Sunda•l News iqagazine of The London Free Press

THE LERNER BROTHERS How they built their law firm

•NSIDE: Dutch Decker, L¢ nd( l's dean (,f referees

How two brothers from London built the largest larW firm in Southwestern Ontario

By Bill McGuire of The Free Press

AM LERNER'S second start in his legal career came without the pomp and ceremony of his initial call to the bar back in 1939.

The Second World War was

over but the Canadian army still wanted his services and held out the carrot of a full colonel's rank if he would stay for two more years. He called his brother Mayer in Londou, now a retired judge of the su-

preme court of Ontario, and sought advice. He got it. "For crissake, get home. I need you." So began the firm of Lerner and Lerner, now known as Lerner and Associates, the largest law

firm in Southwestern Ontario. Sam himself was never a high-profile lawyer,

but more of a people person despite his gruff exterior.

His long-time friend, Milton Cohen, a retired London businessman, says Sam is tough on the outside "but a real softie inside. He's always there

for his friends." He tells of the story of Sam's batman during the war who was later charged with murder in Stratford. "Sam arranged for Mayer to defend his friend and sat with him all through the trial." Cohen, who has known the Lerner family for about 40 years, recalls the night he was at a black-tie dinner at the old Hotel London in 1951 with his date, a woman from New York he had been squiring, when he was just too nervous to pop the big question. "Sam was with us and I kept going to the bar

hying to get enough nerve to ask Marilyn to marry me" he recalls. "Sam finally leaned over the table and said 'When in hell are you going to ask that girl to marry you?' and did, then and there."

Today, Sam Lerner, who was 70 on Jan. 27, and is officially retired, enjoys his perks, such as his office and a secretary, keeps busy with a full agenda and watches the buzz of 26 lawyers in the stabl.e some with the biggest legal names in the provmce. Mayer Lerner, founder of the firm, will be 80 on May 11, lives in Toronto, and keeps a schedule

that could leave an articling student panting. Not

bad for a couple of Jewish kids who grew up in east-central London.

But it wasn't easy. Wherever their late parents, Max and Minnie

Lerner, are watching the game of life and the progress of their two sons, Samuel and Mayer, they must be applauding.

Max arrived in Canada from Bessarabia, a re- gion on the west shore of the Black Sea along the border of Romania and Russia, and started his life in the New World.

The streets in Canada were not paved with gold when he arrived in 1899, but there was a lot of junk at the turn of the century and Max simply did what any good entrepreneur would do bought a horse and started in the junk business.

Sam says Max came from a lusty people, loved good food, good horses and good wine. It is apparently hereditary.

Cohen says Sam is a "helluva of a fisherman" but he doesn't agree with the lawyer's philosophy that "if you didn't catch it you don't eat it." Cohen also says Sam is an expert at the barbecue pit "and he kuows how to drink with it a good two- listed drinker. Many a late night we have rolled

into his place and he bacon and eggs. It's a understanding wife."

The long-time friends standing debt which Satr bet. Seems the two were trip in 1949 and Sam wasl was speeding and kept finally stopped and got a Cohen says.

Talk to the two sons through the conversation It's difficult to look back life, and see them deliv( ther's truck, after he gr dealershi p and went in second time. It was after a stint with a clothing store and a trip to Cali- fornia in 1925, which: didn't work out.

Unlike their father, who won a city-wide election as an alderman in Ward 3 in 1915, the sons, while active in the Liberal party, have nev-

er sought the political spotlight in an election fight.

Sam recalls stories of hi ed man who always had at the ready, who fough• gration department becau pean Jews out of the

"He was liberal with capital "L'," Sam says fro too-small Lerner and Ass pie Street. (The f rm is cor• near future.)

Sam says his father, w• us the value of things. He[ We were never rich but were comfortable

Because of the coal bu• Lerner on the board of] Hospital for more than

It started when Max organization was short of to the hospital and, board made Minnie a m, Christian Association, a

organization. She was on the board u

but was a member of thea she died in 1975. The running a hospital for inct changed to Parkwood, and fur the Aged. Sam's wife F 1960, and served for 23 y

Today, Sam is chairman •! • y°nten's Christia •

•:: • Mayer Lerner founder of Le .• •

,:::. co days as ao Ontar o st preme •;F.•, ca terner wtth nctores of Sam,

AM LERNER'S second start in his legal career came without the pomp and ceremony of his initial call to the bar back in 1939.

The Second World War was

over but the Canadian army still wanted his services and held out the carrot of a full colonel's rank if he would stay for two more years. He called his brother Mayer in London, now a retired judge of the su-

ne court of Ontario, and sought advice. e got it. :or crissake, get home. need you." began the firm of Lerner and Lerner, now

wn as Lerner and Associates, the largest law in Southwestern Ontario.

•m himself was never a high-profile lawyer, more of a people person despite his gruff riot. is long-time friend, Milton Cohen, a retired don businessman, says Sam is tough on the ide "but a real softie inside. He's always there

for his friends." He tells of the story of Sam's batman during the war who was later charged with murder in Stratford. "Sam arranged for Mayer to defend his friend and sat with him all through the trial." Cohen, who has known the Lerner family for about 40 years, recalls the night he was at a black-tie dinner at the old Hotel London in 1951 with his date, a woman from New York he had been squiring, when he was just too nervous to pop the big question.

"San, was with us and I kept going to the bar trying to get enough nerve to ask Marilyn to marry me" he recalls. "Sam finally leaned over the table and said 'When in hell are you going to ask that girl to marry you?' and did, then and there."

Today, Sam Lerner, who was 70 on Jan. 27, and is officially retired, enjoys his perks, such as his office and a secretary, keeps busy with a full agenda and watches the buzz of 26 lawyers in the stable some with the biggest legal names in the province. Mayer Lerner, founder of the firm, will be 80 on May 11, lives in Toronto, and keeps a schedule

that could leave an articling student panting. Not

bad for a couple of Jewish kids who grew up in east-central London.

But it wasn't easy. Wherever their late parents, Max and Minnie

Lerner, are watching the game of life and the progress of their two sons, Samuel and Mayer, they must be applauding.

Max arrived in Canada from Bessarabia, a re- gion on the west shore of the Black Sea along the border of Romania and Russia, and started his life in the New World.

The streets in Canada were not paved with gold when he arrived in 1899, but there was a lot of junk at the turn of the century and Max simply did what any good entrepreneur would do bought a horse and started in the junk business.

Sam says Max came from a lusty people, loved good food, good horses and good wine. It is apparently hereditary.

Cohen says Sam is a "helluva of a fisherman" but he doesn't agree with the lawyer's philosophy that "if you didn't catch it you don't eat it." Cohen also says Sam is an expert at the barbecue pit "and he knows how to drink with it a good two: listed drinker. Many a late night we have rolled

into his place and he will make up a mess of bacon and eggs. It's a good job he has such an understanding wife."

The long-time friends, however, have an out- standing debt which Sam may or may not remem- ber. Seems the two were going north on a fishing trip in 1949 and Sam was driving Cohen's car. "He was speeding and I kept telling him until he was finally stopped and got a ticket. He still owes me," Cohen says.

Talk to the two sons today and success oozes through the conversations and the well-cut suits. It's difficult to look back at another time, another life, and see them delivering coal from their fa- ther's truck, after he graduated from the junk dealeFship and went into the coal business

a second time. [t was after a stint with a clothing store and a trip to Cali- fornia in 1925, which didn't work out.

Unlike their father, who won a city-wide election

as an alderman in Ward 3 in 1915, the sons, while active in the Liberal party, have nev-

er sought the political spotlight in an election fight.

Sam recalls stories of his father, "a self-educat- ed man who always had 101 stories or anecdotes at the ready," who fought with the federal immi- gration department because it was keeping Euro- pean Jews out of the country.

"He was liberal with both a small 'l' and a capital "L','" Sam says from his office at the now too-small Lerner and Associates complex on Ma- ple Street. (The firm is considering building in the near future.)

Sam says his father, who died in 1969, "taught us the value of things. He was a generous person. We were never rich but we were never poor. We were comfortable."

Because of the coal business, there has been a Lerner on the board of directors at Parkwood Hospital for more than 70 years.

It started when Max and Iris wife heard the organizatiou was short of fuel. They shipped coal to the hospital and, in a gesture of gratitode, the board made Minnie a member of the Women's Christian Association,

a then definitely WASP organization.

She was on the board uotil she retired in 1968, but was a member of the association until the dav she died iu 1975. The WCA at the thne was running a hospital for incurables, which was later changed to Parkwood, and the McCormick Home for the Aged. Sam's wife Frao joined the board in 1960, and served for 23 years. Today, Sam is chairman of the advisory board of the Women's Christian Association, which still

"MAYER COULDN'T UNDERSTAND WHY

THAT PEDESTRIAN WAS USING THE SIDEWALK WHEN HE NEEDED IT."

runs Parkwood and the McCormick Home. The two brothers each have a son in the busi-

ness Michael, who is Sam's son, and Mark, son of Mayer.

The 10-year age difference between Mayer and Sam carries through into a decade of difference in their schooling, graduation, and calls to the bar. Mayer was born in 1906, graduated from the Uni- versity of Western Ontario in 1926, and was called to the bar in 1929. Sam followed in 1916, 1936, and 1939 respectively.

They both played on the line for University of Western Ontario football clubs, Mayer was "snap" and Sam "'centre" long before the era of nose- guards, slotbacks and wideouts. But former Free Press sportswriter and amateur sports historian

Bob Gage says from what he reads they could have fit in.

"They were both stars in their game," he says.

Sam says his father persuaded Mayer to en-

ter law at UWO but wanted his second son to become a doctor. Sam said he agreed and en- rolled in medicine.

"That lasted for all of about 30 minutes until

Mayer found out about it and convinced me to switch to law. Years later my father said it was the best decision we ever made."

Acquaintances will tell you the brothers com- plemented one another. The law came first with

Mayer, the high-profile criminal and civil litiga- tion lawyer, but Sam, with his gruff exterior and distinguished military career, was more people- orientated.

Sam says he sort of fell into the administration end of the business, while Mayer did the criminal and litigation work. He says they started out with a couple of students and the firm really started to expand in the early 1950s. Lerner and Lerner took in its first partner in the late 1950s.

Today, the firm has about 110 employees, in- cluding 26 lawyers, about a dozen partners and six students, five female and one male.

Speaking of his brother, Sam says, "From the time can first remember there has been a close- ness between us that's impossible to describe, aod there still is."

Sam's son Michael recalls the 1950s when he was going to Central Collegiate.

"The firm only had one car in those days aud San, would take it home with him at nights but would have to pick Mayer up in the morning. "Mayer would ahnost autonratically slide into

the driver's seat (older brother's privilege) and would want the road to himself. One day he was stuck in traffic

on Colborne Street and just wheeled onto the sidewalk and kept on driving. •

Mayer Lerner, founder of terner and Associates wears the robes from his days as an Ontar o supreme courl just ce, far efl. At lefl, Fran and Sam ' ,!•n•.r_•2!•h pictures ol San, as UWO Iradu

•" "'A pedestrian had some unkind words for the mo-

torists and Mayer couldn't understand why that pedes- trian was using the sidewalk when he needed it."

Let's talk with Sam Lerner about the many sides of his varied life:

There's Sam the lawyer, Law Society of Upper Cana- da bencher, deputy small claims court judge, labor arbitrator, long-time member of the UWO board of

governors; president and chairman, past and present, of

a staggering list of groups and bodies. There's Sam the man, father of three, Michael, Patricia

and Susan; the youth who couldn't get into fraternities

at Western because of his religion. There's Sam, the driver of a Mercedes Benz, who once

drove his father's coal truck; the commodore, who has pictures of three of his old yachts on his wall and is

quick to show you a cover picture of his latest on a

yachting magazine. There's Sam, the polio victim, who was told he'd

never walk again and literally bet the way back to his feet with a bottle of scotch.

And there's Sam, the soldier, who at first couldn't become an officer in the Canadian army when he tried

to enlist "because there were no vacancies."

VEN AS a child in school, Sam was interested in th,e, military.

was a cadet at Lord Roberts Public School and when we'd march to the armories for rifle drill would always be on the inside ranks in case my parents might see me."

He doesn't like to dwell on his war experiences but does say he flunked a Canadian Officer Training Corps •lan at UWO and enlisted as an army private ("I was

too heavy for the air force") with the Middlesex and Huron Regiment when the Second World War broke

out in 1939. That was only shortly before being given a

:ommission with his beloved Royal Canadian Regi- ment. At the time there were no Jewish officers in this

area but "they said it was embarrassing to have a lawyer in the ranks."

Mayer tried for overseas duty as the war started but when they told him he was ineligible because of age "he volunteered me," Sam says.

For a man who was involved in landings in Sidly and Normandy, his war stories are brief and humorous. He skips the hard details of battle and wants to talk about the time he and five other Canadian officers, with a little political pull, managed a trip to New York City, while he

was stationed in the Eastern Townships of Quebec before being shipped overseas.

It was a month before the attack on Pearl Harbor and the United States' entry into the war and the Canadian officers in uniform were given the equivalent of Ameri-

can royal treatment. "Anyhow, we went to New York after much dilly

dallying around with the Americans and stayed at an

apartment-hotel just off Fifth Avenue. One of the offi-

cers was named MacDuff, who insisted on going in his kilt.

"We had lunch at the Bankers Club in the stock exchange on Wall Street, tickets on the 50-yard line for the Army-Notre Dame football game, had dinner with (actor) Jose Ferrer, and front-row-centre seats for a

Broadway play as guests of Ethel Merman. "Then there was the 21 and Copacabana (clubs),

which just picked up our tabs. Walter Winchell wrote us

up in his column and everything was going fine until

someone lifted MacDuff's kilt just off Fifth Avenue somewhere. That offended MacDuff's dignity."

Sam sailed for Europe in December, 1942, arriving in Aldershot in January. He took in the last stages of planning for invasion landings and was under General

From left, retired justice of the supreme court of Ontario Mayer Lerner, and his son Mark; Mike Lerner with his father Sam. Both Mark and Mike are now practising with the Lerner and Associates law firm.

Bernard (Monty) Montgomery's command. Lerner the soldier had little time to think of Lerner the

New York playboy while on his way to Sicily. Early intelligence for the landing on enemy soil was wrong and uew plans for the Canadian part of the invasion had to be revamped en route. It was too late to turn

back. Sam went into Sicily July 10, 1943. His was one of the

assault battalions. "We landed in first light but there

was very little resistance. The Americans were on our

left, the British on our right. He went back to England prior to the invasion of

France as a captain and landed in Normandy on D-Day plus 14. He stayed until after the battle of Carpiquet in Normandy and was there until the first stages of the battle of Calais.

The night before he was to leave for a posting at the

army staff college back in Canada in August, 1944, a

German fighter-bomber shelled his position. "I lost an officer and a private soldier that night." He married Fran a week after he arrived back in

Canada. "'We had met in 1934, at the Brant lnn in Burlington

when was student at UWO and we kept in touch all during the war."

One of the bugbears of his early military career was

the fact he had to do a lot of legal work for the army, like defending soldiers in police courts, later on in court martial cases, and the tedious preparation of summaries of evidence.

At one point when he was asked to join the judge advocates branch overseas, he said: "If wanted to practise law, I didn't have to come all this distance."

He was promoted to major and became personal assistant to the quartermaster-general. In December, 1945, the army said if he stayed for two more years he would be promoted to full colonel and it was here he made the call to brother Mayer.

The date for the call back to practice was Jan. 16, 1946, 40 years ago.

"I have no idea what the gross income of this firm is today but I can tell you the weekly payroll exceeds what Mayer and I took in during the first five years of our

practice together.'" Litigation specialist Earl Cherniak, who has been

involved in some of the largest awards ever made in civil cases in Canada, is the senior partner in the firm today, although Paul Bradley has seniority in terms of tenure.

Mayer left the firm when he was appointed to the bench in 1971. Sam started to phase out his practice in 1973, but only retired officially in 1983.

A look at a partial list of his community involvement and one wonders when he ever had time for a scotch.

He is honorary president of the Royal Canadian Regiment Association and honorary president" of the Duchess of Kent branch, Royal Canadian Legion. He is past commodore of the Great Lakes Cruising Club; was

a member of the board of governors at UWO for eight years; former president of the excutive committee of London and District Boy Scouts Council; chairman of the London public library board and museum for two

years; two-year chairman of the St. John Ambulance Assodation, London branch; president of London branch, B'nai B'rith for one year; founding member and past-president of North London Kiwanis Club; found- ing member and past vice-president of the London Flying Club, and past-president of the Middlesex Law Association, to mention only a few.

Sam rejoined the militia in 1951, and retired in 1963 as

a lieutenant-colonel. And to many of his men, he's still known as Colonel Sam.

A law society bencher or member of its governing body since 1979, Sam is concerned about the number of lawyers in Ontario. He says there are between 17,000 and 19,000 in the province, a ratio of about one lawyer for every 400 citizens. He believes the ratio should be more like one lawyer for every 2,000 or 2,500 citizens.

"And we're producing another 1.100 a year. Where the hell are they going to go? •

E N C O U N T E R 10

MAYER LERNER

When he speaks people still listen

By Bill McGuire The Free Press

HEN RETIRED Ontario supreme court justice Mayer Lerner speaks of life, he speaks from his experience on the bench since 1971 with

some of Ontario's most brutal murder cases under his belt. From his days as being one of London's most successful lawyers. From his days as an assistant crown attorney in London, and from his early days of dealing with discrimination and bigotry because he is Jewish.

Lerner, retired from the bench since 1981, speaks today and people listen unlike the days when as a graduate lawyer in 1929 he returned to London and no

one wanted him. It's been a long road since he opened his one-man

office on Richmond Street in London "and the phone never rang." A long road since he defended his first clients, two chicken thieves, to get the $7 they had between them, which was his first fee. A long road since the days he played hookey from law school and became a bowling hustler in Toronto. A long road from the unfurnished legal office, in a building his company owns, which has since become the largest law firm in Southwestern Ontario. A long road to the hallowed halls of power of the highest trial court in Ontario. A long road since he was 10 years old in London and had to wait for his younger brother Sam to grow up so he could relate.

It was apparently worth the wait. The judge "call me Mayer" speaks freely and easily of his dose relationship with his brother Sam. "Of all the years we practised law together we never had an argument over

money. Never had an argument over who did what. Never had an argument over any division."

Over lunch recently at the exclusive Royal Canadian Military Institute in Toronto, Mayer Lerner recalled his early days in London, his rejection for membership by the London Club when he was one of the most successful lawyers in the city, m•d some of the trials he handled while on the bench.

He says he doesn't know the year the London Club rejected his membership but says, matter-of-factly, that not one of his former partners "goes to that place

Family law specialist Tom Granger, now a senior partner with Lerner and Associates, fills in some of the London Club details. "Mayer's membership was re- jected in the 1960s and my father (the late W. Bradley Granger) resigned from the London Club over the

Mayer ILerner, founder of Lerner and Associates and retired Ontario supreme court justice.

rejection. My father had been a member of that club since the 1920s and he loved it. He went there nearly every day for lunch. His friends were there. But he quit and never went back.

"Because he felt that strongly, I asked my partners to

respect the wishes of my late father." Mayer says, "I don't know if they rejected me

because of my Jewishness or just because they didn't like me."

For many a young lawyer, Mayer was easy to dislike at first meeting. Granger says: "He was a scrapper, he would intimidate you. You could hate him at first." He is quick to add that Mayer identified with his clients. "You could be with him in your work clothes and just off shift at the plant, an ordinary little guy, and he made you feel like a giant.

"You never met two lawyers (Sam and Mayer) who fought harder for their clients whether they were large or small," he says.

After his judicial appoinOcnent the word in legal circles spread fast that Mayer Lemer was not to be trifled with just because he was a new member of the bench. It started on his first case which was heard in Parry Sound.

"It was a (charge of) criminal negligence occasioning death. The crown and the defence lawyer had agreed on the disposition of the case, to plead guilty to dangerous driving and suggested the accused get a fine.

"I said can't accept that. I am not exactly a neo- phyte in court. You don't determine what I am going to do in a case. I said you will go back into court and I want to hear some evidence. will determine what the sentence will be and I will decide. Don't ever try that again with me. I•

MAYER LERNER

, "1 listened to some of the evi- dence and the accused had been drinking all afternoon in the le- gion and he came out of there, stoned out of his mind, got into his car, drove down the wrong side of the road where he hit a

car and killed an elderly man

and his wife," he recalls. "The lawyers said if the man

went to jail he would lose his pension. accepted the plea of guilty to dangerous driving, then gave him 30 days in jail much to their consternation."

Near the end of his judicial career he presided over a mur-

der trial in Midland where two

men picked up a young girl, tried to rape her and "then killed her in a most horrible

manner. "They ran over her to make it

look like a hit-run and once,

when they were backing over

the girl, the car got stuck in loose gravel and they couldn't

move it. The g•rl was under-

neath and they tried to kill her with a tire iron. The men finally left the car about midnight and reported it stolen.

"A man found the vehide with the girl, still alive, under it about 4 a.m. The girl died hard.

"The jury found them guilty and gave them life sentences.

"One of the two died in a iail a few months later under mys- terious circumstances and the other one is still in jail,'" he says.

"There are evil people and there are good people. It has nothing to do with the usual bleeding heart proposition they didn't have a chance in life. they didn't have a proper upbring- ing, they didn't have parents. There are many people around who are iust bad people from day one. They are evil. There is

nothing you can do to change them.

"I have had the experience of recognizing evil in the raw.'" and he goes on to tell of a vi-

cious fight he witnessed in a

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London jail while he was an

assistant crown.

"1 dropped over for lunch

one day because the cook. a guy serving 10 days for being drunk, was a helluva cook." A fight broke out among three men

charged with armed robbery. "The fight was so savage never

got over it. It was like wild dogs. No holds barred. That's what call evil.'" Mayer Lerner was never

what you would call a shrinking violet when it comes to making public statements. Take the day back in 1969 when former chief iustice of the Ontario supreme court James C. McRuer took •

run at the method of awarding queen's counsel titles to law-

yers. Mayer, who held a QC himselL was quoted the next

day as saying: "1 can think of 25 lawyers with QCs who don't know their way to the court-

house. ]'hey got them because they're some sort of political hacks." The Ontario govern- meat announced in December it

was abolishing the QC titles and revoking it for those already holding it.

Ten years later, Lerner was

back in the news when a iury criticized him for saying the ju- ¢rors had been charitable in ac-

quitting three men on rape and assault charges in a Toronto tri-

al. One iuror said the judge "challenged nut mental capac- ity" when hc addressed the iury of eight men and fl•ur women and said: "Words fail me. can-

not comprehend the results, but

you will have to live wi/h the decision."

In the judges-are-human category, he recalls the time he

was hearing a murder case in Woodstock that involved drugs,

whose detailed evidence is now fuzzy in memory.

The woman was tesifying for he defence but the accused was

found guilty and given the mandatory life sentence, at

which time she jmnped up in

the courtroom and said "1 hope you're satisfied, you god- damned sadist."

Lerner said he didn't hear the statement but the sheriff later told him of the remarks and said something had to be done fur the community. The woman

tempt charge. When she repeat- ed the statement she was sen-

tenced to 10 days in jail for contempt of court. Lerner said she had the last word. "'The sheriff told me later as he was

leading her out of the court she

Mayer Lerner mulls over some memories at his home in Toronto.

turned, looked at me and said "the old bastard."'"

It's been a long road from the days when he became such a good bowler because he had lots of time that he "'hustled" bets in the bowling alleys of To- ronto while attending law 'school A long road from the days he worked as a part-time reporter for the Toronto Star. A long road from the day he was

called to the bar and headed back to London in 1929 because there were openings for five lawyers in his home town.

lie didn't get any of the posi- tions. He didn't even get an OiL fer. Some went outside London to fil] their legal positions.

At the time it didn't matter, because he really wanted to be a stockbroker and for a while managed to sell high-grade se- curities. But the stock market crashed that3mar and at the be- ginning of 1930 he moved into a

vacant office in his father's building, bought some second- hand furnishings, an old desk, a

swivel chair and some kitchen chairs.

"It was at this point really started to read and study law seriously" he says, and laughs as memories of his first case

come rolling back

Two men were charged with stealing chickens in the Strat- ford area and they both had penitentiary records for the same offences. "They had $7 be- tween them and that was my first fee. They were good chick- en stealers. They could hit a hen house and take chickens with- out the birds squawking. In those days chicken stealing was

a serious offence with a maxi-

'q tried tu make it a major case. They pleaded not guilty. Everybody had a great many laughs at my expense. was

green as grass. said the h•ob prints the police had didn't match ll•e rubber boots my cli- ents were wearing. A policeman made a perfect match o[ one of the bootprints made in the snow. They were each fiei3- tenced to three years and even

the two chicken thieves were

laughing and smiling at me as

they were led out of the

It's been a Inng road from the case nf [l•e chicken thieves in Stratford [n his current Avenue R•ad high-rise home with its panoramic view u[ the Toronto skyline. •

E N C O U N T E R

12