It was more than ten years ago, but I once had the pleasure of interviewing Red in his apartment near Yonge and St. Clair in midtown Toronto. His was a comfortbale and open place, and I remember the first thing I saw when he opened the door was his gold coin from the 1932 Stanley Cup, the one that team owner Conn Smythe gave to every player from that team as a lifetime pass to the Gardens. Horner was the biggest player of his era, a bruising defenceman who led the league in penalty minutes for eight straight seasons, a remarkable fact in itself. He was also team captain...

When I spoke with him, he was alert and entertaining. Some stories--like the Bailey incident--he's prtobably told a million times and had the words memorized. Others were more spontaneously offered. Here are the highlights from that interview.

Friday, June 14, 1996

After I retired I was a linesman for a couple of years. Just to
keep my hand in the game. They asked me if I wanted a job, and it
was Saturday nights when I had nothing to do so I said sure. But
they also wanted me to travel during the playoffs because they mix
the linesmen and the cities up then, and I had a job and couldn't
do both.

Anyway, one night against Detroit I was standing at the defensive
line right up against the boards, right where the Detroit bench
was. Jack Adams was the coach, and he and I...never had much in
common. So he pushed me in the back and tells me to get out of the
way so he can see. I turn around with my elbow and got him right in
the chin. It was a beauty! Adams complained and I had a meeting
with the president and told him how I was hit and turned around and
I guess caught him with my elbow. The president really got a kick
out of that one.

The Canadiens in the '30s were very smooth. They took pride in the
finer qualities of the game and wore their jersey with pride. Just
about everyone was French, except for Howie Morenz and George
Hainsworth. The players also had a patois that was sometimes funny.
They had a great line with Gagnon, Lapine, and Joliat. Gagnon would
skate down the wing with the puck and Lapine would scream in his
French accent: "Trow da puck to me, Pete. I tore a hole in da net!"

Joliat was a great player but he was very self-conscious about
losing his hair, so he wore a baseball cap during the games. Well,
if you ever got into a scuffle with him, the way to really get him
was to knock the cap off. That would drive him crazy. But, it also
lit a fire under the rest of the team, who'd get mad and try to
play even better for having insulted one of their players.

When Shore put Bailey out of hockey in that game in Boston, he was
going to be charged with manslaughter had Bailey died. When Bailey
was lying in the hospital and he almost did die lawyers came to
visit me in Toronto to interview me and get the story. This is the
way it happened. Shore was a great player, one of the greatest of
his time, a great offensive defenceman. He could carry the puck and
rush really well. On this particular night, he'd brought the puck
down innumerable times, but we always stopped him. This really
irritated him. Clancy was my defence partner; I was on the left,
Clancy was the right defenceman. This one time, Shore came down my
side and I drove him into the boards and the puck just stopped
right there and he fell a little ways. Clancy came over and started
rushing the puck, and on our team whenever the defence rushed,
the winger from that side would drop back. Bailey, being the right
wing, did what he was supposed to do and fell back when he saw
Clancy take off. As the play moved up Shore got up and came up
angry. He went right for Bailey, but I'm sure he thought Ace was
me, because he was skating at an angle and couldn't see, and I was
right beside Ace. Shore just put his knee out and with his arm
threw Ace over his leg like a rag doll. Shore was incredibly
strong. Well, Ace fell on his head, and I could see right away this
was something serious. The whistle blew and Shore just skated to
where the play stopped and got ready as though the faceoff were
coming. I couldn't let him get away with that, so I went over and
hung one on his chin. He fell and hit his head, blood all over the
ice. So there was Ace at one end and Shore at the other, and the
Boston bench wanted to get at me, Nels Stewart, everyone, but the
Garden was dead quiet. You could hear a pin drop because they knew
Ace's injury was serious. Shore was suspended the rest of the
season and the team sent him to Bermuda, and I was suspended six
games. And that's when the lawyers wanted to talk to me to see if
they'd charge Shore with manslaughter.

Smythe was happy with the way I played. I led the league in
penalties for eight years in a row, I think, but he said when I
take penalties the team wins. He told me always to try to take
someone with you. Soon, I was taking on the league. Everyone wanted
to get at me. If a young guy wanted his name in the paper...fight
Red Horner. In Chicago, at the old Coliseum, there was an organ
loft at one end of the seating, and when I stayed on late during
the warmup the organist would play, "Who's afraid of the big bad
wolf?" I loved it. That was a lot of fun.

In Toronto, we used to practice at noon at the Gardens on weekdays.
One day, my wife picked me up to go shopping, and as we drove west
along Carlton Street we caught a red light at Yonge, where a paper
boy I know was working. He saw me and threw a paper into the car,
something published in the States called "The Referee". I looked at
the headline and it said, "Gangsters After Horner". Immediately, I
thought of Chicago. The next time we were in the Coliseum, I'm
taking my position on defence for a faceoff when I hear an
explosion right beside me. I thought I was shot! I started feeling
my chest and jersey for blood, and then saw what had happened. A
light from the ceiling had been left unprotected - they're supposed
to have fencing underneath - and smashed to the ice! It wasn't
funny. I wasn't popular in Chicago.

I first started playing hockey with the Church League, Knox
Presbyterian, Century Baptist Church, any church that had a good
team. Then I played for Marlboros in the old rink [Mutual Street
Arena]. I also played for the Brokers' League on Saturday
afternoons; I was a clerk at the Standard Stock Exchange and was
going to be a broker. It was after one of those games that Connie
Smythe came to see me and said, "Red, you've had enough of this
amateaur hockey. Come and play for me". This was a week before
Christmas during 1928 and nine. He said, "I'll give you $2,500 for
the balance of the season". He wanted me to play that same night.
I was only making $25 a week, and that was good money. This was in
the Depression, and lawyers and professionals were having a tough
time finding work. So I told him I didn't have a car and I didn't
know the players. I said if you'll pick me up, I'll introduce you
to my parents and you can take me to the game. He agreed, and
that's how I got started. I even played that night! I told Connie -
he was the coach then, too - that I'd played the night before with
the Marlboros and in the afternoon with the Brokers. He said it
wouldn't matter with someone like me.

Tim Daly, the trainer, was a former boxer and had a great sense of
humour. If a player got knocked out during a game, he'd bring out
the smelling salts and say, "get up and I'll give you a draw." When
he'd give in his expense account to Mr. Smythe he'd say two
roanges, two dollars. You see, we'd eat oranges between periods,
cut them up into quarters and Tim would supply them. Two oranges,
two dollars.