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One of my all-time favorite people in hockey is someone whose name may be familiar to veteran American Hockey League fans, but probably doesn't ring a bell for those who only follow the NHL: longtime minor league linesman Romeo LeBlanc.
Romeo was an official for 35 years, including 20 in the AHL. He got a late start in professional officiating, but always had an unbridled passion for the game and for the officiating craft. At age 31, he was working as a machinist in New Brunswick and officiating local games as an avocation. In 1978, he finally got his chance to become an AHL lineseman.
No one has ever pulled on the striped shirt with more pride than Romeo LeBlanc. Having broken into the professional ranks so late, however, he knew from day one that he had no shot at ever making the NHL. Instead, he dedicated himself to helping other, younger officials get to the top level.
I was one of many, many young officials who owes a major debt of gratitude to Romeo, both for his work as a teammate on the ice and especially for his friendship, wisdom, support and guidance off the ice. He and his wife Sylvia were very good to us, and the LeBlancs were always gracious hosts.
Romeo would often pick up fellow officials at the airport and drive them to his family's home. Many a time, Romeo and Sylvia had me over as a guest as their home in Dieppe, where we would share one of Sylvia's excellent home-cooked meals and hours of conversation.
Having played in the NHL as a member of the Quebec Nordiques and understanding that that there were many francophones in the game, I always tried to practice speaking French when I was in the LeBlanc's home. Romeo was helpful to me in that regard as well.
Little did I know at the time that Romeo LeBlanc and those French conversations would one day end up getting me out of a heap of trouble.
During the 1985-86 season, I was working a game in Moncton between the New Brunswick Hawks and the Sherbrooke Canadiens. One of the linesmen was a local guy -- I don't remember his first name, unfortunately, but his surname was White. The latter official had a broken wrist and was wearing a soft cast during the game.
During the course of the game, a fight broke out between Sherbrooke's Claude Lemieux and a Hawks player. As the fight reached what should have been its conclusion, the cast-wearing White had the impossible task of trying to wrestle the 6-foot-1, 225-pound Lemieux off his opponent.
Lemieux, shrugged off White, who got rolled over to the ice and pinned down in the pile, howling in pain. Instinctively, I stepped in.
"Arrête!" I shouted at Lemieux, who was bring up his fist. "Ne faites pas ça!" (Stop! Don't do that!")
As classless of a player as I ever saw on the ice, Lemieux sneered, cursed at me and then kept punching. Now, as I said Lemieux was a big, strong guy. But I was pretty big and strong as well, with years of playing experience as an enforcer. Off the ice, I was also someone who had done police work, and had trained in the martial arts of aikido and karate.
With my own adrenaline pumping, I yanked Lemieux up, lifted him and physically dumped him into the penalty box. Lemieux and Sherbrooke coach Pierre Creamer screamed curses at me.
After the game, there was a knock at the officials door. It was Creamer.
"We're going to get you!" he said, wagging a finger at me.
"Be my guest," I said.
The Sherbrooke team filed a complaint about me. Apart from reporting that I had physically manhandled Lemieux (without telling the truthful context of what happened), they claimed that I had made ethnic slurs at Lemieux. I had to fly to Montreal for a meeting. In attendance were Brian O'Neill, Jim Gregory, John McCauley and Canadiens general manager Serge Savard.
In my defense, Romeo wrote an impassioned and moving affidavit. He told the truth about what happened with Lemieux and described in detail about how I was always welcomed to break bread in his home -- where we spoke French. He said that he'd always known me to be someone for whom another person's ethnic origin was never a topic for ridicule or insult.
Before the meeting time, Savard pulled me aside.
"Stewy, did you really say those things to Lemieux?" he asked.
"Serge, you know me," I said. "Have you ever known me to make ethnic slurs?"
"No," he said. "That's why I'm asking."
"OK, then," I said. "Also, where did I play in the NHL?"
"Quebec," he said.
"Right. Don't you think that means a lot to me to this day?"
"Yeah," he said.
"Absolutely, it does," I said. "Do you really think I'm bigoted against French-speaking players, Serge? Listen, who have I told you was probably my favorite player when I was growing up? Jean Beliveau, right?"
Savard nodded.
"Also a few months ago, didn't I just personally recommend you to sign a player I'd seen in Boston, because I thought he was a good fit for your team's needs?" I asked. "Would I do that for you if I had something against your team?"
Savard said no.
"Look, if you still doubt me, here's an affidavit from Romeo LeBlanc," I said.
"Romeo swears that you didn't do it?" he asked.
"Read for yourself," I said.
He read the affidavit over, nodding several times. A few minutes later, Savard walked into the room.
"Listen, fellas," he said. "I think there's just been a misunderstanding here. There's no need to meet. Let's get lunch."
The next time I worked a Sherbrooke game, Romeo was at my side. Creamer, who didn't want to let the previous incident go, unleashed invective me in French.
"Tell him what I think I of him," said Creamer to LeBlanc.
Romeo turned to me and grinned. He knew I'd understood every word.
"How about YOU tell him?" Romeo said.
It was then that I got to use some of the French that I'd practiced in the LeBlanc home. The look on Creamer's face was priceless!
At any rate, something else that I shared with Romeo LeBlanc was a mutual enjoyment of puck collecting. Over the years, he built up quite an impressive collection of team logo pucks from the home rinks of many, many clubs from a variety of leagues. Romeo's puck collection is pictured below, along with one of the dozens of officials' jerseys he collected or acquired over the years:
I enjoyed doing the same thing. Whenever I'd work a game in a city, I'd keep one game puck as a souvenir. Over the years, I assembled a pretty big collection in my own right. The puck collecting became an enjoyable little game for me.
One of the more fun assignments I got during my NHL refereeing career was working the 48th All-Star Game in League history. That year, we were doing a demonstration for the fans of exactly how the microchip technology of the (now infamous) FoxTrax glowing puck worked.
For the demonstration, I was given a sandwich-style cooler with a dozen FoxTrax pucks. We did our thing, showing how the chip was activated by contact with the puck and how it would glow blue when carried or passed and would have a red "comet trail" when shot at high velocity.
The demonstration ended. I figured it was a good time to add my first FoxTrax puck to my collection. I slipped one in my back pocket, and placed a regular puck in the cooler along with 11 of the high-tech pucks.
As I got to the zamboni gate, I was intercepted by a security guard with a walky-talky.
"Paul, are all the Fox pucks put away?" he asked.
"Yeah, they are," I said.
"Did you know these special pucks cost $500 apiece?"
"Really?! Five hundred dollars! That's insane!" I said.
"Yes, well, we need to account for all 12 of them."
"There are definitely 12 pucks in here. Count them," I said, opening the cooler.
"Ummm, Stewy," he said.
"What is it?" I asked.
He pointed at the JumboTron screen. I was on camera, from the back. The pocket on the seat of my pants had a bright blue glow. Oops!
Have a great weekend everyone. I'll be back on Monday with a special "Blog Before Christmas" and then pick up again on Boxing Day next Thursday.
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Recent Blogs by Paul Stewart
On Wilson, Kamikaze Attacks and Red Herrings
Working With Injury
Coach Accountability and the Engelland Incident
Linesman Appreciation Day: From Thor to Bob's Big Boy to 42nd St. Cops
NHL Officials: Americans Still Have a Hard Time Being Hired
Crisp Thoughts
Olympic Officials: Jeux San Frontieres?
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Paul Stewart holds the distinction of being the first U.S.-born citizen to make it to the NHL as both a player and referee. On March 15, 2003, he became the only American-born referee to officiate in 1,000 NHL games.
Today, Stewart is an officiating and league discipline consultant for the Kontinental Hockey League (KHL) and serves as director of hockey officiating for the Eastern College Athletic Conference (ECAC).
The longtime referee heads Officiating by Stewart, a consulting, training and evaluation service for officials, while also maintaining a busy schedule as a public speaker, fund raiser and master-of-ceremonies for a host of private, corporate and public events. As a non-hockey venture, he is the owner of Lest We Forget.
Stewart is currently working with a co-author on an autobiography.
Blogger •Former NHL Referee • 
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