Norfolk, Virginia, sailed from port up the Atlantic seaboard Saturday. What those sailors, military doctors and nurses, officers, enlisted personnel and civilians aboard the Comfort must have been thinking as they answered the call of duty and sailed north into a Biological Armageddon. The Comfort will provide relief for New York hospitals by taking on non-COVID-19 cases and allowing the hospitals to focus on the most critical patients suffering from the virus.

The second that stands out for me is a brief audio clip I heard on Twitter March 24, the day after the “surge” hit New York City. Tim Mak is National Public Radio (NPR’s) Washington investigative correspondent – and an emergency medical technician (EMT), which is how he got the message. It is the most chilling on the pandemic I have heard to date. I think that’s because of both the subject matter, but also because there is something eerie about that electronically-generated voice on the automated message that went out:

“This an emergency message. This is a priority request for D.C. MRC volunteers (District of Columbia (DC) Medical Reserve Corps (DC MRC)…” (https://twitter.com/i/status/1241471610395267084)

The automated message went out March 21 to health care professionals in Washington, D.C.

The District of Columbia (DC) Medical Reserve Corps (DC MRC) supports the DC Department of Health (DC Health) in its role as lead for public health and medical emergency preparedness, response and recovery by recruiting, training, and deploying medical and non-medical volunteers to assist with planned events and emergencies.

Roddenberry, a Southern Baptist-turned humanist, held and spoke a truth held and spoken by another Southern Baptist, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., and others before him: the universe unfolds as it indeed should, and the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. A perfect illustration of this is “Lower Decks,” the 167th episode of the series and the 15th episode of the seventh and final season, which originally aired on Feb. 7, 1994. With remarkable simplicity and brevity, these five sentences from Picard are offered in a ship-wide address from the captain’s ready room off the bridge when Ensign Sito Jaxa, a Bajoran Starfleet officer serving aboard the USS Enterprise, is killed on a covert mission in the line of duty (https://soundingsjohnbarker.wordpress.com/2018/09/24/church-of-star-trek-the-next-generation-and-the-moral-arc-of-the-universe/):

“‘To all Starfleet personnel, this is the Captain. It is my sad duty to inform you that a member of the crew, Ensign Sito Jaxa, has been lost in the line of duty. She was the finest example of a Starfleet officer, and a young woman of remarkable courage and strength of character. Her loss will be deeply felt by all who knew her. Picard out’.” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40XUt1HU5H8&feature=share)

Writing a decade after Bobby Kennedy’s assassination in his 1978  book, Robert Kennedy and His Times, the American historian, Arthur M. Schlesinger, commenting in the foreword, said Kennedy “possessed to an exceptional degree what T. S. Eliot called an ‘experiencing nature.’ History changed him, and, had time permitted, he might have changed history. His relationship to his age makes him, I believe, a ‘representative man’ in Emerson’s phrase – one who embodies the consciousness of an epoch, who perceives things in fresh lights and new connections, who exhibits unsuspected possibilities of purpose and action to his contemporaries.”

Such men and women arise from unexpected and unlikely places.

Abraham Lincoln, who in a speech delivered on June 17, 1858, at the close of the Republican state convention at the Illinois State Capitol in Springfield, reaching back to the first century and the words of the Apostle Saint Mark the Evangelist (“And if a house be divided against itself, that house cannot stand”) gave what would become one of the most famous speeches in American history.

Said Lincoln on that late spring day: “A house divided against itself cannot stand. I believe this government cannot endure permanently half slave and half free … It will become all one thing, or all the other.”

Five years later, he gave the most famous speech in American history. Republican President Abraham Lincoln’s 273-word “Gettysburg Address,” lasted less than two minutes, and was delivered at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania on Nov. 19, 1863. Edward Everett, the former senator and secretary of state – and brilliant Massachusetts orator – who, without notes for two hours, preceded President Lincoln in speaking at Gettysburg, gave a brilliant speech that day, as expected, but Lincoln happened to follow with what we now remember as the “Gettysburg Address.” Lincoln’s speech immediately struck a chord and remains the best-known speech in American history more than 150 years after it was given. Everett wrote a letter to Lincoln the day after their speeches, saying, “I should be glad, if I could flatter myself that I came as near to the central idea of the occasion, in two hours, as you did in two minutes.”

Said Lincoln that long-ago November day: “Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

“Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

“But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate – we can not consecrate – we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us – that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion – that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain – that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom – and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2a-S3rjDBw&feature=share&fbclid=IwAR1LKNwMramCkVoodunLwy1SGqQFCBsejS5cLU9Q0TgVYPPPGs7pFUBxdJw)

I wrote about AIDS in the 1980s. And I remember the climate of fear in 1986 that reporters were not untouched by when we were assigned stories that meant going inside provincial reformatories and federal penitentiaries to interview HIV-positive prisoners in Ontario. The high callings of journalism are to speak truth to power, as well as comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. But exactly how AIDS was transmitted in terms of morbidity and mortality was not completely understood 35 years ago. So I watched with surprise and unexpected admiration as C. Everett Koop, an evangelical Christian, who served as surgeon general under U.S. Republican president Ronald Reagan from 1982 to 1989, and was well known for wearing his uniform as a vice admiral of the United States Public Health Service Commissioned Corps, had the singular political courage to speak the truth about the science of AIDS as our knowledge increased. According to the Washington Post, “Koop was the only surgeon general to become a household name” (https://soundingsjohnbarker.wordpress.com/2015/01/15/empathy-and-compassion-are-the-gifts-of-our-shared-human-experience/).

Former U.S. president Bill Clinton, a Democrat, also got it right in his first inaugural address Jan. 20, 1993 when he said, ”by the words we speak and the faces we show the world, we force the spring … we recognize a simple but powerful truth – we need each other. And we must care for one another.” He went on to say, we are “tempered by the knowledge that, but for fate, we – the fortunate and the unfortunate – might have been each other.”

Guardian columnist George Monbiot argued yesterday that power has “migrated not just from private money to the state, but from both market and state to another place altogether: the commons. All over the world, communities have mobilized where governments have failed.”

Joanne Rogers is 92 and the widow of Fred Rogers. She has been getting a lot of telephone calls at her apartment in Pittsburgh, says Los Angeles Times staff writer Amy Kaufman in a March 29 story wondering what Mister Rogers, who died in 2005 at the age of 74, would say and do to cope with the COVID-19 coronavirus pandemic?

“When Fred was a boy and scary things would happen to him, his mother used to tell him: ‘Freddy, look for the helpers.’ So he would have talked about the helpers,” Joanne said.

“Helpers,” she explained, are those individuals who – even at the height of global chaos – try to find a way to ease the burden for others; folks such as doctors, nurses, grocery store cashiers, and mail carriers.

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Dialing up the future: CompuServe, Tandy’s TRS-80 at RadioShack, and the San Jose Mercury News

The “digital divide” is a term usually used to characterize the gulf between those who have ready access to computers and the internet, and those who do not.

I like to think of it in a more archival sense with the digital divide being a demarcation line between online full-text access to today’s, yesterday’s, along with the year and decades before that’s newspapers, and a world, where even if we all are blessed with a plethora of computers and internet service providers, accessing those newspapers of yesteryear for free is in most cases next to impossible online, unless you are fortunate enough to have access to digitized older newspapers such as can be found at the Thompson Public Library: https://thompsonlibrary.insigniails.com/Library/Digital. Otherwise, archival newspaper research for 1978 still  means scouring bound volumes in a musty newspaper morgue or library, or spending hours in a dark cubicle with one’s head’s buried and eyes straining, spinning reel-after-reel of microfilm or sheet-after-sheet of microfiche.

Does it matter? I think it does. While I can call up verbatim copies of stories I’ve written for most newspapers since 2001, I cannot as easily access stories at a distance in space and time I wrote for the Peterborough Examiner back in 1985 on Paul Croft Jr., who had been a brilliant computer scientist in the late 1960s for Control Data in Minneapolis, but later, while suffering from paranoid delusions stemming from late onset schizophrenia, in 1972 shot and killed in a company parking lot in Canada a co-worker, after hearing voices telling him to do so.

Later, after being released from detention in a mental health institution, but having a relapse into more  mental illness again, largely triggered by not taking his anti-psychotic medications because of their unpleasant side effects, Croft wound up wounding two OPP Tactical Rescue Unit (TRU) officers in 1984, who had arrived at his home in a remote part of Haliburton County, Ontario to execute a warrant under the Ontario Mental Health Act, alleging he had breached the conditions of the lieutenant-governor’s warrant he was subject to, namely by not taking his prescribed meds. By the time I encountered Croft in October 1985, he was on trial in Lindsay, Ontario in what was then the Supreme Court of Ontario, being tried on two counts of attempted murder.

Croft shot the two officers with a high-powered rifle. Both, while injured, recovered and survived.

Again found not guilty by reason of insanity, Croft became among the rarest of the rare among what were then often referred to as the criminally insane: a man detained on not one, but two lieutenant governor’s warrants.

Ditto the 1987-88 series of stories I wrote for the paper on the so-called Peterborough Armouries Conspiracy, which had several dimensions, including a number of police investigations, involving civilian and military police, several court cases, two very tragic suicides, and finally a coroner’s inquest presided over by Ontario’s deputy chief coroner at the time.  Names like Andrew Webster, Ian Shearer, Jeffrey Atkinson,  Lloyd Jackson and Michael Noury have largely been lost in the pre-internet mists of time, recalled only if one happens to have a scrapbook of newspapers clippings, or access to bound volumes of the Peterborough Examiner or its microfilm for 1987-1988.

Without that kind of research access, 30 to 35 years after the events, one’s memories of such stories have a sort of sepia tone or looking through the glass dark quality to them. Although oddly enough you can find a good summary of the Peterborough Armouries Conspiracy story through a June 17, 1987 story headlined “Cyanide deaths a Peterborough nightmare” by Southam News reporter John Kessel, which appeared in among other places, the now Glacier Media-owned Prince George Citizen, which has digitized its older newspapers with the PDF available online at: http://pgnewspapers.pgpl.ca/fedora/repository/pgc%3A1987-06-17-24/PDF/Page%20PDF

I can almost tell you to the day in retrospect when I think the internet “arrived.”

When I arrived at Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario as a history graduate student in September 1993, the main library was still Douglas Library on University Avenue, but across the street kitty-corner to it was a massive construction project where they were building the brand-new Stauffer Library on Union Street. This was the end of the brief five-year NDP Bob Rae era in Ontario and while the economy wasn’t strictly speaking in recession, it was far from booming, so projects of such scale in places like Kingston were rare.

I remember using an internet station in the just opened Stauffer Library the next year on one of my first visits in October 1994. The Netscape Navigator browser had just been released that same month, but Queen’s was using the NCSA Mosaic browser, released in 1993, almost the first graphical web browser ever invented. The computer services and library folks at Queen’s got it from day one to their credit. They knew this was going to be so popular with students instantly, the work stations (and there weren’t many) were designed for standing only. How many places in a university library is there no seating? Not many. But they wanted to keep people moving because there would be lineups to use the stations.

I also remember reading the San Jose Mercury News online because it was in Silicon Valley and one of the very first papers in North America online. Today its online archive goes back to June 1985. The funny thing is, the San Jose Mercury News recognized its brief moment in history and for a few years anyway punched well above its weight, doing fine investigative work, both in print and online; a small regional paper no one had ever heard of before the early 1990s unless they lived in Southern California. In its brief shining moment, the San Jose Mercury News had 400 people in its newsroom, revenues of $300 million and profit margins of more than 30 per cent, a bureau in Hanoi, and netted a Pulitzer Prize for foreign news.

In 1994, we all knew intuitively the world had changed with the internet and graphical web browsers. I had sent my first e-mail from Trent University in Peterborough more than three years earlier in the spring of 1991 from the Thomas J. Bata Library on their “Ivory”  server (someone in computer services seemingly had a sense of humour), and was also sitting down as I recall. That was neat, but this was on a whole other scale entirely.

I realized in July 1995, as I was finishing up writing America’s symbolic ‘Cordon sanitaire?’ Ideas, aliens and the McCarran-Walter Act of 1952 in the age of Reagan for my master’s thesis in 20th century American history on the admission of nonimmigrants to the United States, emigration and immigration policy, and foreign relations in Latin America between 1981 and 1989, that my class would likely be the last Queen’s University history class where students, including me, had few online citations in their footnotes or included in their bibliographies, and the style of such citations was still very much in development.

While the San Jose Mercury News is often thought of as pioneering in its online venture, the first newspaper to go online was The Columbus Dispatch in Ohio way back on July 1, 1980.  It was part of a unique CompuServe and Associated Press experiment about the potential of online papers. Eventually other AP member newspapers were part of the project, including the Washington Post, The New York Times, The Minneapolis Star Tribune, The San Francisco Chronicle, The San Francisco Examiner, the Los Angeles Times, The Virginian-Pilot, The Middlesex News, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. But it was The Columbus Dispatch that published the first “online” newspaper when it began beaming news stories through the CompuServe dial-up service. The paper was the first daily in the United States to test a technology that enabled the day’s news to flow into home computers at 300 words per minute. Users paid $5 per hour for the service. “To become a subscriber,” the paper reported at the time, “a resident will have to have a home computer.  Such equipment is now available in electronics shops.” If you had Tandy’s TRS-80 from RadioShack, founded in 1921 as a mail-order retailer for amateur ham-radio operators and maritime communications officers on Brattle Street in Boston by two London-born brothers, Theodore and Milton Deutschmann, who named the company after the compartment that housed the wireless equipment for ham radios, and a modem with access to the online CompuServe dial-up service, you were ready to go, or at least until the pioneering online experiment ended in 1982.

Launched in November 1977, the $600 TRS-80 was one of the first mass-market personal computers with about 16K of memory and a 12-inch-square monitor with one shade of gray characters and no graphics, using software designed by a still obscure start-up named Microsoft, founded 2½ years earlier in April 1975 by Bill Gates and Paul Allen.

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Who’d a thunk it? Readers says it’s a toss-up when it comes to whether robo-journalists write better than human journalists

OK … we’ve all heard the phrase “fishwrap” applied derogatorily by critics assessing the quality of newspapers wherever they live from time to time.  Methinks some weeks that does a disservice to how my favourite pickerel from Paint Lake should be treated, but it isn’t just local newspapers that are problematically bad at times. Take the venerable Associated Press, affectionately known by working journos simply as the AP. They managed to move this alert last Wednesday: “BC-APNewsAlert/17. New York Yankees Hall of Fame catcher Yogi Bear has died. He was 90.” Actually, Yogi Bear, the beloved Hanna-Barbera cartoon character is only 57. He was created in 1958, making his début as a supporting character in The Huckleberry Hound Show, and was the first breakout character created by Hanna-Barbera and was eventually more popular than Huckleberry Hound.

Yogi Berra, the beloved baseball player, on the other hand, was created in 1924 and born in 1925. A native of St. Louis, Berra signed with the New York Yankees in 1943 before serving in the U.S. Navy in the Second World War. He made his major league début in 1946 and was a stalwart in the Yankees’ lineup during the team’s championship years in the 1940s and 1950s.

Berra was a power hitter and strong defensive catcher. He caught Yankees’ pitcher Don Larsen’s perfect game on Oct. 8, 1956, in Game 5 of the 1956 World Series against the Brooklyn Dodgers, the only perfect game in Major League Baseball (MLB) post-season history. After playing 18 seasons with the Yankees, Berra retired following the 1963 season. Berra was also famous for his string of truisms, tautologies and malapropisms, including “Nobody goes there any more; it’s too crowded,” along with, “It ain’t over til it’s over” or, “Anyone who is popular is bound to be disliked,” as well as, “Half the lies they tell about me aren’t true” and, “If you ask me anything I don’t know, I’m not going to answer.” My personal favourite, which I managed to inject into several columns, editorials or news stories over the years, was the well-known, “This is like déjà vu all over again,” which I had used again as recently as Aug. 24, less than a month before Yogi Berra died.

It was while I was pondering how a boo boo like the Yogi Bear/Yogi Berra obituary mix-up happens in journalism (I suspect the eagle-eyed Ranger John Francis Smith from Jellystone Park would have known the difference) that I came across the latest information on robo-journalism (not to be mixed up with Tory robo-calls during the 2011 federal election campaign, I should point out to my friends still remaining in Canadian journalism.) Turns out that unlike most human journalists, who are for the most part seriously mathematically challenged, robot journalists that already work for such illustrious newspapers as the New York Times and Los Angeles Times, as well as Forbes, the storied business magazine, have shown a natural aptitude for data, making them ideal for the sports and business desks, and as such are now about ready to branch out into breaking news and investigative journalism.

Neil Sharman (believed to be a human writer) and former head of research and insight at Telegraph Media Group on Buckingham Palace Road in London, writing Sept. 22 in TheMediaBriefing, also based in London, noted that robots, “Like junior reporters … can learn from and draw on a back catalogue of great writing – but with more powerful memories and analytical techniques.” You can read Sharman’s full piece here:  http://www.themediabriefing.com/article/robo-journalism-the-future-is-arriving-quickly

“Machines are adept at investigating data sets,” Sharman says. “Publishers have set them to tax records, homicide data, meteorological reports and more –looking for patterns and describing them. They’re thorough, not prone to error and they’re fast.

“The LA Times uses robo-journalism to break news about earthquakes because machines can analyse geological survey data faster than a human. It takes under five minutes to spot a story and get it online.”

Tim Adams, a staff writer for the “The Observer: The New Review” at London’s The Guardian newspaper, wrote a piece June 28 on Kris Hammond, a professor of journalism and computer science at Northwestern University and co-founder and chief scientist at Chicago-based Narrative Science, which developed a writing program for robots known as “Quill.” Hammond also founded the University of Chicago’s Artificial Intelligence Laboratory. He told Adams, “we are humanizing the machine and giving it the ability not only to look at data but, based on general ideas of what is important and a close understanding of who the audience is, we are giving it the tools to know how to tell us stories.”

Adams observes, “It’s not deathless prose – at least not yet; the machines are still ‘learning’ day by day how to write effectively – but it’s already good enough to replace the jobs once done by wire reporters. Narrative Science’s computers provide daily market reports for Forbes as well sports reports for the Big Ten sports network. Hammond predicts that 90 per cent of journalism will be written by computer by 2030. Automated Insights, one of Narrative Sciences competitors, based in Durham, North Carolina, does all the data-based stock reports for AP.

Adams also notes that “last year, a Swedish media professor, Christer Clerwall, conducted the first proper blind study into how sports reports written by computers and by humans compared. Readers taking part in the study suggested, on the whole, that the reports written by human sports journalists were slightly more accessible and enjoyable, but that those written by computer seemed a little more informative and trustworthy.”

Clerwall, an assistant professor in media and communication studies at Karlstad University in Karlstad, Sweden concluded that “perhaps the most interesting result in the study is that there are [almost] no… significant differences in how the two texts are perceived.”

In terms of narrative arcs, Hammond says, “Like any decent hack, the machine is coming to learn that there are only five or six compelling tales available: back from the brink, outrageous fortune, sudden catastrophe and so on.”

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Last remaining fur auction of its type in North America ­– the 35th annual Thompson Fur Table – returns to Northern Manitoba Dec. 19-20

Photo courtesy of Jeanette Kimball

The last remaining fur auction of its type in North America ­– the 35th annual Thompson Fur Table – returns to St. Joseph’s Ukrainian Catholic Hall on Juniper Drive Dec. 19-20 and is expected be a $1 million-plus economic generator for trappers and Thompson businesses, but wild fur prices are expected to be down for the second straight year after a record payout in 2012 where 207 Northern Manitoba trappers pocketed $683,559 in payouts from fur buyers for their raw pelts either sold at the table or consigned to auction.

Last year’s Thompson Fur Table payout dropped $64,707 to $618,852 for 219 trappers in total amount of money paid out from the record-setting 2012, but was still one of the best ever in the history of the event, which dates back to 1979.

The event is organized by the Lac du Bonnet-based Manitoba Trappers Association. The Manitoba Trappers Association represents about 10 per cent of the total number of trappers in the province on its membership roll. There are an estimated 6,000 trappers in Manitoba and the industry generates between $10 and $15 million annually. In recent years, the event has cost the Manitoba Trappers Association $9,000 to $12,000 in annual expenses to put on.

The local weather is one of the major factors that affects when trappers in Northern Manitoba can get out on their trap lines and start harvesting, but the actual price they get for those furs is decided half a world away, with consumer demand in Russia, China and Korea being key determinants driving annual fur prices here, along with the temperature in Asia and Europe also playing a role, as cooler temperatures drive their consumer demand higher usually.

Marten typically makes up than 70 per cent of the total volume of fur traded at the Thompson  event. The top-grade marten pelt is “select,” which means the “best possible quality, fully winter prime pelts. Full bodied, fully covered skins, silky in appearance. Evenly covered with guard hair and heavy underwool. Fur and leather free of imperfections,” according to the North American Fur  Auctions TechManual.  In 2011, more than $345,000 worth of fur pelts changed hands at at the Thompson Fur Table, with the majority of that value coming from marten, which accounted for about $303,000 in fur sales.

Mainly,  although not exclusively aboriginal trappers from small primarily First Nations communities scattered all around Thompson, come into the city that bills itself the Hub of the North for the annual pre-Christmas December two-day event where trappers meet buyers from fur houses such as North American Fur Auctions, the continent’s largest fur auction house in Toronto, Fur Harvester’s Auction from North Bay, Ont. and the North West Company in Winnipeg, along with independent buyers.

The fur buyers count and examine the pelts as each trapper comes through the line, providing a quote for the lot and the trapper selects the best price. In this way the trapper benefits from the on-site competitive demand for their furs with the basic premise being to concentrate buyers in one area to promote the spirit of competition, Manitoba Trappers Association administrator and treasurer Cherry White says.

However, trappers who want to take their chances on a better price at the Wild Fur Market Auction in New York in February can do so by selling on consignment through either North American Fur Auctions or Fur Harvester’s Auction at the Thompson Fur Table,  which gives them 60 per cent of the cash value for their pelts up front, followed by a cheque next March for the remaining 40 per cent, with final price deterimined in February at the auction.

The number of trappers who show up at the Thompson Fur Table fluctuates from year-to-year: there were 219 in 2013; 207 in 2012; 179 in 201; 122 in 2010; 168 in 2009; 219 in 2008; 201 in 2007; 198 in 2006; 176 in 2005; and 232 in 2004.

The Thompson Fur Table was one of several such events initiated in 1979 by the Province of Manitoba, under Progressive Conservative Premier Sterling Lyon, and Indian and Northern Affairs Canada, during Prime Minister Joe Clark’s Progressive Conservative government, to help Northern trappers get better prices for their raw pelts. Today, it is the only one of the events to have survived 35 years later.

Lane Boles, a retired Manitoba Conservation and Water Stewardship officer from here in Thompson, who sits as director-at-large on the board of the Manitoba Trappers Association, said Dec. 5 that he expects fur prices to be down at the Thompson Fur Table this year, primarily because of market conditions in Russia, which along with China and Korea, largely determine the price paid to local trappers.

In an Oct. 16 wild fur market update, Herman Jansen, managing director of North American Fur Auctions, said the “Russian economy has taken a hit, largely due to the problems in the Ukraine.  The Western embargoes of America and Europe have had a negative effect on the consumption of consumer products.  Food prices have increased sharply and the Russian ruble has gone from 32 rubles/$ U.S. a year ago to 41 rubles/$ U.S. today – a decrease in value of 28 per cent,  Politically and economically, Russia is weaker today than it was a year ago,” but added, “price decrease of 40 per cent 50 per cent for most wild fur and ranch raised mink has come at the right time for the Russian fur retailer …  For the economic situation in Russia to improve, we need the political situation vis-à-vis Ukraine, Russia and the West to improve.”

North American Fur Auctions is 100 per cent owned by four producer groups: the  Wild Fur Shippers Council (WFSC); American Mink Council (AMC); Canada Mink Breeders Association (CMBA), and the Canada Fox Breeders Association (CFBA).

Jansen joined Hudson’s Bay and Annings in London in 1966 and completed a two-year training program in fur technology. In 1968, he represented the Hudson’s Bay Company in Holland and was appointed manager of Dutch Operations in 1969.

He transferred to the United States in 1971 as account executive and was appointed manager of North American Operations in 1974.

Jansen transferred to Hudson’s Bay Company Fur Sales Canada Limited as vice-president of marketing in 1984.

In 1987, Jansen  was appointed senior vice-president; in 1989 president and CEO; and in 1997 chairman and CEO of the North American Fur Auctions Group.

In his update in mid-October, Jansen also noted that in China – their currency, the renminbi (RMB), also known as the yuan, “has been more or less steady against the U.S. dollar for the last 12 months.  In November of last year it was 6.10 RMB/$ U.S. and presently it is at 6.12 RMB/$ U.S.  The Chinese economy in general is in reasonably good shape.  Inflation appears to be down and the fur trade is optimistic about the upcoming season.  The newly established prices for wild fur and ranched mink in 2014 have created optimism for most manufacturers and retailers, who all believe that with the new price levels more garments will be sold.  The retail season in China does not begin in earnest until middle to late November.”

In Korea, he said,  “the Korean won is exactly at the same level as last November.  This means that in Korea, just like in China, the prices in shops will be a lot more attractive for wild fur garments.”

In 2012, Margo Pfeiff, a contributing editor at UpHere magazine in Yellowknife, came to Thompson for the year of the record-setting fur table. Her feature story,”Fur & Fortune” appeared in the October 2013 issue of the magazine. Pfeiff is a veteran travel writer and one of the most distinguished Arctic travel writers in Canada. She lives in Montreal but travels to the Canadian North regularly. Her work has appeared in numerous major magazine and newspapers, including also the Walrus, the Globe and Mail, the San Francisco Chronicle and Los Angeles Times, Popular Mechanics, Reader’s Digest, Explore and Canadian Geographic magazines.

Boles said he suggested to Pfeiff that she sit north of the Miles Hart Bridge late on the Sunday morning after the fur tables had ended on the Saturday to observe the economic spinoffs.

Pfeiff closes her article by writing, “Over at the malls, where goods are being snapped up so fast that managers are helping restock the shelves, crowds of shoppers are pushing heaped carts across the packed parking lots. In the darkness, truck beds are piled high with furniture, appliances, toys and construction material. Snowmobiles are roped down on trailers. Then, one by one, the laden trucks join a line of traffic disappearing in a shroud of steam down the road, headed for far flung trapping outposts with names like York Landing, Cross Lake and Thicket Portage.”

‘Edward Baker:’ Thompson, Manitoba’s microwaved telephone company night watchman 1998 urban legend owes its fame to real-life American scientist and a Denver newsman

Wendy Northcutt is a graduate of the University of California at Berkeley with a degree in molecular biology. But what she is best known for since 1993 is being the prime collector and propagator of the stories that make up the annual Darwin Awards, one of the most popular humour pages on the Internet,  as they recognize and catalog individuals who have supposedly contributed to human evolution by self-selecting themselves out of the gene pool via death or sterilization by their own very stupic actions. The tongue-in-cheek honour originated as early as 1985 in Usenet newsgroup discussions.

While the Darwin Awards make every attempt to keep the competition for stupidity pristine by acting as gatekeeper and blocking the entry of pranksters with urban legends, some “apocryphal” stories are included on the “Darwin Awards website because they are inspirational narratives of the astounding efforts of legendary Darwin Awards contenders,” Northcutt says.

Case in point: Meet  Mark Boslough, an Albuquerque, New Mexico physicist, member of the technical staff at Sandia National Laboratories and an adjunct professor at the University of New Mexico, who is also a Fellow of the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry and member of the group New Mexicans for Science and Reason, who has Asteroid 73520 Boslough (2003 MB1) named after him. Boslough is also the author of this now famous account, dated Dec. 25, 1998:

“Telephone relay company night watchman Edward Baker, 31, was killed early Christmas morning by excessive microwave radiation exposure. He was apparently attempting to keep warm next to a telecommunications feedhorn.

“Baker had been suspended on a safety violation once last year, according to Northern Manitoba Signal Relay spokesperson Tanya Cooke. She noted that Baker’s earlier infraction was for defeating a safety shutoff switch and entering a restricted maintenance catwalk in order to stand in front of the microwave dish. He had told coworkers that it was the only way he could stay warm during his twelve-hour shift at the station, where winter temperatures often dip to forty below zero.

“Microwaves can heat water molecules within human tissue in the same way that they heat food in microwave ovens. For his Christmas shift, Baker reportedly brought a twelve pack of beer and a plastic lawn chair, which he positioned directly in line with the strongest microwave beam. Baker had not been told about a tenfold boost in microwave power planned that night to handle the anticipated increase in holiday long-distance calling traffic.

“Baker’s body was discovered by the daytime watchman, John Burns, who was greeted by an odor he mistook for a Christmas roast he thought Baker must have prepared as a surprise. Burns also reported to NMSR company officials that Baker’s unfinished beers had exploded.”

The clues, of course, to the fabricated nature of the story are contained in the names of the participants: the victim, “Baker”; his discoverer, “Burns”; and the spokeswoman, “Cooke.”

Boslough attached his microwaved worker offering to a then-current list of Darwin Award stories for 1998, declared his entry to be that year’s winner, sent it out to a few friends and sat back and watched the inevitable unfold, as veteran Denver Post editor and columnist Dick Kreck was taken in by the hoax, publishing it as the authentic 1998 Darwin Award winner. It seems, at some level, we all want to believe.

Certainly, Kreck, who retired from the paper in June 2007, was no rookie. Born in San Francisco in 1941, Kreck grew up in Glendale, California. After earning a bachelor’s degree in journalism from San Francisco State College, he worked as a reporter and copy editor at the San Francisco Examiner and the Los Angeles Times. He joined The Denver Post in 1968 and held various jobs, writing a city column for 18 years and covering television and radio. His books include Colorado’s Scenic Railroads; Denver in Flames; Murder at the Brown Palace; Anton Woode: The Boy Murderer ; and Smaldone: The Untold Story of an American Crime Family.

Boslough wrote to Kreck in 1999:

“Dear Mr. Kreck:

“Thank you so much for reprinting my Darwin Award hoax in the Denver Post.

“Like you, I am a skeptic and have always very suspicious of these stories. However, I am also a scientist so I decided to do a little experiment. I made up the most outrageous and twisted death-by-stupidity tale I could imagine. I made sure that all the characters in the story had names (Mr. Baker, Mr. Burns, Ms. Cooke) that would give my joke away to any wary reader. I set the story in a location that allowed the company “Northern Manitoba Signal Relay” to have the same acronym as New Mexicans for Science and Reason, our local version of Boulder-based Rocky Mountain Skeptics.

“I took a list of Darwin Awards that somebody sent me and attached my own creation, which I also declared to be this year’s winner. I turned it loose by e-mailing it to a few out-of-state friends on New Year’s Day. Seeing it this week in the Post is a bit like getting a response to a note in a bottle eight months after throwing it into the ocean. It is also a good lesson in why we should all be skeptical of what we see on the Internet … not to mention what we read in the newspaper!

“By the way, NMSR president Dave Thomas – a recent guest speaker at Rocky Mountain Skeptics – is the only person who discovered the hoax and correctly attributed it to me. He had searched for “NMSR” under Deja News and recognized my brand of humor when his search turned up my story.

“Best regards,

“Mark Boslough”

This invariably led to a ritual debunking on the Urban Legends Reference Pages, better known as Snopes.com , which looks at stories of unknown or questionable origin and is a well-known resource for covering urban legends and Internet rumors, receiving 300,000 visits a day. Snopes.com is run by Barbara and David Mikkelson,  a California couple who met in the alt.folklore.urban newsgroup. Snopes takes it name from the Snopes trilogy – The Hamlet, The Town and The Mansion – written by American novelist William Faulkner between 1940 and 1959 regarding the Snopes family in fictional Yoknapatawpha County, Mississippi.

You can read the “Christmas Roast  1998 Urban Legend” on the Darwin Awards website at: http://www.darwinawards.com/legends/legends1998-11.html and the Snopes “Nuke of Earl” account at: http://www.snopes.com/horrors/techno/microwave.asp

And you can also follow me on Twitter at: https://twitter.com/jwbarker22