Old letters from ‘the Flying Bandit’

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 30/03/2020 (2024 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Rooting around in a closet, I discovered  an old box of correspondence. What a surprise when I came up with two letters from Ken Leishman.

Yes, the very same celebrity thief who was named “the Flying Bandit.” He’d promised me a story, but was released from Stony Mountain Penitentiary not long after our last exchange.

Bringing myself up-to-date on his activities, I found his tragic end to be just as newsworthy as his short life. He supposedly died at age 48 in a plane crash, although the coroner never found any physical evidence of his demise. It had been a mercy flight for someone who had broken her hip in a snowmobile accident. His two passengers died at the scene.

In a 1980 copy of the Montreal Gazette, a reporter suggested that perhaps Leishman had survived. 

If so, where are you Ken? If you’re alive,  you’ll be turning 89 on June 20.

In 1974, his letters to me, written while still incarcerated, depicted a man both humble and polite, yet confident. He had sketched out a plan to help his criminal compatriots. This project, he said, asked the authorities to consider setting up a government-funded auto shop where released inmates could use their skills to earn decent livings for their families.

He believed it was a win-win situation, as it would keep released inmates from bouncing back into the penal system.

“Each man will own a part of the business. He will have a vested interest, which mean  roots in the community and a reason for being. I see this as a pilot project which could sweep right across the country,” he wrote.

I ask you, do these sound like the words of a hardened criminal, who had already spent eight years in jail? Leishman cared about his fellow man, which is why he was so well-liked.

He was an intelligent human being who could have graced the boardroom of any company he chose, if he’d been given the right breaks and proper upbringing. Almost from the beginning of his life, he was forced to use his wits to overcome obstacles like unhappy foster homes, unstable parents, and many other unfortunate events.

One thing he did accomplish was becoming a pilot. Flying was his great passion and figured into most of his outrageous escapades. He found it thrilling to be bad and, because he was so clever, he created many ways to escape from jail. He must have driven prison officials mad with his many schemes.

Yet he always had a soft spot for people less fortunate. In his last letter, he talks about a hockey game between the Stonewall RCMP and prison inmates to raise money for charity, hinting that he could sure use some publicity for the event.

Leishman spent his best and most productive years in prison. It’s sad to think that a man who was so well-appreciated and respected by his peers, wasted his potential.

However, I don’t think this unlikely folk hero would agree. He craved excitement and his life turned out to be as colourful as any movie blockbuster.

Freda Glow is a community correspondent for the North End.