Leonard “Red” Kelly - The Red Kelly Story

It was a beautiful afternoon as little four-year-old Leonard Kelly accompanied his brother, Joe, and the others down to the swimming hole on the first bend of the Lynn River by the Kelly homestead. They had done this hundreds of times. It was what you did on a hot summer afternoon. It was fun and refreshing, a great place to play.

Leonard liked to be with the others. This time it was even more fun, as Stanton Berton and his younger brother Winston came along. Stanton was a friendly young college student. Every summer, when school finished in Michigan, he and his brother came to visit their grandparents at a neighbouring farm.

Leonard didnt know how to swim just yet, but that never stopped him from going. He waded in the shallow water to cool off. Sometimes he even went up to his neck, but he always stopped just before the ledge dropped off towards the middle of the river. There was a current there, and he had to be careful.

On this day, he stood in the water and watched the others jump into the deep water, laugh and play. He knew that when he got older, he would learn how to swim and join in on the fun.

When some of the older kids got out of the water, Leonard was still in it. With the screaming and yelling going on, it was noisy hard to hear yourself think. Suddenly, Leonard found himself a bit too far from the shallows. Starting to panic, he was pulled in towards the centre by the current and had to stand on his tiptoes to keep his head above water. And then the slow current pulled him into the middle, where it was deeper, and he went underwater for the first time.

He thrashed his arms and managed to come up to the surface. He wanted to scream for help but was pulled back under before he could. When he was pulled back down for the third time, he figured it was the last. He was done.

On the riverbank, Stanton had just come out of the water and was drying himself off when he saw something out of the corner of his eye...

It was Saturday night! Young Leonard came into the house excited. He took off his winter coat and boots and rushed into the living room. His mother was sitting on the couch, and his father had just turned on the radio and was about settle into his favourite chair. Leonard instantly slid to the floor in front of the big, old radio.

Hello Canada and hockey fans in the United States and Newfoundland. This is Foster Hewitt speaking to you from Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto... tonight the Toronto Maple Leafs and their captain Hap Day are hosting the Canadiens from Montreal and their captain Sylvio Mantha in what should be an exciting match.

Leonard shivered with excitement as he lay on the floor and put his ear right next to the radio. He didnt want to miss a moment of anything. The game began, and Hewitts words sounded like a prayer as he described the back-and-forth action. Even through the sound of static, Leonard could hear the cheers of the crowd.

Red Horner, the great Leaf defenceman, has the puck, he circles behind his net, crosses the blue line, dekes past a Canadien, and gets the puck up to Gentleman Joe Primeau, who is breaking at the Montreal blue line. Primeau cuts in and shoots... He scores!

Leonard jumped up in the air.

Primeau gets the goal, but all the work was the great rush and set-up by Red Horner, continued Hewitt. Red Horner gets the well-deserved assist. Primeau and Horner are congratulating each other as the crowd goes wild.

Leonard listened carefully, eyes wide. He could picture Gentleman Joe Primeau breaking down the ice with the puck, and Red Horner, his favourite player, following up! Wow! To be like them...

It was the last minute of play in Game 6 of the 1967 Stanley Cup Final. The Stanley Cup was in the building. Toronto was leading the series 32 and the Leafs were ahead in this game 21, but the potent Montreal Canadiens offence was pressing for the equalizer and had managed to get a faceoff deep in the Toronto end, to the left of goalie Terry Sawchuk. The Canadiens pulled their goalie, Gump Worsley, and sent out the sixth attacker with fifty-five seconds left on the clock. This was it, the most important faceoff of the year.

Toronto coach Punch Imlach looked up and down his bench. Kelly, Armstrong, Horton and Pulford. Stanley, you take the draw! The sound of his own name made Leonard Red Kellys adrenaline flow. He jumped onto the ice without hesitation. Punch had sent out his most seasoned veterans. Red knew what had to be done. They all did. This was it.

For Red, there wasnt much time to worry. But this could be the last game of his 20-year NHL career. His last game! He had decided to announce his impending retirement after 1,316 regular season games. It was hard not to think of everything foregone the farm, his parents, getting his nickname, Andra, the kids, Detroit, St. Michaels, Father Flanagan, the trade, teammates, foes, the game he loved all of it. And Stanton Berton.

This was Reds 164th playoff game, the most of anybody who had ever played, even his buddy Gordie Howe. This could be his eighth Cup! Imagine: Joe Primeau and Red Horner me, eight Stanley Cups!

The crowd was on its feet, the teams lining up. Sawchuk readied himself. The Canadiens were steely, determined to tie this game. Big Jean Bliveau was to take the draw opposite a serious Allan Stanley.

Just as they were about to drop the puck, Montreal forward John Ferguson came into the faceoff circle to whisper to Bliveau. Stanley turned his head slightly to listen. Bliveau nodded, and Ferguson left to position himself in front of the Toronto net. Stanley stepped out of the circle to talk to Red, who was situated just behind him in the corner. They exchanged a few words. Red nodded and moved over to Stanleys right, in front of the Toronto net, where most of the bodies were particularly Ferguson all set to dive into mayhem. Stanley moved into position. He put his head and stick down to face Bliveau. This was it. They set.

The puck dropped.

Stanley won the draw, pulled the puck back to near where Red had been, then blocked Bliveaus path to it. Red knew exactly what to do as he jumped into the void and snatched the loose puck.

A Canadien was racing towards him.

Four-year-old Leonard disappeared under the water for the last time. Running hard off the bank, Stanton Berton dove in head first. He grabbed the drowning Leonard and pushed him up and out of the water. The little boy gasped for a breath, choking, coughing, scared, almost blue, but alive.

Stanton carried him over to the shore and put him down by the bank as Leonard continued to cough and sputter. The other kids rushed over and gathered around, shocked and scared especially Joe. You okay, Leonard? he asked. Leonard nodded. Joes little brother, Leonard, almost a goner! Wow! Everyone praised Stanton. Atta go, Stanton!

Leonard never forgot that traumatic moment or the heroics of the summer visitor. Stanton had saved his life.

Come the fall, life on the farm fell into the autumn routine. Leaves on the trees were starting to change colour, kids were back at school and the harvest was about to be brought in.

But then shocking news arrived from Michigan. Stanton Berton was dead, killed in a traffic accident.

Leonard cried. Stanton Berton, to whom he owed his life, was dead.