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I was saddened to hear about the passing of Bruce Hood. He was a good man and a good teacher who helped give me a start when, in 1983, I attended the Bruce Hood Refereeing School as I was starting to make the transition from playing to officiating.
I often tell aspiring officials that it's vital to find the right trainers. Bruce Hood's officiating school pointed me in the right direction. Not every officiating clinic or instructor is created equal. Do your homework, because mileage will vary. Additionally, just because someone is an experienced official does not automatically make that person a good teacher, just as not all former players make for good coaches.
To me, anyone can point out a mistake. The value of teaching from personal experience is to teach the officials not to make the same errors again and again. A good officiating teacher furnishes mental tools for the young officials' mental tool boxes. Officials are a team and we need to work together. At the same time, officiating is also about competing and the more people we have out there vying for spots, the better the officiating will be.
When I attended Bruce's officiating school in Milton, Ontario, I rented a car in Buffalo and drove by myself to Canada. I was excited by the prospect of trying to establish a new career in hockey and follow in the officiating footsteps of my grandfather and father.
Our officiating coaches included many former and current NHL Officials and Supervisors. Among others, the likes of esteemed veteran referees Frank Udvari, Lou Maschio, Wally Harris and John McCauley as well as linesmen such as Leon Stickle and John D'Amico were there to watch the aspiring officials skate and referee games.
At the camp, I tried to absorb as much as possible. I minded my business, listened attentively to every suggestion, and had fun taking part in every activity. We did skating tests. As a former NHL player who had worked on my skating over the years, I was the best skater there. I had always been into fitness, and had just run the Falmouth Road Race right shortly before going to Hood's school, and was in peak muscular and cardiovascular shape.
There were also semi-mandatory off-ice activities at the camp. I remember that one night, they had us perform skits at a talent show one night. I wrote and sang a parody song of "The Wild Colonial Boy" called "The Wild Old Boston Boy."
If I must say so myself, I think everyone was pretty entertained. I have a good singing voice.
Another activity we did was having all the trainees step in front of a camera and introduce ourselves. I introduced myself in both in English and (badly broken) French.
"Why did you just do that in French?" one of the bosses asked.
"Because this is Canada," I replied.
They laughed.
A few weeks later, the NHL's Scotty Morrison and McCauley invited me to attend the league's training camp for officials.
At that camp, I underwent physical, physiological test, and written rule test. I passed the physical test easily and scored high on the physiological test. I don't recall all the specifics of the latter testing but I remember that I was asked whether I'd rather attend a party or throw a party.
I chose the latter. I said that I hosted terrific parties.
It was only later on that I realized the real purpose of that question had nothing to do with parties. They wanted to see if I was a joiner/follower or an organizer/leader.
The complex where we trained had two rinks. One was for the referees, the other for the linesmen. As I walked down the hallway separating the two rinks, I asked McCauley and Morrison which way I should go? They sent me to the left, although I didn't immediately realize the two rinks were separated into referee and linesman groups. Someone told me later that night that I had trained with the referees.
Stepping onto the ice, I saw different officials, including Andy Van Hellemond, Kerry Fraser, Bill McCreary, Bob Meyers, and a man that soon became one of my closest friends, Dave Newell. Oddly enough, Newell was the referee in my NHL playing debut as a member of the Quebec Nordiques. He escorted me off the Boston Garden ice when I earned an automatic game misconduct for my third fight of the game. Later, I made my NHL refereeing debut subbing for Newell after he got injured during a Canadiens vs. Bruins game.
Many of the established Officials were particularly nice to me, giving me pointers. Others weren't as kind. Cold and distant comes to mind when I think back on some of them. My own roommate never talked to me the entire camp. Likely, he looked at me as competition and didn't want to bond in any way. When I said something to him, he'd just stand up and walk out of the room. Not even a hello or handshake.
Before the first day of camp ended, all the referees and linemen joined for a "friendly" game of shinny, using a tennis ball instead of a puck. As I stickhandled up the ice, the late Hall of Fame linesmen, John D'Amico, made a beeline for me.
I turned away from the check attempt, still controlling the tennis ball. D'Amico "accidentally" (read, deliberately) swung his stick around, catching me flush in the face.
Everyone stopped playing. The NHL officiating brass looked down from the stands. I removed my glove, felt the resulting gash with my hand, and then stared down at the ice. There was considerable blood dripping off my nose.
My fighter's instincts flared and I felt rage welling up inside. I wanted to cast down my gloves and beat the tar out of D'Amico. Fortunately, my better sense prevailed. I glanced over as Newell, who was my team's captain. He nodded at the bench, wordlessly telling me just to skate off the ice.
That's what I did. As I sat down on the bench, I talked with Dave.
"I figured that if I hit D'Amico, today would be my first and last day at NHL Official training camp," I told Newell.
"You think?" Newell replied. "You think that didn't happen on purpose?"
I put a towel on my face, wiped the blood off, placed a strip of white tape on my forehead, and returned to the ice. I knew full well that D'Amico either was testing my restraint as a former enforcer or was actively trying to get me thrown out of camp because he didn't like the idea of this former player -- and an American one at that -- trying to join his officiating fraternity.
Either way, I passed his test with everyone watching me.
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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.
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