http://www.winnipegfre...p-4541809c.html
April 1, 2007
CHAPTER III:
DAVID Asper tells this story about walking along the coast of the Black Sea a few years back, in Yalta, when he bumps into some Polish boxers.
They get to chatting, and Asper mentions his hometown is Winnipeg.
The Poles get excited.
"Booby Khull!! Booby Khull!!," one of them blurts out, as his fellow boxer nods excitedly.
Suddenly, strangers a half-world apart have something in common. They are fans of the Golden Jet.
"Yalta, Russia, on the Black Sea," Asper reiterated, while wolfing down a big breakfast in a Pembina Highway Salisbury House last month.
"Talking to a Polish boxer who knows Winnipeg because Bobby Hull played for the Jets. What is that worth? What does that mean? I don't know if it's worth anything. But it certainly made me feel good about where I come from."
Such is the ethereal nature of measuring what Winnipeg lost when the NHL's Jets taxied down the runway and took off to Phoenix.
And any conclusion must factor in a critical question: Was losing the hockey team, as painful as the process was for many, a merciful end that avoided years of losses -- both on the ice and off? How many games would you have been able to afford? How many could you have gone to with your kids?
Yes, small-market teams like Edmonton survived, but only after millions in cash calls and a team reduced for years to second-tier status as young stars such as Curtis Joseph, Doug Weight and Bill Guerin left the Oilers' nest in their prime for big-market clubs that could afford to offer rich contracts.
And, remember, the Oilers are bankrolled by a filthy-rich consortium of oilfield millionaires and billionaires, the likes of which -- in terms of numbers and overall wealth -- cannot be found in Winnipeg.
Regardless, the demise of the Jets triggered an unquestionable loss of civic pride, perhaps even a little shame. Undoubtedly, there was a shared feeling among hockey's true believers that the loss signalled a city in regression, even if the root causes were the NHL's fatally flawed vision of U.S. expansion and a suicidal economic structure.
Face it, the Jets were this city's most widely known status symbol, an international calling card that allowed a small prairie city some real estate on the global stage.
"It may not mean anything to people who don't spend a lot of time outside of Winnipeg, but in terms of reputation and identity of the city beyond Winnipeg... it's critical," said David Asper, the lawyer.
"It elevates your city on a psychological level that's akin to the biggest cities in the country. You've got to look to things that are going to create an identity for our community. One of them is rabid, white-out hockey."
Consider the loss of the Jets in terms of brand identity. For example, that's where companies pay naming-rights fees to have their brand names attached to sports facilities or championship events. The concept is simple: Every time that facility or game is mentioned in a television broadcast, in newsprint or on the Internet, it's a form of advertising.
The Jets, by comparison, spread the brand name of "Winnipeg" every time the team's name appeared in the print or electronic media.
As a point of reference, would you even know that Green Bay existed if not for the Packers? Probably not. So you can bet the civic pride in that small Wisconsin community is tied directly to their historic National Football League team.
"I always argued at the time that there was an intrinsic value, that maybe we stuck out our chests just a little bit more," offered Stuart Murray, a prominent member of the Manitoba Entertainment Complex group, who went on to become leader of the provincial Conservative party. "That when you turned to the sports pages anywhere in the world, there would be Winnipeg with Los Angeles, New York, Toronto, Montreal. We were a player in the premier hockey league in the world."
"I thought it gave us a sense of ownership and a sense of pride that we as Winnipeggers could play in the same sandbox as our friends from Alberta or our friends from Ontario or south of the border. We played in that sand box. We deserved to be in that sand box. And when it gets taken away..."
Anger. Grief. Denial. Indeed, if there's one thing local hockey fans needed after the Jets left, it was a psychologist.
"I think to this day we have a hangover about it," said Cal Botterill, a Winnipeg-based sports psychologist who has worked extensively with several NHL teams over the last two decades.
"There's something special about being a major-league town. When you travel to the States, (the Jets are) the only reason they know where Winnipeg is. For another 20 years, it's still probably going to be the same."
Botterill knows a little bit about hockey. His daughter, Jennifer, has two Olympic gold medals (and one silver) as a member of the Canadian women's national team, while son Jason, who went on to play professional hockey at the NHL and AHL level, won three gold medals with Team Canada at the World Junior Hockey Championships.
And growing up in the tiny, rural community of Oakville, just east of Portage la Prairie, Botterill understands the emotional attachment prairie folk have to their hometown teams -- and how those teams' successes or failures shape the towns' self-image.
"Sometimes, we'd get too emotional about it (rivalries with neighbouring towns)," Botterill said. "But it shows just how ingrained a team is to the community and its pride.
"It was our entertainment, it was our exercise, it was our outlet," he added. "In the Canadian prairies, there's nothing comparable."
Should a small town shrink to the point where it can no longer ice a hockey team, it creates a huge void in a long winter and, of course, is a blow to local self-esteem. Such is the value the game holds in this country.
"If you look at it historically, people say hockey is like a religion," Botterill contended. "It's bigger than that. Because it's a thing that crosses all faiths; Jewish, Christian, Muslim... they all love hockey."
So, in many ways, the loss of the Jets represented a macro-version of a small, rural Manitoba town no longer able to sustain its hockey team. And it hurt.
"We've lost our Hulls and our Hedbergs and our Hawerchuks, the Selannes and Thomas Steens," lamented Jeff Thompson, one of the local businessmen who had a front-row seat for the demise of the Jets as a member of the MEC and Spirit of Manitoba committees. "Those heroes, we've lost that.
"People loved to wake up in the morning and go to the coffee machine and talk about the Jets," he added. "People had ownership. I'd like my kid to know that feeling. I'd like to be about to talk to him about it. There's a huge value in that."
Thompson, who now runs a multimillion-dollar sports marketing firm Activa, insists that to this day, the Jets remain a part of Winnipeg's psyche -- more than a decade after their exit.
"To think the Jets or the NHL isn't still part of our community... you're kidding yourself," he said, noting that nostalgia has a lot to do with it. Now even the most basic aspects of jumping in your car to attend an NHL game -- and let's not forget there was some really bad hockey played in that Winnipeg Arena -- evoke fond memories.
"It was a sense of community," Thompson continued. "You knew the seats you were in. You knew the fans around you. You knew where you were going for food at the intermission. You even knew the bad parking spot you were going to get. From that, there was comfort."
Fair enough. But here's the deal: The sun came up the next morning after the Jets left, property values have risen, the Manitoba economy has improved and the Red River still flows north to Hudson's Bay.
Since 1995, Winnipeg has hosted world championships in curling, junior and women's hockey, pumped out two Grey Cup events, including last November's rousing success. Winnipeg's Pan Am Games in 1999 was an event for the ages and, perhaps, along with the World Juniors, rekindled some of the pride that escaped the city along with Keith Tkachuk & Co.
Meanwhile, we've survived the worst flood in almost half a century, saved the Blue Bombers from extinction -- with the franchise on its most solid financial footing in decades -- and get this: We even built a brand-new state-of-the art arena. Go figure.
OK, so Mark Chipman built the arena, and he had to go all the way to the Supreme Court of Canada to fight protesters who wanted to preserve the historic Eaton's building.
But it was built and, for the record, this year it is home to one of the best teams in the American Hockey League, the Manitoba Moose, who have averaged around 8,000 fans a game since the MTS Centre officially opened for hockey on Nov. 17, 2004.
Every one of the arena's 15,015 seats that night were filled, mostly with the curious there to gawk at the $133.5-million facility. The sense of pride was palpable.
The equation held: Hockey plus Success equals Community Pride.
No one's kidding themselves here. The loss of the NHL was a massive hit to Winnipeg's collective ego. It was a devastating loss for hockey fans and without question negatively affected Winnipeg's reputation in terms of being a vibrant, thriving community.
But if the last 11 years has proven anything, it's that Hockey minus the NHL doesn't equal Doom, either.
So what have we learned?
"When people tell you the sky is falling, that you shouldn't panic," Gary Filmon noted. "They told us that over Meech Lake, that the country would fall apart. And it didn't. They told us that over the Jets, this community would be dead. In the end, the dollars stayed here. They were spent in other ways.
"As an economy, I don't think we've lost anything as a result," the former premier added. "Is there an entertainment loss, a value? Absolutely, for those who love hockey, and I'm one of them."
So was Steve Lipischak, a 44-year-old Internet manager whose father, Joe, took him to Portage and Main for the signing of Bobby Hull in 1972. And Lipischak took his then four-year old son, Andrew, to the Save-the-Jets rally at The Forks in May 1995.
"He (Joe) brought me for the start of the Jets," Lipischak said, "and I brought my son for the end of the Jets."
Andrew is now a Leafs fan, much to his father's chagrin. Like most Winnipeg kids, he's simply adopted another NHL team to follow.
"You know what? It's time to move on," Lipischak reasoned. "We don't have the NHL anymore. Big deal. We have a way of life better than most cities in Canada."
Indeed, it's clear that Winnipeggers decided to live here long before the NHL, and found their own reasons to stay after its acrimonious departure.
"You look at the city of Winnipeg, it's an act of collective will," noted Sandy Riley, who led the MEC campaign. "Why does a city of this size exist where we are now, miles from any other major city in a community... where it's cold in the winter time? Why does a city like this exist and continue to develop? It exists because people who live here see the charm of living here, the community, the sense of neighbourliness, the sense of shared commitment to what we're doing.
"You feel part of something where all the pieces fit together nicely."
Maybe you have a cottage and soak up precious Manitoba summers. Maybe you like the fact that a decent, middle-class home won't cost you $500,000. Maybe it's the fact that you can get anywhere in Winnipeg in less than 30 minutes. Perhaps it's the people, the relaxed attitudes and omnipresent atmosphere of rural-based family values.
"Winnipeg is larger than one sports franchise," added Murray, now president of the St. Boniface Hospital Foundation. "It just is. I never believed that Winnipeg would dry up and blow away if we lost an NHL team...
"What we're talking about here is an emotional, intangible element that allows you to say (as a community) we're part of something pretty big and pretty special," Murray offered, sipping coffee in the hospital cafeteria. "But these aren't real-life issues.
"Look, I'll take you up to the palliative care ward here where people are spending their last days on Earth. These people are dying. That's real-life stuff."
"So would you look at it (the loss of the Jets) as a death? That's a little dramatic, perhaps, but it was a loss. With the emotion, someone said it's like ripping the heart out of a community.
"But maybe we've had a heart transplant. We're still breathing. We're doing well."
Yet Murray is the same man who still has his last pair of Jets tickets pinned up on his bedroom wall, 11 years later, vowing: "I'll have them forever."
That's the underlying duplicity when it comes to the Jets: Even those who would tell you that the city does just fine without the NHL, those who cringe that the subject continues to be broached, and those who say, 'Hey, deal with it. Get on with your life.'
Well, give them any hope that one day soon the Sidney Crosbys and Alexander Ovechkins -- and, yes, Teemu Selannes -- might grace this city's hockey rink again and see if you get their undivided attention.
Susan Thompson, Winnipeg's former mayor, would listen. She still remembers the last telephone call with NHL commissioner Gary Bettman back in early May 1995, when the MEC's bid to buy the team fell through.
Bettman was contrite and matter-of-factly pointed out that it was not anybody's fault that Winnipeg lacked the ownership capital the NHL was after. Nice try, though.
All Thompson could think of was this...
"The day will come, my friend. The day will come."
'WHO ARE YOU GUYS, ANYWAY?'
--A Winnipeg city councillor to a group of young Winnipeg entrepreneurs in 1994
CHAPTER IV:
It's late January 2007, more than a decade since the Winnipeg Jets departure, and Mark Chipman has just entered his office at the MTS Centre headquarters, fresh from the NHL All-star Game in Dallas.
He's not all giggles and cheer.
There's a reason: Only a few days before, while being interviewed by the CBC's Ron MacLean in Dallas, Gary Bettman uttered the words "NHL" and "Winnipeg" in the same sentence on national television.
Actually, what Bettman said, in response to MacLean's question on whether the NHL might ever return to Winnipeg, was: "Under the new CBA, we haven't studied it, but I wouldn't rule it out.... The fact of the matter is, it's not something we currently have a plan to do. Even though we haven't done the homework, I believe there might be a world under the partnership we have with the players, with the salary cap, that Winnipeg probably could support an NHL team."
Now if Bettman had traded the word "Kansas City" for "Winnipeg," it probably wouldn't have raised an eyebrow in Missouri... provided someone in Kansas City actually watched the NHL All-star game.
But in Winnipeg, the reaction was immediate and somewhat giddy. Columns about the possible return of the NHL were madly scribbled. Winnipeg's flagship radio station CJOB gave Bettman's words -- and the implication thereof -- almost wall-to-wall coverage.
After all, this was a brand-new movie. Prior to the NHL's new collective bargaining agreement (forged in 2005 after a bitter lockout that wiped out an entire season) -- which instituted a salary cap based on total revenues -- any notion of the NHL in Winnipeg was simply wishful thinking.
Besides, Bettman for the last decade had taken great pains to stomp such nostalgic sentiments in their tracks.
But perhaps there's a good reason the NHL might be warming to Winnipeg; the same reason that cost the city the Jets in 1996: Money.
The league's dynamics have changed dramatically since 1995, when small-market Canadian teams were seen as an anchor to the NHL's prosperity. The Toronto Star reported recently that the NHL's six Canadian-based teams -- who sell almost every ticket to every game -- now account for 33 per cent of the 30-team league's revenues, an estimated $733 US million out of $2.2-billion. The Toronto Maple Leafs alone pump between $9 million and $10 million into the league's revenue-sharing fund.
Go figure. Canadian teams are now subsidizing hockey in struggling U.S. markets.
Meanwhile, the East Valley Tribune (Arizona) reported that the Phoenix Coyotes will lose $30 million this season.
"You'd think (Canadian teams) could make a case for Winnipeg," agent Carlos Sosa told the Star in early February. "They may go back there."
Interesting, eh? Because no player agent on the planet would have advocated Winnipeg for a franchise in 1995. They had much bigger fish to gut, and they did. And those billionaire owners could fritter away millions and no one would care. It was their loss, right?
Under the new CBA, however, a solidly run franchise that generates significant revenue -- whether the team turns a profit or not -- suddenly becomes a more attractive "partner" for both owners and players, who now all share the NHL pie.
An NHL team in this city would never be a cash cow, but it wouldn't be a perennial money-burner like the Coyotes, either. And maybe the league wouldn't have to spend so much time trying to explain why it's expanding or moving to yet another non-traditional U.S. market that has every amenity available to a hockey team except fans. Hello, Kansas City.
So maybe Bettman was just digesting these new numbers himself back in January and it dawned on the commissioner that a change in tack towards Winnipeg was in order.
Of course, even his lukewarm response suddenly hijacked water cooler conversations across the city.
Chipman's phone was ringing off the hook. It's a drill the president and CEO of True North has become familiar with and extremely leery of, to put it mildly.
"I've always felt that owning a hockey team in this city is a responsibility," Chipman explained. "And it needs to be taken seriously. People are passionate about hockey and NHL hockey is a tinderbox, this subject. And it's got to be managed carefully."
Chipman has learned the hard way. It took more than a decade and a new building to get Winnipeg hockey fans to warm to the Manitoba Moose, a franchise with an uneven history that struggled for acceptance in the old Winnipeg Arena. Today, the Moose are led by one of Winnipeg's most successful hockey products, former NHL veteran Mike Keane, a member of three Stanley Cup teams and former captain of the Montreal Canadiens. The Moose currently sit atop their conference, provide an entertaining brand of hockey and have a front-office staff that would be the envy of several NHL teams.
The last two head coaches of the Moose, Randy Carlyle and Alain Vigneault, are now both in the NHL, guiding two strong Stanley Cup contenders -- the Anaheim Ducks and Vancouver Canucks, respectively -- to the upcoming playoffs.
But in a city where hockey fans still cling dearly to fond memories of Bobby Hull, Anders Hedberg, Dale Hawerchuk and Teemu Selanne, passion for the AHL team remains elusive. In fact, a hard-core faction of hockey fans in Winnipeg still resent the Moose, if only because the team replaced the Jets. To them, the Moose define Winnipeg as a second-tier Canadian city.
The unfortunate irony is that Chipman only pursued the International Hockey League's Minneapolis Moose back in 1996 -- after countless hours working with MEC to save the Jets -- because he believed having professional hockey, no matter what the level, was better than an empty rink.
"We just emerged from the wreckage," he explained. "We never expected or attempted to be what the Jets were to the community, but thought we were fulfilling a need."
So every time the NHL debate rears its massive head, Chipman is stuck in the lurch.
He's trying to operate an AHL team in a market where even a backhanded hint at the return of the NHL dwarfs coverage of his Moose, an affiliate of the NHL's Canucks. Yet when it comes to Winnipeg's NHL aspirations, Chipman is the pressure point.
Trust us, he doesn't have to be reminded of that fact.
"That's a meaningful burden," Chipman acknowledged. "We know how passionately the city feels about the NHL. And we've said if there's a way to do this, we'd love to be a part of it."
Here's the problem: Chipman and his staff at True North for the past year-plus have done extensive research into what it would take to subsist in the new NHL.
"We're not just sitting around," he said. "As more information (about the financial impact of the new CBA) is available, we collect it. We go looking for it. We're highly understanding of how the new league works."
And that's the thing: the more Chipman and his counters of beans delve into the NHL economics, as they relate to smaller Canadian franchises, the more convoluted the evaluation can become. For every pro there's a con. For example, the Edmonton Oilers last year essentially broke even for the regular season. That's after selling virtually every ticket to every game and maxing out corporate revenues.
Sure, the Oilers made upwards of $10 million on their subsequent and delirious playoff run -- coming within a game of capturing the Stanley Cup -- but the hard fact is, even in a more wealthy Alberta market, it's tough to operate an NHL team.
"No, it doesn't discourage us," Chipman said. "If we were discouraged by it, we would say so, that we don't think it works. And we haven't come to that conclusion. In the new world, it's conceivable."
It's to the point, in fact, where Chipman is close to going public with just what it would cost to operate an NHL team in Winnipeg.
"We're close to being able to say, 'This is how much a suite is going to be. This is how much a ticket is going to be. This is how much sponsorship revenue we have to raise. This is how much revenue sharing we have to qualify for,'" he said.
Warning, hockey fans: Just establishing the costs associated with a hypothetical NHL team doesn't mean it could happen. Indeed, the opposite could well be the case.
The biggest hurdle is not the cost to operate a team, but the cost to acquire a franchise in the first place. There's been no market established for NHL teams since the lockout, but there was an offer of $175 million for the Pittsburgh Penguins. That should be near the top, so the price range might be $100 million to $175 million.
"That's a real unknown right now," Chipman insisted. "Nobody's going to do this on a bet. Nobody's going to say, 'Let's go to an investment banking firm and borrow the money and hope it works. It's a business. People don't give you money for free."
Hence Chipman's reticence when it comes to an issue where emotion so quickly hijacks sound financial thinking, given this city's history.
"We have to look at this very soberly," Chipman cautioned. "We got wrapped up in almost a sense of hysteria about it (back in 1995). Unsound, unthoughtful things were being uttered about what was going to happen to the community. There would be a mass exodus. Property values were going to plummet. But more than that, it was going to be a tremendous blow to our psyche and sense of self-esteem. A death blow, if you believed some people.
"Are we stinging over it still? Absolutely. Is it deep? For sure. Having the NHL in Winnipeg would be a great thing. It's a wonderful asset to have for a lot of reasons. It can be a signal for young people in the community to give them some hope in where the city is going. And it can make us all feel better about where we stand in the North American landscape. We love the game so passionately that it would be great for us to watch it at the highest level.
"But does it define us? Does it make us a great community or not? I don't think it does. We're a great community to begin with."
Which brings us to the one legacy of the Save-the-Jets era that should not be ignored or understated: The emergence of the city's next generation of business and community leaders.
And it all began sometime during one of the first meetings of the MEC, where a city councillor -- the people at the meeting won't say who it was -- looked around at the likes of Stuart Murray, John Loewen, Hartley Richardson, Bob Silver, Jeff Thompson, Chipman and Sandy Riley -- and asked, 'Who are you guys, anyway?'
That simple question was an awakening, of sorts, for Silver.
"Even though we in the room were economic leaders, we weren't the community leaders who the people who make the laws in this city even knew," Silver conceded. "We realized the future was ours to aid."
Added Loewen: "If you go back to that MEC original list you'll find amongst that group virtually every business leader in this city. In some ways it (the NHL loss) ripped the community apart and in some ways it coalesced the leadership."
Friendships and business relationships among the men who began meeting every Saturday morning in Loewen's office under MEC still remain to this day.
In fact, it could be argued that their collective resolve was only strengthened by the loss of the Jets.
"We could have gone two different ways," Riley said. "We could have gotten depressed and demoralized, a lot of people who worked on this. Or we could have got ourselves mobilized and said, "Look, we want to live here. We want our businesses here. And that's what happened.
"We didn't know we were a community. We were a bunch of guys running our own businesses. The best legacy is there is a whole generation of people who at that time were in their 30s and 40s and said, 'We'll step up.'"
Riley went on to head the Pan Am Games. Thompson and Murray chaired the committee overseeing the World Junior Hockey tournament. Chipman acquired the Moose and built the new arena -- the only tangible reason a possible return of the NHL to Winnipeg can even be considered. Silver joined the Premier's Economic Advisory Council and co-chaired the multi-million dollar drive to build the Millennium Library. Richardson led a United Way drive in 2004 that collected a then-unprecedented $16 million.
"(In 1995) We were all holding hands like little kids waiting for someone else to make something happen," Thompson said. "Now it's up to us to make something happen.
"The 30-somethings are now 40-somethings. The power base has changed. The decision-makers have changed."
Meanwhile, David Asper has a vision to buy the community-owned Winnipeg Blue Bombers and build a new football stadium.
"It wasn't Izzy Asper who wanted to save the Jets, it was Leonard and David," Loewen pointed out. "And now who's running the show there (at CanWest Global)?"
The city's leadership has evolved. The NHL's economics have stabilized. Both the Canadian dollar and provincial economy have improved considerably since 1995. And the prevailing attitude in NHL headquarters towards Winnipeg is said to be far more receptive. Which is why the city may soon come -- many say 'will come' -- full circle to the big question: Can we afford to be in the big league?
"This time around there's got to be a lot of soul-searching, a lot of straight talk about what may be required," David Asper submitted. "It really goes to what I think is the saddest thing of all, that a hockey team is a trait of a vibrant, prosperous community. The fact that we have to have this discussion on whether we can maintain it is what I find most depressing. Because it just means we're not realizing our true opportunity to grow."
But what if it's just one of life's realities, that this city wasn't then and isn't now financially capable of existing in the NHL's world?
"That is absolutely the most honest response," Asper replied. "We have to be true to ourselves and say if we do want a hockey club back, a million of us together are going to have to be part of the solution."
Make no mistake, if the NHL ever grudgingly returns to its smallest market, there will be a heavy price to pay. A team would have to generate at least $85 million annually. Year after year after year.
No doubt, government assistance will be required, although that's not such an issue for folks like Jeff Thompson, who are quick to point out that if governments are going to squander money, it might as well be on an NHL team. Asked Thompson: "Would you rather we have pissed away all our money on Crocus or the Jets?"
Point taken. Still, while there are those who still openly mourn the loss of the NHL, many others believe that a team would be an economic burden, too often shared by the taxpayers.
And then there's Chipman, who will tell you it's feasible on one level (operating a team), but virtually impossible on another (purchasing a team), meaning an existing owner would have to agree to move a team from one failing market to an unknown, limited market in Winnipeg.
Yet with each passing day it seems clear Winnipeggers will have to look in the mirror once again and ask themselves: Is the NHL worth it?
Perhaps just the notion is naive and perhaps even rash, given the Jets' failure and the psychological malaise that followed.
Then call Jeff Thompson naive.
"We have to look past ourselves and look to the future," he said. "I want us to be proud and give our children every reason to want to be here. And I want every hook in the book. The best airport, the best waterfront. Everything.
"Do you not think the Jets leaving the community was a life-altering event in our community? Then returning would be life-altering in reverse. It would be a huge boost in civic confidence, where we could believe we could do the unthinkable.
"Everybody in this city would just walk a bit taller, a bit prouder. And there will be a little smirk on their face, saying, 'Watch out world. We're back.'"
* * *
On May 18, 1995, thousands of Winnipeggers gathered at Portage and Main hoping to hear their beloved Jets had been saved. Stompin' Tom Connors blared on the loud speakers, belting out The Hockey Song. The fans in the street sang along.
It was all in vain. The Jets were lost.
What we've learned since is that this city is about much more than one NHL hockey team. And while the Jets might be long gone, a belief in Winnipeg's future is not.
Strange, though...
If you listen very closely, you can still hear them singing.
THE 'YOUNG TURKS'...THEN AND NOW
DAVID ASPER
Then: Vice-president of CanWest Global Communications.
Now: Executive vice-president of CanWest. Former Winnipeg Blue Bombers chairman. Co-chair of the 2006 Grey Cup committee. Has proposed a $120-million football stadium that, if approved, could provide a new home for the Bombers before the end of the decade.
LEONARD ASPER
Then: Vice-president of CanWest.
Now: CEO of CanWest Global Communications, one of Canada's most influential and expensive properties. Ranked No. 2 on the Winnipeg Free Press Power List last October, behind only Premier Gary Doer.
MARK CHIPMAN
Then: President of Birchwood Automotive.
Now: President and CEO of True North Entertainment, which manages MTS Centre. Governor of the Manitoba Moose. President of Megill Stephenson Co. Ranked No. 11 on WFP Power List.
HARTLEY RICHARDSON
Then: President and CEO of James Richardson and Sons, one of Winnipeg's flagship businesses.
Now: Among other duties with JR and Sons limited, oversees Richardson Partners Financial, Canada's fastest-growing independent wealth management firm, which reportedly has $6 billion in assets. Along with the Aspers, the Richardson family is synonomous with wealth and philanthropy. No. 3 on WFP Power List.
BOB SILVER
Then: Owner of Western Glove Works.
Now: Owner of Glove Works and co-owner of the Winnipeg Free Press. Co-chair of the premier's Economic Advisory Council. Partners with David Asper, Leonard Asper and Marty Weinberg in Canterbury Park's $200-million private equity fund. No. 12 on Power List.
SANDY RILEY
Then: President and CEO of Investors Group.
Now: Member of the Order of Canada. Chaired 2003 United Way campaign. Chaired Winnipeg's Pan Am Games committee. Founder of Richardson Capital and Richardson Partners Financial (overseen by Hartley Richardson).
CHARLIE SPIRING
Then: CEO and chairman of Wellington West Capital Inc, which in 1995 had one office and $300 million in assets and 30 employees.
Now: Still running the investment firm, which now has $8.5 billion in assets, over 500 employees in 28 offices, headquartered in Winnipeg. The firm's trading volume has jumped from $500 million in 1995 to almost $20 billion. No. 7 on WFP Power List.
JEFF THOMPSON
Then: Co-founder of Winnipeg Goldeyes, owner of Woody's Sports.
Now: Owner of Activa, a multimillion-dollar sports promotions company based in Winnipeg that does business with every major league in North America, and several abroad.
STUART MURRAY
Then: President of Domo Gas.
Now: Chairman of the St. Boniface Hospital Foundation and former leader of the provincial Conservative party in opposition. Along with Thompson, co-chaired the 1999 World Junior Hockey Championship in Winnipeg.