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- Eleven Out of Ten: The Life and Work of David Pecaut.
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Please help to establish notability by citing reliable secondary sources that are independent of the topic and provide significant coverage of it beyond a mere trivial mention. Fashion was his victim. David was the perfect life partner. He retained his childlike sense of wonder about everything and everybody.
It was impossible for David to talk to anyone without coming up with a fascinating piece of information or an idea that might be woven into some grand scheme. He was a lightning strike, a force of nature, but his priorities were always real and constant.
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- Eleven Out of Ten: The Life and Work of David Pecaut.
No matter how high he might fly, it was always his family first, then friends and community. We kept him from flying too close to the sun. In the natural order of events, David would have written his own memoir. When it became obvious even to him, the supreme optimist, that his time was running out, he began to make copious notes in the spidery hand only a few of us could decipher. He eagerly recorded interviews with friends, colleagues, and family, including me and our daughters. When his lungs became so choked by cancer that he could barely speak, he whispered and coughed out his words because he still had so many things he wanted to say.
How would one say "Where the angels lose their way" in Latin?
Throughout his life, David was always in a hurry, always planning and doing at a frenetic pace. The very end of his life could not have been more different. He was serene and composed, loath to leave us but ready to enter the next life. David died peacefully at home on December 14, , surrounded by his adoring family and mourned by his many friends. In June , Ontario had elected its first Liberal government in forty-two years.
On the crest of this surprise victory, Premier David Peterson had decided that the province needed a new industrial policy to position it as a competitive force in an increasingly global economy. From December , when I joined the council, I had heard about this mythical team leader, David Pecaut.
The reason I thought him a myth was because he never attended a meeting. Either he was in Rhode Island, where he lived, or travelling the world for other clients. Every time we gathered around a table, members of the CCG team would ask over and over, What would David do? The rest of us would just wonder if David existed. He was late.
Eight of us waited in anticipation, punctuating every discussion with the phrase When David gets here …. We waited an hour. His flight — who knows from where! When our high-powered consultant finally did arrive, he was sweating, his tie was thrown over his shoulder, he desperately needed a haircut, and he was carrying about six Loblaws shopping bags — one bag for each of his current multi-million-dollar clients, as I would later learn.
David Pecaut: Toronto’s irrepressible visionary
He plunked everything down. It was not a good meeting. Most of us on the government team were experiencing him for the first time, and now we were expected to run off and do something else for the project without really knowing what that was. Peterson had no trouble enlisting a heterogeneous group of heavy hitters from the business, academic, and labour communities. These were not just representatives, but leaders who could make bold decisions and deliver results. The million-dollar contract to do the research and develop the report was won jointly by the Canada Consulting Group and Telesis.
As a member of the research team on the government side, I was initially responsible for analyzing two sectors: aerospace and biotech. My second meeting with David Pecaut was a one-on-one where he was to review my work. Typically, he arrived late, coffee cup in hand, tie loosened, shirt rumpled, sleeves rolled up, and still in need of a haircut.
In the consulting world, information is presented in slides, each consisting of a headline declaring the main idea, backed up by a few bullet points, a graph, or a chart. David began flipping through my aerospace deck, looking perplexed and slightly disdainful. He paused at one slide, barely looking up. Why is this here? After a few more terse exchanges, he shut the deck and looked me squarely in the eye. What did you study in college? English Literature.
I did not feel it wise to boast that my Coles Notes on Macbeth , designed to help students cram for exams, had been a bestseller.