In 1997 Dr. Charles Smith was in the spotlight again as he travelled to Longyearbyen Norway on an expedition in a bid to discover the bodies of seven people who succumbed to the 1918 flu pandemic.
Smith had been asked to join the expedition by Dr. Kirsty Duncan, a geographer at the University of Windsor.
Duncan describes her first meeting with Smith in her fascinating book, “Hunting the 1918 FLU: One scientists search for a killer virus,” published in 2003, by the University of Toronto Press.
Duncan's description of her first meeting with Smith illustrates how Smith had an uncanny ability to make a powerful, emotional, lasting and positive impression on people from the very first meeting.
”Charles Smith is a paediatric forensic pathologist at Toronto's Hospital for Sick Children ('Sick Kids') and an associate professor in the Faculty of Medicine at the University of Toronto," she writes in a chapter called "Beneath the Crosses."
"I met him in 1993 to discuss the epidemiology of sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) for another project on which I was working.
We met at Ontario's Paediatric Forensic Pathology Unit, which performs post-mortem examinations of children who have died suddenly or under suspicious circumstances.
On the elevator ride up to the unmarked pathology floor, I wondered what kind of person chooses to be a pathologist and what qualities such a specialist requires.
My first thoughts: such an individual would be detached, cool, and unemotional, particularly if he works with the bodies of children and daily witnesses trauma, abuse, and neglect of young people.
However, I was greeted by a warm, smiling, tall, blond man, sporting a Bugs Bunny tie, who quickly ushered me into his office – strewn widely with autopsy slides, microscopes and tractor drawings by his two young children.
He immediately told me of his family, his cattle farm, and his involvement in the church.
Charles was what the Irish called a seannachie, a storyteller. I thought, “Who better to deal with a grieving family than this kind, gentle and generous man who would listen and try to bring peace to a deeply troubled relative.
This was the beginning of our friendship.
One day in 1994, while the two of us were walking to the Office of the Chief Coroner of Ontario for a meeting on SIDS, I reminded Charles of my search for influenza victims and told him that I had found the burial place of seven Spanish flu victims in Svalbard, Norway.
I explained that I hoped that he would agree to serve as the pathologist for my planned project.
I wanted him because I admired his ethics and his caring.
If I was going to ask to disturb someone's final resting place in another country, I wanted the person doing the work to do so with sensitivity.
Charles beamed and proudly announced, 'Consider me on board.' (Compare this dramatic moment of acceptance to Smith's agreement to accompany Hamilton police to India as set out in the previous posting, "Smith and the Media: Part Two; Smith Goes To India.")
The storyteller explained that he was of Norwegian descent; his grandfather, Tobias Nelson, had journeyed from Norway and had actually founded a Norwegian town, Mandel, in Charles's native Saskatchewan.
The seannachie looked into the distance, 'Norwegian culture gave me so much. This will give me an opportunity to give something back to Norway.' "
In an interesting foot-note, Duncan says that when her team returned to Longyearben for the exhumations, “Charles Smith and Barry Blenkinsop, arrived at the same day as the Lear jet. Charles had been bumped to first class, as the airline was pleased to help a documentary film maker who was recording “Charle’s every move.”
The film was to be part of a documentary regarding Charle’s work as a pathologist “as seen through the eyes of his young daughter”
Duncan also paints a powerful connection between Smith and religion (as does reporter Jon Wells in his description of Smith's journey to India as part of a police investigation and reporter Christie Blatchford in her interview with him during the notorious Dooley trial) as she describes Smith leading prayers before the exhumation of the Longyearbyen sailors.
(See Blatchford's interview with Smith in earlier posting: Smith And The Media: Part One: The Media Share Some Of The Blame.")
“Dr. Smith led us in prayer, as Pastor Jan Hoifodt was away on holiday." she begins.
"Charles related that his grand-father Tobias Nelson (later called Bjorndahl) had left Norway to settle in Saskatchewan in the same year that Norway had achieved its independence from Sweden.
He drew parallels between the lives of his grandfather and those of the seven young minors: Both Bjorndahl and the minors had traveled to distant parts of the world to build a better life, and both had come to rest a great distance from their native Norway.
He then spoke of visiting his grandfather’s grave just a few weeks before his own trip to Norway.
He noted that the cemetery in which his grandfather lay was well maintained “just like the cemetery in Svalbard.
“He felt it a privilege to be a guest in Norway and to be part of this special project.
He regretted that Pastor Hoifodt was away, as he loved to hear him pray in Norwegian – the language of the heavens, according to his grandfather.
Charles then apologized for speaking in English and prayed. They were beautiful, heartfelt words.
A minute of silence in memory of the miners followed.
Over the next two weeks, dozens of townspeople, in a town of just 1,200, said how much they had appreciated the tribute.”
(I find it extremely difficult to reconcile this picture of a devout, thoughtful man, with the Dr.Charles Smith who brought his 11-year-old son to the exhumation of an 11-month-old baby girl. (See previous posting: Smith Accused of "Uncivilized" Behavior For Bringing 11-Year-Old Son To Exhumation;) In like manner as reporter Wells portrayed Smith as a hero who valiantly performed the exhumations in India in spite of warnings that he may be offending terrorists, Duncan paints a dramatic image of Smith voluntarily standing “overnight sentry duty” at the burial grounds to protect the team from polar bears." "Charles had again volunteered for sentry duty," she writes. The weather was stormy – grey sky, freezing drizzle and gusting winds. The fear of polar bears was strong – and this time for good reason. The coffin’s contents were emitting a sweet, sickly stench. Charles was concerned that the odour of decaying flesh would attract bears. " Duncan praises Smith for volunteering to do sentry duty, saying: “After the day’s work, there was night watch to protect the site and supplies. "I could not imagine anything more unpleasant. Barren, wind-swept, and dark. There would be no sleep, no warmth and no protection," wrote elsewhere in her book, evoking images in my mind of a stalwart Lawrence of Arabia.
This powerful imagery says much about Smith's ability to mesmerise others and cast himself in a dramatic light. See other postings in the "Smith and the Media: series: Part Five: Taking on Charles Smith: A second example of fearless journalism; Part Four: Fifth Estate probe triggers plea to Premier Mike Harris for Inquiry into Smith cases; Part Two: Smith Goes to India; Part One: Why the media share some of the blame; Harold Levy;
