bout de papier, Vol. 27, No. 2 (2013) — Spring 2013 // Printemps 2013, p. 34
John Sheardown died peacefully in Ottawa at the end of the year; he had been ill for some time. John spent his career in the Immigration Foreign Service, having joined the Immigration Department in the early 1960s before later switching to the Foreign Service. He retired in 1989 after a long and proud career.
John Sheardown was the quintessential quiet man. Although never hiding in the shadows, he did his job — did it well — with little expectation of grand rewards while always comfortable in his anonymity. Men such as John serve in all diplomatic services. They may not share the profiles of their more “political” colleagues, but they are the “oil” of diplomacy. They get the chores done, they conduct the daily tasks of our business. John was also a hero of the Tehran exfiltration — albeit one of several. He took considerable risks, for himself and his family, without expectation of recognition. He did not rise to exalted status in the establishment as a result of his actions in Tehran but earned the highest respect of his peers. He died knowing that he had, indeed, made a difference.
A calm man, quite self-deprecating and with a keen sense of humour, John was something of a stoic. Solid and dependable, he thought little of the effort expended in getting the job done right. One anecdote captures the man perfectly. During the Second World War, he served in the RCAF as a pilot. During a mission over Germany, his Lancaster bomber was severely crippled. He managed to reach England and ordered his crew to bail out before himself, crashing with the plane. As a result both his legs were broken. He never tired of recounting how he crawled to a pub, waking the innkeeper in the middle of the night to ask for help and a glass of whisky. The innkeeper complied, brought the whisky, but insisted on payment while John waited for an ambulance to arrive!
There was also what could be described as a mildly subversive side to the man. A 1978 Christmas celebration for the Canadians in Tehran, hosted by Scott Munro, was the last before the US Embassy occupation in 1979. Most Canadian dependants left Tehran only days before in response to the increasingly tense situation. All remaining Mission members contributed to the Christmas dinner with John suggesting that “the only appropriate thing to eat in a revolting Moslem country was a suckling pig.” A suitable victim was clandestinely procured.
Instead of arriving at the party with the pig appropriately prepared and cooked, John arrived early in the day with the pig ready for the oven. Unbeknownst to him, Georgette Latimer, another mission staffer, brought a turkey similarly prepared. Luckily, Munro had a second smaller oven somewhat inadequate for either beast or fowl. As the day progressed, the two dinners shunted back and forth between the two ovens, with John’s pig being found at one point sitting on the oven door with its head inside the oven seemingly attempting suicide. Somehow, everything was cooked as it should, and a last happy Christmas was celebrated in Tehran.
John and his wife, Zena, were both in the Iranian capital when radical students overran the American Embassy on November 4, 1979. A small group of Americans evaded capture by leaving from a building on the edge of the compound. For several days they shunted between various apartments before realizing that the embassy occupation would not quickly be resolved and a more permanent solution to their dilemma had to be found.
One of the Americans knew John as a friend and called for help. A man of principles and common sense, John did not hesitate and responded with, “Why didn’t you call sooner?” He then reported to Ken Taylor, his Ambassador. Over the next several months Canadian and American officials planned and prepared for the exfiltration of the American “house guests,” four of whom lived with the Sheardowns and two with the Taylors. Throughout this time the Canadians at the embassy, particularly the Sheardowns and the Taylors, faced significant risk. The wives of the two principals, neither of whom bore a Canadian diplomatic passport, faced particular danger.
Throughout the ordeal, Sheardown was viewed by most of the Americans “houseguests” as a stoic protector, an “uncle” on whom one could count. In the evenings he would gather his wards after dinner, light his pipe, and with drink in hand, preside over the gathering as all listened with close attention to the international news on the radio.
The exfiltration of the Americans has been dramatically, and largely incorrectly, portrayed in the recent movie, Argo. Virtually all the Canadians are ignored in the film, with some of their exceptional contributions attributed to Ben Affleck, portraying the CIA hero (Mendez, the actual CIA officer involved, has fully acknowledged the contributions of the Canadians). When it was all over, John, and the other Canadians in Tehran, were awarded the Order of Canada. He accepted the award only after being promised that his wife, who equally faced the dangers, would also receive the Order. In the aftermath of the exfiltration and the closing of the Canadian embassy, the contribution of most of the Canadians involved in the operation was deliberately downplayed by the government. This does not, and should not, diminish our recognition of what John and others did to save friends, colleagues, and neighbours.
John is survived by his beloved wife Zena, two of his children, Robin and John, and a number of grandchildren.
Kurt F. Jensen is a retired Foreign Service
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 27, No. 2 (2013) — Spring 2013 // Printemps 2013, p. 34. Read the rest of this issue →
