Fire and fury: 25 years ago Hamilton saw an inferno, a Mob hit, a supercity revolt and had its NHL dreams shattered

Blood in the streets. Fire in the sky. Rebellion in the hinterlands. Dreams shattered in the Big Apple.

Twenty-five years ago, what did you hear, how did you feel, where did you stand?

Over the course of seven months in Hamilton in 1997, four stories captured the attention of the city: a Mob godfather was murdered, a catastrophic toxic blaze made headlines across North America, small town neighbours rebelled against big brother, and the city made another play for an NHL team.

Yes, 1997 was a seismic kind of year in Hamilton, and the aftershocks lingered long after.

Jan. 13, 1997 Team Hamilton" delegation, including mayor Bob Morrow, flies to New York City to make the city's case for an NHL expansion team before the league's board of governors.

Feb. 8, 1997 Referendum on whether to join a Hamilton supercity" is held for residents in Dundas, Ancaster, Flamborough, Stoney Creek and Glanbrook.

May 31, 1997 Johnny Pops/The Enforcer" Papalia is shot in broad daylight downtown on Railway Street by Ken Murdock.

July 9, 1997 Catastrophic toxic fire begins at the Plastimet plastics recycling plant in the North End.

The Bid: Part I

Hamilton had been rejected by the National Hockey League seven years earlier, in 1990, in its campaign to fulfil the long-held dreams of local sports fans to give the city its own NHL expansion team.

Instead, in the years that followed, the NHL added teams in Florida, California and Ottawa.

In 1997, with the NHL ready to add more teams, Hamilton was back at it.

On Sunday, Jan. 12, 1997, a delegation dubbed Team Hamilton" boarded a flight for New York City, primed to make a pitch Monday morning at the NHL head offices.

On the eve of the bid, The Hamilton Spectator reported that a mystery private investor group, and perhaps a second, was ready to pony up US $75 million for the NHL expansion fee, if the delegation pulled it off and Hamilton was granted a team.

The delegation included a half dozen politicians and business people, including Spectator publisher Pat Collins. At the last moment, Ontario's Minister of Economic Development, Trade and Tourism was added: Hamilton has gone on the power play," reported The Spec.

$100,000 had already been spent for the application fee, and $40,000 more for the bid presentation - paid in full by The Spectator itself.

Ten other cities were vying for a team but Hamilton boasted passionate fans, Copps Coliseum (that hosted the Canada Cup 10 years earlier) and rich hockey history (home to the NHL's Hamilton Tigers in the 1920s).

All that was left was to take the shot, before NHL commissioner Gary Bettman and the 17 other members on the NHL's board of governors.

Pat Collins, former Hamilton Spectator publisher, in 2022: It was the year after we celebrated Hamilton's sesquicentennial and we felt pretty good about the city. I did think (the bid) was a long shot, although I didn't articulate it at the time. But we had the arena, the demographics and a robust hockey community, and the economics worked."

Gabe Macaluso, former manager of Hamilton Entertainment Convention Facilities Inc., in 2022: We walked to the NHL office from our hotel in New York. We felt we had a great presentation, and basically we were able to answer all their questions about TV rights and the market. We were a small city but had a big market, with London, Niagara and the Greater Toronto Area."

The rebellion: Part I

On New Year's Day 1997, a shadow loomed over a colourful celebration in the Town of Dundas, where citizens dressed in 19th century period costumes to commemorate the town's sesquicentennial.

To the event organizer, it felt more like a wake than a party.

Back then, Dundas - like the towns of Glanbrook, Stoney Creek, Ancaster and Flamborough - had its own city hall, mayor and councillors, and elections.

But big brother Hamilton next door was coming for all of them.

Provincial governments in Canada, including Ontario's under Conservative premier Mike Harris, had been pushing for municipal government amalgamations: dissolve small communities into single supercities" to encourage efficiencies" in public spending.

There had been modest examples of it locally: in 1974 Glanbrook was formed by fusing Glanford and Binbrook, and Flamborough through amalgamating West and East Flamborough and Beverly.

Harris's minister of municipal affairs was preparing a report aimed at creating a greater Hamilton, merging the city with five of its neighbours.

One Hamilton city councillor who was all in favour said we all want to wrap ourselves in the City of Hamilton flag."

But did people outside the city share that sentiment?

Perhaps direct democracy would settle the issue. The idea was hatched to hold a citizen's referendum, voted upon exclusively by residents in towns outside Hamilton.

The supercity," wrote a Dundas resident in The Spectator, is reaching out with shapeless fingers to silently gather up ancient town charters ... Standing shoulder to shoulder, with the voices of the past carried on the winds, we must shout no.'"

The date for the referendum was set for Saturday, Feb. 8, 1997.

Ken Mitchell, of the Wentworth Citizens' Referendum Coalition, said it would be the first time in North America that such a vote on amalgamation had been organized entirely by citizens.

This is our chance to grab back some of the powers politicians have held for themselves," he said. If we pull this off and we do it well, it will affect all of Canada."

John Addison, the last mayor of Dundas, in 2022: We felt as a council that we needed some legitimacy to protest (amalgamation), and the easiest way was to hold a referendum, and the other municipalities got involved. We knocked on doors, I did it day and night, urging people to familiarize themselves (with the issue). We needed to send a clear message from the people of Dundas."

Ted McMeekin, former Flamborough mayor, in 2022: It was a real cultural clash, it was about power, and I couldn't go into a Tim Hortons without someone buying me a coffee and a doughnut for fighting the good fight."

The Hit: Part I

Mafia kingpin Johnny Pops" Papalia had led a violent and law-breaking life, but word was the 73-year old was out of the organized crime game, and spent most of his time watching TV at his office on Railway Street, a short dead end downtown.

The past was never far away, though: on the inside of the old mobster's fedora, for his eyes only, was stitched a patch of a revolver.

In spring 1997, Hamilton mobster Fat" Pat Musitano was telling people Pops had it out for him because he owed the old man money. Musitano lobbied Hamilton tough guy Ken Murdock to kill Papalia. Murdock disdained the title hitman," but his capacity for violence, and fierce loyalty, were well known.

Early in the year, Murdock took an elevator up to Pops' penthouse on Market Street downtown. He didn't pull the trigger.

On the last weekend in May 1997, the phone rang at the home of Hamilton police homicide detective Warren Korol. He was off-duty doing landscaping.

Decades earlier, Korol's uncle, a detective named Mike Pauloski, had been a nemesis of Papalia's. As a result, Pauloski's family had been relentlessly harassed by Papalia's goons.

Korol had heard all the stories about Papalia and his Uncle Mike, and never forgot.

He took the call.

Ken Murdock, in 2022: Pat (Musitano) kept saying: Why haven't you done anything yet?' I was getting pissed off. I just said, You want (Papalia) dead, he's dead.'"

Warren Korol, retired Hamilton homicide detective, in 2022:The call was from Bruce Elwood, who was the superintendent. Bruce says, Warren can you come in to work?' I said, Bruce, I'm pretty busy, I've rented this posthole digger machine.' He said, It's pretty big ... I need you to book Johnny Pops into the morgue. He's been murdered.' I said, I'll come in for sure.'"

The Inferno: Part I

Hamilton firefighters had responded to 10 fires in four years at the site of a plastics recycling factory in the North End, called Plastimet.

All of the fires had been lit by arsonists.

In the early evening of Wednesday, July 9, 1997, an off-duty firefighter named Bob Shaw drove with his wife, Jacqueline, and 12-year-old son, Nathan, back to Hamilton from Niagara Falls.

Shaw saw smoke in the distance over the North End. His family lived on the Mountain, but he drove them near the scene for a closer look.

Moments earlier, firefighter Paul Croonen was doing routine fire alarm checks in houses in the North End, when he heard the call come in on his radio: Structure fire/363 Wellington St. N."

Croonen stepped outside and saw it down the street: a black plume of smoke churning like a tornado into a perfect blue summer sky.

The largest toxic fire in Hamilton's history - one of the worst ever in North America - was lit.

Nathan Shaw, now 37: I remember it was a beautiful day, and I looked out the car window and saw flashing lights, police cars everywhere. Dad had to veer off our route to go see it. He had to know what was happening. It's in their DNA."

Paul Croonen, retired Hamilton firefighter, in 2022: We were just a block away doing inspections right there on Ferguson, below Barton, when I saw the plume. I thought: this will keep everyone busy, it will be an all-nighter for sure."

The Bid: Part II

Hamilton's 1997 NHL expansion team bid would be more aggressive than the failed 1990 version, vowed mayor Bob Morrow: I think we're a little more knowledgeable this time, a little more brazen ... I guess the bottom line is we're not going away."

The team presented its case in New York City on Jan. 13, 1997, addressing the league's board of governors for 40 minutes, with Morrow doing most of the talking.

They showed a video that cost $10,000 to produce, extolling Hamilton's virtues as a big league city.

Just over a month later, on Feb. 20, 1997, Spectator headlines lamented: Shut out again/The second snub/What do we do now?"

The NHL rejected Hamilton yet again, leaving the city off a short list of six cities - all based in the U.S. - vying for a team in the next expansion round.

A major obstacle, as it had been in 1990, was Toronto: the Maple Leafs' team ownership was opposed to competition from Hamilton down the QEW. Similarly, the Buffalo Sabres weren't in support, but Toronto owners were reportedly especially aggressive.

One Hamilton city councillor suggested all residents boycott watching Leafs and Sabres games.

Said another: How many times do you have to be hit in the head with a two-by-four before you get tired of the headache?"

Hamilton was out in the cold, while six out of eight cities who made pitches for a team advanced to the next round of bidding.

The NHL awarded a team to Nashville, Tenn., and then in 1999, Atlanta was given a team, and in 2000, St. Paul, Minn. and Columbus, Ohio.

And further down the road: the hockey hotbed of Las Vegas.

Gabe Macaluso: In the (NHL) boardroom, while we were making our presentation - and it was an excellent one - there were two governors who were actually nodding off and sleeping. It was late afternoon and they had heard three or four presentations already ... I was disappointed for sure, but at least we eventually got an AHL (American Hockey League) team ... To me, the best opportunity we had to get an NHL team had been in 1985 when we had a brand new, high-tech arena."

Pat Collins: They were looking for someone to be the face of the bid, and (Tim Hortons founder) Ron Joyce would have been perfect, but he stayed in the bushes for whatever reason ... The NHL's goal really was to expand in the U.S. and I was quoted at the time saying it was like you were at a party where you weren't all that welcome. (NHL commissioner) Gary Bettman I think saw that quote, and said, No-no, that wasn't the case at all.' But they did refund us our $100,000, so must have hit a nerve there."

The Rebellion: Part II

On Jan. 21, 1997, 200 residents from Dundas bused to Queen's Park in Toronto to present a petition of signatures from 8,975 residents protesting a supercity with Hamilton. They brandished signs reading Dundas Forever" and Dundas Yes, Supercity No."

In the legislature, Dundas Conservative MPP Toni Skarica, rebelling against his own party's position, opposed amalgamation and called the protest a pivotal day in the history of the Town of Dundas ... Dundas turns 150 years old or becomes extinct forever."

As the citizens' referendum on amalgamation approached, The Spectator flew reporters to Winnipeg and Halifax to report on how supercities had fared in those communities.

On the big day, Feb. 8, referendum organizers went door to door in the towns surrounding Hamilton, carrying ballot boxes to ensure a high voter turnout.

When the 31,632 ballots cast were counted, an overwhelming 94 per cent of suburban residents rejected merging with Hamilton.

So long, supercity," reported The Spectator.

This is the largest turnout on any municipal issue in Flamborough's history," referendum organizer Ken Mitchell told a cheering crowd at a Flamborough community centre when the results came in.

What we've done tonight is loaded a quiver with arrows for those (politicians) whose job it is to fight for us at Queen's Park."

My constituents made it very clear that they would not and will not accept the loss of their local government," said Skarica.

Hamilton mayor Bob Morrow responded by asking the province to force amalgamation. But in spring 1998, municipal affairs minister Al Leach announced that no supercity would be imposed, at least not in the near future.

It happened just over two and a half years later.

On Dec. 20, 2000, Bill 25 passed in Queen's Park (the Fewer Politicians Act") imposing the merger.

The five little towns were no more as political entities.

Skarica resigned as MPP. There were tears and goodbyes at Flamborough's last town council meeting, at which the mayor, Mark Shurvin, told councillors to keep all of the people of Flamborough in your prayers and hearts as you too go out into the darkness."

There was talk of creating a new name for the supercity; ideas included La Salle," Dundurn on the Lake," Stoney River," and Augusta Hills."

But soon City of Hamilton" signs, announcing the outer boundaries of the new political entity, were planted deep into the frontier.

One of these signs, nearly 40 kilometres from downtown Hamilton, was juxtaposed, for several years, with a rusty display sign erected nearby in a field declaring: Flamboro Forever."

John Addison: The (provincial government) dismissed the referendum vote because it wasn't a provincially approved referendum, but we had asked them to do one, and they refused ... I felt angry because of what the Town of Dundas had worked so hard for over 150 years developing the community ... What was lost was the sense of direct democracy, that you are responsible for your own destiny."

Ted McMeekin: There was a lot of anger back then, and that has lived on for quite some time ... Ken Mitchell had the (referendum) results framed and gave it to me. I still have it in the garage somewhere."

The Hit Part II

On Saturday, May 31, 1997, Ken Murdock had come knocking on the door of Johnny Pops" Papalia. They went for a walk and Murdock shot Papalia point-blank in the head in broad daylight along Railway Street.

Murdock, fighting a lifetime of demons going back to a violent childhood growing up in Hamilton, said he didn't want to do it, but murdered Pops because he had promised Pat Musitano's late father he would protect the (Musitano) kids."

The aftershocks were felt in the underworld in Canada and beyond.

Two months later, Murdock killed Papalia lieutenant Carmen Barillaro before Barillaro could get him; years down the road the Musitano brothers, Pat and Angelo, were murdered.

Murdock, who gave himself up to police for an unrelated crime, confessed, took a plea deal of 13 years, and made a life for himself as a free man under a new name out west.

Warren Korol, who went on to lead high-profile murder investigations including the Poison" Sukhwinder Dhillon serial killer case, was the one who checked Papalia into the morgue at Hamilton General Hospital.

Korol knew well Papalia's bloody history - a legacy that prompted the Roman Catholic Diocese of Hamilton to take the highly unusual step of denying Papalia a funeral mass.

And so, from the morgue, Korol dialed his Aunt Sally on his cell. She was the wife of his late Uncle Mike Pauloski.

Korol knew she would appreciate the symmetry: that her nephew was ushering Uncle Mike's former tormentor, the hated Enforcer," Papalia, off to the great beyond.

Wherever that might be.

Warren Korol: In the morgue, I flashed back to all the hardship (Papalia) caused the family; he had once threatened to kidnap my cousin Rick ... I told Aunt Sally I was booking John into the morgue, and her words are not repeatable, what she said about that man ... I had met Papalia before, yes, his name had come up in a drug project investigation, because he gave the OK for another bad guy to torch a building. I went down on Railway Street and asked him about it. He just laughed and walked away."

Ken Murdock: There was no talk of money (for the hit) ... I am not a hitman. If I was a hitman I'd either be rich or dead."

The Inferno Part II

Bob Shaw served along with 263 other Hamilton firefighters battling the Plastimet blaze.

The fire raged hot for four days. Smoke from the plume was visible from as far away as Guelph, 50 kilometres to the northwest; hundreds of residents in the city's North End were evacuated.

The disaster was covered on media from coast to coast, and on CNN in the U.S.

Fumes from the toxic smoke ate chrome off fire trucks. Safety protocols were inadequate for firefighters combating a fire so insidiously lethal.

The old-school surround and drown" strategy did not work, and streets in the area were flooded with poisonous runoff.

After the main fire was extinguished, spot fires lingered on the site for weeks.

Shaw was physically never the same. He was diagnosed with esophageal cancer in 2003 and died 10 months later. He received the first modern-day line of duty firefighter funeral in Hamilton.

Paul Croonen worked five nights at the fire. Fumes burned his esophagus. He developed acid reflux, and a regular cough that lingered with him the rest of his life.

Croonen's last shift on the job before retiring was New Year's Eve, 2020.

The arsonist was ultimately revealed in The Spectator to have been a child: an eight-year-old boy who had a history of fire-setting.

Shaw's son, Nathan, went on to champion new legislation in Ontario that would make it easier for firefighters and their families to realize claims for occupational illnesses.

He was successful: Bill 111, named after his dad, was passed in 2007, receiving rare unanimous, three-party support at Queen's Park.

And one summer day, Nathan and his mother attended a ceremony in Colorado Springs, Colo., where Bob Shaw's name was added to the Fallen Firefighter Memorial.

There, under a blazing sun and clear blue sky, a stone-faced, white-gloved firefighter in formal dress uniform stood before Nathan, saluted, and said: A grateful nation salutes you."

Paul Croonen: The other night I met up with four former firefighters for coffee, and of course Plastimet comes up. No, there's no anxiety, just reminiscing; it was a big fire ... Both of my sons are firefighters now: Kyle and Troy. That's pretty rare, I'm very proud of that. No, I don't fear for the boys' health; the job is safer now, it's really changed a lot, for the better, the old-school mentality has been replaced more by common sense."

Nathan Shaw: My mom and I reminisce about my dad, and try to focus on the positive of the time we did have with him, and also the positive changes that came from his tragic death ... I try to live life the way my dad showed me, to the fullest. He was my hero, and the best role model a son could hope to have. I miss hearing his comforting voice, and humour; I think of him every day ... He was a seemingly ordinary man who lived an extraordinary life."

Jon Wells is a feature writer at The Spectator. jwells@thespec.com