While Conrad Black means little in the U. S., some Canadians are very well known: Johnny Walker, of course, Wayne Gretzky and also the coolest white boy in North America, Steve Nash.
But more Americans know Britney Spears parents' names than Conrad Black's. My well-informed, highly literate American friends became very attentive when Rupert Murdoch, an Aussie, bought the Wall St. Journal. But ask them about Mr. Black?
* 'A film with Brad Pitt?'
* A pigment like... 'cobalt blue'?
* 'Nuh-uh.'
To Canadians, however, Mr. Black represents...
What?
To me he stands for the dead system of Episcopal families who used to run the country as their private cash-cow.
Their fathers served on the boards of breweries, lumber companies, and what-have-you. They went to Upper Crust College, and were often expelled for smoking pot or for not being homosexuals. They were called Ian, Malcolm, Fraser, Royce or Angus.
Many became lawyers. The smartest went to LSE or Oxford, a few went to Harvard. The Harvard types preferred the U.S. and served it admirably. My favorite is John Kenneth Galbraith, joint holder of the Order of Canada and two (that's t-w-o) Presidential Medals of Freedom.
To some, being a Canadian in America means you're held to Galbraith's standard of ultra-competence. Like Robin MacNeil, Wayne Gretzky, Steve Nash or Jim Carrey, Americans expect major talent from those who leave the small pond of their birth country.
In other words, at some point the southern giant glanced out his back door, noticed you and beckoned with a flick of the wrist. 'Good game, kid. What's your name?'
Through the open door you saw the party of opportunity 10 times greater than anything you had ever experienced. You put down what you were doing as though it were a badly-made baloney sandwich and went in. If you had the right stuff, okay.
That's Conrad's problem. In America, you're welcome if you're good, but nothing helps a screw-up. For all his bluster and pretense, Conrad is just a thief who keeps getting caught. He stole exam papers in school; he stole pension funds at Dominion Stores, he padded his expense account at the same time he was stealing $7 million from Hollinger.
At first, thievery made him big. Big enough to go international which meant England where, guided by his svengali-wife, he succeeded as a quaint anachronism who threw awesome parties. Then -- sadly -- he attempted commerce in the United States. For all her brains, Lady Black knows nothing about America so Conrad steered.
Oops.
None of the Americans I know go for high-handed arrogance, pseudo-aristocrats or shareholder shakedowns. American shareholders are not there to be visibly sheared by their executive. Oddly enough U.S. sheep often own the company. They had a tea-party a while back to establish this.
So for me, Conrad's early success and later failure represent bedrock cultural values that differ immensely between North American nationalities. These countries are Siamese Twins joined inextricably by geography and history, but they have, nonetheless, distinct personalities.
The less developed child is creative and lyrical but also a muted homebody and underachiever, easily intimidated and manipulated. The dominant side is a high-achiever whose devotion to wealth and excellence creates its greatest weakness: a destructive lack of empathy, an impatient intolerance with weakness of any kind.
This is what makes the Britney Spears phenomenon intelligible. Sure, she was on top once, but now she's so badly screwed up that she's beyond sympathy and has become a spectacle. In America, inability to achieve excellence = loser. Ergo, Conrad Black. But also inability to maintain excellence = loser, too. Ergo, Britney Spears.
The puzzle of my life is how to serve two countries -- two readerships -- so wildly different: the serial gold-medalist and the poorly-funded also-ran. John Galbraith excelled at it. Is it possible to be that kind of North American anymore?
But never mind all that...
Conrad Black will never write the book I want to read: How I Became Completely Ruthless and Nearly Got Away With It. Instead, he'll start writing more dull histories in a Florida prison next Monday. He doesn't have enough money left to buy a pardon from the unpopular, outgoing president, but if he did, his anonymity might let him slink out from under the nation's radar without much outcry.
Being a small fish might be a blessing after all.
Just ask James and Lynne Spears.