Chief calls on RCMP to sort out allegations against former Olympic chief
By James Keller and Dene Moore, The Canadian Press, September 28, 2012
The accusations have led to duelling threats of legal action from Furlong, who has flatly denied the allegations, and the reporter whose story in a Vancouver weekly newspaper caused a media storm.
Former students came forward to say the former gym teacher slapped and kicked them, hurled verbal abuse and strapped them with a yard stick. One woman told CBC News that she has recently recovered memories of sexual abuse.
But in the remote community of the Lake Babine Nation, 1,000 kilometres north of Vancouver, the controversy is not new. The man who gave daily news conferences as the world watched the 2010 Games was a man well-known to them.
“All throughout the Olympics, I kept hearing from former students, ‘This is the guy who did this to me, and look at him, right up there,'” Chief Wilf Adam of the Babine Nation told The Canadian Press.
“He was a mean person. What I saw at Immaculata, he used to slap the students, either boy or girl, and kick them in the ass, and sometimes kick them in the front side.”
A Carrier Sekani tribal official who did not want to be named said he’d heard allegations over the years from various people, but it wasn’t just Furlong.
“The abuse was widespread. That was kind of the norm, I guess,” said the official. “I think it was a widespread, accepted practice to abuse kids.”
Furlong is unequivocal.
“I categorically deny absolutely any wrongdoing and I believe that the RCMP in looking into this matter will discredit the complaint entirely because it just did not happen,” he told reporters.
He said he is suing the reporter and the newspaper, the Georgia Straight.
Furlong and his lawyer said Thursday they would make no further comment on the matter and telephone calls to both men for a response to this article were not returned.
Furlong does not deny that he spent time at two schools in northern B.C. prior to his emigration from Ireland in 1974.
He arrived at Immaculata Catholic School in 1969. It’s unclear when he left — the Catholic Archdiocese in Prince George will not provide any information — but in his autobiography he mentions two years of teaching experience. He also taught at Prince George College, which became O’Grady Catholic High School. Both schools have long since closed.
The Immaculata Catholic School was not an Indian residential school. Students attended by day, and non-native students did attend the school. However it was a religious school run by the Oblates, a missionary order whose primary goal was to spread religious doctrine among non-Christians around the world.
To that end, the Oblates formed the Frontier Apostolate, described by Catholic Missions of Canada as a volunteer corps 4,000-strong over four decades who devoted a year or more of their lives to staffing the mission schools in Canada’s northwest.
By 1974, Furlong was back in Ireland, where the book says he was approached by a recruiter for a high school in Prince George, B.C.
Bill Beatty’s family picked up a teenaged Furlong from the airport and brought him back to Burns Lake, and the two quickly became the best of friends. Beatty’s younger sister went to Immaculata, and he and the tall Irish athlete played several sports together.
“We all grew up with the strap present in the school so hitting a child, corporal punishment, it wouldn’t surprise me because it was the norm at the time but allegations of personal abuse with John, frankly I would find ludicrous,” said Beatty, an adjunct professor of leadership studies at Trinity Western University in Langley, B.C.
Certainly there was racial tension at times in the community, Beatty said, but he doesn’t recall that being an issue for Furlong.
“John had come straight out of Ireland and he was there because of his commitment to young people and to the Catholic Church. He knew he was coming to a First Nations community,” he said. “He was there to help.”
Bullying and abuse were just not in character for Furlong, he said..
“Whether it was 1968 or 2012, abuse is abuse. And if a person was being abused, you knew it,” he said.
“Frankly, for me it’s just a little absurd that John, of all people, would be accused of this.”
Furlong said this week he’s proud of his time in the north. Indeed Tewanee Joseph, former CEO of the Host First Nations Secretariat of the Games, said he was aware of Furlong’s history in northern B.C. as they toured the province ahead of the Olympics.
“Definitely I was aware of that,” Joseph said Friday.
He and Furlong visited Burns Lake and other northern communities, and it was clear he had connections there, Joseph said, and the tours were without incident.
In contrast to allegations that a young Furlong referred to students as “good for nothing Indians,” Joseph said he felt Furlong was very supportive of aboriginal involvement in the Games organization.
“They’re definitely serious allegations that I think should go through the proper legal authorities, investigating it properly,” Joseph said.
Adam made the same appeal Friday, calling on RCMP to conduct a thorough investigation.
The community appreciates Furlong’s work on the Games, but “strongly believes there are serious longstanding issues from the past that must be addressed,” said a statement from the band.
“An RCMP investigation must bring the truth of what happened in the past to the full light of day for all to see,” Adam said. “The necessary steps must be taken, so we can put this issue to rest.”
The RCMP said Thursday they are investigating all the allegations made in the matter.
The community is still reeling from a fatal mill explosion in January that left deep wounds.
“The serious allegations concerning John Furlong are coming into full public focus at a time when people already feel overwhelmed,” Adam said in the statement.
On Thursday, Adam said in an interview he was one of Furlong’s students.
“When he started off, when he came from Ireland, they put him at Immaculata school at Burns Lake, and from what I’ve seen, he was very mean with the kids,” Adam said.
“I saw it, I saw him kicking students in the butt really hard. He did that to me at Prince George College.
“A couple of students he slapped really hard in the face and kicked them in the ass. I can’t remember the name of the guy, a young kid, he kicked him in the front side, right in the crotch. He (the student) went down.”
Corporal punishment for students wasn’t outlawed in B.C. until 1973, and it was common practice in many schools.
Physical and emotional abuse was deeply ingrained in the Indian residential school system, and First Nations leaders say there were few differences between the staff approach at residential schools and the day schools run by religious organizations.
Yet Adam said Furlong stood out even in the Catholic school environment.
“He was more brutal than the others,” he said.
Ronnie Alec said Furlong was his phys-ed teacher and he remembers playing basketball.
“When we make a mistake, he comes after us in a bad way, get slapped on the head or kick us from behind. I tell you, he was a mean person, and we didn’t expect a P.E. teacher to be like that at Immaculata,” said Alec, 54.
But it wasn’t just Furlong, he said.
“The other teachers were, the nuns that we had, were same thing as — you know, we used to go to school from here, -35C or -37. If we missed by five minutes, they wouldn’t let us in, they’d locked us out, and we walked all the way back in that cold weather.”
He remembers being taken down to the boiler room to get the strap, “with leather, five times, six times, and sometimes with a ruler with our hands facing downwards up to the knuckle.”
Like others, Alec was upset that Furlong didn’t mention his time in Burns Lake in his autobiography released after the Winter Games.
“I was really upset about that… I looked at his book and he never mentioned Burns Lake not even once,” Alex said.
John Furlong biography omits secret past in Burns Lake
By Laura Robinson, Georgia Straight, September 27, 2012
“Welcome to Canada. Make us better.” It is a phrase that former Vanoc CEO John Furlong often repeats when he tells the story of the Edmonton airport customs agent who met him in 1974 after he immigrated to Canada. “A recruiter from a high school in Prince George, British Columbia, had come to Dublin in search of someone to set up an athletic program,” wrote Furlong in his 2011 book, Patriot Hearts. He decided to take the position, and his wife and he “bundled up our son and daughter and boarded a plane to Canada”.
“Welcome to Canada. Make us better,” said the agent who stamped his passport. The story leads many articles about Furlong, and the boss of the Vancouver Organizing Committee for the 2010 Olympic and Paralympic Winter Games (Vanoc) tells it twice in his book.
But Furlong had actually come to B.C. years earlier, living in another town. And there are a lot of people from those days who think that he not only didn’t make his new country better—he made their lives considerably worse.
The fact that most of those people are Natives puts a cruel spin on the fact that the 2010 Winter Games are widely remembered as the first Games to include aboriginal peoples as official hosts.
Furlong has been feted nationally and internationally. The Globe and Mail named him Canadian of the year in 2010; he’s received the Order of B.C., the Order of Canada, the Olympic Order, and the Paralympic Order. He chairs the board of Own the Podium (now, post-Olympics, a stand-alone legal entity), chairs the board at Rocky Mountaineer, and is on the Whistler Blackcomb Holdings Inc. board. In April, he became the “executive chair” of the Vancouver Whitecaps. UBC, UNBC, BCIT, the University of Calgary, and the B.C. Justice Institute have given him honorary degrees. He can command $25,000 per speaking gig, and he is worth every penny, according to those who hear him, because he speaks commandingly about teamwork and commitment, emphasizing the importance of values, honesty, and integrity.
Furlong has also been named one of Canada’s most transformative people. That may actually be the most accurate way of describing him.
John Furlong’s official Olympic CV and his book say that he arrived in Canada in the fall of 1974. He actually arrived years previously, in 1969, as an Oblate Frontier Apostle missionary. He went not to Prince George to direct a high-school athletic program but to Immaculata Elementary School in Burns Lake, B.C., to help save the souls of First Nations children. It was here that 18-year-old Furlong, fresh out of Dublin’s St. Vincent’s Christian Brothers Secondary School, with no formal training as a teacher and no university behind him, ran physical-education classes.
But if his goal was to persuade First Nations children of the virtues of Catholicism, he chose, say former students, a brutal way to do it.
One student, Beverley Abraham, from Babine Lake First Nation, had Furlong as a phys-ed teacher and school disciplinarian when she was 11 and 12. She said in a 2012 affidavit: “He worked us to the bone. His attitude was very bad. ‘You good for nothin’ Indians—come on, come on. If you don’t do this, you’re going to be good for nothing.’…He would stand over us. If we didn’t complete it, he would take his big foot and slam us down on the floor. It really hurt our chests.”
Abraham is one of eight former students of Furlong’s who have signed affidavits for the Georgia Straight alleging his physical and mental abuse. Many more told the Straight about the abuse Furlong meted out. Through emails from his Vancouver lawyer, Marvin Storrow, Furlong has denied physically abusing children. Storrow was on the Vancouver Olympic bid committee team and is thanked by Furlong in his book for lending him his office, where he wrote Patriot Hearts (along with Globe and Mail reporter Gary Mason). Although multiple emails were sent to Furlong through Storrow, no answer has been received from Furlong to questions about the five unexplained years, from 1969 to 1974, when he was a Frontier Apostle missionary, and why he was not honest about his arrival date and work in Canada.
Abraham sits at a Burns Lake restaurant. It’s licensed, but she hasn’t touched alcohol in years. It’s part of her healing journey. Her food remains untouched; she says nausea swells up when she thinks about Furlong.
“Young girls started drinking. My friends and I started drinking at age 12. I do believe it was because of his abuse. If we didn’t do what he said, he’d grab us by the shoulders. ‘Do you understand me!’ Smack on the back of the head; smack in the front.”
Abraham closes her eyes and fights tears. She says Furlong regularly made the same four girls—her and three friends—stay behind after phys-ed class, one at a time. The three friends were the ones who started drinking with Abraham. She says the three committed suicide in later years. “Every time I started phys-ed, I was honestly always afraid. He stood by the change-room door. [A nun] would say, ‘Okay, girls, come on.’ We were just afraid to go. He really degraded our name and our inner self. No wonder they call us drunks. Why did we drink so hard? Immaculata School.”
Ronnie Alec, a hereditary chief, also filed an affidavit about Furlong. The Olympic CEO’s image on television brought disturbing flashbacks for Alec. “When you’re not doing too good in basketball, all of a sudden you get kicked in the butt or slapped on the head,” he wrote in his affidavit. “It was a hard kick, and he backed up to make the slap, so it hit hard. He could stand in front of us and, unexpected, he would slap us on the head.…With his big eyes, I can picture him, and then, next thing: boom, a hard slap to the head.”
Alec says that after he saw Furlong on TV, he called his office to try to confront him before the Olympics began but he never heard back from him.
Alec’s voice is joined by Cathy Woodgate’s in her affidavit. “I was slow and weak. I got hit by a ball, whipped in the calves, yardstick thrown at me—all by John Furlong. I was very shy, very low in self-esteem. I grew up with low self-esteem and decided not to take part in any physical activities because of this nightmare of phys-ed class.”
Later, at age 29, Woodgate was diagnosed with a type of muscular dystrophy. She had it as a child, which was why she was always at the back of the pack while the children were being forced to run extraordinarily long distances—more than 30 laps of the school field or a run up and down Boer Mountain, a good eight kilometres—with no water. Furlong “saluted” Immaculata’s few white pupils who made it to the top but ignored their First Nation classmates, according to former students.
Students from 1969-70 say Furlong screamed “Lazy Indians!” at them and physically abused them in different ways because, in his mind, they had committed some offence that needed punishment. He did not, they say, see them as children who were afraid of a tall white man who communicated through beatings and screaming in English. He is remembered as a gratuitously violent bully who taunted children, beating them in front of the class if he felt they were too slow, fat, or inattentive.
Richard Perry, another hereditary chief, said in an affidavit that he is convinced he suffered brain damage because of Furlong’s repeated beatings, and he struggles to comprehend what he reads even today.
“I was hit on the head all the time. I was hit with a ruler: a metre stick in the legs. I remember one day talking to another Native person in my language. I said, ‘What are you learning in school?’ John Furlong hit me for that. Those days there was not too much learning. I remember John Furlong chased me home one day.”
First Nation families who went to school authorities about Furlong’s abuse say nothing changed. If students complained to the nuns, they were strapped for lying. When they tried to skip classes or stay out of school, the RCMP brought them back—to more punishment.
“Another time, he [Furlong] took me to a private room where the furnace was,” Perry declared in his affidavit. “It was really noisy so no one could hear.…I watched them take kids one by one to the basement and beat us [with the strap]. I got too much abuse, too many hits all the time.”
Other students talk about the furnace room—a much feared place. Furlong, they say, grabbed children by the hair and dragged them there for strappings, usually by a priest or nun.
Paul Joseph and his cousin Richard also went to Immaculata. “Richard was pretty much the same age as I am,” Joseph said in a phone interview from Burns Lake. “On the John Furlong side, he hit me so hard once when we played basketball, right on the back of the head with a full hand for no reason. Another time I didn’t hear him say [something] to me while I was playing basketball. He came from behind and grabbed my hair from the back—almost on top of my head. He punched me in the back of the head and I went flying. I was unconscious for 15 minutes. I remember then I was crying. Everyone was too afraid to help me.”
Joseph says the abuse was unrelenting. “I played lots of hockey. John Furlong hit me right at the back of my head with a hockey stick. After this, I didn’t want to go to school. I was too afraid of what he would do. If he doesn’t get his way, he will hit us really hard. My cousin Richard and I just walked around outside in the cold. We didn’t have anyone. My parents were dead and I was 13. If we went to the priest, he would say we were lying. He would put our hands on the desk and hit us so hard. It feels like our hands are broken.”
Former students at Immaculata and at Prince George College (later called O’Grady Catholic High School), where Furlong worked later on, are part of a national class-action suit against churches and the federal government. Under the narrow definition of what the federal government, in its Indian Residential Schools Settlement, determined was a “residential student”, they did not qualify for so-called common-experience payments. Residential and day students, Native and some non-Native alike, attended these schools. Native day students frequently experienced abuse from the same teachers, priests, and nuns as the residential students who were later compensated.
The children, who were forced to attend from eight surrounding First Nations, often spoke only the Carrier language. Their families, if still on the land despite many attempts to “settle” them, lived traditionally, but with the building of Immaculata in Burns Lake in 1960, students were herded by the Prince George diocese into the new school.
Bishop John Fergus O’Grady, who oversaw the diocese, made sure, during lobbying trips to Ottawa and Victoria, that his 13 schools (he built nine in just four years) received government top-ups for every Native student registered. He and Father Gerard Clenaghan (who regularly flew to Dublin to recruit Frontier Apostles and priests) lived well. O’Grady loved to dress up in buckskin and moccasins and tell stories to big-city North American Christians about “half-breeds” and “little Indians” so he could leverage more money for his empire.
Added to donations were government payments to the diocese. The more First Nation kids O’Grady registered in Catholic schools, the more the government paid and the more he could feed his diocesan expansionist dreams—but he didn’t waste money on teachers’ salaries. O’Grady beat the cost of hiring trained teachers by inventing in 1956, along with Father John Brayley, the Frontier Apostolate: a labour force of Christian volunteers, often recruited from Ireland, whom he referred to as the “Catholic peace corps”.
The first FAs arrived in 1957; by the time the diocese shut down the program in 1992, more than 4,000 had volunteered from five continents. O’Grady paid them $25 per month plus room and board. Some were qualified teachers; most weren’t. One priest wrote that the Grade 2 class in his parish was taught by a Grade 10 dropout.
It was to this that Furlong, at age 18, arrived. He had just left St. Vincent’s Christian Brothers School in Dublin.
By June 1969, not only was Furlong a missionary but he worked part-time in the Burns Lake bakery. In May of the next year, he married Margaret Cook, a Frontier Apostle kindergarten teacher. In June 1970, Sandy and John Barth took over from the Furlongs at Immaculata and the Furlongs moved to Prince George College, where they are listed as “resident supervisors” in the 1971 yearbook. Furlong also coached a number of school teams. In 1972, Furlong continued to coach and supervise a residence, but he graduated to phys-ed teacher and then disappeared from the 1973-74 yearbook.
It appears that for some reason, Furlong either returned to or was sent back to Ireland. He states in Patriot Hearts that he was in Dublin in May and June 1974.
He reappeared at Prince George College in 1975-76, again as a resident supervisor and phys-ed teacher, while Margaret and their two children—who were born in Canada before he left Prince George—are listed as being from Dublin, Ireland.
Like at least four other former Immaculata students from those days, Paul Joseph’s cousin Richard committed suicide. Now, Joseph says, he is fighting for the truth, just as much for Richard as he is for himself. (Frontier Apostle records are tightly guarded by the Roman Catholic Diocese of Prince George; the Straight was told in April in Prince George that those records were closed.) He says he can move on from Richard’s suicide “as long as we bring out the truth so no other students will be so abused”.
Joseph says students were told by one nun that “we had to be quiet about the abuse. God would strike us down. I thought God did that to Richard, but later I realized God didn’t act that way.” Joseph says that ensuring Furlong is made to answer to those he allegedly abused is part of the healing process involved in truth-telling.
“After what he has done with us out here—for a long time I was looking for this guy—then I see him on the news with that Olympic thing. I wanted to break my TV. But it wasn’t my TV—it was him.”
Other students recall Furlong—who, at more than six feet in height, had been on the Irish school basketball and handball teams and played Gaelic football—using either a closed fist or a full-handed slap to their head or to their classmates’ heads. Even some of those Furlong left alone or favoured admitted to the Straight that he used harsh violence on others.
For some of his former students, seeing Furlong oversee the Olympics brought frightening memories as well as shock over how he kept his past secret—and even more surprise that Olympic authorities didn’t research who he really was. Several of them told the Straight that they attempted to or actually did contact Furlong prior to the Games. One bumped into him in a Prince George hotel elevator and confronted him about the abuse; he said Furlong refused to speak to him. Another said Furlong denied that he had abused her. Yet another said a voice-mail message was ignored.
When he met with one former student (who does not want to be named; the Straight has been informed of the name) before the start of the Games, he allegedly brought along Dan Doyle, the Vanoc executive vice president of construction and then-chair of B.C. Hydro. Doyle, when asked in an email about his presence at that meeting, responded only through a May 13 email, without denying that he was at the get-together in a private residence in Surrey. “I am not a spokesperson for Vanoc on any issues. You should continue to deal with Mr. Furlong and his lawyer.” (On September 24, 2012, B.C. premier Christy Clark announced Doyle’s appointment as her chief of staff.)
Rusty Goepel was chair of Vanoc’s hiring committee, and in November 2009, he became chair of Vanoc. He is also senior vice president of Raymond James Ltd. in Canada, one of North America’s largest investment firms. “John was a member of the board of the [Olympic] bid corporation from day one,” Goepel said by phone from his Vancouver office. “I knew him; I knew his background. We went through a hiring process with a professional: Tanton Mitchell. I’m quite shocked [to hear these accounts of abuse] after the efforts he made and the plaudits he received. John emerged as an absolute stellar performer and a stellar representative of this city.” Goepel added that he was skeptical of the allegations.
Besides being Vanoc CEO, Furlong was the president and COO of the Vancouver 2010 bid team. He was involved for more than a decade, but did Goepel ever actually have Furlong’s CV researched? Goepel admits he can’t remember if he ever saw Furlong’s CV. “But it wouldn’t be like I asked him.…There was nothing we did wrong in our hiring process. You’re describing a totally different, alien person than I know.”
The Canadian Olympic Committee was pivotal to Vancouver’s bid and the Games themselves, with COC members sitting on both Vanoc and the bid committee. The Straight emailed questions in April about whether or not the COC practised due diligence—did a background check, received a Furlong CV—prior to Furlong’s hiring. None have been answered.
The organization that oversees all things Canadian and Olympic—including the national team sent to London 2012—claimed, through its director of communications, Dimitri Soudas, in a June 28 email: “We simply cannot comment on matters that are out of our jurisdiction….concerning fundamental principles of ethics and morals, we always set and implement the highest standards.”
The City of Vancouver, through Mayor Gregor Robertson’s office, has also been asked to comment on its role in Vanoc and how it practised due diligence in terms of hiring. There has been, to date, no response.
As of June 27, 2012, the B.C. Registry office still listed the Vanoc board as “active”.
Along with the customs-agent story, Furlong often repeats the story of his cousin Siobhan Roice’s tragic death in Dublin in a terror bombing in May 1974 that killed 26 people. Siobhan, only 19, was walking to the Dublin train station on her way home to Wexford, 130 kilometres away, on a Friday after work.
In Patriot Hearts, Furlong writes about the anguish the Roices experienced when Siobhan did not arrive at the Wexford station. He says “that task [of identifying Siobhan’s body] was too much” for her parents, so his father, Jack, went to the temporary morgue. “Body parts were stuffed in bags. It was a ring on a finger that helped identify Siobhan.”
Furlong continues: “My cousin’s funeral was difficult to sit through.…My aunt and uncle were broken and almost unrecognizable in their grief. So was my father….He was never able to shake the feelings he was left with after having to see his niece’s body torn asunder….Less than a month later, on June 4, my father was felled by a heart attack.” Jack Furlong died the next day.
Furlong’s cousin Jim Roice tells the tragedy quite differently. When Siobhan did not arrive home, they were in despair. The next morning, her father, Ned, his son-in-law, and brother-in-law boarded the train to Dublin. “My father, distraught as he was—no one could have stopped him from getting on that train,” 60-year-old Jim Roice told the Georgia Straight by phone from Ireland. Roice learned the details of the bombing from his family when he returned home the week after it happened; he had been at sea, in the merchant marine. “Uncle Jack was a lovely man, but he did not identify my sister’s body.”
A 2003 feature in the Irish Independent quoted Ned Roice, Siobhan’s father: “When it came to my turn, I didn’t know what to expect. I said I wanted someone else to come in with me in case I made a mistake and identified the wrong person.” The newspaper continued: “He need not have worried about that. He spotted his daughter immediately, her body mercifully intact. ‘The minute I went in, I recognised her right away. It was as if she had called me,’ he says. ‘She was lying there perfect. It’s 29 years ago, but it’s the same as if it only happened yesterday.’ ”
“It was my father’s mother’s wedding ring on Siobhan’s finger, but she was perfect; there wasn’t a mark on her,” Jim Roice told the Straight. Records from an inquiry into the investigation of the bombing list Siobhan Roice as a victim. In the paperwork relating to it, Ned Roice is listed; Jack Furlong is not.
Furlong uses the story as the jumping-off point for why he came to Canada in 1974—ostensibly for the first time—saying, in his book and in interviews, that the death of his cousin and father had left him “feeling a little empty, and open to new adventures….I decided to take the [athletic director] position, thinking I would return to Ireland in a few years.”
Except it seems that, for whatever reason, he already had done that.
Furlong was actually going back to Prince George College (described in Patriot Hearts only as “a high school in Prince George”) and taking the position he’d already held. He disappeared from the school’s yearbooks after 1976, but he appeared in the Prince George phone book that year and again in ’77. In his book, he says that he became the director of Prince George’s parks and recreation department after “a couple of years”. The City of Prince George will not confirm his employment, directing the Straight to submit a freedom-of-information request.
By 1978, he’s gone from the phone book and “M. Furlong” appears. Some of his former students and friends of his children say he left his wife, Margaret, and their children. Furlong writes in Patriot Hearts that “shortly after” Prince George hosted the Northern B.C. Winter Games in 1978, he was asked to take on the job of regional director of Nanaimo parks and recreation and moved to Vancouver Island.
Inside his book’s inside dust jacket, Furlong is described as “a born storyteller”. And in his addresses as a motivational speaker, he likes to give “lessons” for life. He lists the following values as essential: respect, accountability and inclusion, trust, integrity, honesty, fairness, and compassion.
Some of his former students wish he would come back to Burns Lake. They want to discuss what these lessons really mean to him.
Posted on September 29, 2012, in Uncategorized and tagged burns lake, furlong abuse allegations, john furlong, vancouver olympic organizing committee, vancouver olympics, vanoc. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.