GONE WEST — Stocky Edwards, dies at nearly 101
The photo. Of all the photos of Edwards taken during his storied military career, none speak the volumes that this one does. It is taken somewhere in Italy in 1943. Stocky has risen from Flight Sergeant to Wing Commander in two years. What is truly remarkable is that his countenance is one of calmness, peace and even bemusement. His face is not pinched with stress or lack of sleep. His shoulders are relaxed, his hands in the pockets of his khaki trousers. Fear or loss cannot be read in his eyes. His whole body is surrounded by an aura of self-awareness and determination. He gazes outward, placidly, eyes focused on the job ahead. This is a portrait of a leader.
On Saturday, May 14, 2022, Canadian fighter pilot legend Wing Commander James Francis “Stocky” Edwards of Nakomis, Saskatchewan passed away a month short of his 101st birthday. In the argot of aircrew from the Second World War, Stocky has “gone west.”
Stocky’s death brings to a close the last chapter in the life of a remarkable man. Edwards, born in rural Saskatchewan in 1921, remains a legendary figure in Canadian aviation history. His golden reputation in Canuck flying circles was earned — not because he was a gifted fighter pilot, P-40 triple-ace or war hero, but because despite his extraordinary accomplishments as a pilot and charismatic leader of men in battle, he maintained two character traits that contrasted sharply with his near-mythic warrior status — humility and gratitude.
Edwards, like nearly everyone whose mettle was tested in the Second World War, was not a line-shooter or battle-centric storyteller, but rather a gentle, soft-spoken man with a broad smile and engaging demeanour. He understood and abided by the unspoken law of his comrades-in-arms that placing himself at the centre of a war story or shining a spotlight on himself was worthy of shame for it eroded the sacrifice of those fellow pilots who did not return from the war. His humility only made his aura brighter, his words more significant and the lesson of his life more important to learn from.
When Stocky walked into a room, eyes went to him, ears waited to hear his words and mouths whispered his nickname — Stocky. Slim, diminutive and erect, Edwards’ nickname was not a physical sobriquet but rather spoke to his determination and steadfastness.
During the Second World War, the greatest Canadian leaders were discovered, not manufactured. They were not formed in the classrooms of Royal Military College or Staff College, nor did they spring from Leadership and Management Development Courses. They came from the wheat fields, the factory floors, the accounting offices and the high schools of a nation rising up to defend others against a bully of global proportions. Over the six long and trying years of the Second World War, our greatest leaders rose from the ranks of airmen like fast growing maples. Men with leadership abilities were recognized immediately and promoted rapidly. They were the naturals. Stocky Edwards was one of the greatest of these natural born leaders, and it took a great threat to the world for him to be born.
Stocky Edwards was a grateful man. If you’ve ever spent any time with him and his bride Toni, their gratitude for their longevity and opportunities becomes self-evident. Stocky was not a man who believed he was owed anything for his service and sacrifice. He did not expect reverence, but he received it. He did not look for deference, but he was afforded it. He was grateful for a chance to tell the story of his squadron comrades; grateful for back-seat rides in warbirds, flypasts in his honour, grateful to have his old warhorse P-40 come alive again at Vintage Wings and for being inducted into Canada’s Aviation Hall of Fame. He was grateful for the Royal Canadian Air Force, for projects that kept him relevant into his second century, for a life surrounded by generations of the Edwards clan, for his remarkable health and for the country he loved so much.
Above all, Stocky Edwards was grateful for Alice “Toni” Antonio, his beloved wife of more than 70 years. They were inseparable. They were not just a couple in the sense we all know married pairs to be, but rather one entity. Toni or Stocky never used the first person singular pronoun, always the plural. Their relationship was a thing of beauty.
Stocky and Toni on their wedding day in 1951. Photo:Edwards Family Collection
Time had only made them closer—Stocky and Toni at Vintage Wings of Canada in 2013. Toni is wearing a fishing fly made by Stocky who loved fly fishing. Stocky is wearing a pin denoting he is a Member of Canada’s Aviation Hall of Fame. Photo: Richard Mallory Allnutt
While we will no longer have Stocky Edwards in our lives, we are not saddened by his passing, for who could squeeze more out of a life than did this Canadian icon? Instead we are, in the manner of Stocky, grateful that he was part of our lives and grateful for the time he so humbly gave us. Our hearts go out to Toni for the loss of her soulmate and lover of seven decades. Surrounded by her family, we hope that she will find peace until she can join him again.
To say that Stocky was loved in this country is an understatement of epic proportions. The announcement of his death yesterday burned by text, phone call, post and e-mail across the Canadian aviation landscape like a wildfire — surely inevitable but nonetheless gripping our hearts with cold hands.
His life on this earth has passed, but he has just “Gone West” — to that special place in the hearts of Canadians where he will never die; West into the collective memory of a nation; West to take his place in the pantheon of heroes; West to wait for Toni.
