As we grow older we get closer and closer to death. That’s life. The athletic department alumni club Montreal Journal just lost another member. Gilles Terroux, who touched every aspect of the profession throughout his career, died last Saturday. His death comes two weeks after that of Claude Bédard, long-time sports director and columnist of Quebec Journal.
Last February, Pierre Lecours, motorsport specialist, left us.
In August, Yvon Pedneault, who was still active in this profession, died of devastating cancer.
Gone in peace
Gilles left quietly.
When Bertrand Raymond learned two months ago that Gilles also had cancer, he told him not to say a word about it personally.
“He wanted to go quietly, he wanted to go in peace,” says Bertrand, who worked for the Journal for some forty years.
Gilles prepared to leave.
He received medical euthanasia at the Pierre Boucher Hospital in Longueuil. It relieved him of the pain that had spread through his tired body. His wife Nicole, his daughters Chantal and Isabelle mourn his death, but they are relieved to learn that he is no longer suffering.
Busy career
Gilles has had a long career.
From 1964 to 1971 he followed the Canadian’s activities for La Presse. The team, led first by Toe Blake, then by Claude Ruel and Al MacNeil, won the Stanley Cup five times during that time, their first four times in five years. The Habs could have posted a second streak of five consecutive wins had they not lost in the finals to the Toronto Maple Leafs in the year of Expo 67.
Jacques Beauchamp, who moved from Montréal-Matin to the Journal de Montréal during this time, hired Gilles. In 1972 he assigned him to cover the series of the century, a significant event in the life of Gilles and the people who lived through it.
Gilles wrote a book with photos by Denis Brodeur, who worked for Montréal-Matin. This shows that we can sometimes make mistakes when competing.
In subsequent years, Gilles became an executive in the Journal’s sports department. He was there when I joined the company in 1982 and remained there until 1999.
“He was a good soldier,” says Bertrand Raymond.
“He was very practical, he was always on the move. Things had to move forward with him. »
The real Santa Claus
Although the departure of a loved one is sad, it leaves behind wonderful memories for those who knew them. It allows you to tame death in a specific way.
“When our children were young, Gilles played Santa Claus and, as with everything he did, he was completely dedicated to his role,” says Bertrand.
“He called home to find out what our children wanted. On the evening of opening the presents, he told them in a loud voice not to forget to thank their parents. My 46-year-old daughter Claudia called me on Sunday and told me that she still has the gray mouse that my uncle Gilles gave her.
“Not Gilles, but Santa Claus, as he reminded me to say in front of the children. »
Wild golfer
When he wasn’t working and playing Santa Claus, Gilles was playing his favorite sport. God knows how many rounds of golf he has played in his life.
“One year I played in the Journal Sports golf tournament in a quartet that included François Leblond, Mario Brisebois and Gilles,” remembers André Rousseau.
“He was probably the best of us. He worked hard to win this tournament. When he picked up the winner’s trophy, it was like he had won a million dollars! »
Those were good times, but life goes on. The memories of her are unforgettable.
Hello Gilles!
Oscar for close friends
For the guys of the past at the Journal, Gilles Terroux was the Oscar. Oscar as in Oscar Madison, the indomitable troll in the legendary Oscar and Felix TV series.
This nickname was given to him during a golf trip to Myrtle Beach. In addition to Gilles, there was Robert Cadieux, head of the sports department, André Rousseau, who wrote a personalized column for a long time, and Mario Brisebois, columnist on golf, tennis, skiing, in short, everything that did not have to do with hockey, baseball and football .
The pink pot
Gilles lived with Cadieux, Cad said.
That’s when we discovered Gilles streaming into a room. Maybe not as much as Oscar Madison, but maybe too much for Cad’s taste.
Cheerful by nature, Cad was nicknamed Felix.
My friend Bob was the guy who left the office to wipe down his car after a rainstorm. His nickname didn’t stick.
Who knows why.
Probably because we prefer to punish those who have small mistakes.
The little joys in life
Still, Oscar was worth his weight in gold. He was friendly, warm and lovable. He didn’t know any enemies.
André Rousseau, also called “Constable” by his friends, tells an anecdote from 1987 in Ottawa.
“I was there with Gilles as part of the 15th anniversary celebrations of the series of the century,” he recalls.
“As we were walking from Parliament to the Civic Center (the first seat of the Ottawa Senators), a driver stopped and said, ‘Hey!’ It’s Gilles Terroux. You reported on the Century Series.
“Gilles would have received three million and would not have been happier than he was at that moment. »
My friend Gilles appreciated the little joys in life.