James Duplacey – the prolific sports writer, former Hockey Hall of Fame curator and actor who died this month at the age of 61 – was a man ahead of his time when it came to the marriage of his two greatest enthusiasms: music and sports.
These days it's a given that sports writers and broadcasters mine the two realms, but Mr. Duplacey was Grantland – the now-defunct online pop culture/sports blog – before Grantland existed. Prior to authoring or contributing to 50 books about hockey (plus another eight about other sports) and working at the Hockey Hall of Fame, Mr. Duplacey had helped manage Cheapies Records on Yonge Street. In its heyday, it was one of the most progressive and prescient Toronto record depots. Whenever he dropped music references, it was no fly-by; no let's-show-the-sports-world-how-enlightened-I-am-by-telling-people-that-I-own-the-first-Mission-of-Burma-record. Rather, he was a devoted dyed-in-the-wool music lover, collecting obscure bootlegs that numbered in the hundreds.
"Back in the days of the UNB Drama Society," remembered his friend, the writer Bob Mersereau, "I'd follow JJ to shows at the Riverview Arms near campus. It was a rowdy roadhouse, and each week would feature Maritime legends such as Dutch Mason, Matt Minglewood, Richie Oakley and Sam Moon. I was being schooled in classic Canadiana."
Born in Moncton on June 25, 1954, James Joseph Duplacey was a grumpy, garrulous and loyal rapscallion. He was one of three children born to Leslie and Dorothy (née Currie) Duplacey. His studies in history and political science took him to the University of New Brunswick, in Fredericton, where he received his BA in 1976. His first love, however, was theatre. While an undergrad, he directed a UNB Drama Society production of What The Butler Saw and acted in several other university plays. His first big professional role, with Theatre New Brunswick, was playing Dr. Mildew, a scoundrel selling potions of dubious quality, in a children's production at Kings Landing Historical Settlement, outside Fredericton.
His theatre career stalled when he moved to Ottawa, but his love and knowledge of music then led him to Toronto, where he became a Yonge Street record store totem, and, later, acting curator of the Hockey Hall of Fame, a job that he applied for on a lark. Mr. Mersereau recalled: "Part of the application was a history quiz. He got a perfect score, and was told no one had ever done that before. His knowledge was astounding in so many fields, though; all sports, music, theatre, movies, Titanic trivia, and on and on."
Mr. Duplacey swivelled through life with a dexterity of enthusiasm, and his passions often collided. This was never so direct as when, as acting curator, he gathered his boyhood hero, sportswriter Scott Young, and his son, singer/songwriter Neil Young, at a Hall of Fame dinner, and grabbed a skate from the centrepiece so they could autograph it. Mr. Duplacey was a lifelong Maple Leafs fan. He was cremated in his blue and white Toronto sweater.
In my book The Best Game You Can Name, Mr. Duplacey recalled the time he set Rocket Richard straight on a memorable moment in hockey history. Mr. Richard and Hockey Hall of Fame president Scotty Morrison were discussing the famous Turofsky brothers' photograph that captured the moment the Rocket's skate shattered the new (and supposedly unbreakable) Plexiglass at Maple Leaf Gardens, in 1949.
That picture, which ran in newspapers across the country, shows the Rocket falling to the ice amid a shower of glass while Maple Leafs left winger Vic Lynn looked on. Mr. Richard confessed to not being sure who had shoved him into the glass that night and Mr. Morrison asked Mr. Duplacey if he could shed some light on the matter. Mr. Duplacey had just been researching the episode and told The Rocket that the guilty party was defenceman Bill Juzda.
"The words hadn't even left my lips," Mr. Duplacey said, "when the Rocket erupted, shouting and swearing, 'Juzda! Juzda! I hate that guy. I hate Bill Juzda! I hate that dirty, little … .' His eyes turned from pieces of black coal to blazing fireballs. Suddenly, it was as if the Rocket was back on the ice on that night, reliving the moment and ready to do damage to anyone he saw who might even remotely remind him of Bill Juzda."
After leaving the Hall of Fame in 1989, Mr. Duplacey got down to writing. Over the next quarter-century he was the sole author of a remarkable 22 books, including the respected titles Total Hockey and Forever Rivals, collaborated on dozens more, co-founded the fabled Society for International Hockey Research and worked (and lived with) publisher and author Dan Diamond. One of Mr. Duplacey's responsibilities was to write the prose on the back of hockey cards. Mr. Mersereau says, "Rob Baker of The Tragically Hip told me the story of the band's iconic song Fifty Mission Cap, and how, while the band jammed out the tune in the studio, singer Gord Downie read some of the hockey cards he had just bought. He improvised lyrics about the tragic death of Leafs player Bill Barilko, singing: 'I stole this from a hockey card.' J.J. had written that card."
Mr. Duplacey's sports interests extended well beyond hockey. He would take his holidays during the baseball playoffs, which he called "the greatest time of the year." Sometimes he would rent a cottage so he could settle into a three-games-a-day routine. He'd broken this pattern after moving from Toronto to Vancouver and Calgary and settling down in Fredericton with his beloved spouse of many years, Peggy Bertelsen, whom he'd known in his Moncton days.
When I last saw James Duplacey in Fredericton, he told me about getting ready to act in the TNB show Beaverbrook; how that part of his life had come full circle. We had some laughs and some beers, but he headed home early, too tired from the effects of a heart ailment that had slowed him down in recent years.
Mr. Duplacey died on Dec. 1 in New Brunswick after a long illness. He leaves his partner, Ms. Bertelsen; sister, Jeanne Melanson; brother, John Duplacey; and many nieces, nephews and cousins.
He never asked for much, and the same was true after his death. There was no visitation or funeral. In lieu of flowers or donations, he suggested that people go out and "support their local sports associations or the arts by attending a local game or special event of their choosing."
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