John Vernon Sheardown CM, a name that echoes with a quiet defiance, was a Canadian diplomat who found himself entangled in a narrative far more dramatic than any diplomatic briefing could prepare him for. He was, in essence, the human anchor in a storm, a man who, with his wife Zena, became a pivotal figure in what is now famously known as the "Canadian Caper". Their act of personal courage, sheltering Americans in Iran during the harrowing Iran hostage crisis, wasn't just a footnote in history; it was a stark, undeniable testament to what happens when diplomacy meets raw humanity.
Early Life
Born under the wide skies of Sandwich, Ontario – a place now absorbed into the industrial hum of Windsor, Ontario – on October 11, 1924, John Sheardown entered the world with a resilience that would define his later years. His youth was marked by the call to arms, enlisting at the tender age of 18 in the Royal Canadian Air Force. He piloted an Avro Lancaster heavy bomber, a metal beast that roared through the skies of World War II. The war, as it did for so many, left its indelible mark. He experienced the terrifying jolt of having to bail out over England, a stark reminder of the fragile thread between life and oblivion, all while returning from a mission. The military, however, was not a chapter he closed after the war; he continued his service, even contributing to the Korean theatre.
His transition from the battlefield to the diplomatic corps was not immediate. For a period, he navigated the complexities of the Canadian immigration service, a role he began around 1962. This experience, dealing with individuals seeking new beginnings, perhaps offered a subtle preparation for the desperate need he would later encounter. He then dedicated 27 years to the foreign service, a career that took him to various corners of the globe, shaping his understanding of international relations and the people caught within them. He officially retired from this demanding career in 1989, presumably looking forward to a quieter existence, a prospect that, as history shows, was rather rudely interrupted.
The Canadian Caper
The date November 4, 1979, remains a scar on the annals of international relations, marking the beginning of the Iran hostage crisis. In Tehran, the Canadian Embassy, a symbol of diplomatic presence, became the unlikely stage for an act of profound personal risk. While 52 American diplomats and civilians were seized, a small group of five managed to evade capture. For six agonizing days, they were fugitives in a hostile land. It was during this tense period that one of them, Robert Anders, a man who shared a casual acquaintance with Sheardown through their shared love of tennis, made a desperate call. He reached out to Sheardown, seeking not just refuge, but a lifeline.
Sheardown’s response was immediate, a visceral reaction that bypassed bureaucratic caution. He didn't hesitate; he contacted his superior, Ambassador Ken Taylor, briefing him on the perilous situation. The Canadian government, to their credit, swiftly granted approval for a clandestine operation that would strain diplomatic norms. And so, the Sheardowns, in their rented 20-room home, became unlikely sanctuary. They harbored three of the escaped Americans – Anders, and the married couple Cora Amburn-Lijek and Mark Lijek – for a staggering 79 days. This wasn't a casual houseguest situation; it was an act of profound personal risk, a constant tightrope walk between discovery and safety. Meanwhile, Ambassador Taylor himself provided shelter for two other Americans, Joseph and Kathleen Stafford, under his own roof.
The drama, however, was far from over. On November 27, the Swedish ambassador, Kaj Sundberg, contacted Taylor with another plea: could he take in American Lee Schatz? Schatz had been staying with a Swedish diplomat, but the Swedes felt it would be more prudent for him to be perceived as Canadian. Taylor, ever the pragmatist and protector, agreed. Schatz was then discreetly moved to the Sheardown residence, adding another layer of complexity and danger to their already precarious situation. The Sheardowns, their role in this intricate dance of deception complete, left Tehran mere days before the CIA orchestrated the audacious escape of the six Americans, whisked away on January 27, 1980, under the guise of Canadian passports.
For his extraordinary courage and humanitarian act, Sheardown was recognized with membership in the prestigious Order of Canada. He, in turn, displayed a loyalty and advocacy that extended beyond himself. He actively campaigned for his wife, Zena, who, despite her integral role, was ineligible for the honour due to her British citizenship and lack of Canadian residency. His persistent efforts, aided by the intervention of Flora MacDonald, resulted in her receiving an honorary membership in 1981. Zena would later become a full member after officially becoming a Canadian citizen, a testament to their shared commitment.
The story of the Canadian Caper, and the Sheardowns' vital contribution, was immortalized, albeit with varying degrees of accuracy and focus. The 1981 Canadian-American television movie, Escape from Iran: The Canadian Caper, saw Chris Wiggins and Diana Barrington portray John and Zena. More recently, the big-budget Hollywood film Argo, while focusing on the CIA's role, brought the Caper back into the public consciousness. Director Ben Affleck, despite the narrative constraints that necessitated their omission, personally reached out to the Sheardowns to apologize for their exclusion. He later expressed his regret, admitting it "really did break my heart a bit," a sentiment that, while perhaps too late for the historical record, acknowledges the profound impact of their actions.
Personal Life and Death
John Sheardown’s life was marked by personal relationships that, like his diplomatic career, saw its share of complexities. He was married twice. His first marriage to Kathleen Benson concluded in divorce. His second marriage, to Zena Khan, began in 1975 and continued until his passing. Their enduring partnership, forged in the crucible of crisis, stands as a testament to their shared strength.
Sheardown’s final years were shadowed by illness. He battled Alzheimer's disease and other ailments, a cruel irony for a man whose mind had been so sharp and decisive in moments of extreme pressure. He died in Ottawa on December 30, 2012, leaving behind a legacy that transcended the ordinary. He was survived by his two sons, Robin and John Jr., his daughter Jacqueline, and a constellation of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, each carrying a piece of his extraordinary story.