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Lest We Forget

September 11, 2016, 8:21 PM ET [1 Comments]
Paul Stewart
Blogger •Former NHL Referee • RSSArchiveCONTACT
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Note: I wrote this blog last year on September 11. I believe that it is important each year to reflect on what 9-11 meant to us, collectively and individually. I will be back on Tuesday with a new blog.

On September 11, 2001, I was at the NHL Officiating training camp in Fort Erie, Ontario. Nursing a bad back with two ruptured discs, I was in physical agony so severe that skating was out of the question. Mentally, I felt even worse. I was contemplating the thought that my NHL career may be over at age 48; ultimately I was able to work through the 2002-03 season.

That day, I had actually been booked to fly to New York City from Buffalo to receive the Crohn's Colitis Foundation Award for the work I had done for that cause; the condition can be a major factor developing colon cancer. The New Jersey Chapter was headed by some very dear people who are also my friends, the Sherman family. Suzanne actually works for the NHL in New York.

At the same time, my wife was at our home in Massachusetts. A United Airline flight attendant by occupation at the time, she was experiencing very severe morning sickness while pregnant with our second son, Maxwell. Lori had been booked off working a flight on a Boeing 767-223ER aircraft. The route from Boston to LA was a regular flight she made with her flight attendant friends in a system they called "buddy bidding."

Back in my hotel room in Fort Erie, I took a shower and started to pack my bags. I flipped on the Today Show on NBC just in time to see the smoking tower from the World Trade Center. I was dumbfounded and about to be further shocked and heartbroken by all of the days happenings.

I got in the car and drove over the Peace Bridge very shortly before they closed the border. National Hockey League VP Claude Loiselle, who was making his way to NYC, dropped me off at the airport. With all flights canceled across the country, I was able to rent a car. I headed east toward Boston and home. As I drove near Albany, I saw a convoy of fire engines and ambulances headed south on the thruway. No doubt, they were headed toward New York City. There was also a massive presence of State Troopers on the roads, stationed at bridges and other important points along the way.

Finally, I got home. Lori was inconsolable and in a state of shock. She had lost her friends on that flight. Just a few hours earlier, I was worried about whether I could continue my NHL officiating career. Now that seemed trivial compared to what my wife -- and my country -- were going through.

The bad news continued, both on the national front and from a personal standpoint. Among the people lost on United Airlines Flight 175 were Los Angeles Kings scouts Garnet "Ace" Bailey (age 53) and Mark Bavis (age 31). The hockey world is a small one. I knew both men to varying degrees.

Bavis, a native of Rolisdale, Mass. who was living at the time in West Newton, went to high school with my nephew, Scott McDonald. The former Boston University and Providence Bruins left winger struck me as a fine young man and an ambitious go-getter who had a bright future ahead of him on the scouting and player personnel side of the game after his playing days.

I knew Ace very well. We went way back with each other. Ace was one of our game's true characters; an outgoing and fun-loving guy. As with myself, no one would ever have described Garnet Bailey as the meek and introverted type. I also knew his wife and son. I went to the memorial service.

I played against Ace in Edmonton. He always wore a turtleneck under his team sweater (I did, too, when I reffed). Later on, I used to see him scouting at AHL, Prep School and college games around New England.

Another night, I saw him in Houston, standing at the bench during warmups. He was there scouting. Well, actually he wasn't scouting at the moment. He was eating a double-sized slice of pepperoni pizza. We nodded a greeting to each other.

The next night, Ace was there again. Only now, he was the team's interim coach. The club had fired their coach -- sorry, I forget his name but I played with him, too, during my WHA playing days -- and asked Bailey to step in temporarily.

Ace laughed when he saw me again.

"Stewy, let's be nice tonight and try to get this done, eh," he said.

My reply was a wisecrack.

"No pizza tonight, Ace?"

"Nah," he said.

"Well, then maybe coaching will be good for the waistline," I smirked.

He chuckled. That was Ace's sense of humor; he could take a barb as well as dish one out.

There's another famous story about Ace that truly nails his personality to a tee: In May of 1972, about a week after the Bruins won the Stanley Cup, Bruins forward Bailey and group of other players and their friends went out to continue their celebration. Among other stops, they hung out at a lounge owned by Bruins goalie Eddie Johnston.

The party went late into the night. Some time in the wee hours, a minor scuffle ensued inside Johston's bar and picked up again outside. The police were called and Bailey and the others got arrested for disorderly conduct and public drunknessness; charges were later dropped.

At any rate, after being informed of their Miranda rights and taken to the police station, Bailey and the others were told they could make their phone call. Another Bruins player on the scene promptly phoned his attorney. Two of their arrested friends called spouses or siblings to come post bond for them.

Ace Bailey called an all-night pizza place and ordered in delivery for the cops and his buddies. Ace loved his pizza, all right, but above all he loved a good laugh.

When 9-11 unfolded, all of us in the hockey world were struck deeply. Not only had we lost brethren in the terrorist attacks but, as people in an industry where travel is a constant way of life, the nature of the attacks were unsettling. We went through the same anguish again -- the context was different but the feeling was the same -- when the Lokomotiv plane tragedy in Yarolslavl happened in September 2011.

Franklin Roosevelt called December 7, 1941 a "date which will live in infamy." It certainly was. September 11th is also at that point of significance and impact on our generation and, sadly, something that we have not heard the last of in our time.

Lastly, I would be remiss if I did no mark the anniversary of that dark day -- which simultaneously revealed humanity at its best as well as its barbaric and evil worst -- by saying rest in Peace to all my friends from NYPD and NYFD who were among the brave who went to do their jobs.

After games, I used to hoist a few at McHale's up on 8th Ave. with some of those guys. Fifteen years later, I will again raise a toast and say a prayer for all who lost their lives on that horrible day.


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Paul Stewart holds the distinction of being the first U.S.-born citizen to make it to the NHL as both a player and referee. On March 15, 2003, he became the first American-born referee to officiate in 1,000 NHL games.

Today, he is the director of officiating for the ECAC.
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