peter worthington dead
The casbah in Algiers during the height of the troubles in 1962 was probably the most dangerous place in the world for foreigners. Every day, I passed corpses on my route. Occasionally, I'd get trapped in a firefight as nervous French soldiers fired at shadows. Last in a series of excerpts.
For some time, Olga had been talking in riddles, dropping hints, making provocative comments. Once when I had remarked on her relatively good life in Moscow, she replied: "It is better to be a free sparrow than a caged canary." I had ignored all hints, aware they might be a trap.
If you are reading this, I am dead. How's that for a lead? Guarantees you read on, at least for a bit. After attending George Gross's funeral in 2008 I half-facetiously remarked to the Toronto Sun's deputy managing editor, Al Parker, that I had been around so long that no one was left who knew me back then, and I had better write my own obituary. "Good idea!" said Parker with more enthusiasm than I appreciated. So here it is, not exactly an obit but a reflection back on a life and a career that I had never planned, but which unfolded in a way that I've never regretted.
Founding editor of the Toronto Sun and legendary Canadian journalist Peter Worthington died Sunday evening at the age of