My father would have been proud to see me honoured
On Saturday night, 16 names will be added to the illustrious list of Canadians holding a Harry Jerome Award — the most prestigious honour given by Canada’s black community.
I’m on this year’s list, tapped for a career in media, most of it with the Toronto Star.
The awards are a tribute to the thousands of African Canadians and Caribbean folks who’ve embraced Canada with an indomitable will to thrive and achieve against the odds.
Journalists can be jaded, having seen too many puffed-up galas and awards ceremonies, enough to dull the glow that comes from accomplishment and being recognized by one’s peers, one’s own people.
Were he alive, my dad would have been proud of his “one son,” sprung from humble folk outside Montego Bay, Jamaica. There was not a doctor, lawyer or teacher among the elders — labourers, tradespeople, honest, hard-working, church-going, U.S. farm workers — my dad an orderly at Sunnybrook, my mom a maid.
Like most residents now cohabiting this wonderful city of Toronto, the James family came in search of a future.
In 1983, I was earning about $280 working 40 to 50 hours a week as a community news reporter for the Star — four years out of school, in search of my place in the new world.
Fifteen years later, then Star publisher John Honderich injected enormous confidence in me when he made me a columnist.
Al Hamilton had hired me to Contrast in 1979. My editor was Hamlin Grange, who had just completed his studies in Colorado on a track scholarship. He’d later work at the Star, Global TV, CBC, and recently, as a member of the police services board.
My first assignment was the Buddy Evans inquest, as racially polarizing a news story as the city had seen. Evans, a bouncer, was shot and killed by Toronto police, who said he attacked them.
My readers at Contrast, the selfstyled “eyes, ears and voice of Canada’s black community,” believed none of it. Star readers believed most of it. Soon after, Albert Johnson, in a wheelchair, was shot by police in his home. More upheaval.
The 1970s had featured a torrent of immigrants to Toronto from the Caribbean. The inevitable arc began turning to life in Canada, its challenges and victories, even as parents gazed “back home.”
Contrast was a community nerve centre, in the absence of a Jamaican Canadian Association or National Black Coalition of Canada or Tropicana. Publisher Hamilton and his colleagues spent much time trying to right wrongs against black citizens, even as Grange and I wrote about them.
Bromley Armstrong, Wilson Head, Al Mercury and others made pilgrimages to the Star, Sun, Globe and Mail and television stations, questioning why their staff was lily white in multicultural Toronto. They challenged Simpsons and Eaton’s and the Bay to use black models in the department store catalogues.
In 1982, Justin Trudeau’s dad was in his second tour of duty as prime minister; Art Eggleton would serve another eight years as Toronto mayor; Toronto police had finally been dragged into accepting the global reality that a police officer didn’t have to be a tall, hulking man; and a black community that had given Canada a centennial gift called Caribana, an offering from its Caribbean roots, wanted to make a statement about its permanence in the Canadian mosaic.
That year, Brisbane hosted the Commonwealth Games. Canada finished with 21 medals — six gold, seven silver, eight bronze.
Every column is written with the trailblazers in mind and, before them, the multitude shut out of a prominent presence in the Canadian mosaic
Most were in athletics, and the names Angella Taylor, Mark McKoy, Ben Johnson, Desai Williams, Milt Ottey and Tony Sharpe appeared on eight of the medals.
Canadian hometowns were honouring their heroes, but only the local Scarborough Optimist Track Club planned to honour the Toronto-based sprinters.
Who thought of it first isn’t germane — Grange talking to Hamilton; or businessman Denham Jolly in convening a meeting at the iconic Underground Railroad restaurant. An idea blossomed. They’d invite the black community to a formal Gold Medal Dinner to honour the sprinters. Keynote speaker would be Canadian sprinting great Harry Jerome. Blacks in Canada were high achievers and everyone would have to take notice, they reasoned.
But Jerome died suddenly. And what seemed like a great loss actually became a blessing. Grange suggested they name the gala after Jerome, and it stuck.
The six athletes were the first honorees. Since then, the scope of the awards has expanded to include more than 350 achievers in all fields. The reach and influence and force of the black community is now in full view. Think Lincoln Alexander, Pinball Clemons, Harry Gairey, Dr. Upton Allen, Justices Irving Andre and Michael Tulloch, Trey Anthony, Michael Lee-Chin, Keith Forde, Oscar Peterson. So confident a community has emerged that white citizens are also honoured each year with a diversity award. The work of these recent pioneers fuels my work. Every column is written with the trailblazers in mind and, before them, the multitude shut out of a prominent presence in the Canadian mosaic. Thirty-one years ago, I was a young reporter. I designed and laid out the first program for the Harry Jerome Awards, in the composing room at Contrast. I arrived at the Star and found a great mentor in Malcolm Johnson, a “brother” who’d endured the slings and arrows so I didn’t have to Today, most of the award recipients have no memory or knowledge of the pioneering days. That is a privilege the community has earned, now attuned to celebrating greatness. For example, unless you’re deep into the music industry, you’d be unaware that Ray Williams, a St. Vincent immigrant, has won a Grammy for groundbreaking work with music software that allows musicians to perfect their vocal performances. A couple of weeks ago, he was hobnobbing with U.S. senators, showing off his work. The Harry Jerome Awards blew Williams’ cover; he’ll be honoured Saturday night — a development that inspires all Canadians to compete against the best in the world. To the original nine who conceived of this enduring legacy — Pamela Appelt, Jean Augustine, Kamala-Jean Gopie, Denham Jolly, Cynthia Reyes, Armstrong, Grange, Hamilton and Mercury, thank you. And to Pauline Christian, president of the Black Business and Professional Association — carrying the flame — much respect. Royson James usually appears Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Email: rjames@thestar.ca