Gros Bil a gentleman's gentleman

Wasn't so long ago that I was a kid, growing up and watching the world zip by around me. My late father was a good example of a man's man. A clothing presser, he spent 40years working unflinchingly in a sweat shop to eke out a meagre living for himself... and his many brothers and sisters, whom he sent money to overseas on a regular basis. I remember my dad was always dressed in a suit, or at least a dressy shirt and pants if he was going for one of his daily six-mile walks. It was only late at night, at home, that I ever saw him in pyjamas. I sometimes swore he slept in his suit.

But beyond that, my dad loved people and he would often walk a hundred blocks out of his way to take a stranger he had just met where he or she needed to go. This was not a wealthy man in fact, but in spirit he had untold riches at hand.

Fast forward to the new millennium. My dad is long gone and, really, how many "men's men" are there left? The world is a casual, uncaring place. People are slobs - even the five star restaurants let you in dressed like a pauper - and we don't even make eye contact with strangers anymore, let alone show them around.

There are still some of these souls walking the Earth. Jean Beliveau is one of this rare breed. A hockey player during his youth, a member of the famed Montreal Canadiens dynasty of the 1950s who would be elected to the Hall of Fame not long after he hung 'em up, he is 78 years old today and likely the greatest goodwill ambassador of any sport in history. He has been retired since the 1971 season, but even today, at age 78, he attends every Habs home game, sitting in his seats three rows behind the team bench and signing autographs for any fan who asks for one. He signs so many that the worth of these precious scribblings has been vastly reduced... the supply and demand rule kicking in.

I have been fortunate enough to become acquainted with Mr. Beliveau, known as Le Gros Bil to the multitudes here in Quebec, on a professional basis. In the early 1990s, I interviewed him for a story in MTL magazine, an interview we conducted at his office at the legendary, since-defunct Montreal Forum. Several years ago, I had the chance to interview him yet again, regarding his acclamation as the head of Canada's contingent to Israel for the Maccabiah Games. Then, during the NHL strike not too long ago, I asked if Mr. Beliveau could meet me, my close friend Morley Lonn and his two sons, my godson Kyle and his brother Shayne, at the Bell Centre. I needed a picture of him for another article. He not only agreed to meet, he invited us to spend an hour with him in a Habs lounge, where we talked, posed for pictures and received plenty of autographs. My signed Jean Beliveau Canadiens jersey is one of my prized possessions.

Jean Beliveau is one of the classiest men I know. At a time when athletes care not one iota for fans, other than to appreciate the support they give a team so these same players can be paid millions of dollars (an interview I did with slugger Larry Walker, then of the Montreal Expos, in 1993 at the Olympic Stadium was hardly with a classy sports figure), he stands alone. His generosity and kindness have become unique. Unfortunately, Mr. Beliveau suffered a stroke this past Wednesday and reports say he has lost his ability to speak, although he is not in mortal danger. Afflicted with cancer in early the 2000s, his voice had already suffered following radiation therapy, to the point where his deep, soothing voice was unable to be utilized for long stretches at a time.

Thankfully, however, he is still with us... and, really, we need him to stay with us a while longer. It is the Jean Beliveaus of this world who remind us that there is still some good, that we can still trust one another sometimes and that making eye contact with another human being in the street is not necessarily going to get us raped or killed. Men like my late dad and Gentleman Jean are rare, but not yet extinct. Thank God for that.