“There’s no truth or substance whatsoever to these charges. This has been one massive smear job from A to Z, and it will have a surprise ending…a complete vindication of the defendants, and exposure of their persecutors.”
– Tubby Black, Nov. 17, 2005.
“I am innocent. Talk to her.”
– Jonathan Black, Oct. 31, 2016.
Frank is certain that only the most pressing of exigencies could have precluded Tubby Black from attending eldest son Jonathan‘s latest appointment with the criminal justice system, Oct. 31 in Toronto.
Black the Younger, 38, is charged with assault causing bodily harm (one wrist) and mischief under $5,000 (one smartphone) after an alleged domestic contretemps with his galpal, aspiring model Caroline White, 21.
It fell to mum Joanna MacDonald (formerly Shirley Black), stepfather Brian and little bro James to cough up the $25,000 bail, though convicted felon Tubby is listed among Jon’s approved escorts for non-work related outings.
Caroline, bien sûr, is off-limits to the accused, along with the possession of any weapons, pending trial. The separation can’t be easy; despite their 17-year age gap, it’s easy to discern the fun couple’s lucky-sperm-club commonalities.
She is, after all, daughter of Bill White, former president of William F. White International, the eponymous film supply company founded by his father.
Bill walked the plank at White’s in 2005, and in 2011 the old family business sued him and ex-COO Larry “Larry” Sacchetti for allegedly trousering hundreds of thousands of dollars in kickbacks from suppliers.
Both denied the allegations and the alligators, even as they settled in 2014. Bill agreed to cough up $50,000 over two years, which White’s CEO Paul Bronfman uncharitably characterized as a “basic admission of guilt.”
“I don’t want to see Mr. Sacchetti and Mr. White for the rest of my life,” he told the National Post.
The Tubby-founded pifflesheet has so far maintained a respectful silence on Jon’s travails, but the grunting jackals of the Toronto Star, CBC and Toronto Sun fair peed themselves in sober, balanced journalistic glee as they rehashed his priors for criminal harassment (2011) and leaving the scene of an accident after smashing into a van in his silver Infiniti (2008).
At bat for Young Black once again is legalist Robb MacDonald, who stickhandled his 2011 guilty pleas for breach of recognizance and criminally harassing ex-girlfriend, April Jackson, by email and text for months after their October 2010 breakup.
“My life’s work will be settling this score,” read one spooky-ass text to Jackson, who on one day the following January counted 60 messages from Black. Also favoured with persistent correspondence was her new legover, Michael Unwin. (“This is total war,” read one grandiose Black missive.)
In the event, Jon, who had spent 16 days in pre-trial custody, got a suspended sentence plus two years’ probation. He was ordered to attend anger management and substance abuse counseling, and provide a sample of his storied DNA.
“There is no doubt Mr. Black’s activities went beyond someone suffering from a love lost, but he is bettering himself and recognises there was harm caused,” mouthpiece MacDonald told the court, citing the breakup, Jon’s substance abuse problems, estrangement from mom Joanna, and Tubby’s imprisonment as factors in creating a “perfect storm.”
“Black–who needed three attempts to get past court security, had to be told to spit out his gum in court and scratched his privates while the judge told him his sentence– didn’t speak in court,” the Toronto Sun‘s Peter Smalls reported at the time.
Despite the court-ordered interruption of the Black-White amour fou, there persist on Facebook a few misty pixel-coloured memories of the way they were, amid Caroline’s tasteful displays of embonpoint and Jon’s laddish alt-right enthusiasms, manifested in fanboy reposts from Breitbart mean girl Milo Yiannopoulos, and a Donald Trump fluffer by some delusional twat named “Conrad Black.”
Overrefreshed, underachieving and like so many young Blacks, tragically overrepresented in our criminal courts, Jon’s erratic trajectory was a cause for concern before he was even Caroline’s age.
Like pater, who was bounced from Upper Canada College for selling exam papers, Jonathan was turfed from Lakefield College School for common pisse artistry.
At 18, keen to escape his stifling old money upbringing, Jon charted his own bold course in the modeling biz, where, as he told the Edmonton Sun in 1999, “especially in New York, Milan, Paris, they’re oblivious to what my father does.”
This no doubt went double for Jon’s stints in this period at the Daily Tubbygraph and Saturday Lite.
In 1996, SL’s putative editor, longtime Tubby bootboy Ken Whyte, had his pick of countless J-school grads, hotshot young reporters and the cream of campus rags competing for two internships. The lucky winners? Step forward, Jon Black and David Gallop (nephew to one Barbarella Amiel).
This valuable professional experience, curiously, does not rate a mention on Jon’s LinkedIn page, bumped in favour of his ’01-’03 stint as a valet parking attendant at West Hollywood’s Chateau Marmont, where, he informs, “I parked cars for celebrities.” (shurely ‘stunt driver for Kiefer Sutherland?!’–ed.)
Jon’s now a highly successful executive search consultant (who nonetheless relies upon Mommy to post bail) with Mandrake.
Mandrake, small, inbred world, is owned by none other than réalité-challenged grillionaire Harold Peerenboom, not only Jon’s employer, but Lord Tubby’s landlord.
Readers will recall Tubby sold his much-mortgaged pile at 26 Park Lane Circle to Harold for $14 million earlier this year, and now pays him $155,000 annual rent to continue his and Babs’ tenancy in the ancestral home.
How surprised and delighted Tubby must have been last November to learn that Harold, his friend of over half a century, had decided to take a chance on, of all the self-made scions in le tout Toronto, Black the Younger.