Three T’s of Charity: Bob Layton’s Reflections on Service, Brotherhood, and Legacy at Ivanhoe’s 100th Anniversary

By Trevor Eliott (Mr Fancy Fez)

April 5, 2025 – Derrick Golf & Country Club, Edmonton

On the evening of April 5, 2025, the grand hall of the Derrick Golf & Country Club echoed with the soft chime of cutlery and conversation as Masons, families, and honored guests gathered to mark a century of service by Ivanhoe Lodge No. 142. But as the room quieted and broadcaster and author Bob Layton took the stage, it quickly became clear that this celebration would be remembered for more than just a milestone—it would become a moment of reflection on what it truly means to serve.

With his trademark sincerity and steady voice, Layton delivered a keynote address that transcended time, drawing from his decades of storytelling experience and community involvement to offer something more than just a speech. He offered a challenge—a reminder—and a tribute to the heart of Freemasonry itself.

His message centered on what he called the "Three T’s of Charity": Time, Talent, and Treasure. And through three deeply personal and poignant stories, he gave life to those words in a way that touched every soul in the room.

Time, Talent, and the Birth of a Helicopter

The first story took us back to the year 2000—a time of rapid growth in Edmonton, and with it, rising concerns over public safety. Layton recalled being in the newsroom when yet another high-speed police chase had ended in tragedy. The police chief, exasperated, once again said the words that had become almost a refrain: “I wish we had a helicopter.”

In other major cities, Layton explained, police departments use helicopters not for pursuit, but for surveillance. When a chase becomes too dangerous, ground units pull back and let the eye in the sky track the suspect quietly from above. But Edmonton didn’t have that tool.

Layton, moved by the need, used his editorial platform to ask a simple question: “Why doesn’t Edmonton have a police helicopter?” The public reaction was swift—but it was a single phone call that changed everything.

That call came from Ed Bean, General Manager of Crystal Glass and a man Layton described as a titan of charitable giving—someone instrumental in helping keep the Edmonton Oilers from leaving town during hard times. Ed didn’t just support the idea of a police helicopter—he took action. He pledged $100,000 on the condition that Layton’s radio audience could match it within 30 days.

It was a bold challenge—especially in December, when donation fatigue is common and other causes like Santa’s Anonymous and the Christmas Bureau dominate the public’s attention. Layton hesitated. What if the campaign fell short? Would they refund donations? Would they be embarrassed?

But Doug Rutherford, Layton’s boss at the time, reframed the challenge. “What if you do raise it?” he asked. That question was all it took.

The next morning, the editorial aired at 8:10 AM. By 8:30, citizens were pulling off the freeway to donate cash at the radio station. The response was overwhelming. Within the month, $100,000 was raised—and Ed kept his promise, writing the matching cheque.

But the story didn’t end there.

What followed was a grassroots movement that exemplified the very meaning of community action. Churches, service clubs, and small businesses began organizing events, pledging support, and raising funds. One weekend, the Sherwood Park Farmers’ Market gave Layton’s team a booth and ingredients to sell blueberry sundaes. Ed Bean showed up, rolled up his sleeves, and began scooping ice cream.

When a passerby recognized him and asked incredulously why a man of his stature was selling $2 sundaes, Ed replied, “What does it look like? I’m raising money for the helicopter.” The man shot back, “At $2 a cup?” Ed’s retort? “Yeah, but I bet you could afford more.”

That moment encapsulated everything Layton wanted to convey. Ed Bean had already given his Treasure, and his Talent in rallying support—but now, in that booth, he was giving his Time.

The campaign succeeded. Edmonton got its helicopter. And Ed Bean’s legacy took flight—quite literally.

Years later, Layton visited Ed in his modest home after hearing he’d suffered a stroke. Expecting to find a millionaire's mansion, Layton was stunned by the humility of Ed’s surroundings. Ed explained, “Everything I need is at arm’s length. And do you know how much good those millions of dollars can do for people without even a roof over their heads?”

It was a defining moment. A man of immense means, choosing simplicity to give more to others.

Talent: The Gift of Laughter

Layton’s second story brought a different dimension to the idea of charity. It was about a comedian—Michael Jr.—who had come to Edmonton to perform at the Winspear Centre. But rather than limiting his visit to a ticketed event, Michael Jr. made arrangements to perform a second show, completely free, for the homeless at the Mustard Seed.

On a cold winter night, volunteers served sandwiches and coffee to guests, many of whom hadn't experienced joy—or warmth—in quite some time. Michael Jr. took the stage, but at first, his jokes fell flat. The crowd was quiet. But then came a moment of magic.

When he asked the audience what they did for fun, someone yelled, “Football.”

“Football? In this weather?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, we do.”

“It even snows here during football?”

“Sometimes.”

“What kind of team plays football in the snow?”

Someone whispered, “The Eskimos.”

The room erupted in laughter.

It was a breakthrough. That night, Michael Jr. gave a crowd of people often overlooked in society something rare and precious: joy.

Layton related the moment to a lesson he’d learned while studying ventriloquism in Las Vegas. His instructor said, “Everyone deserves a laugh—but not everyone can afford one. Every tenth show must be free.”

Charity, Layton reminded the audience, is not always about money. Sometimes, it’s about using your talents to lift someone else—even if only for a moment.

Brotherhood: The Tribute to Bruce and Bud

The third and final story was, in many ways, the heart of Layton’s address.

It was a tribute to Bruce Hogel, a longtime Shriner and former Potentate whom Layton had come to know well. Bruce had invited Layton and his wife, Marg, to participate in Shrine activities and had been a beloved figure in both Masonic and civic communities.

Bruce passed away on March 28, 2024—a date Layton noted was also his birthday. His wife Gail had passed shortly before, and their joint celebration of life was held exactly one year prior to the night of the speech.

The man chosen to deliver the tribute to Bruce and Gail was their friend of 70 years, Bud Salloum—a Mason since 1970. But just two days before the service, Bud was hospitalized with five broken ribs and a punctured lung. Everyone assumed he’d be unable to attend.

And yet—on April 5—Bud walked into the room, supported by his son and daughter-in-law. Under his suit, hidden from sight, was medical equipment: a tube connected to his chest, draining blood into a pouch.

Despite the pain, Bud took the podium and delivered the tribute. At the end, he led the room in a final countdown: “Three, two, one…” and the crowd responded in unison: “Well done, Bruce and Gail.”

Layton’s voice wavered with emotion as he recounted it.

And then, turning to the present moment, he asked the crowd: “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do the same for Bud.”

He counted down.

“Three… two… one…”

“Well done, Bud.”

It was a powerful moment—one that honored not just a man, but the unbreakable bond of Brotherhood.

A Centennial Framed in Purpose

As Bob Layton stepped away from the podium that night, the audience rose to its feet. Applause, yes—but more than that, recognition. Recognition of a truth that too often fades in the noise of daily life: that real charity is not measured in money alone. It is measured in presence, in principle, in participation.

Layton’s stories were more than anecdotes. They were invitations—to live more deliberately, to give more generously, and to act more compassionately.

They also served as a mirror, reflecting the very spirit that has guided Ivanhoe Lodge No. 142 for 100 years.

In his final words, Layton reminded us that behind every Masonic act of charity, every community initiative, and every moment of brotherly love lies a deeper call: to offer our time, our talents, and our treasures in the service of something greater than ourselves.

As the lodge now steps into its second century, the message could not be more timely.

And in the quiet echo that followed Bob’s final words, it was clear—this wasn’t just a centennial celebration.

It was a rededication to purpose.