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Greg Culbert at the helm of his
fishing boat, the Keitha M in the waters of the Georgia Straight, near Campbell
River, British Columbia. Photo courtesy of Kate (Culbert) Kerr.
|
In the previous post, Mary-Lynn Culbert wrote
a memorial tribute to her brother, Greg Culbert. Today, we continue our tribute
to Greg with details about his life and adventures.
Greg Culbert was run over by a tractor when
he was a baby, he lost the vision in one eye at age nine, he rescued climbers
off mountainsides and dug out avalanche victims, he was thrown into jail in
Spain, he had his throat slit by a psychotic slasher in Germany, and he had an
altercation with Bruno Gerussi of The Beachcombers fame.
We’ll get to all that and more as we continue
to celebrate the 77th anniversary of Greg Culbert’s birth.
Brian Gregory Culbert was born 10
December, 1943, in London, Ontario, Canada to Kenneth Arthur Culbert and
Mary Helen Needham. Ken served in the Air Force during WWII from
1941-1945 but he must have been home on leave about nine months before Greg was
born.
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| The Culberts at Poplar Farm in Biddulph Township
near Lucan, Ontario, c1944. Back row, left to right: Greg’s grandfather, Myron Culbert; Greg’s young uncle, Earl Culbert, Greg’s great-grandmother, Jane (Fairhall) Culbert holding baby Greg. Middle row, left to right: Greg’s
grandmother, Effie Pearl (Taylor) Culbert, and Greg’s mother, Helen (Needham) Culbert. Front row: Greg’s father, Ken Culbert holding Greg’s brother, Cam
Culbert. Photo courtesy of Vicky (Culbert) Schloendorf. |
When Greg was born, Ken and Helen already had
welcomed one child into the world: Kenneth Campbell Culbert (born 1941).
Another child, Mary-Lynn Culbert would join her brothers, Cam and Greg many
years later in 1959.
 |
| Cam
Culbert and his little brother, Greg, in 1943. Photo taken by their father, Ken
Culbert. |
It’s amazing that Greg
survived his childhood. These next few stories from his sister, Mary-Lynn
illustrate why it’s so amazing:
During a visit to the
Culbert family farm (Poplar Farm) near Lucan, Ontario, Greg’s father, Ken, put baby
Greg on the hood of the tractor. Ken put the tractor in gear and drove off with
baby Greg on the hood. The tractor hit a rut, bouncing the baby off the tractor.
Then Ken ran over the baby with the tractor. By pure chance, little Greg had landed
in a furrow and the tractor passed over top of him.
 |
| Poplar Farm (the Culbert homestead) in 2013. Located on the Coursey Line near Lucan, Ontario. |
Another narrow escape from
death ensued when Greg climbed out of his crib and out the bedroom window onto
the roof of the house. Baby Greg’s slide towards the edge of the roof was
stopped when his heels hit the eavestrough. He sat there, happily enjoying the
view, while his mother was drawn to the front door by the shrieks of passers-by.
She looked up to see her baby perched on the edge of the roof! She proceeded to
risk life and limb crawling out after him and hauling him back to safety by his
diaper.
As you can see from the photo below, Greg was
full of energy. In the words of his second cousin, Dorothy (Kerslake) Coolman,
“He had a twinkle in his eye that suggested some devilment!”
 |
Cousin Fest. Greg and his cousins at
a picnic at Poplar Farm in 1951. Left
to right: Greg’s 1st
cousin Vicky Culbert; 1st
cousin Marilyn Culbert behind 1st cousin, Ian Culbert; 1st
cousin Terry Culbert with his arm around Greg (who is front and centre and all
action); 1st cousin, Wayne Culbert barely visible behind Terry; Greg’s brother, Cam Culbert (the tallest kid in the photo); 2nd
cousin, Dorothy Kerslake (standing); 2nd cousin, Marion Kerslake (in
front of Dorothy); then 2nd cousins, Jim Kerslake and Ron Ryckman. |
In the summer of 1952,
nine-year-old Greg suffered a serious injury to his right eye, and eventually
lost the eye. Here’s what happened, according to Greg’s brother, Cam:
The Culberts were living in London, Ontario. Right
across the street from their house, there was a new home being built on an
empty lot. Greg and his brother, Cam, were told to stay away from this
construction site but, being kids (and boys!), they would sneak over to
explore, along with a lot of other neighborhood kids. The site was dug up and
covered in lumps of heavy, sharp-edged clay. One day they were over there
messing about with a couple of other kids when one boy (the neighborhood troublemaker)
grabbed a hunk of clay and whipped it at Greg, hitting him the eye. The boy’s
parents refused to take any responsibility for his actions, and were quite
belligerent about the whole thing. Greg had surgery to save the eye, but
therapy and further treatment options were interrupted by a move to Quebec.
Greg adapted really well to his vision loss,
playing competitive sports, becoming an expert hunter, marksman, and fisherman
(he tied his own flies). He finally decided to have the eye removed later in
life (guessing he would have been in his late 30’s or early 40’s) after he
began to suffer pain and complete loss of vision.
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Greg,
later in life in his fancy-dress "pirate" patch.
|
Mary-Lynn
says, “Greg only wore an eye patch when attending events
that required him to be around people he didn't know well. I think he did
it more to make others comfortable. He did have a glass eye
made, but found it extremely uncomfortable to wear. However, it did prove
to be a great prop to entertain bar mates. He would wait until some
unsuspecting patron would take a bathroom break, then pop out the eye and drop
it in their drink. The discovery of his prosthetic
floating in their beverage would, understandably,
generate a strong reaction to which Greg would respond, ‘Just
keeping an eye on your drink for
you.’ Hours of fun for the whole family!”
When Greg was 10, the Culberts moved from
London, Ontario to Granby, Quebec in 1953. Greg’s father Ken was appointed
Assistant General Manager of the Protective Association of Canada,
a general insurance company with their head office in Granby.
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| Greg
(left) and his brother Cam in front of the family house on Vittie Street in
Granby, Quebec. |
 |
| Greg Culbert
shoveling snow in 1959 outside the family’s house on Vittie Street in Granby,
Quebec. The photo was taken shortly before his 16th birthday. That
means they had this much snow even before December! Greg had just
returned from skiing when his father insisted that he shovel out the driveway,
so he's still in his ski gear. |
In the summer of 1961, the
Culberts moved from Quebec to Toronto, Ontario. 17-year-old Greg enrolled in
Earl Haig Secondary School for grade 12. It was at this time that Brian Culbert
reinvented himself as Greg Culbért. The accent you see over the letter “e” in
the Culbert surname supposedly gave the pronunciation a certain je ne sais
quoi.
Greg’s sister, Mary-Lynn
explains how this name change came to be:
“When Greg started going to Earl Haig Secondary
School in Toronto, we suddenly began getting calls from young girls
breathlessly asking ‘Is Greg there?’ My parents kept replying, ‘There's
no one named Greg here, you have the wrong number.’ The calls kept
coming. One day, one of the girls was enamored enough to pursue the
conversation further: ‘Greg - Greg Culbért?’ And the penny
dropped for my mom. ‘Oh, you mean Brian!’
Greg was called upon to explain the name
change. He confessed that he'd told everyone at school to call him by his
middle name of Greg, and given the much sexier pronunciation of our Culbert
surname as the real thing. The change of first name was considered
presumptuous but could have been forgiven in time. However, the “French-ifying”
of our Anglo surname did NOT go over well, especially with our mother. But
it was too late - Culbért stuck, to her everlasting ire. Weirdly, I think
my dad thought it was kind of cool.
I took me years to get used to calling him
Greg instead of Brian. Sometimes I'd call him Brian just to be an annoying
little sister. Mom called him Brian for decades. When she finally gave
in and began calling him Greg, she always pronounced it with an emphasis that
let you know she didn't like it but couldn't argue with it anymore. We
jokingly used to call him Gregoire.”
Having survived his childhood and reinvented
himself in his teens, Greg set out after high school to see the world.
Adventure ensued!
While touring through
Europe after high school, Greg and a friend got thrown into one of Franco’s
prisons in Spain for carrying prohibited “contraband” - a copy of Life
magazine that he’d purchased in another European country and stashed,
forgotten, in his backpack. Instead of being beaten, shot, or left to rot, Greg
and his friend were released when the friend’s well-connected parents pulled
some strings.
Fast forward from Spain to
Germany…
On that same trip, Greg was
sitting at a bar in Germany when he was attacked from behind by an American
serviceman who had a psychotic break and went on a slashing spree. He sliced
Greg’s throat open just below the ear. Luckily this happened near an American
army medical hospital and Greg got there in time for surgeons to save his life.
Greg married his first wife, Wendy Hamilton
of Toronto on 3 June, 1967.
Greg spent the winter of 1968 working as a
ski instructor at Mount Snow in Vermont, USA. Then he and Wendy moved to
Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Here, they welcomed their first child in
1969, Kimberley Tara Culbert (now Kim Small of Huntsville, Ontario.)
Shortly after Kim’s birth, Greg and his
family moved back to Toronto where they remained for the next two years. But
the marriage didn’t last. Greg separated
from Wendy and moved out west to Banff, Alberta, in 1972. They divorced in
1975.
In the 1970s, Greg worked
at Banff National Park as Ranger support. It was Greg’s job to bring horses and
supplies to the Ranger cabins throughout the backcountry in the park at the
start of the summer season. He made sure each cabin was in good repair and
fully stocked, ready for the Rangers to arrive. He would also make supply runs
throughout the season, and bring tired horses back to basecamp for a rest or
vet attention. And he would close up the cabins before the first snow in the
autumn. He loved being in the backcountry with just the horses for company, and
he grew to love the mountains.
During the winter, Greg was
a member of the Ski Patrol, and was also on call as a member of the Mountain
Rescue unit all year round in Banff National Park. Greg told his sister some
hair-raising stories of rescuing climbers off of mountain sides, and digging
for avalanche victims. This job gave him a healthy respect for the mountains,
and a contempt for those who thought they were smarter than Mother Nature. He
also gained some serious first aid skills that served him well on many a
hunting/fishing expedition.
Greg married his second
wife, Susan McCusker in the late ‘70s, and the couple relocated to her home
town of Campbell River on Vancouver Island, British Columbia.
He welcomed two more
daughters: Katherine “Kate” Culbert (now Kate Kerr) and Elizabeth “Lizzie”
Culbert (now Lizzie Turner), both of whom currently reside with their families
in Campbell River, BC.
In Campbell River, Greg
began to learn the commercial fishing business; first as a deck hand on other
people’s boats, then as the Captain of the fishing boat, the Keitha M.
Greg was the owner/operator
of Shelter Point Seafood in Campbell River. His wife, Susan, managed the administrative
part of the business. Greg established Shelter Point Seafood as a
seafood brokerage; he purchased product directly from the fisherman and then
sold it to retailers. For example, a boat captain might call him to say he
had a load of crabs and was on his way in; Greg would then reach out to his
contacts (e.g. restauranteurs, wholesalers, hotel managers, etc. who might need
that sort of product) and broker a price for the catch. Or, vice versa,
he might get a call from someone looking to buy a particular kind of product
(fresh oysters, frozen salmon, etc.) and then let the fisherman know the demand
was there if they could get it to him in time.
Eventually, he expanded the business to
include a small processing and cold storage facility.
 |
| Greg Culbert in his “business attire” in
Campbell River during the summer of 1981. Photo by Mary Jane Culbert. |
He really found his niche with
Shelter Point Seafood, and loved this work (he especially loved being self-employed,
and being able to work with family members). It combined his many talents
- a deep, first-hand knowledge of commercial fishing, business savvy, and his
considerable personal charm. He took huge satisfaction in brokering a
deal that made everyone happy.
Greg developed a reputation in the community
and the business as a fair dealer whose word was to be trusted. And he
often gave jobs to folks who were having a hard time. He was happy to
teach the business to anyone willing to put in the work, and was generous with
his time and talents.
As a side business, Greg and Susan opened The
Fish Monger, a successful retail seafood shop offering fresh-caught seafood.
The Fish Monger was located in an outbuilding next to their house in Campbell
River just off the Island Highway, across from the harbour where the Keitha M
was docked.
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| This is a recent photo of the
building where Greg once lived and worked at 660 Island Highway in Campbell
River. Greg’s “Fish Monger” shop was located in the left side of the building,
where Dick’s Fish & Chips now stands. Greg’s residence was on the right
side of the building, where you see the Canadian flag. Photo by Mary-Lynn
Culbert. |
Greg also won the local oyster shucking
championship several times, and Susan made an incredible seafood chowder that
was sometimes on offer. The Fish Monger is now run by Dick's Fish and
Chips, and the adjoining home is now an office space.
Greg was so successful that he was offered and
accepted the job of Operations Manager for Billingsgate Fish Co., Ltd. at their
head office in Calgary, Alberta, and that's how he ended up leaving Campbell
River and relocating to Calgary in 1992. But Greg missed being
self-employed and eventually left Billingsgate.
He returned to being an independent broker (of seafood and other food
products) for several years, until the onset of short-term memory loss forced
him to retire around 2006. Daughters Lizzie and Kate had returned to
Campbell River some years earlier. And
Greg and Susan missed the coast, and their children and grandchildren. So they decided to return to Campbell River
in the summer of 2015.
Greg had a trailer permanently parked at
Vulcan, Alberta near McGregor Lake. He used the trailer as a base camp for his
Prairie fishing excursions while he was living in Calgary. Greg’s sister,
Mary-Lynn shares some photos.
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| McGregor Lake
Reservoir. Mary-Lynn says, “I went on several memorable fishing trips with Greg
here. It's hard to tell from these photos just how huge this reservoir is,
especially as the topography is so flat, but it's a very large body of water
and stretches for kilometers.” |
 |
| Mary-Lynn says, “Greg helps me land my prize. Taken from one the irrigation
canals in the summer of 2017. Notice our ensembles - what all the fishing
fashionistas were wearing. My wardrobe (head to toe) courtesy of Value Village,
Calgary.” |
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| The
interior of Chez Culbért, the fishing camp. Greg kept this place absolutely
spick and span, and was very particular about the housekeeping. What you can't
see from this angle is a container of Jiffy Pop nailed to the wall just inside
the door with a sign above it reading, "Red Neck Fire Alarm". |
 |
| Brother Cam Culbert took this
photo of Greg and a pike on McGregor Lake Reservoir. |
Greg Culbert died 16
September, 2020, at his home in Campbell River after a short struggle with
non-Hodgkin lymphoma.
He is survived by his wife,
Susan; his older brother, Cam Culbert; his younger sister, Mary-Lynn Culbert; his
three daughters (Kim, Kate and Lizzie), six grandchildren, and his faithful
dog, Annie.
Greg suffered a long list of serious
injuries, accidents, and mishaps over the course of his life that would have
been the end of a lesser (or less lucky) man twenty times over. In addition to being
run over by a tractor when he was a baby, climbing out of his crib and through
the window onto the roof of the house, an injury that eventually resulted in
the loss of his right eye, being unjustly thrown into a Spanish prison, and
having his throat slashed in Germany, the list also includes:
Spending a very cold and uncomfortable
night up a tree in northern Ontario thanks to a very angry moose.
Coming over the top of a
ridge at the same time as an enormous grizzly bear; he managed to get his
rifle up just in time as the bear charged.
Asleep in his bunk one
night on the Keitha M, Greg was jolted awake by a huge crash and realized the
boat was listing and taking on water. The boat sank in only a matter of
minutes, but Greg and his crew managed to make it into a life boat.
Totalling his motorcycle
when he rounded a corner and hit a patch of oil on the road. He walked away
without a scratch.
Totalling his Triumph
convertible sports car when a tire off a semi truck ahead of him came loose, flew
through the air, and landed directly on the hood of his car as he was
travelling down Highway 401 outside of Toronto. Again, he walked away without a
scratch.
And then there was “The
Bruno Gerussi Incident.”
Mary-Lynn says, “Greg was
the best story teller I’ve ever known, and was always ready to regale a room
with a tale or two. Here’s one of my favorites told, as best I can recreate it,
in Greg’s own voice:”
GREG: The crew was out fishing on the Keitha M, and I get a call on the
radio letting me know that they’re on their way into port. So I go down to the
dock to meet them. I’m standing there, having a chat with a buddy of mine, when
we see this strange boat coming in.
My buddy says, ‘That boat looks like it’s
heading into your berth, Greg.’ And,
sure enough, it pulls right into my spot, and over the rail hops this short
little twerp who proceeds to strut up the dock as if he owns the place.
So I walk down the dock to meet him and I say
to the guy, ‘Excuse me fella, but you just docked your boat in my berth.’
He puffs himself up like an irate pigeon and
says, ‘What’s your problem?’
I said, ‘The problem is that I’ve got a boat
full of fish coming in, and I need you to get back on your boat and move it out
of here.’
He takes exception to my tone, pulls himself
up on his tippy toes and says, ‘I can dock my boat wherever I damn well please.
Don’t you know who I am?’
I’ve had just about enough of this show, so I
tell him, ‘I know you’re the guy who’s going to move his boat.’
Well, he turns five shades of purple and
splutters, ‘I’ll have you know that I’m Bruno Gerussi. I’m the star of The
Beachcombers!”
So I picked him up by the front of his
designer ski vest and told him, ‘Beachcomb THIS, Gerussi!’ and I dropped him
off the dock into the water.
Once his crew fished him out, he moved his
boat. I’m surprised all those gold chains he was wearing around his neck
didn’t drag him to the bottom.”
End of Bruno Gerussi story, as told in Greg’s
voice.
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| This harbour is located directly
across from Greg’s house. This is where Greg (allegedly) threw Bruno Gerussi
off the dock. Photo by Mary-Lynn Culbert. |
And those are just the incidents Mary-Lynn knows
about. She says, “It seems somehow anticlimactic (and definitely unfair) that Greg
was felled by something as mundane as cancer. He should have gone out in a
blaze of glory.”
Note from the creator of the Culbert Family History blog, Mary Jane Culbert: Thanks to Greg’s
sister, Mary-Lynn Culbert for providing information and stories about Greg.
This tribute blog post wouldn’t have been possible without Mary-Lynn. Thanks
also to Greg’s brother, Cam Culbert, and to other members of Greg’s family for
verifying information.
And now, more photos…
Annie the
black English Labrador stayed by Greg’s side to the end, a faithful friend
giving love and comfort. This photo was taken in January, 2013 in Calgary,
Alberta, at Greg’s mother Helen's apartment. Greg brought his new pup, Annie,
over to visit Helen for the first time. Helen was very impressed by how calm,
gentle, and well-behaved Annie was, especially for such a young dog. Greg
glowed with the pride of any new parent.
 |
| This is
Mike. Mike was the first in a long line of Greg’s four-footed, much
beloved companions. Mike and Greg explored London, Ontario together from a
young age. Mike was Greg's first love, and there were many more hounds that
held special places in his heart. Greg felt a home wasn't complete without a
dog in it. Greg’s sister, Mary-Lynn says she had the pleasure of knowing
Rusty, master of the ball; Mac and Pearl, the pit bulls (and heard tales of
Tigger the Terrible); and Greg's hunting dogs: Rosy, the yellow lab, Murphy and
Lex, the German short-haired pointers, and Annie, the black English lab. I
know, wherever Greg's spirit now roams, he's at the head of a devoted pack. |
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| The three children of Ken Culbert
& Helen Needham. Left to right: Cam Culbert, Mary-Lynn Culbert, and Greg
Culbert. Photo taken 9 July, 1999, at the home of their cousin, Terry Culbert
near Stouffville, Ontario. |
Left to right: Greg’s brother, Cam
Culbert; Greg’s 1st cousin, Terry Culbert; Greg’s father, Ken
Culbert; and Greg Culbert. Photo taken 9 July, 1999, at the home of their
cousin, Terry Culbert near Stouffville, Ontario. Note the Culbert noses. Photo by Mary-Lynn Culbert.
 |
| Greg with his mother, Helen
(Needham) Culbert in Kananaskis Country, Alberta on a road trip in the 1980s. |
 |
| Here's to ya, Greg! Photo of Greg
Culbert from the summer of 1981 in Campbell River, BC. Photo by Greg’s 1ST
cousin, Mary Jane Culbert. |
BRIAN GREGORY CULBERT’S FAMILY TREE:
Ancestors:
John Culbert & Mary Ward
(great-great-grandparents)
Richard Culbert & Jane Eleanor Fairhall
(great-grandparents)
Myron Manford Culbert & Effie Pearl
Taylor (grandparents)
Kenneth Arthur Culbert & Mary Helen
Needham (parents)
Descendants (Children):
Kimberley Tara (Culbert) Small
Katherine (Culbert) Kerr
Elizabeth (Culbert) Turner
