I have been fascinated by Percy Leggett since I read his obituary in 1965 (see other posts on Leggett on this blog). He was a genuine eccentric and odd ball, the kind of person I like but not necessarily the kind of person I want to know. Here is his grave, at St. Andrews and St. James Cemetery, at 320 Goldwater Road East in Orillia, Ontario.
 |
| Image from www.findagrave.com |
There seems to be a lot of interest in Percy Leggett these days, mostly by his family members. It's good to be eccentric, it will get you remembered. But I am not sure eccentricity is for all of us. It requires a large ego and a reduction or leveling out of one's interests and beliefs; health could be one of these beliefs and Percy was a health fanatic, living separate from society and wearing shorts all year. But people are attracted to folks like Percy Leggett, they might think he has found some meaning to life that they do not have or they are amused by him. Percy was also a publicity hound, not by chance was his photograph featured in newspapers but by his choice. It's good to have an eccentric in the family, it's not so good to be that eccentric; someone like Percy would dispute this because he is an eccentric and wouldn't doubt for a minute the rightness of his way of life. .
Excerpt of an article by Paul Wilson, published in the Hamilton Spectator, 12 March 2016.
Percy Leggett — 1892 – 1965
With a reputation for hurling bricks through liquor store windows in various communities in Ontario, Percy Leggett rolled into Hamilton in the late 1950s calling himself the country's oldest beatnik. Through the '60s he was well-known in the community, walking the city in shorts in all seasons, telling people that his care-free lifestyle and non-conformity would allow him to live to be 100. "When I got my pension I resigned from the human race," he used to say." Clothes confine...let the air get at you, massage you. "
He was frequently featured in The Spectator in articles, photos and even cartoons on the editorial page. He became the talk of the town after a well-publicized dustup between Percy and the Over Sixty Club that kicked him out because his shorts were too revealing. Then one summer day in 1965 he decided Hamilton was too hot, smog-ridden and full of conformists. So he gathered up his stuff in a cart and headed northward. But sadly, in June 1965, he was hit and killed by a station wagon just outside of Orillia. He was 74 years of age, more than a quarter century short of his centenarian goal – but a non-conformist right to the end.
Source of photo of Percy Leggett:
