 If
the global energy crisis of the 1970s hadn't coincided
with his own midlife crisis, Leonard Lee might still be
a pencil-pusher at the federal Department of Industry,
and Tim Dack might still have a gaping abdominal wound.
Fortunately for both of them, it
didn't work out that way; but Mr Lee's route to Canica,
the company that invented the device that kept Tim from
spilling his guts, has been circuitous to say the least.
Born and raised on a farm in the
northern Saskatchewan hamlet of Algrove, by the mid
70s Mr Lee's career path had led him, via stints in
the air force and the Foreign Service in South America,
to a tedious Ottawa desk job. Little did he imagine
the tedium would be alleviated through his woodworking
hobby, nor that a fateful meeting with a local surgeon
would lead him to become an international, albeit behind-the-scenes,
medical hero.
TOOL
TIME
In 1977, oil was scarce, and people were scrambling
for alternative sources of heat. Mr Lee, recalling the
wood-fuelled barrel stoves of his youth in Algrove,
tracked down a foundry that could make the necessary
parts. "I thought, if I wanted a wood stove, other people
must, too," he says. So he started a mail-order business
on the side, shipping kits to do-it-yourselfers.
He was 39 years old at the time,
married with two sons, and desperately unhappy with
his job. When his fledgling business broke even after
the first year, he bade the desk job goodbye and went
into mail-ordering full-time. "The risk was substantial,"
he recalls, "but as my wife Lorraine said, 'The worst
thing that could happen is that you'd go broke, and
then we'd be $4,000 ahead of where we were when we got
married.'" He laughs, delighted. "As I've always said,
a supportive spouse is far more important than a banker."
The Lees' leap of faith paid off.
Spurred by his lifelong interest in woodworking and
the observation that specialized tools were hard to
come by, Mr Lee added them to the catalogue, and in
November of 1978, they shipped their first order. Twenty-five
years later, Lee Valley Tools employs about 800 people,
and includes a manufacturing plant and an R&D department.
"It just grew and grew," he recalls. "It was basically
a common-sense thing, running the business the way you
wished other people would."
THE
DOCTOR CALLED
In 1997, his empire established, Leonard Lee was contemplating
retirement. "I knew that I would be a threat to the
company if I stayed, because I wasn't getting better,
I was just getting older," he says wryly. "But I dreaded
retirement, because I loved R&D and tool design."
Enter Dr Michael Bell, an Ottawa
plastic surgeon with a fondness for woodworking. Dr
Bell had been using Lee Valley Tools since the company's
inception. ("A lot of our customers are surgeons," Mr
Lee observes. "I think they want to work on something
that doesn't go out the next day, get drunk, and rip
out its stitches.")
But Dr Bell didn't limit his use
of Mr Lee's tools to the workshop. "I use about seventeen
different tools in my practice," he says, citing a stainless
steel ruler and brass calipers for measurements. "They're
pretty universal in their applications."
The extent of their versatility
was news to Mr Lee. "He came in one day and said, 'I'm
getting corrosion on this carving tool'," he recalls.
"I said, 'Corrosion? What are you doing with it?' and
he said, "Well, I've only autoclaved it about a half
dozen times.' I said, 'You're using it in surgery, aren't
you?!'"
He was. He liked its balance, and
its rounded grip. "The scalpels surgeons use were designed
in 1915," explains Dr Bell, "and they haven't been updated
since. They're flat. Imagine trying to write with a
flat pen." That's not all that's wrong with them. "Normal
scalpels have a blade that's very difficult to remove,"
Dr Bell adds. "I've personally operated on eight people
who've injured themselves trying to replace the blade
on a standard scalpel."
CUTTING
EDGE
Shortly after his initial inquiry, Dr Bell found himself
in a meeting with Leonard Lee and two R&D engineers.
Some designs were drawn up, and Canica was born. In
a stroke of luck, shortly after production began, the
US Occupational Safety and Health Administration began
fining hospitals for not using scalpels that can be
passed safely. Canica's scalpels happen to be among
only three on the market that fit the bill.
Other products followed, notably
a system of clamps, adhesive anchors and elastic cords
for closing wounds. Mr Lee recalls one of the first
times the system was used: remember Tim Dack and his
gaping abdominal wound? Ottawa teen Tim is the brother
of a Lee Valley employee, and required abdominal surgery
after a fall from a horse. Because of his severe scoliosis,
the surgical incision wouldn't heal. His brother heard
about the new system at work, and his family petitioned
Mr Lee and Dr Bell to use the system on Tim. They agreed,
to the Dack family's eternal gratitude.
Leonard Lee looks back on the incident
with pride. "Some months later, I was walking across
the street to the gas station, and this kid steps out
of a car, and says, 'Hey, Mr Lee, look at this!' and
he lifts his t-shirt. There's a scar running up the
midline — not exactly the prettiest sight, but
it was closed!" He laughs. "I tell you, if you want
one of the big thrills of life, it's to see the product
of your work lift his t-shirt."
In spite of their successes, the
medical market has presented some unexpected challenges
for the fledgling company. "Surgeons are a conservative
lot," observes Dr Bell, who designed Canica's magnetic
anchor system for single-surgeon hand operations. "People
like to use the same tools they've always used, and
the approval process for new equipment is very stringent,
not that that's a bad thing."
Although it's a lengthy, costly
process, it's got its rewards. "I've never had so much
fun losing so much money," says Mr Lee. "This is significant
work, and it's hugely satisfying."
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