On The Record with Jeffrey Reed
July 25, 2026
My Exposé Of The 2001 Canada Summer Games
Photo (above): 2001 Canada Summer Games mascot. Photo by Jeffrey Reed/LondonOntarioSports.com.
By the late 1990s, I had earned a reputation as a writer who was not afraid to tackle stories that, shall we say, would not boost my popularity amongst at least half of the readers. Sadly, when you look at any of the local sports media outside LondonOntarioSports.com, they may as well work in the PR department of any team or group across Southwestern Ontario. In fact, that’s one reason why this column, On The Record with Jeffrey Reed, exists, and the biggest reason why this website launched in late-2015.
In spring 1998, Janine Foster, editor of the now-defunct London Business Magazine (later Business London Magazine) – a division of Bowes Publishers Ltd. – approached me with the idea of writing an exposé of the behind-the-scenes groundwork necessary to preparing for the 2001 Canada Summer Games. One year earlier, on June 17, 1997, the Canada Games Council announced that London would host the Games. Now, for the ’01 Games committee and its partners, it was go-time: millions needed to be raised and venues needed to be upgraded and built. This was not the Olympic Games, but for sleepy London – the medium-size city that thinks like a small town, still today – this event was a huge deal.
Let me say, right off the bat, that the 2001 Canada Summer Games committee were just as you think they would be: secretive; full of themselves, putting their efforts on a pedestal and patting themselves on the back as much as they could; and, quite frankly, defining the Games as a much bigger deal than they were. Listen, every committee thinks that their efforts make them into demigods, and that their cause is worthy of worship. That’s not just London; that’s every sports committee I’ve ever dealt with for almost 50 years. But still, it does define who Londoners are: always looking for acceptance, always seeking the spotlight. Yet today, via social media, most people want their more than 15 minutes of fame.
Back to 1998 and my meeting with Foster who, allow me to say, was one of, if not the, best editor I have ever worked with during my long career. There was a young associate editor on board back then, too, by the name of Gord Delamont. He would go on to work as editor of Business London Magazine – we collaborated on many projects over the years, and he’s a good egg, too. Today, Delamont is the creative and business mind behind London, Inc. Magazine, a crackerjack of an outfit and the only local business magazine left in this God-forsaken media wasteland called London. That’s a column for another day.
When Foster proposed the idea of me shadowing the 2001 Canada Summer Games committee for the better part of a year, I knew then it was right up my alley. No fluff here. Nothing was off the record. This would be an exposé of backroom deals, inside connections, media distrust and the dirty side of fundraising. What resulted was the most ground-breaking investigative piece ever written for a local business magazine – there has been nothing like it, before or after. It was a published story which to this day sees me with numerous enemies amongst the local PR and government circles. Hey, it’s part of the job when you report the truth and do a good job revealing the facts. My entire career has been based on doing a job others won’t, and I’m proud of that.
Here’s the kicker, though. As the committee offered me close to carte blanche availability – behind closed doors during budget meetings, and phone calls with tips not offered other local media – they didn’t (at least to my knowledge) take into consideration, this was not a PR piece: this was real life, no holds barred.
Cartoon of Jeffrey Reed shadowing Games GM and COO and Tim Sample
Published in the April 1999 edition of London Business Magazine, my piece carried a headline, Let The Games Begin. The piece was massive, stretching 18 pages. An artist was enlisted to draw cartoons of me taking notes and looking over the shoulders of the committee members. I still have those cartoons, complete with my moustache that would make Davis Schneider blush.
Of course, the ‘Games’ the magazine referred to involved fundraising and public relations – selling to sponsors and the local population that these Games would be the next best thing to the Olympic Games. That was, of course, a total lie. But in many ways, the Games did change the local sports scene forever.
Before I dig into the dirt that I dug up in 1998 and early ’99, a bit about those Games. Staged from August 10-25, 2001, the multi-sport event featured 3,487 athletes competing across 18 sports. The event was highly collaborative, with competitions spanning across London and Western University, and the surrounding communities of St. Thomas, Woodstock and Grand Bend.
To their credit, the 2001 Canada Summer Games did leave a massive legacy for the city, most notably including the construction of a new – yet historic in design – grandstand at historic Labatt Park, the world’s oldest continuous baseball grounds. To this day, the Games acts as a template for recruiting volunteers for other big events – the blueprint was used, for example, during the 2005 and 2014 Memorial Cup hockey championships. The ’01 Games saw a volunteer army numbering 6,500. That’s impressive, to this day.
London is not Toronto, but as the centre of the universe in Southwestern Ontario, and with a lot of old money still hanging around – as well as politicians who love to have their asses kissed by hosting big sporting events – we have hosted some significant sports events for some time. The golf world came to London at the 1970 Canadian Open, 1993 du Maurier Ltd. Classic, 2006 CN Canadian Women’s Open and 2014 CP Women’s Open, all at London Hunt and Country Club; those two Memorial Cups, thanks to our modern downtown arena opened in 2002; 2013 ISU World Figure Skating Championships – the big one for London; and numerous curling events including the 1974 Macdonald Brier, 1981 Air Canada Silver Broom, 2006 Scotties Tournament of Hearts, 2010 Tim Horton’s Brier and 2018 World Financial Group Continental Cup.
You get the point: hosting sports events is London’s love drug. We can’t get enough of it. It makes us feel important, despite the fact we’ll forever live in Toronto’s shadow. But something clicked in 2001, when London hosted the 2001 Canada Summer Games. It was then that London had clearly earned its identity as a world-class player in hosting major sports events. A template – still leaned on today in not only recruiting volunteers but also in bidding for and hosting large sports events – was cemented for future generations.
None of use knew this back in 1998, but come hell or high water, the 2001 Canada Summer Games committee were going to prepare as if they were hosting the Olympic Games. There were successes, and there were failures. And I had an inside look at just how it would all come together.
Cartoon of Jeffrey Reed shadowing Games co-chair Phil Bowman
So, here’s a look at some of the more memorable moments from my almost year of research for this exposé.
The Games team members with whom I had the most contact during my year-long research were GM and COO Tim Sample; Vice-Chair Media and Communications Ann Hutchison; Co-Chair Phil Bowman; Western University VP Ted Garrard; and Vice-Chair Sales, Merchandising and Marketing Carol Kehoe.
On June 15, 1998 I had my first chat with London Alliance (that’s what the committee called themselves, since there were other communities involved) general manager and chief operating officer Tim Sample. Although he said he would “do anything I can to accommodate” me, he still appeared skeptical since the Games were three years away. Shortly after our chat, the Alliance’s vice-chair media and communications, Ann Hutchison, called me to talk about my story. My sources told me that when my piece as published, Hutchison was furious and said, “That’s not what this article should be about.” Hutchison was a veteran of the local media circles, but she had walked into the dark side of public relations and drank the Kool-Aid. Still, she should have known better.
Let me add, there were more Alliance members with more titles than U.S. President Donald Trump could ever dream up for himself in a lifetime. It was absolutely ridiculous, and unnecessary. It was a case of creating titles to make Alliance members feel important. There was a lot of dead weight amongst the Alliance and, I’m sure, it inflated expenditures.
On July 8, 1998 I attended what was the first grin-and-grip ceremony (and there were many) attached to these Games. In fact, there were more presentations of ceremonial cheques than any other event attached to this project. The Games’ committee co-chair Libby Fowler accepted a cheque for $1.2 million from the Provincial government to aid the ’01 Games. There would eventually be another $2 million headed to the Games via the Province. None of this was unexpected: in fact, the Ontario government was responsible for $3.2 million in funds, as per the Canada Games Council agreement. But hell, it sure made for a great photo op, and there were almost as many politicians in attendance than there were screaming kids attending a summer sports camp at the host venue, North London Optimist Community Centre.
On July 10, 1998 I discovered just how closely the Games committee were shadowing me. During a conversation with Sample, I had mentioned that the day before, I chatted with Fred Galloway of F.J. Galloway Associates Inc., responsible for drafting the 2001 Games bid. We had chatted about the Labatt Park and Western University stadium upgrades. Sample said he was aware of my chat with Galloway. I had expected this: I was shadowing them, and they were shadowing me. Let the games begin, indeed.
Tim Sample. Photo: Jeffrey Reed/LondonOntarioSports.com.
On July 22, 1998 Sample – who was my main point of contact during my research – revealed the committee’s plan to place 18 signs along all major highways pointing to London during the Games. I remember asking him if this was at all necessary – why advertise along the highway that we were hosting the Games? It didn’t make sense. If people didn’t know by now … anyhow, it reminds me of when Highland Country Club hosted – very poorly, I may add – the Mackenzie Tour PGA Tour Canada championship for the first time in 2015 and hauled out their ridiculous signage marking the event. Even before that week of golf had ended, the signs were removed.
My first visit to the Ivory Tower – the Games downtown office, 16th Floor, 275 Dundas Street in office space donated by Price Waterhouse, adjacent to the office of London Alliance co-chair Phil Bowman – arrived on July 23, 1998. I was immediately engulfed by a suit convention – bad suits, really bad ties and even worse shoes. There was a slick pamphlet on display, explaining Western U.’s fundraising plans: You, too, can become a member of the 2001 Club by making a donation of $2,001 to Western U. and their stadium fund.
During this meeting, I saw first-hand how much Bowman was in charge and how Sample was his yes man. There was an incident when Sample approached the blackboard to make a point, only to have Bowman shake his head and see Sample sit, silent, like a schoolboy scolded. Egos were at work. FYI 40 full-time jobs were created through the establishment of a new 2001 Games office on White Oak Road. Knute Dohnberg of Royal LePage, who helped orchestrate the office lease, told me the entire package deal was “one of the most complicated deals I’ve ever been involved in.” Translated: everyone was bending over to accommodate the Games committee.
On October 7, 1998 perhaps the most bizarre and somewhat uncomfortable media conference I had attended in relation to the Games came at 3M Canada’s Tartan Drive facility. Bowman greeted me at the security-tight 3M lobby. I must say, I never felt comfortable being at that facility, even when I was freelancing for their in-house magazine. There was a heavy air of distrust, as if they were guarding the doomsday bomb. They did hold numerous innovative products, but I always felt the staff acted in an unnecessary cold manner. Perhaps that’s why I never sold out for a PR job. That day in Oct. ’98 saw me sign my name numerous times for entrance into yet another section of the building. 3M director of public relations, Jerry Maybrey, greeted me with, “We were expecting you.” In fact, all eyes were on me for much of the media conference – word had definitely spread like wildfire that I was shadowing the committee. I counted more than 60 Who’s Who of London notables at this event, which included more speeches than a Trump rally. After a half hour of verbal nonsense, 3M announced its $750,000 sponsorship package for the Games.
Games logo
Proof of how people will admit to anything, if you let them talk long enough, came on October 20, 1998 when Garrard told me his media quote – that there was “uncertainty in the community about other major projects … particularly with an arena and a (proposed) performing arts centre” and how this had hampered 2001 Canada Summer Games fundraising – was, indeed, a calculated quote. In fact, Garrard admitted that he had pitted Games fundraising versus downtown capital projects in the media in order to “keep (the Games) in the forefront. Other projects potentially hurting Games fundraising was “a gut feel that I have as a professional fundraiser,” he said.
Four days later, the London Free Press – $500,000 sponsor of the Games – ran a full-page ad which ran headshots of Garrard, Siskind and Games vice-chairs with a headline, “That’s what friends are for” in its seeking of funds. A 1-800 number directed you to the Games voice mailbox asking for your number so a callback could make you a member in good standing of the Friends of the Games. I did call that number – listening to it, I thought Jim and Tammy Faye Baker were going to preach to me before asking for money. The whole thing was tacky and corny.
Now, a big turn of events came on November 2, 1998 when, quite literally, I was about to be shut out of Games planning – or at least, so the committee had hoped. Sample called to tell me I would no longer be permitted to sit in on monthly board meetings nor executive meetings, although I would be able to attend vice-chair meetings which, in my opinion, were a complete waste of time. Sample wouldn’t explain why the change, but said, “Not that we have anything to hide.” Right.
On November 12, 1998 Bowman told me the Games mascot would soon be unveiled. I remember jokingly saying, how about a giant Loonie with arms and legs? It made sense: the Games were all about money. My joke drew no reaction. Zero.
Now, another big item from November 12 when Sample asked to see a draft of my story before it was published. Kids, there a number of journalism golden rules, including: if in doubt, leave out; and never, ever show someone your story before it’s published. I thought it comical that Sample would even ask, but I knew that someone else was pulling the strings. Sample gave me the old song and dance, “I don’t want to change anything, but I want to make sure all of the numbers are correct.” Of course, no one other than my editor saw my story before publishing.
I should note, Sample and I had an agreement to meet or at least talk every Friday morning, but on Thursday, November 26, 1998 he began to back off of that promise. Our chats from that point on became more infrequent. And every chat was about new sponsorships.
2001 Canada Summer Games action at Western University. Photo: Canada Games Council.
Here’s a reason why I was always a big fan of how 1290 CJBK talk show host Jim Chapman carried himself. Like me, he did not have time for BS and he always asked, why? On air, he dared to challenge the 2001 Games team in terms of how much we would spend to host the Games, and what we would get in return. Loved it.
Another door attempted to be shut on January 7, 1999 as Sample said I would not be allowed to attend “any” Games meetings. And again he said, “Not that we’re trying to hide anything.” No transparency here, at all.
On January 11, 1999 word broke that London would seek the 2010 Commonwealth Games, which would dwarf the 2001 Canada Summer Games. And let’s face it: the Canada Summer Games are small potatoes. The London committee simply had it in their minds that it was a big deal, so they would look like a big deal. That’s how things work. And with their publicity machine, they succeeded for the most part.
On January 22, 1999 that arrogance and ignorance was about to be ramped up for yours truly when Bowman and I met at his office. He was surprisingly chipper and talkative as usual. I knew something was up. Right away, I hit him up for an invitation to some of the Games closed-door meetings. Here’s what he said. “No way. If I open the executive meetings to any of the media, I have to open them to all of the media, and we won’t be able to function. You’ve got to understand, I can’t let you sit in on the meetings and not have the Free Press there.” (They were there, via Kehoe’s involvement – she was the paper’s director of marketing – and because the publisher was a major sponsor).
Then Bowman said, with an evil grin, “I think the reality is you’ve gone as far as you can now.” He wouldn’t leave it at that. He added, in anger, that I knew more about Games business than any other local media member. I asked myself, what are they hiding? I recall speaking with my editor about this turn of events, and she was very angry. I can’t recall whom she called at the Games committee, but their decision was final. It took them more than seven months to realize, I was not their friend: I was doing my job as a journalist. And they didn’t like it.
Now, the 2001 Canada Summer Games mascot story, and this is a good one. No, it was not a giant Loonie: it was, in fact, a fox – and not a very good one, either. Here’s the scoop. On January 25, 1999 Kehoe called me (that surprised me) with some background on the mascot, which would be “gender neutral” (I found that funny – we were just entering the uber politically-correct era) and was selected after endless focus group and marketing meetings, the inclusion of an advertising agency and polls taken with local teens (I kid you not). And to think the GOAT of all mascots, The Famous Chicken, came about in 1974 as a $2/hour promotional gig at the San Diego Zoo, where journalism student and Londoner Ted Giannoulas was hired to hand out Easter eggs. KGB-FM radio, his employer, then sent him to San Diego Stadium to entertain Padres baseball fans, fundamentally revolutionizing sports mascots.
Games mascot revealed for the first time. Photo: Jeffrey Reed/LondonOntarioSports.com.
On February 12, 1999 Hutchison called me and sounded very cold and serious – for whatever reason, she did not like me, although she did not know me. Again, that’s London: there’s not much genuine respect amongst local journalists (there is in larger communities like Toronto – I’ve been a part of it and have seen it up-close), and next to none when you’re a freelancer: we are the Rodney Dangerfields of journalism. But my skin is thicker than a rhino’s. Back to Hutchison. She informed me of a photo op with the new mascot on February 15, but she couldn’t resist a dig at the freelancer: “Only the Free Press, TV London and you” are invited, because “you have been following the Games so closely.” She stressed, this was the only reason I was invited, as if she was doing me a favour. Then, she stressed that there would be an embargo on mascot photos until March 4, when it would be revealed to the world. Good thing we didn’t have social media back then.
So, on Monday morning I attended the mascot unveiling and it was a six-foot fox – wearing a diaper! Why a diaper? I was told, because he was an infant and would not mature until the Games. Huh? I had to laugh my ass off, which did not impress the number of Games committee members in attendance. To them, this was serious business. To me, it was a fuzzy cartoon character with a diaper. In fact, you couldn’t recognize it as a fox right away. I asked Cyndi Vienneau of Bell Canada, the new Games associate vice-chair of mascot image (you can’t make this shit up) what the mascot was, and she was shocked I couldn’t tell it was a fox. Sorry. I asked her about her role with the Games, and after a very long spiel, I answered, so, you are in charge of scheduling mascot public appearances? “Correct.” There was no name, yet; that would come after Corner Brook, Newfoundland wrapped up the 1999 Canada Winter Games on March 6.
Much of my research from mid-February to March 8, 1999 involved an extraordinary amount of phone calls, in-person interviews and numerous tips from sources who spoke with me only if I had promised not to name them – and I kept my promise. You would be surprised just how many high-profile folks offered me inside information, despite the fact I was not allowed to attend any meetings worthy of my attendance. At one point, Kehoe called me and said, loudly “You’ve been calling a lot of people all over! There’s a media policy in place! Only the vice-chairs can talk on behalf of the Games!” She was obviously upset over the fact I had spoken with numerous spinoff businesses, including Tony Mazzotta of Marketing Communications Inc. who had designed the 2001 Canada Summer Games logo. Kehoe said, “We have great communication in place.” The very fact she had to qualify that meant they did not. It has always blown me away how so many media veterans have never had a clue how to work in PR.
On March 5, 1999 the Free Press ran a piece on the huge London Alliance bash which attracted about 300 local dignitaries. It included a photo of the fox, Waagosh, the Ojibwe word for, red fox, and the new Games slogan: Now is the future. Live it. Fox name: excellent. Slogan: horrible.
On March 7, 1999 I enjoyed reading Deborah Van Brenk’s article in the Freeps (you see, local media, that is how you compliment another media member) which reported that the 2001 Canada Summer Games could see some London businesses lose sales during the event. Eat-in restaurants, clothing outlets and jewelry stores, for example, did not meet sales expectations during the Corner Brook Games, meaning there are false expectations attached to hosting the Games. Again, these are not the Olympics.
That, in a nutshell, was my exposè of how it worked behind the scenes. How much do some people still hate me for writing that story? This should tell you. This summer 2026, as I volunteered during a charity event, I was paired with a former long-time 3M employee who was on board when I visited the offices for my Games story. Somehow that topic came up during our conversation. When the fellow volunteer discovered that I had written that story, the volunteer immediately got angry that I would write such a thing, and shunned me during the rest of the day. Of course, I smiled over the fact my story still had legs.
The saying, ‘There are lies, damn lies and statistics,’ certainly applies to the 2001 Canada Summer Games. The good? A template for fundraising, securing sponsors and enlisting volunteers. But let’s be honest: we would have figured it out, with or without the Games. The bad? How many egos got in the way of what could have been an even more joyous time for Londoners – most of whom, to be honest, could care less that London hosted the Games that summer. That’s a fact.
–30–
On The Record is published every Saturday at LondonOntarioSports.com. Jeffrey Reed is Southwestern Ontario’s senior sports journalist, with roots dating back to 1980. A three-time author, Reed penned, EBBA 40 Years of Baseball (1994) and, The Canadian Seniors’ Golf Association, Celebrating 100 Years of Seniors Golf 1918-2018 (2018). Reach him at jeff@londonontariosports.com.
