Usually, when you refer to someone as a fast-talker, it isn’t a positive reflection on their character.
When talking about James (Jamie to us old-timers) Snyder, it wasn’t so much a character observation but an undeniable fact of nature.
Jamie died recently during his annual winter retreat to New Zealand, his second home. He was 73.
He had battled coronary disease and other health issues for some time, but it didn’t lessen his lifelong need to keep learning and sharing what he had learned for the good of the community.
Speaking with Jamie required your full attention. If you blinked, you missed something. He was brimming with so many thoughts and ideas that they tumbled out of him like water flowing over Niagara Falls.
If you were interviewing him, a tape recording played back at 2/3 speed could usually keep up.
No single column or news story could capture Jamie’s achievements. He procured millions of dollars in funding for Wallaceburg (pre-amalgamation) and Chatham-Kent afterward, where he became “James.” He joined plenty of other municipal employees in a mass migration to Lakeshore in Essex County and continued his work there.
His contributions weren’t limited to his professional career. His interests were as varied as the clouds in the sky, but he had a particular spot in his heart for the arts and non-profit sectors. He was proud to have been a founding member of the Chatham-Kent Arts and Culture Network, the forerunner of the CK Arts Council.
I first met him when I was a young reporter at the Chatham Daily News bureau in Wallaceburg. He was working for the town, and to my young eyes, he seemed to know everyone and everything.
Being young and energetic, I was filling one or two pages a day with Wallaceburg news, and some of my stories didn’t sit well with the council and senior administration. There was an effort to find my sources, and Jamie was told to stay away from me.
I went to him.
His office was in a day-care centre (formerly Merici Catholic school) away from town hall, so I could sneak in from time to time to get background on this or that. This was pre-Freedom of Information Act, when it was easier to withhold information from the ‘evil ‘media. Our conversations usually just helped me to ask the right questions in the cause of the public’s right to know, and he was far from the only source.
I was sitting in his office when a town councillor came walking down the hall. I had no escape, so I courageously retreated to his closet, remaining there for 20 minutes or so until the councillor finished her business and left.
I didn’t take note (or notes) of what the two said since doing so would have been unethical and impractical. I also didn’t want Jamie to be fired.
I became friends with Jamie, one of the thousands he accumulated around the world. It sometimes seemed like all of them attended his legendary parties at the big house on Duncan Street.
I don’t think I ever had a conversation with Jamie where I didn’t learn from him.
In a world where the term “original” is thrown around far too casually, he really was one of a kind.
We’ve lost a part of our community with his passing.
