First of all, there was the “public” man. And there was a lot to that public man. He built roads, houses, entire communities, airports, brick plants, and power plants. He and his brothers founded BACM Industries, a construction company – employing 10,000 people at its peak – taking it public, finally selling it to Genstar, a subsidiary of Société Générale de Belgique in the 1970s. Saul met and counted as friends, famous actors and writers, premiers of provinces, and even a Belgian prince. He was once invited to speak at the Harvard Business School about how he, a poor farm boy from rural Manitoba, became chairman of the largest company in western Canada.

Our father was a risk-taker with vision. Where others saw worthless equipment left over from the Second World War, he saw valuable scrap metal for future construction projects, and tried to buy it, at one point meeting Harry Truman. Unfortunately, the short- sighted bankers did not furnish the loan and the venture was not undertaken. It is an example, however, of his remarkable prescience and business acumen as the Canadian government finally commandeered the equipment and used it to great profit, as he’d projected.

Endowed with strength of character defined by energy, guts, and grit, Saul dared to dream “big,” though he paid a price for his dreams. He would go to parties and supposedly “relax” while surreptitiously jotting down ideas on the palms of his hands, unable to stop working. He had high blood pressure and headaches from his stresses and strains, though he rarely spoke of them.

Saul’s success was a family success. His brother Jim was involved with the equipment; Israel (Blackie) with the construction side of the business; and Abe, with the general management, as president. To say that these four men only inhabited their particular spheres, however, would be to deny the group input into the strategy, decision-making, and operations of the company. It was because the four worked as a team – with all its noisy conflicts and conflagrations – that their business was a success.

His whole life our father strived, alongside his siblings, to maintain the integrity of his beloved family: the four brothers and two sisters – Jenny and Clara – and all their spouses. He taught us the importance of forgiveness for the sake of peace and unity.

Saul was a strong supporter of Jewish causes, at one point being the president of the local UJA chapter. He responded mightily to Golda Meir’s plea for help in 1967, contributing generously, and raising funds as well. If there was a need in the community, he “stepped up,” the common phrase of today, as he was raised to be charitable. As an example, during the Depression, he continued to deliver fuel in winter to customers he knew could no longer pay. Although he never talked of it, he was known to have helped many buy homes, pay for their educational expenses, and find work. He also helped people suffering business reversals, using his many contacts, financial assistance, and business ingenuity to help them right themselves. People came to him with family problems, as well, as he was reputed to have “Solomonic” wisdom.

Our father laughed wholeheartedly at everyone’s jokes, treating others with love and respect, even if they were from a different generation, or with different experiences and needs. When we were growing up, people would tell us that we had a wonderful father: then, with a conspiratorial air, they’d say he was their “best friend.” And in truth, many found him to be their “best” or great friend, because he had a peculiarly empathetic nature that allowed him to understand others’ problems and circumstances. That was the “private man” – the man to whom anyone could tell their troubles, expecting a generosity of spirit and understanding.

Saul loved the water. Even now, we marvel when we remember motoring down the Red River in the “Jadia,” moored at our dock on Scotia Street. Our mother, Claribel, would buy corned beef and pastrami from Oscar’s, a loaf of rye from City Bread, and then all of us, with friends and relatives, would go up the river to the locks, listening to Frank Sinatra, the Mills Brothers, Barbra Streisand, or an opera. Our father absolutely adored operatic arias – Caruso, Pavarotti, Callas, Sutherland, Domingo – and would stand at the wheel of the boat, Captain’s hat on, shaking his head, transported by the gorgeous strains of music.

Our father often went fishing with Claribel or his “buddies,” taking countless trips to the Canadian north as well as the Californian coast. Saul and Claribel also went on trips to Las Vegas with their buddies and, in fact, loved trips of all kinds, travelling the world, soaking up the history and culture of a country. Returning from a vacation, thrilled by the sights, he would often talk about the political situation of a place he just visited, usually pronouncing that the ultimate struggle in the world would be between the “haves and have nots.” He taught us the drawn battle lines of our world.

Saul and Claribel would occasionally “cut a caper” across our living room floor to a record, both dancing with abandon, the two of us watching in amazement. Yes, our wonderful father lived with gusto, “eating life up for breakfast,” having enough appetite left over for lunch and dinner, such that we, each in our own way, have been trying to find his secret recipe ever since.

Written by: Jacqueline Simkin and Diane Simkin Demeter

2012

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