1970’s — It was one of those moments that Julian Barnes likes to write about. Something was happening but what exactly? A maintenance worker at the Robson Square Ice Rink is in a fight with a young man who had been ice skating. There seemed to be some history here. The young man wasn’t alone; he had friends who were gathering up their skates. They were white and seemed to be of no concern to the security guards when they arrived. The young man swung the hammer at the maintenance worker, dropped it, and then ran from the rink with his friends. The police waiting at the top of the stairs took names but no charges were laid so the pictures didn’t run in the paper. A few days later I phoned the house of the young man. His father answered but my curiosity didn’t interest him. I sensed much distrust towards an enquiring journalist even if he was only a photographer.