The winds of change are blowing through the Portland Winter Hawks’ organization. . . . Dean (Scooter) Vrooman, who left the Winter Hawks more than a year ago after a lengthy stint as the team’s much-loved play-by-play voice, remembers the legendary Brian Shaw in a story that was prepared a couple of years ago as part of a book project that never got off the ground . . .
PART 3:
The WHL as a whole, and the Portland Winter Hawks in particular, were Brian Shaw’s family. He never married and, although he kept in touch with a sister, Sonia, and other members of his family, he still considered his co-workers and Winter Hawks’ players to be his extended family and Portland to be his home.
His nephew, Brian, nicknamed Bunny, had a terrific career with the Winter Hawks in the early 1980s before playing several years of minor pro hockey. When Bunny retired as a player, he became very involved in the Winter Hawks’ scouting staff and spent quite a bit of time with his uncle, thus, Brian Shaw’s famous nickname, Unkie.
Brian was very social and especially enjoyed being around hockey people. He loved all of the relationships he built through the league and other teams. Some of my favorite memories are the times in Brian’s office, and on the road, when he would have a large group of people around and start telling stories.
He told many stories about McLean, such as when he threw a garbage can onto the ice from the Bruins’ bench to protest a referee’s non-call in New Westminster’s legendary Queen’s Park Arena.
Shaw always laughed when he recalled Seattle governor/general manager Ephraim Steinke actually going on the ice during play to have a very public, extremely hazardous discussion with the referee.
But most of Shaw’s favourite stories were about Brian Shaw, and one of his most lovable characteristics was his ability to laugh at himself. He didn’t let everyone see that side of him, but it was probably my favourite side.
My personal favourite was the one about the cellphone. Brian was always fascinated with new gadgets and when cellphones hit the market, he was among the first to own one. He told the story of taking his new phone to a WHL league meeting to show it off. Brian was an important person in hockey, without question, but perhaps, at times, he wanted his peers to think he was a little more important than he actually was. So, he arranged, in advance, for long-time office manager Jann Boss to call him at just the right time so all the other GMs at the meeting would know that he was important enough to be called on his new phone.
Boss called and the phone rang ... and rang … and rang … and rang … because no one had shown Brian how to answer it!
When he told that story, he would laugh so hard he would cry.
“Another one he told a lot was his pep talk one day at a practice at the old Silver Skate ice arena in Portland,” remembers long-time trainer Innes Mackie. “Hodgie had asked Brian to have a word with the team about their recent poor play. He was into a pretty intense speech in front of the whole team when Wayne Babych started to laugh. That made Unkie even madder and so he wheeled around and asked him what was so funny. Babych told him he was wearing one green shoe and one blue shoe. They were patent leather shoes, too. One green, one blue.”
There was only one thing Brian Shaw enjoyed more than holding court in his office, an arena press room, or a hotel lobby. That was the game of hockey itself. He absolutely loved watching hockey games. He rarely missed a Winter Hawks’ game, but he also realized the importance of traveling to other league and NHL games. He hated days off. I can remember countless times he would pace around the Winter Hawks’ business office grumbling that there was no game that day.
Brian Shaw grew up in humble surroundings in the tiny mining community of Nordegg, Alta. His mother passed away when he was five years old and his father left the coal business to move back to England. As a child, Shaw lived with his grandmother and demonstrated early in his life that he could overcome obstacles. In spite of his mother’s death, he skipped two grades in school because he was very bright. His grandmother passed away when he was 15, so Brian moved in with an aunt and uncle. He was unable to continue school and had to support himself by working in the local coal mine at the Brazeau Collieries briquette plant.
“As a 16-year-old, Brian, who hated driving and was very nervous around firecrackers, was hired to haul dynamite from mine to mine on bumpy, gravel forestry roads,” Ken Hodge says with a laugh. “But he always said he absolutely loved it.”
(Part 3 of 7)
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