Aggie Kukulowicz; The 'Henry Kissinger of hockey' smoothed the way for Summit series (GREAT)
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TRANSLATOR
The 'Henry Kissinger of hockey' smoothed the way for Summit
series
A former NHL player who could speak Polish, Ukrainian, Czech
and Russian, he was Air Canada's man in Moscow when Alan
Eagleson arrived to begin negotiations for the famed Cold
War tournament
CHARLES MANDEL
Special to The Globe and Mail
October 7, 2008
On ice, hockey player Aggie Kukulowicz was a giant of a man
who punished his opponents with ease. Off ice, he was a
gregarious man who made everyone feel like his best friend.
Later, his years of experience in key contractual agreements
sometimes led him to be called the "Henry Kissinger of
Hockey" after helping make a success of the 1972 Summit
series against the Soviet Union.
"Aggie loved everyone and everyone loved Aggie," said his
long-time friend Alan Eagleson, the former hockey agent and
promoter. "He was a glowing personality."
The son of Polish émigré parents, Adolph (Aggie) Kukulowicz
grew up in Winnipeg with a poor command of English but a
fine grasp on a hockey stick. By the time he was 7, he was
often hurrying off to the local ice rink to play the game he
loved. Raised on the wrong side of the tracks in the North
End, playing sports was a way for Mr. Kukulowicz could make
a name for himself. Despite his English abilities, he had
already established himself academically in school and
regularly brought home the best marks.
By 16, the young man loomed over his peers. He stood six
feet, three inches and weighed 180 pounds. But he was
distinguished by more than his build. "He was really an
absolutely high-quality junior," said Mr. Eagleson. "He was
sought out by every team in the NHL when he was 16 years
old."
When hockey agents showed up at home to try and sign him, he
was nowhere to be found. In fact, he was hiding under his
bed at the instruction of his mother, who felt he was too
young to begin a career in hockey. But the temptation proved
too much and he appeared in the kitchen, where the agents
were waiting.
In 1949, he joined the junior leagues, signing on with a
$7,500 bonus, which was a lot of money at the time, Mr.
Eagleson noted. From 1950 to 1952, Mr. Kukulowicz earned his
stripes with the Brandon Wheat Kings and then as a top
scorer with the Quebec Citadelles.
In 1952, he moved up to the NHL, scoring a goal for the New
York Rangers in his first game. But his stay at the top
level was short-lived. In one of his first games, he took a
body check that left him with a back injury. In total, Mr.
Kukulowicz would only play four games for the Rangers.
The injury sent Mr. Kukulowicz back to the minors, going on
to play in the now-defunct World Hockey League and the
International Hockey League for such teams as the Saskatoon
Quakers, the Seattle Totems and the Winnipeg Maroons. With
consistently strong scoring, he helped the St. Paul Saints
win the IHL championship in 1960 and 1961. "He was one tough
s.o.b.," Mr. Eagleson said.
While playing for the New Westminster Royals in 1956, Mr.
Kukulowicz met his wife, Diane. During a free skate, he
zipped on to the ice and proceeded to show off his skating
skills in order to impress her.
In 1965, Mr. Kukulowicz retired from the rink and spent a
year coaching the Polish GKS Katowice team, but then decided
to leave hockey altogether. Improbably, he took a job as a
baggage handler with Air Canada.
While lugging suitcases and boxes sounded tremendously
unpromising, Mr. Kukulowicz transformed the job into a
once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
It all started one day at work, when a request came over the
intercom system asking if anyone spoke Polish. Three hours
later, Mr. Kukulowicz had acted as an interpreter between
the prime ministers of Poland and Canada, helping to secure
a major wheat deal.
Air Canada soon learned that he was also fluent in
Ukrainian, Czech and Russian. Duly impressed, airline
officials decided to make him their man in Russia. He had
been a baggage-handler for just one year.
In 1965, Mr. Kukulowicz moved to Moscow and took up lodgings
at the a famously bedbug-ridden Hotel Metropole. When his
family arrived, Mr. Kukulowicz moved and took up residence
in an apartment complex for foreigners. A high fence
surrounded the building and a guard was posted at a gate
that was either to keep the Russians out or to keep the
foreigners in, recalled his son, Shayne Kukulowicz.
It was the height of the Cold War and paranoia ran high. At
one point, while embassy staff were repainting the
apartment, listening devices were discovered in the walls.
Mr. Kukulowicz was also followed. Everywhere he went, he was
shadowed by a KGB agent; not once in six years did the two
men speak. One day, at the height of the summer, Mr.
Kukulowicz stopped at an ice cream vendor, bought two cones
and handed one to his shadow. "The guy took it," said
Shayne, a Toronto lawyer. "They never said a word."
In 1969, he met Mr. Eagleson for the first time. The Toronto
lawyer was in Moscow to begin discussions on what would
evolve into the Summit Series and he needed a translator. As
a former NHL player, Mr. Kukulowicz was the ideal man for
the job. "Aggie was part and parcel of it from the very
first day," Mr. Eagleson recalled.
Mr. Kukulowicz also warned him about the notorious vermin at
the Metropole, to which he had been sent. It was winter, and
Mr. Eagleson chose rooms so cold it killed the bedbugs.
During the series itself, the Canadians ribbed Mr.
Kukulowicz that he was a spy for the Russian team because he
was so close to the Russians but, as Mr. Eagleson notes, "He
was Canadian through and through."
As it turned out, Mr. Kukulowicz needed every atom of
goodwill he could cultivate. Near the end of the series, Mr.
Eagleson, Mr. Kukulowicz and John Ferguson, the assistant
coach of Team Canada, were locked in furious negotiations
with the Russians over referees for the final game. It was
Canada's turn to choose the officials and the Russians
wouldn't agree. While Mr. Kukulowicz translated, the pitch
of the debate rose.
Shouting and screaming ensued and finally, in a rage, Mr.
Ferguson grabbed a pitcher of ice water and flung it against
the wall. Stricken, Mr. Kukulowicz turned to Mr. Eagleson
and said, "Alan, how do I interpret that to the Russians?"
Mr. Eagleson chuckled at the memory. "That's how he was. He
thought, 'Jeez, how am I going to explain this to them?' "
In the end, agreement was reached and the storied
Canada-Russia Hockey series culminated in Paul Henderson's
historic winning goal.
After Moscow, Mr. Kukulowicz settled in Toronto, where he
became the manager of sporting sales for Air Canada. In that
capacity, he marketed the airline to sports teams to attract
their business. Even so, he wasn't quite finished with
hockey. He continued to interpret for and help negotiate on
behalf of the International Ice Hockey Federation.
"Hockey was his life and golf his hobby," Mr. Eagleson said.
Mr. Kukulowicz golfed as often as he could after his
retirement from Air Canada. After a game, his favoured drink
was either a vodka martini with five olives or Canadian
Club.
The highlight of his career may very well have been last
August, when he returned to Russia for the 35th anniversary
of the 1972 series. Mr. Eagleson and former NHL president
John Ziegler joined Mr. Kukulowicz at centre ice. Russian
and Canadian players from the series assembled to shake Mr.
Eagleson and Mr. Ziegler by the hand. When they came to Mr.
Kukulowicz, they hugged and kissed him like a brother.
AGGIE KUKULOWICZ
Adolf Kukulowicz was born April 2, 1933, in Winnipeg. He
died Sept. 26, 2008, of heart failure in Toronto. He was 75.
He leaves his sister Jenny, sons Shayne and Jeff and
grandchildren Halle, Caitlyn, Ryan, Eric and Jamie. He was
predeceased by his wife, Diane, and by his daughter Susan.
Hyfler/Rosner
"Hyfler/Rosner" <rel...@rcn.com> wrote in message
news:gcl9cu$erd$1...@reader1.panix.com...
> AGGIE KUKULOWICZ, 75: ATHLETE, COACH, EXECUTIVE AND
> TRANSLATOR
>
>
> It was the height of the Cold War and paranoia ran high.
> At one point, while embassy staff were repainting the
> apartment, listening devices were discovered in the walls.
> Mr. Kukulowicz was also followed. Everywhere he went, he
> was shadowed by a KGB agent; not once in six years did the
> two men speak. One day, at the height of the summer, Mr.
> Kukulowicz stopped at an ice cream vendor, bought two
> cones and handed one to his shadow. "The guy took it,"
> said Shayne, a Toronto lawyer. "They never said a word."
Lovely.
Matthew Kruk
The good old days?