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“But, by then, there won’t be any of them left.”
“So, where are the Arctic paintings?”
“I can’t find any gallery willing to show them.”
“I’m sure you will. And, remember what I said to you at the Peace River
camp. You would make a fine member of our party. You’re a natural-born
politician. We’d love to have you involved in our party. Keep in touch.”
A few months later, Ken finally agreed to marry Helen and in the summer
of 1967, she flew to Toronto – where her family organized the wedding
– while Ken followed in the car. The ceremony was elaborate and
fussy, but the honeymoon in Montreal, which was hosting the World Exposition
that year, was idyllic. They drove back across the country and
took the ferry to Nile Creek, where they fished and lolled in the sun.
Back in Vancouver, Ken poured his energy into real estate investing.
While others agonized over the market and analyzed each piece of property,
Ken dropped the question into his brain, as though he was delivering
it to a receptionist in a large office tower – trusting her to take it to the
correct department, where the experts would figure it out.
He scouted the Fraser Valley and visited the land planning offices in
communities from Richmond to Abbotsford, telling the administrators
and clerks that he was looking for land as an investment. He was flooded
by calls from real estate agents and came to terms with three of them.
If they could bring him the sort of deals he was looking for, they would
make two commissions – one from a sale to him and one from the resale.
In return, they passed along all the information they came across.
On his next trip to Peter Hope Lake, he met the new owners, Jules
Bloom, his wife Joey – and their brood of children. The peace of the
country stole over him, and the cares of his life in the city fell away. In
the frenzy of making land deals, painting, and attending auctions, he had
almost forgotten his primary mission – to help the people of the Arctic.
He needed this place more than ever, and asked Jules if he might build
a small log cabin on the property and pay an annual rent. They drew a
design sketch even before shaking hands on the deal.
A day later, they cut up an old dead tree to make the piers for the foundation.
When Ken inspected the logs he noticed a rotted section in the
centre of one, cleaned it out and placed a metal cylinder, containing a roll
of large bills totalling one hundred fifty thousand dollars, inside – planning
to add to the cache until it totalled half a million.
Hoping to help his son deal with his newfound wealth, Ken Sr. introduced
him to a man who had recently started a new mortgage and trust
company. He looked after the financial affairs of several professional athletes
and successful businessmen, and Ken was impressed with the program
he put together for him. He hired his father to oversee his new
financial manager and rented an office for him in the trust
Libros Libertad 