Jamie Burns

Was a good friend and worked on the hill for an MP at the same time Jamie worked for Don Mazankowski. Played recreational hockey with him when he was living in Ottawa. One memory was going with Terry and Jamie to the Canadian Open in Toronto and staying at Terry’s parents home. One other memory was driving him to Montreal so he could catch a ride to Winnipeg with his Dad on the company jet. We also watched a Montreal Canadian game in the Power Corporation box in the arena before the flight. Attached is a picture of him with myself ,Erik Dinsdale, Rolf Dinsdale. I was married to Liz Dinsdale the daughter of Walter Dinsdale who was the MP of Brandon Souris. We spent many enjoyable hour with Terry and Jamie during our time we lived in Ottawa. My condolences to the Burns family and Terry.

I posted this on social media (“TwitFace” as dad once called it) but I find myself regretting not speaking at his memorial, so I’m posting it here too. I think I just need more people to know how much I adored him.
—
My dad died on Sunday. He was only 71. Too young, although he’d scoff at me saying 71 is young. I don’t think it’s his age that has knocked the wind out of me, though. A couple of years ago while visiting him in Sooke I made a joke to my siblings that we should probably be prepared that he wouldn’t die of old age. At the time, I referenced his likelihood to die in a fiery crash as he insisted on driving well over the speed limit on windy Victoria roads at dusk in the rain with lane lines being merely suggestions. I asked politely at some point if he might consider using a turning signal as my young son was in the car with us, but he said it didn’t matter because everyone else on the road was an idiot anyway. I also referenced the fact that a deadly parasite would be unsurprising, after a day out on the ocean fishing and catching crabs, where, upon returning to the dock he threw the raw chicken carcasses he used as bait in for the seals (to Otis’s delight) and then wiped the raw chicken slime from his hands onto his jeans and...just carried on with life. I didn’t reference, but easily could have, the possibility of his life ending at the hands of an irate sports fan (or referee?) given his great love of live sports and his total inability to keep his opinions on every aspect of those sports to himself. Or, the chance that he could have been mauled to death by a puma or something, on one of his recent epic wildlife photography trips. He was incredibly sensitive about not disturbing the more timid animals - the prey - being respectful of their fear. But in his pursuit of a great photo, he showed little indication that he realized that sometimes he was the prey.
In truth, I think all of these ends would have actually been easier to process. They would have felt more aligned with how my dad lived his life. Out there. Doing what he wanted. His way, always his way. Rules be damned.Instead, something got into his body and chipped away at it, and he was too busy living his life to its fullest to notice. And then it made its presence unignorable, and a few short weeks later he was gone.In those few weeks though. Wow.

Most of us would have called my dad a bit of a loner, my dad included. But holy crap - turns out he must have been the world’s most social loner! How did a loner accumulate THIS network of loyal friends!? 
The people we've heard from, the stories they’ve shared. My dad was a sensational dad, but learning how robust his life was outside of that!? Amazing. How much he meant to so many. How loved he was by them for all the same reasons he was adored by us - his absolute commitment to being just himself. So “Jamie Burns”.

He was so weird and so wonderful.

I’ll miss his disregard of capitalization (unless it was entire words or sentences, sometimes to show he was yelling and sometimes because he hit caps accidentally), his disregard for all punctuation except for excessive exclamation use even in formal emails, his acronyms for things that no one else in the world would turn into acronyms and his expectation that you would automatically know that KLP meant Key Lime Pie, his comfort with silence and yet how loud he himself was, his love of cooking his own meals in hotel rooms, apparently sometimes making grilled cheese sandwiches with hotel irons (my guess is the hotels themselves won’t miss this one), the fact that anywhere he went with frequency had a “dad’s/poppa’s chair” that wasn’t to be sat in by others, the way he declared that everyone in the world was stupid but also respected everyone always until they proved he shouldn’t, the way he had so few possessions and yet also held on to a handful of sentimental items forever, the way he took up so many unlikely hobbies as he moved through life - most recently needlepoint, stained glass, and Lego flower-making, and overall just the way he made marching to the beat of your own drum seem so aspirational.

I am very much my father’s daughter. So much of what I am proud of about myself comes directly from him. I’ve always been incredibly proud to be his kid - but these past few weeks that pride has swelled to an almost painful place.
I got 45 amazing years with him. I think I mourn more for those who didn’t. I especially mourn for Otis, who only got 8 years with him. Otis has my dad’s name as his middle name and already shows so many quirks and oddities that make the name feel like the exact right fit. That he won’t get more time to bond with my dad is devastating.
Because of who my dad was, so much of what I’ve always known about him has come from the stories others told. Usually to me and my siblings, around a dinner table, while we listened enraptured. The only silver lining of all this is how many more of those stories are revealing themselves now. Please read some of them, and contribute if you want, here:
www.online-tribute.com/JamesFCBurns
I will soak in, and retell, stories of my dad, now and forever.

Dad always said that his goal as a dad was to raise us so that we didn’t need him, but always knew we could come to him if we did. But I think the part he missed in articulating his goal, but succeeded in actually doing, is raising kids who didn’t need him, but still wanted him. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Dad. I am so proud to be your kid. I love you.

What is there to say about Jamie Burns that doesn't bring a smile, a laugh, or a flood of emotion after a lifetime spent together?
Jamie was my best friend, my partner, my psychologist, my cheerleader, my advisor. He was like a brother. He was all of those things to me.
I met Jamie in 1985, shortly after the Conservatives had come to power. I was articling in Ottawa with Gowlings and desperately wanted a job in government. My other best friend, Phil Evershed, helped make that happen.
Within my first few months, after a series of interesting adventures that only Ottawa politics could produce, Jamie became my boss in the Deputy Prime Minister's Office.
Jamie and Terry had just moved back from London with their young family because his old boss, Don Mazankowski—known to everyone as "Maz"—had called and said, "I need help."
That was Jamie.
He left what was probably his dream life in England because someone he respected asked him to help. Loyalty wasn't something Jamie talked about. It was simply who he was.
Now, Jamie's first impression of me wasn't exactly glowing. Like many people outside Toronto, he assumed all us Toronto guys were lazy intellectuals who didn't know how to grind it out. He wanted me fired almost immediately.
For three weeks I went to work every day wondering whether I still had a job.
Then a major issue landed on my desk, and somehow I handled it well enough that Don Mazankowski himself called me and said, "Great job, kid."
I replied, "But am I fired?"
Maz said, "What do you mean?"
I said, "Jamie fired me weeks ago."
Sure enough, about half an hour later, at 11:30 that night, my phone rang.
It was Jamie.
"Okay," he said. "You made the cut."
That one phone call changed everything.
From that moment on, Jamie, Phil, and I—and many others—became inseparable as life carried us down countless roads together.
Eventually I returned to Toronto to work in the family business before somehow finding myself organizing the 1994 World Championship of Basketball, what today we know as the FIBA World Cup.
Jamie was then at Gordon Capital, but when I needed help, he was there. We spent countless late nights sitting in offices trying to figure out how to stage an event that, frankly, none of us had ever done before. Thankfully we had incredible support from NBA people like Mike Golub, Steve Mills, Adam Silver, and many others.
The event was a tremendous success. It helped launch basketball in Canada.
Not long afterward, I had the privilege of leading the group that was awarded Toronto's NBA franchise—the Raptors—and the rest is history.
In those early days, when I became CEO, I would constantly call Jamie for advice. I'd bounce ideas off him, wrestle with difficult decisions, and before long he'd simply show up in my office. We'd sit for hours talking through problems until they somehow became opportunities.
That was Jamie's gift. He didn't tell you what to think. He helped you think better.
Later, Jamie worked with Neil and Rod Baker while I pursued the acquisition of Scott's Restaurants. Once again, Jamie stepped in.
He looked at me and said, "This is too big for you to do alone. I'll join you, and we'll figure it out together."
And we did.
Together we completed the buyout, merged the business with YUM! Restaurants Canada, and soon found ourselves running the largest restaurant company in the country, with more than 700 restaurants.
After a few years, Jamie did what Jamie always did.
He got restless.
Doing the same thing wasn't enough.
He left to pursue new ventures—a beer business in Niagara and several other entrepreneurial adventures that kept his endlessly curious mind busy.
Then Phil and I acquired control of Alcanna and asked Jamie to join the board of directors.
It didn't take long before Jamie became frustrated with the company's performance.
Most people would complain.
Jamie raised his hand and said, "I'll do it."
He became CEO, moved to Edmonton, and began yet another chapter.
But perhaps the most Jamie chapter of all came when he told me he was buying a basketball team in the Canadian Elite Basketball League.
I asked him, "Why?"
His answer was immediate.
"Why not?"
Those two words captured Jamie better than anything else ever could.
Most people spend their lives asking, "Why?"
Jamie spent his asking, "Why not?"
Why not try something new?
Why not take a chance?
Why not help someone?
Why not build something?
Why not believe something impossible might actually work?
That philosophy became his legacy—to his family, to his friends, to his partners, and to everyone fortunate enough to know him.
Life always gives us two roads: the familiar one and the untraveled one.
Jamie almost always chose the untraveled road because he believed that was where life was richest, most interesting, and ultimately most rewarding.
He lived that way right until the very end.
And I will forever be grateful that he didn't fire me all those years ago.
Because had he done so, my life would have been unimaginably different.
Thank you, Jamie, for taking a chance on me.
More importantly, thank you for showing all of us what a life of courage, curiosity, loyalty, friendship, and love really looks like.
We will miss you terribly, but we will carry your "Why not?" spirit with us for the rest of our lives along with that silly, loud laugh that fit you perfectly

I met Jamie a few years ago on a photo trek in Svalbard. We had meals together in tight booths on the fishing boat that had been revamped for tourism. I didn’t hear the colorful language that several here have mentioned but the acts of kindness and constant wittiness and occasional snarky comments were infectious and had us laughing every night. I must have missed the formal introductions on the trip, tho, because I thought he was a “businessman “ from Canada. I was hoping to meet up again on another photo trek but learned today that although he had planned to be on this current trek to Alaska (we are in Anchorage waiting for flights to Silver Salmon lodge right now) he had passed away just a couple weeks ago. I now know the rest of who Jamie is and am not surprised. He will be missed greatly. My sincerest condolences to his family and many friends.

“ I don’t swear. I don’t smoke. I don’t drink…. … Goddammit I just left my cigarettes at the beer parlour."

This was the first joke I remember hearing. My older brother Jamie, age 7, told it with a perfectly timed swagger that was like a little internal jig. I recall vividly his delight at making me helpless with laughter.
Yesterday I watched his energetic comic grandsons all perform a version of their Poppa’s distinctive shrug as witty punctuations to jokes and declarations.

Jamie could always make me laugh harder than any one else. This was good because when we weren’t laughing we were usually engaged in some epic battle over something. It won’t surprise anyone that Jamie was usually the victor in these donnybrooks. Little did he know, or maybe he knew perfectly, he was training me to not back down in the face of the smarter, more superior authority. When I am in situations where I must stiffen my spine, I need only recall the master staring me down or breaking the tension with a hilarious observation and I can usually emerge with my resolve intact.

The education in fearlessness was not limited to the emotional and spiritual. To ski with Jamie meant only choosing the runs that had signs saying ‘ Danger Do Not Proceed ’. I remember these terrifying adventures with great fondness as he showed uncharacteristic patience, always waiting, without comment, for me to dig myself out of surprise gulleys of deep powder. I interpreted this as a sign of elder brotherly respect in my determination to keep up with him.

Dear Jamie, what will we do without you? These tributes point out that you gave us all an abundance of resources to draw from when we ask ourselves, ' What would Jamie say? What would Jamie do? '
Knowing that you would probably shrug and say ‘ Do What You Want’, please know it will be our great pleasure to ask each other, to share our resources and keep remembering you.
LOVE
Martha
Jamie’s sister

On behalf of the staff and faculty of the University of Guelph’s Honey Bee Research Centre (HBRC), we want to express our sadness and offer our condolences to Jamie Burn’s family. Losing Jamie so young is a tragedy, particularly because he was an excellent human being and a promoter of brilliant ideas. We met Jamie Burns when he decided to become a beekeeper and took our spring course. After that, he contacted us and donated funds for the HBRC, but more than that, he encouraged us to think out of the box and supported an initiative to build on the history and reputation of the Apiculture programs at the University of Guelph, to further develop the Centre. He believed that it was important to promote the appreciation of honey bees as generators of food and as benefactors of ecosystems and to raise funds for honey bee research. Jamie understood this very well. This is why he championed the creation of a website and social media strategy, which not only have made the HBRC highly visible worldwide but have resulted in securing funding for the development of new facilities that we would have liked Jamie to see. Despite being passionate about his ideas and initiatives, Jamie Burns was a humble man. He never asked to be recognized for his support and guidance, but he surely deserves recognition for promoting fruitful initiatives. The support of Jamie allowed us to increase our research outputs and to advance our knowledge about the causes of bee mortality, as well as to find solutions that help the beekeeping industry to keep healthy and productive bee populations. Thank you, Jamie, for your support and for allowing us to see opportunities that made our program grow.

Ernesto Guzman

I was very saddened to hear of Jamie's sudden passing. Jamie was one of the first friends I made starting on the Hill in 1977 as a research assistant to a PC M.P. We were the same age, and he had already established a leadership role among the caucus assistants. He was very bright, extremely hard-working, passionate about his politics and intensely loyal to his boss, "Maz". I have many memories of West Block Cafeteria lunches (and dinners when we were working on evening Committee Hearings) with Jamie and Ross Reid from John Crosbie's office, all of the them marked by fast-paced rants and raucous jokes about the Trudeau I government and, subsequently, the abbreviated Clark government. Our careers moved on and we lost touch by the 90s but over the many years since, whenever I have met a colleague from that time and place, Jamie's name would inevitably come up. He was always remembered and spoken of with warmth, respect, and admiration. My deepest sympathies go out to his family on their terrible loss.

Along with several others who have shared their memories here, I had the pleasure and privilege of working with Jamie in the office of the Hon. Don Mazankowski. This was early in my working career and, beyond “Maz” himself, I never met anyone else in all the years to come who had as profound an effect on me in the workplace as Jamie did.

He showed me many ways to lead people, to get things done, and to be true to one’s self.

Beyond all that, he was fun, caring and great to be around.

My deepest sympathies and sincere condolences to all his family and friends.

When I was in high-school, my mother rented a house in Florida over March break. One day, Jamie very kindly offered to take me, my sister, my mother and my grandfather on his boat to show us the inter-coastal. I remember him stopping and taking great care in explaining every historical detail of every notable property on the shoreline. Afterwards, we had Jamie and Terry over for dinner. It was a beautiful day.

While I had known of Jamie as a friend of my Father from politics and business, that day I was able to experience his personable nature, his inquisitive knowledge of the world, and his wisdom from a life rich in experience, in-person.

My deepest condolences to the Burns family. We were all lucky to know him.

I met Jamie, probably at a poker game hosted by Henry Brown, about 1980. The stakes were small and some of the language new to me, a Matchuk quarter and Joe Walchuk’s roll your own come to mind, but the company was lively and the conversation spirited.

In late 1982, Jamie called me, having heard I would be attending the Progressive Conservative Party Convention in Winnipeg in January. He said, “You’re not going to waste your time at all that policy stuff, are you? You need to get involved in some campaigns.”

As a youth delegate to the convention, I was booked to share a room with a stranger in a motel miles from anywhere. Jamie took charge, arranging a room for me in a downtown hotel and throwing me headfirst into the campaigns for Party President and Ontario VP. Both Jamie’s candidates won. Jamie knew everybody and seemed to know everything there was to know about the Party, the candidates, and both internal and national politics. Jamie introduced me to all that and to dozens of people, notably including Don Mazankowski. That convention’s leadership review led to the Leadership Convention in Ottawa later in 1983 and the election of Brian Mulroney as Party Leader and, soon thereafter, Prime Minister.

Four years later, late one evening, actually early one morning, in a bar in Cornwall of all places, Jamie suggested I come to work with him for Deputy PM Don Mazankowski. That conversation proved to be a dramatic turning point for me.

I did go to work in the DPMO and got to see Jamie’s work and his sphere of influence first hand. Maz was the Minister of Everything and Jamie was his right hand man. Jamie was greatly admired and respected and was tremendously effective in ensuring that what needed to be done actually got done.

Jamie was brilliant. He was tireless. He was strategic, He was personable. He was supportive. He was funny. Jamie had put together and lead a team of talented, hard working, dedicated people to support him, the Minister and the Government. We worked hard and we had loads of fun.

As Maz’s Chief of Staff, Jamie was a tremendous role model. Not surprisingly, Jamie was successful at every role he subsequently assumed. Although we kept in touch only sporadically over the years, I valued my friendship with Jamie and I will miss him. I am very grateful for the opportunity he gave me to work on the Hill and for what he taught me by his example. Those things greatly influenced my career path.

Thank you Jamie. You made me the Twinkie I became on leaving Maz’s office and ultimately, the Commissioner of the RCMP.

Bill Elliott
Ottawa

My heartfelt condolences to Jamie’s family, friends, colleagues and everyone whose life was touched by him. Reading the many tributes already shared here, it is clear just how widely Jamie was respected and admired, both personally and professionally. I feel incredibly fortunate that photography brought him into my life.

I first met Jamie during my 2025 Winter Owl Photography Workshop. While the other participants arrived with the usual giant 600mm lenses and piles of camera gear, Jamie proudly—and with some authority—announced that he wasn’t like the other photographers. He was beginning his journey toward retirement, he told me, and was looking forward to birding, travelling, enjoying photography and embracing a somewhat quieter pace of life.

It makes me smile now when I read the stories shared here about Jamie the corporate leader: decisive, driven, accomplished and respected. I met a different side of the same man.

Jamie very quickly became much more than a workshop participant or client. He became a friend and quietly found his way into my inner circle of people I genuinely respected, admired and simply enjoyed spending time with.

He joined me again in New Mexico, and this past May travelled with me to Point Pelee to witness the spectacle of spring bird migration. That trip became a highlight for me in ways that went well beyond photography and birds. We talked a lot—about business, life, priorities and retirement.

Jamie was particularly insistent that I should start thinking seriously about retirement while I was still healthy enough to enjoy it. After a lifetime of working and travelling, he argued, there comes a point when you need to make time for yourself rather than always assuming there will be plenty of time later.

Neither of us could possibly have known how painfully meaningful those conversations would soon become.

Jamie was supposed to join me again this summer for my Atlantic Puffin photography workshop on a tiny island off the coast of Quebec. Instead, he became ill and passed away before we could share that next adventure.

I will remember Jamie not simply as an accomplished businessman or a photographer and birder, but as the man behind all of those things: intelligent, curious, funny, confident, thoughtful and wonderfully direct. He was someone with whom I could talk seriously about business one minute and laugh about birds and photography the next.

Our friendship was far too short, but I am enormously grateful for the time we had, the places we travelled together, the conversations we shared and the lessons I didn't realize at the time he was leaving with me.

I will miss you, my friend.

Rest in peace, Jamie.

Like so many, I was floored to learn of Jamie’s passing. Despite hearing that he was hospitalized, I was sure he would rally and I sent a somewhat intentionally goading text that week, thinking that I would have more opportunities to exchange a gentler word or two. Very sadly, this is not to be.
The messages here prove Jamie’s incredible talent, depth, and huge arc of friendship and respect so well-earned.
My ‘Jamie story’ began in 1984, when after a stint working in proximity to the Liberal Minister of Transport in Ottawa, I moved to Quebec City to work at the Transport Canada regional office. Shortly after the election and change of government, I heard rumours of ‘house cleaning’ by the new Conservative government.
One day, I picked up the phone to a voice that blurted:” Is this Margaret Martin?”
Me: “Yes.” Him: “You don’t know me…. I’m Jamie Burns….. I work for Transport Minister Mazankowski.”
Me: (ref: ‘house cleaning’ above) “Oh. Am I being fired?”
In quintessential Jamie fashion, he replied abruptly: “No! Don’t be silly. I’m calling to hire you, not to fire you – how soon can you move back to Ottawa?”
And so the adventure of a life-time began that allowed me to work in the crucible of Parliament Hill, over the course of a number of years, with Jamie and the talented team he had brought together. That adventure had a most formative impact on my career going many years forward. Over the decades, our lives took us in different directions, the friendship ebbed and flowed, but no matter the distance or the time, it was always easy to pick up where we had left off and the years in between melted away. In times together, be they generously hosted by Jamie and Terry in Naples, Toronto and Moffat, or at my home in the County, there was always lively, loud discussion, debate, lots of stories from our ‘Hill” days, ‘99’ card games, great cooking, and always… always.. so much laughter. His mastery of so many passions, be they professional or personal, was more than inspiring. To read here of his successes from his‘western period, leaves one breathless, yet again, at the scope and pace at which he lived.
Truly, we have all been blessed to stand in the glow of Jamie’s flame of life – may his warmth, wisdom, love and laughter be forever in our hearts.
Terry, Heather, Robbie, Maggie, Donald, and all the grandchildren – May the memory of his love, and adoration for his family, support and sustain you through this sorrowful time.
With great sympathy and warmest condolences,

Margaret Martin
Prince Edward County, Ontario

Most importantly, our hearts are with you, Terry and Heather, Robbie, Maggie and Donald. No words are adequate but please find comfort in knowing we care and you are in our thoughts.

Jamie was such an authentic and decent man. If everyone practiced some part of his example of kindness in life, the world would be such a better place. As is reflected in many of the memory wall posts, he was generous to a fault. He certainly was to our family back in our Oakville days. We shared many memories including school sports, Raptors, Florida and he always had encouraging words. His sense of humour was even reflected in his 5-page General Information Florida condo sheet in which Point #24 in bold italics read: Anyone caught doing any of the jigsaw puzzle will be shot. Hilarious! The puzzle was admired from afar and definitely remained untouched as hard as that was.

Regrettably over the years, life got in the way and we lost contact. Lesson learned unfortunately. The shocking news of his passing is still hard to process.

I had the opportunity to meet Jamie last fall during his Stinger journey. I fondly recall our first meeting. We spent well over an hour talking, but one minute in felt like I knew him my entire life. He has a skill to connect with people that very few have.

He left a lasting legacy with his leadership & passion bringing Stinger’s basketball to Edmonton. Jamie loved basketball.

I wish I would have met Jamie many years ago. The stories shared on his memory wall are awesome and he truly lead an amazing life and touched a lot of people. He is one of a kind and will be missed. Jamie thanks for you initial call and the chance to meet you. You will be missed.

My sincere condolences in passing of your father husband and grandfather. I have known the Burns family starting with Terry when we met when our preschoolers met at the local Walton Memorial Church basement. As years progressed I got to know Jamie as we both served on the Appleby College board of directors where his contribution was invaluable.
He leaves a remarkable legacy . My thoughts are with Terry and her family at this time.
Sherry Gysler

This world lost a truly great person at a time when it feels we need them most. I was completely blown away and heartbroken by this news. My deepest condolences go out to his family.
I first met Jamie in 2020 when I was a constable with the Edmonton Police Service, working closely with Alcanna to combat liquor theft and the systemic violence impacting the industry.
Jamie was a phenomenal human being who demonstrated his character through action. He placed immense trust not just in me, but in the Edmonton Police Service as a true partner throughout this endeavor. He didn't see barriers to success—he only saw detours.
His down-to-earth demeanor and genuine care for his team aligned our energy toward finding a real solution. With support from Jamie and his team, the EPS initiated Project CAPONE—a first-of-its-kind investigation targeting the organized crime groups fueling the liquor theft trend.
Jamie brought people together and inspired them to succeed.
Project CAPONE was a resounding success, exposing a complex organized crime network running a lucrative black-market liquor distribution business. The EPS successfully infiltrated the network, leading to the arrest of key organized crime figures and charges for illegitimate businesses who were reselling stolen liquor. The investigation captured local headlines and brought this critical issue to the attention of the provincial government. Jamie was a primary champion of our work—not because it aligned with his business, but because he genuinely cared about keeping people safe.
During this time, we also developed the controlled entrance concept for retail liquor stores. Even though the technology was new and unproven, Jamie saw its potential and volunteered his stores for the initial field tests. Putting the safety of his staff far above company profit, Jamie allowed us to test and prove a solution tailored specifically for Alberta’s retail market. Controlled entrances ultimately reduced theft by 94% and violent incidents against staff by 97%.
I remain deeply committed to pushing this portfolio over the finish line. Jamie’s trust in me, his faith in the EPS, and his relentless drive to create safer workplaces for retail staff continue to motivate me.
I last saw Jamie about a month ago at the airport. We agreed to grab lunch once the summer chaos settled down. I’m holding him to that lunch on the other side. Rest in peace, Jamie. Know that you left a profound impact on me and on everyone who had the privilege of crossing paths with you. A role model to the end—you were truly one of the greats.
Sincerely,
Ben
(#3639 Sgt. Ben Davis)

This might be an unusual post, because I’ve never had a conversation with Jamie. We never really met. But he has been a household name in our house since the day he took the reigns at Alcanna.

My husband, Kerry, has had plenty of conversations with Jamie during their time at Alcanna together. And I know the team that were making things happen during those years were a special group of peers. Truly friends. I don’t believe that happened by accident. Jamie set the tone that every voice mattered. Every person pulling on the rope mattered. He knew everyone’s name, everyone’s story. He built a culture, a real team. The last time I saw Jamie was at a corporate party. His tie was off, tied around his forehead, and he was leading a congo line for the ages, with the biggest smile on his face! Not a single one of them was intimidated to be out there “with the CEO”. They were out there with Jamie, their friend. I don’t know that there’s a more perfect example of a leader.

To say he left a mark is an understatement. I never spoke with the man, but my heart is heavy this week because I know the world lost a good one.

My sincere condolences to Jamie’s family, and to everyone lucky enough to have been on Jamie’s side of a fight.

I met Jamie around the turn of the century. He had been busy building a chicken empire when I was hired as a green young lawyer in the business. He referred to me only by my last name, usually with a tinge of theatrical repulsion. Not surprisingly, I was often admonished for obfuscating things and for LBS. I’d like to say it was a fast friendship, but on paper at least, Jamie and I were basically fire and ice.

I still don’t know if his cryptic emails were some sort of Rorschach test, or whether he simply operated at a level of brevity that mere mortals couldn’t understand. Either way, I spent more hours trying to decipher his words than I ever did answering them, all in an effort to earn his trust.

His aptitude for numbers was undeniable, his talent for dealmaking always evident, and he commanded respect without ever demanding it. Only a true Renaissance man could so effortlessly master such a diverse range of pursuits: politics, capital markets, the food business, alpacas, cannabis, basketball, family. Over time I learned that beneath that irascible facade, and behind the title of “Your Surliness” I’d given him, was a man of rare decency and honour, and a genuinely kind soul.

Jamie taught me a great deal about business and life. But the lesson that has stuck with me most is that integrity and success are not a trade-off. He was proof of it.

May his memory be a blessing, and may it never want for stories.

Over the years that I worked at the company, I worked with many different CEOs. Most, I admit, I barely remember. Jamie, however, was unforgettable.

He was obviously talented and a visionary, but the quality that stood out most was his ability to connect with people, whether individually or with an entire room.

On an individual level, Jamie had a way of teasing you, challenging you, or simply making you feel like you were more than just an employee. He made relationships personal.

One of many examples was a running joke we had with him. Jim and I were constantly coming up with what we thought were "great ideas" that deserved Jamie's attention. The moment we'd walk into his office, he'd look up and say, "Oh great. Nothing but trouble just walked in." As we started explaining our latest brilliant idea, Jamie would slowly reach behind his desk for the “Burnski Eliminator”, a wooden stick I had made for him after he once joked that if he heard one more crazy idea from us, he was going to find a stick and beat the idea right out of us. Over the years, he kept that stick hanging behind his desk, and often, he'd start reaching for it before I could get a sentence out. It was his way of setting the tone for the upcoming conversation and I was never upset over a rejected idea.

Jamie also attended several real estate conferences with me. On one occasion, he joined me to help introduce the rollout of a new retail brand. During one conference, he was invited to join a panel discussing the emerging cannabis industry. The audience listened politely as the other panellists gave the polished, expected answers about the opportunities ahead. Then it was Jamie's turn. In true Jamie fashion, he delivered his honest opinion with the bluntness, colourful language, and authenticity that made him impossible to ignore. His passion and larger-than-life personality filled the room, and the audience loved it. He said what everyone else was thinking, but no one else would say out loud. Ironically, that candid moment opened doors for us and helped accelerate the chain's growth.

Another memory that makes me smile was when Jamie bought a barrel of Blanton's bourbon. Each bottle comes with one of eight different horse-shaped stoppers. Collect all eight, line them up together, and they recreate a horse galloping through the Kentucky Derby. We spent more time than we probably should have collecting those horses and trading stoppers until Jamie finally completed a set. Jamie mounted his set on an oak barrel stave that was prominently displayed in his office until the day he left the company. I never managed to complete my own set, but I admired his often.

As I write this, I'm looking at that Blanton’s set. It was Jamie's parting gift to me on the day that he left the company.

Looking back over all my years at Alcanna, most of my favourite memories were from the Burns era.

My sincerest condolences to the Burns family, and my deepest sympathy to everyone whose lives Jamie touched.

First while Jamie’s untimely passing is tragic for so many my thoughts are with his immediate family who have lost a man who deeply cared for them.

So many thoughts about Jamie at this difficult time from my my time as a young political staffer in the Mulroney government, to our work together to engineer the hostile takeover of Liquor Stores North America and his advice to me during my time as Official Opposition Industry critic and Member of Parliament in the 44th parliament.

After six months of trying to find investors to do the hostile takeover of LSNA and implement my turnaround plan, I turned to Jamie for advice. Jamie in responding to my frustration about the timid nature of Canadian private equity to do a hostile takeover, Jamie said “Rick you have to understand, they are pxxxy’s.” He suggested we chat with our old friend Phil Evershed who in tun asked me to present to his team the opportunity. That changed my life and Jamie’s as we were successful at the takeover and both moved to Edmonton to fix this broken company.

As an MP in the last parliament Jamie and I would speak often. He had the highest respect for those who served in Office and a passion for the issues. His ideas were critical for me in doing my parliamentary job. Jamie’s desire to put the country first drove him. I truly believe that if we Conservatives had won the 2025 election Jamie would have at the drop of a hat give up all his business interests to once again serve his country so desperately in need of his passion, and frankness.

We will not see his like again.

May his memory be a blessing.

A couple of memories come to mind:

One:

In 2006, the Miami Heat were in the NBA Finals. Jamie, Donald, and I were in South Florida the night that the Heat had a chance to clinch the championship on the road. We begged Jamie to drive us to the official watch party down in Miami at the American Airlines Arena, ~1.5 hours away. Jamie was against the idea all day, but at the last second, he agreed to drive us all down. Donald and I were so excited.

At each seat, the Heat organization placed white cotton seat covers to go along with their “White Hot Heat” theme that season. The group near us took their seat covers off, and instead of using them on their seats, one of them knotted his to his neighbor's, then to the next, and started feeding the chain sideways down the row. Soon, the seat cover chain grew the length of a few sections.

The goal: Run a single unbroken rope all the way around the arena and back to where it started.

While the Heat were one win away from a championship, these fans were more excited about tying together seat covers. Jamie: “These idiots only care about the seat cover chain. Watch the game!” Laughing, Jamie would later only refer to the seat cover chain as a toilet paper chain.

With a few minutes left in the fourth, somebody knotted the last two covers and the arena erupted. Not for the game, but for the “toilet paper” chain. Jamie: “These idiots…”

The Heat won the game and the championship. But years later all any of us remembered was the toilet paper chain. It would always make us laugh.

Two:

In 2012, Donald and I tried to hire NFL QB Daunte Culpepper to come to our annual Roberts/Burns pick up football game in Florida. Seeking approval from Jamie, we asked what he thought of the idea.

Jamie emailed us back: “anyone else but you two grifters (look it up) i would just laugh this off....but i fear for the worst…”

Daunte ultimately didn’t accept our offer to come.

I've had the privilege of a close friendship with Maggie for over 20 years and am heartbroken for the entire family with the news of Jamie's passing.

20 years gives you many chapters of memories with a person, and by extension their family, who have always been incredibly generous, patient (teenage girls yikes!), and kind.

Some of my earliest memories of Jamie include a few harrowing car rides (I think Maggie, possibly Don, inherited those driving tendencies), a gaggle of girls taking over the Burns family kitchen in Oakville while he supplied us with all the Pizza Hut a girl could wish for, and his wonderfully quirky sense of humour that we'd happily laugh along with, even when we didn't entirely understand it.

As we got older, countless memories made at the townhouse on Kerr, or on trips to Florida and at summer parties at the property in Moffat, all made possible by Jamie's generosity and willingness to welcome us in. One of my all time favourites was Maggie's beautiful wedding in 2017. Jamie was absolutely beaming that entire weekend, from start to finish. From his speech to the late-night celebrations, the pride and love he felt for his family was impossible to miss.

There is no doubt that Jamie will be missed by many. It has been incredible to read others' memories and catch a glimpse of the countless lives he touched and the impact he had on the people around him.

All my love to Maggie, Don, Heather, Robbie and Terry.

As we prepared to close the acquisition of Alcanna, it came time to pay the annual bonuses for that year. Jamie asked us to take his own bonus and distribute it among employees throughout the organization. He personally chose people from every corner of the organization, in all kinds of roles—many of whom weren't bonus eligible and had likely never received a bonus before. The impact of that gesture was unforgettable – some were brought to tears. They were surprised that someone in Jamie's position even knew who they were, and even more surprised that he believed their contributions deserved that kind of recognition. We referred to it as "Jamie's swan song," but reading everyone’s memories of Jamie, it feels like such a fitting reflection of who he was – a leader who understood that every person mattered, and who had an ability to make people feel seen. I know many of those employees still remember that day, and I know I always will. It remains one of the most meaningful examples of leadership and generosity I've ever witnessed.

Your note excusing all the proper punctuation and capitalization made me laugh because it reminded me of one of my favorite Jamie stories. One day, we received what appeared to be an email from Jamie, but it quickly became obvious that his email account had been hacked. The giveaway wasn't the content—it was the writing. The email had perfect capitalization, proper punctuation, and not a single exclamation point in sight! We immediately knew it couldn't possibly have been Jamie writing it.

The last time I saw Jamie was at a Stingers game last summer. I was there with a big group of family and friends, including what felt like a small army of kids. Jamie came over to say hello and showed up carrying a giant bag full of Buzz stuffies for every child and completely made their day. It’s hard to believe that we won’t have the opportunity to see him at another game.

My heartfelt condolences to the Burns family and everyone who loved him. Thank you for creating this space to share these memories. May it bring you comfort to see just how many lives he touched. Rest in peace, Jamie – you left a lasting impression on everyone fortunate enough to know you.

I once made the mistake, on the same evening I believe, of suggesting to Jamie that he use valet parking as we arrived at a restaurant I called "fun." Jamie hated valet parking. As to whether a restaurant could ever be considered fun,' that became, between the two of us, a decades-long, impossible to resolve debate of silliness (the best kinds of debates!).

I am so deeply sorry for your loss. Over the past 20+ years, Maggie and I have shared so many wonderful memories with each other’s families. Jamie was passionate about mentoring young entrepreneurs and was always generous in sharing his wisdom. He also had a wonderfully quirky sense of humour that could make everyone around him laugh. It’s clear from the many beautiful stories shared here that he touched so many lives and made a lasting impact on everyone who had the privilege of knowing him. Sending all my love to the entire Burns family during this incredibly difficult time.

My name is Otis James Burns Dempsey. My favourite memory of Poppa is when he let me drive his fishing boat for a long time in Sooke. And when he helped me feed the seals. The fish stuff he used was gross. I love you Poppa.

I met Jamie in 2012 at the birthday celebration of a dear mutual friend. One of the first conversations we ever had was his schooling this somewhat ignorant American on the different levels of affection inherent in “son,” “old son,” and “my old son.” From that day on, whether by email, phone call, or in person, the first thing we did was exchange a couple of heartfelt “my old sons.”

Gonna miss you, my old son. Don’t give the angels too hard of a time. Word is they can’t take a joke. Though I suspect that will only encourage you.

The Burns and Roberts Family have a long history of family trips together. As the youngest among all the "kids" I never had a counterpart peer like my siblings did. Jamie would always play with me and I have many memories of him making me giggle especially when driving remote controlled cars at the house in Florida.

When I got older, Jamie helped me with a college report on Yum! Brands. He got on the phone with my group and me multiple times to explain the restaurant franchise model. I gained a keen appreciation for his intellect during those calls. I fully credit Jamie for my high marks in that class. He also taught me the fun fact that Mothers' Day is the number one sales day for KFC since it's the one day "mom doesn't cook."

I'll greatly miss Jamie and am incredibly grateful for the memories, knowledge, and giggles he imparted.

When Jamie joined Alcanna, he was coming in under strange circumstances, just getting through a hostile takeover - no one really knew what to expect. But after the first few months, I knew we'd found someone special, he not only challenged us, but he made us better in every way.

One of our first trips together was to Seattle, where we sat down with our Microsoft Account Team to tackle some major problematic licensing issues. Jamie had tagged along to make sure we felt supported and highlight the importance of the partnership with Microsoft. What CEO willingly spent time with the “tech guys”, but that was the person Jamie was – he saw much more in us than just being the “techies”. The meetings were tense, and our Microsoft account manager at the time, was nothing but challenging. At dinner one night, Jamie leaned over to Ray and me and asked, "Which one of these guys don't we like?" – referring to the account manager.

What happened next was pure Jamie – the entire dinner he continued to rattle shots across the table, poking where he could make sure our views were heard. Not with malice, but in typical Jamie fashion with humor underneath the bluntness that somehow defused the entire situation. Jamie had read the room, called it like he saw it, and made sure we weren't going to be pushed around - the way he always did.

A couple of years later, when I was nominated for the CIO of the Year Award, I was still new to the C-level, but Jamie wrote one of my reference letters, and I'll never forget reading his words. I know they were just words on a page. But they meant everything.

He wrote “Robbie is a best-in-class CIO, but more importantly, from my perspective is that he has been one of the key and most trusted executives on my team. Robbie knows and understands every aspect of our business, " Coming from someone like Jamie—someone whose opinion I deeply valued - those words carried weight that no amount of external validation could match.

I go back to that letter all the time - every time I read it, I'm reminded of Jamie's faith in me and how much that mattered.

When Jamie purchased the Edmonton Stingers, our entire family would go out to the games. He would take my girls, give them hugs, and ask them what they wanted from the swag shop, they’d come back loaded with sweatshirts, jerseys, and hats, over the moon with his generosity. I remember them asking why Jamie always sat in the stands as they couldn't understand why someone as important as Jamie wouldn’t be courtside. But it made perfect sense. Jamie was right there with people he cared about, watching together. My girls will carry those memories forever.

Thank you, Jamie. for showing all of us what real leadership looks like - your legacy isn't in the titles or the buildings. It's in the people whose lives you touched.

My sincerest condolences to Jamie's family. It is hard to express in only a few written words the impact Jamie had on our lives. He was truly one of the most unique, kindest, most selfless, humble, and generous people I have ever had the privilege to know.

I first met Jamie when he joined our team and our little corner of the office at Alcanna (then LSNA). It was impossible not to instantly like him. His boisterous, bantering personality and witty sense of humour made every day interesting.  As others from those days have already mentioned, he wasn't the type of leader who managed from a fancy corner office while everyone else did the work. Jamie was right there beside us in the trenches, guiding us with his abundance of wisdom, shielding us from daggers, rolling up his sleeves and getting his hands dirty, and never wanting or expecting recognition for his own contributions. He wasn't in anything for accolades and hated the spotlight with a passion. Jamie once insisted that his bonus be divided among staff because he felt they deserved it more than he did. That was Jamie. He had a remarkable way of making people feel valued, appreciated and worthy to be in the room.

Jamie and I initially bonded over our shared love of sports, especially the joy of sharing that passion with our children. Soccer, in particular, became something we talked or texted about often because my youngest son, Eric (who Jamie got to know quite well over the last 9 years and called his "best pal"), lives and breathes the game. Jamie loved talking about the memories he made with his own children through sports - the goal he and his son shared of attending a game in every NBA arena, their love of Arsenal, the Raptors, and cheering on Team Canada soccer and basketball to name a few.  Jamie's love of sports (except of course the Oilers who he loudly cheered against when their playoff games encroached into Stingers' season territory) was never just about the games themselves, it was about bringing people together. He wanted everyone to experience the joy, excitement, and memories that sports creates because he had experienced that magic with his own children. One year when at Alcanna, Jamie got hundreds of tickets to Canada's World Cup qualifier games simply so staff could share in the experience. Recently, Eric and I attended World Cup matches in Vancouver, and Jamie and I exchanged messages throughout the trip as he followed along with our adventure. He wisely reminded us that we'd "still be processing it all at Christmas. Literally impossible to do it now in the middle of the marvelous mayhem" adding "I keep the memories!!!!...especially sharing those times with my kids!!!! So super special eh????". I know Jamie was looking forward to building on similar memories with his grandchildren. Jamie had a gift for making people, especially children, feel special. Eric, and all of my children who got to know him through Stingers games and other outings with him over the years, adored him.    

Like many others, my friendship with Jamie only deepened after he left Alcanna when the line between professional and personal eroded. It was then we started the tradition of what Jamie affectionately named "GNO" (Girls' Night Out), a nickname that probably originated from one memorable evening shortly after Alcanna was acquired, when a few of us shared a little too much wine and, without inhibition, vented to Jamie about how much we already missed him and our days of working together. Jamie loved teasing us about the state we found ourselves in that night, but I think it also meant something to him to know how deeply he was loved and missed. We carried on with our GNOs over the next 4+ years, getting together whenever we could in between Jamie's travels and adventures.

Reading all of the stories shared since his passing, I find myself wondering how one person could have the ability to build so many meaningful relationships. But that's simply who Jamie was. He made you feel like you mattered, and when you were with him, he was present and you felt like you were the most important person in his world. I am so grateful for our friendship.  

Like so many of us, I truly believed there would be more time—more GNOs, more sports games, more Stingers, more hikes, more "Personal Preference", more dinners, more hugs, more excited over punctuated texts, more stunning photographs he would share, more hot sauce, and more memories made...

His passing has truly left me gutted. Jamie will be deeply missed, always. 

Please accept our condolences on your loss. Jamie was amazing, as a boss, a leader and a friend.

A couple of found memories of your Dad.

As David mentioned, after Jamie sold 25% of the company to Aurora and our lease for the Edmonton office was coming due the decision was made to relocate the office. The search was on, Jamie made the decision that the company needed to get some “Swagger”, as he put it.

I think it really meant that he was really proud of what the company had accomplished and wanted everyone to be part of the success. He wanted to see the Alcanna name in lights on a Downtown building.

Another time, Jamie had arranged for a fishing trip out to his happy place in Sooke, before getting to the cabin, we all stopped at one of the old Liquor Depot stores that he has sold off for too much money, he purchased a bottle of Angels Envy KY bourbon as it was hard to get. After a hard days fishing it was time for a BBQ at the cabin that evening, myself and Kerry also appreciate a good bourbon, needless to say we made a very sizeable withdrawal from his bottle that night. With great fanfare and very loud commentary he never let us forget about the 2 urchins that drank his bourbon.

He will be so missed.

Jamie and I first crossed paths after being on opposite sides on one of Canada’s few proxy fights that went all the way to a contested AGM. Jamie was on the winning side, of course, and I was fortunate enough to be one of the executives that was retained when the smoke cleared. After a bit of a revolving door of CEOs, Jamie stepped off the Board to take on the job and I was his CFO for his first 6 months or so.

The adventure we went on in that short period of time was remarkable, and I got to ride shotgun for what turned out to be some of the more heroic pieces of business I’ve seen in my professional career. Jamie was incredibly generous (and direct!) in his feedback and guidance. Forget that bozo down south, Jamie should have been the rightful author of “The Art of the Deal”. Many of the strategies he taught me are still in use to this day and to great effect. From deal tension, the reliability of self-interest, “LBS”, getting the other side “PNR’d”, to helping him structure a “Voodoo note”, the list goes on. But the biggest thing I took from him was to embrace the crazy fun of doing a deal. From driving all over the Kentucky backcountry tasting some of the worst wines known to man to help an acquirer estimate spoilage, to the all-nighters we pulled to get a deal over the finish line (because it leaked on the Stockhouse bullboards on a Friday night and we needed to announce it before markets on the Monday), we had more than our fair share of craziness and fun. If the cliché of “work hard, play hard” were a person, it would be Jamie.

One fond memory I have of Jamie outside of work was the first Toronto Raptors game we went to. He warned me that he liked to coach the team from his seat, and I assumed he was joking. He was not. He was up yelling at the players, coach, and referees the whole game, giving them his unique brand of “feedback”. But that’s who I knew him as – someone who always thought better was possible. And was passionate about helping you get there, whether you were a young wet behind the ears CFO or Olympic gold medalist Kyle Lowry.

Despite our short but eventful time working together and the occasional call thereafter we’d have to bounce ideas off one another (a high honor for me), the impact Jamie had on me and my career was profound. I’m going to miss him, and can only imagine the significance of this loss for those that have had the pleasure of knowing him over a longer period. To Jamie’s family, please accept my deepest condolences for your loss. He was truly one of a kind.

I first met Jamie when Maggie and I started Grade 7 together. Maggie and I became best friends then, and we’ve stayed that way ever since.

When I think of Jamie, I think of laughter. He had that rare kind of quirky humor that could make anyone laugh without even trying. If you know the Burns family, you know exactly where they all get it from.

He was always the one making everyone at the dinner table laugh. Every time I was around him, he made everyone feel welcome, and you could tell how much he loved his family. One of my favorite memories is from one of my first trips to Florida with the Burns family. We were out for dinner, and after I had almost finished an enormous plate of gnocchi, Jamie looked at the few pieces I had left and started calling them the "orphan gnocchis," giving them little voices and acting out their sad story. It instantly became the joke of the table, and it's one of those random memories that still makes me smile whenever I think of him.

Sending all my love and strength to the Burns family during this incredibly difficult time. Jamie was one of a kind, and I feel lucky to have known him. May his memory always be a blessing.

I've always been squeamish around fish. I don't eat seafood, and couldn't imagine putting a wriggly worm on a hook, let alone having to take off a fish!

When Quinn and Fraser were young, I bought them a Barbie and Spider-Man fishing rod from Purke's Place in Bala. Instead of a barbed hook I unbent a paper clip, slid on a fake rubber worm and closed the paper clip back up. That summer the kids got hundreds of bites but surprisingly never caught a fish ;)

When Quinn and Fraser were maybe 8 and 10, Jamie and Terry invited Heather and I and the kids to the farm in Moffat. He took them both fishing in the pond in front of the house and they must have caught 50 fish each. Jamie couldn't get the fish off of each of their hooks fast enough before their lines were back in the water to pull in another one. As it turns out, the property used to be a fishing club and the ponds were stocked with thousands of fish!

This past Christmas Jamie took us deep sea fishing in the Florida Keys. The boat smelled like rotten fish and I nearly gagged multiple times on the 3 hour tour. That day Fraser caught a 6-foot shark that weighed more than him! Besides booking the whole family trip and arranging the fishing excursion, Jamie had the guide literally chum the waters to make Fraser's fishing dreams come true.

Three weeks ago at the cottage Otis expressed interest in fishing. We tried to tide him over with a 'cruelty-free' minnow trap, that even with no bait caught a surprising amount of catfish. Alas, it didn't scratch his angler itch. We told Otis not to worry, that Poppa (Jamie), would be here in a week and that he would love nothing more than to take him fishing. That next week Jamie made it as far as Toronto but wasn't feeling well and decided to turn around and fly back to Edmonton. Shortly after he was admitted into the hospital, and two weeks later he is gone.

When we shared the news with Otis, he immediately got very sad and said: "Poppa was supposed to teach me to fish."

Jamie taught us all so much and the profound impact he had on all of us when he entered our lives is incalculable. We have more amazing stories and incredible memories than fish in the pond that day.

Fortunately for Heather and I, Otis James Burns Dempsey has Poppa's name, his striking blue eyes, his quirkiness and his love of nature. And I know that if he were here, Jamie would tell me to suck it up and bait that hook.

To the Burns family, please accept my heartfelt condolences. I feel incredibly fortunate to have known Jamie and to have experienced his friendship, humor, and support. I hope you find comfort in knowing how deeply he was respected, how many lives he touched, and how fondly he will be remembered.

I first met Jamie in Kentucky while we were selling off our chain of stores there. It was somewhat surreal to see him working alongside our CFO at the time, physically sorting through expired products and doing whatever else was needed for the sale, this also included a lot of laughing, swearing and joking around about the sale itself. I remember thinking, “This guy isn’t half bad he talks just like me and he’s willing to roll up his sleeves and get to work right alongside us.”
I would later share that observation with new members of my team when they joined us, telling them, “Even our CEO isn’t too big to sweep the sheds.” Jamie’s willingness to pitch in, regardless of the task, spoke volumes about his character and the kind of leader he was.
From that moment on, my respect for Jamie only grew. He worked with my security department and the Edmonton Police Service to raise awareness of the serious issues our stores were facing at the time. Jamie brought a level of commitment and support that I had never experienced before and have not seen since. His devotion to protecting our employees was extraordinary—perhaps the most impressive commitment to staff safety I have ever witnessed from a C-suite executive.

I have so many stories about Jamie. One that still makes me smile happened while we were driving together in Winnipeg. After someone in the car pointed out that he had already driven through about three stop signs, he casually replied, “Stop signs are merely suggestions.” That was Jamie—quick-witted and with a healthy disdain for silly rules that don’t apply.
Jamie and I also shared a special “fondness” for the CBC, which he jokingly called the “Communist Broadcast Company.” It was another example of his unmistakable sense of humor and the memorable way he saw the world.
Jamie had a rare ability to connect with people, earn their trust, and make a lasting difference in their lives. If the only currency on Earth were influence, Jamie would have been one of the wealthiest!
I will always be grateful for his honesty, his humor, and the way he stood beside us when it mattered most. He made a lasting difference in the lives of so many people, including mine. Jamie will be deeply missed, but the stories, laughter, and memories he gave us will remain with us for years to come.

Hi my name is Theo I really loved when poppa took me to yankees games even if they lost or won. I also liked when he did pillow fights with me in sooke and we did them in Otises hotel room. And he also took me to my first stingers game he took me down to the court to meet a stingers player named nick Hornsby when I was 4 years old. And I loved when he took me bird watching he let me use his bird app he took pictures of 2 new birds also. I miss him so much and he will always be in my heart.

David and Marcie have eloquently and accurately described the extraordinary impact Jamie had on all of us at Alcanna. It is difficult to explain how someone could enter our lives so suddenly (under, to be blunt, pretty adversarial conditions - we had just spent months trading press releases on why each other should not run the business!), work with us for only five years, and leave such a profound and permanent mark on so many people.

Jamie taught me more than I thought any one person could know about business, people, human behaviour, intuition and judgment (what he called "The J"). Most of those lessons transcended business. I find myself quoting him often:

“Get them past the point of no return.”

“You can always trust a rational person to act in their own self-interest.”

And, of course: “It’s just lawyer B.S., Matthew.”

Jamie and my mother are the only two people who called me “Matthew” when "upset" with me. As the lawyer in the room, I heard it from Jamie with some regularity. I would walk into his office and say, “Okay, Boss” (a title he loathed) “remember the famous saying: don’t shoot the messenger.”

We went through some enormously challenging times at Alcanna. Jamie had strong views, and there were certainly times when we disagreed. But he always heard you out. More importantly, he made you confident that he had genuinely considered what you said. You never felt dismissed merely because he ultimately made a different decision.

Jamie possessed an extraordinary instinct for knowing when I needed encouragement. At moments that seemed random, but somehow arrived exactly when needed, he would send a note that made me feel like the most important person in the world.

During one particularly difficult period, after saying many generous things that he at least made me believe he believed, Jamie wrote:

"You guys always call me "boss"...which annoys me to no end which I am sure you all relish!!!! . But I do not see me as that. You are my partner Matthew. Equal. And never forget that and treat me differently if you are able to do that. J"

The word “leadership” gets bandied about endlessly in business. Jamie lived it. He challenged us, protected us, took care of us and made each of us believe that our contribution mattered. You could not have asked for a better leader.

When Jamie left following the sale of Alcanna, I gave him the attached caricature. It is filled with things that will make sense to those who knew him from the office: Blanton’s bourbon from the barrel he had bottled; tuna he would eat with crackers (which would blow everywhere as he yelled at (to?) you); and the “lawyer B.S.” he professed to disdain while nevertheless reading, marking up and, painfully for me, improving everything I wrote. Ohh, and heaven forbid you were labelled a chowderhead...

We worked hard. Jamie expected a great deal. We debated, disagreed, laughed, and occasionally drove one another crazy. But beneath all of it was his unwavering loyalty to his people.

I am a better person for having known him, and enormously fortunate to have been one of his partners.

In 2006, my son Andrew (16), Jamie's son Don (18), Jamie and I went to Miami to see our team the Miami Heat play the Dallas Mavericks in Game Five of the NBA Finals. the series was tied 2-2 and the next two games would be in Dallas.

Jamie and I were all-in for the Heat because Andrew and Don were extreme Heat fans, and you never root harder for a sports team than when your child's elation or sorrow is at stake.

The game was very close and so tension was high. Jamie rooted for the Heat by berating the team and its players whenever they made a mistake. He and I were sitting together and so I got to hear the constant stream of Jamie's invective. The ferocity and continuity of Jamie's ranting was a measure of just how much he wanted the Heat to win.,

Jamie reserved the worst (best?) of his rant for Shaq, the towering Miami Heat center who could do most everything well but was notorious for being a bad free throw shooter. So of course Dallas, the other team, fouled Shaq a lot. And Shaq did not disappoint. He went 2 for 12 that game at the free throw line.

I'm laughing now at recalling Jamie's "anger" at Shaq. The Heat won that night in a squeaker, 101-100. And of course after the game, Jamie "forgave" Shaq.

The Heat won the next game in Dallas and the series.

Hello my name is Darcy, Poopa's granddaughter. I am eight years old and i wrote this on my own. On a happy lovely day we went to Hampstead Heath to feed some birds with Poopa. Every time we went to nature walks with him we would take photos, and we would also use the bird app on Poopa's phone on the way back from school. I loved going on nature walks with him and him sending us nature photos to us. We used to always play with each other and would always tell funny jokes and so excited to get our cameras ready together and take some shots. We both wanted to get one of our photos in the Natural History Museum photo competition. We always loved when Poopa sent lots of different photos of animals where he went and we were so surprised how many different places he has been to. He always used to send photos of deers and rabbits to me because they were my favourite when they were outside his house. We used to feed the deers on his balcony and see the seals and otters in the ocean.

I will miss you and you will always be in our hearts.

Some people leave behind accomplishments. Others leave behind better people.

Jamie Burns was one of those rare people.

To many of us, he was simply Boss. To me, he was one of the greatest gifts of my life. He was my mentor, my teacher, my friend, and one of the people who shaped not just the leader I became, but the person I became.

Jamie had an extraordinary ability to see potential in people long before they saw it in themselves. He challenged us, believed in us, called us out when we needed it, and celebrated us when we got it right. More importantly, he taught us how to think, how to listen, how to stay curious, and how to become better people.

He was endlessly fascinated by people. He wanted to know where you came from, what shaped you, what you believed, and what made you tick. He was wonderfully quirky, deeply creative, incredibly pragmatic, and never afraid to tell you exactly what he thought.

If you ever handed Jamie something you’d written, you knew it would come back covered in his famous red pen. Not because it wasn’t good enough, but because he believed you were capable of making it even better. That’s how he approached people, too.

Outside of work, he found joy in the simple things. He loved hiking, always with a camera in hand, capturing beauty that most of us would have walked right past. If you were lucky enough to be invited along, there was really only one rule: don’t talk. Just walk, look around, and appreciate what was in front of you. Somehow, that was one of the many ways Jamie taught us.

He made us laugh. He made us think. He made us better.

His legacy won’t be measured by the positions he held or the things he accomplished. It will live on in the people he shaped, encouraged, challenged, and believed in. I know I’ll carry a little bit of Jamie with me for the rest of my life, and I know I’m not alone.

Thank you for everything, Jamie.

You made us better.

Rest easy, Boss.

i am still in shock from the news of last evening .
I only spoke to Jamie in May and we were both celebrating the Arsenal Premiership win after 22 yrs .
Jamie was an exceptional leader in a very tough business .He respected his fellow directors and All his employees .
Gifted at making correct decisions under pressure .
Will miss his sparkling roguish Scottish eyes .
Will finish off with a 4 line poem from’ A man’s a man for A That ‘by the great Scottish Bard Robbie Burns
‘The rank is but the guinea’s stamp ,
The man’s the gowd for a ‘that ,
Though gone from sight ,his worth remains ,
The man’s the good for all that ‘
Jamie thanks for the lovely memories and the fun times we all had together.
RIP
Denis Ryan

i sent a condolence some hours ago , wondering did it get to you ?
Denis Ryan

It’s hard to put into words what it means to lose someone who was not only a boss, but a mentor and a dear friend.

During our time together, Jamie shared so much wisdom and knowledge built from a lifetime of experience. He pushed me to stretch, supported my ambitions, and celebrated every milestone along the way.

What started as a professional relationship evolved into a deep and lasting friendship that I will cherish forever. The lessons he taught me—both in work and in life—will continue to guide me for the rest of my life.

Thank you for letting me be part of your YEG era, Jamie. GNOs won’t be the same without you.

With love,
Lamborghini

To the Burns Family – our deepest condolences from all of us in Edmonton that had the incredible opportunity to know Jamie, work with him and be blessed with his friendship. Thank you for sharing Jamie with us. Words cannot describe what he meant to us.

I’m sure you got bits and pieces from him about what adventures he was up to out here, but wanted to share with you some of what he accomplished.

Jamie CRASHED (I use that word specifically as there was no other way to describe his entrance) into all of our lives out here in Edmonton in the summer of 2017, in dramatic fashion of course… In June 2017 PointNorth Capital had just won a very bitter, public and hostile takeover of the publicly traded company that us Edmontonians worked for at the time, Liquor Stores N.A. Ltd. (which we later renamed to Alcanna in 2018 at Jamie’s insistence, rightfully so, that we all have a fresh start).

At the time of the hostile takeover, having been on the losing side, we couldn’t help but assume that Jamie, who had been newly elected to the Board through the takeover process, was going to be like a mustache-twirling villain straight from a gothic thriller. His entrance was ominous, and sudden, and theatrical, and trailing pure chaos everywhere he went for the first few months – so he fit the part of the villain perfectly. But very soon after the takeover and after the first couple of meetings with him, we figured out that he (along with the rest of the new Board) was the complete opposite of a villain… well, except the “sudden, theatrical and trailing pure chaos” part - he was all of that on steroids each and every day!!!

Possibly it was the wide chasm in our expectations between who we thought Jamie was going to be and who he actually was that lead to so many of us here in Edmonton having such a strong relationship with him. But I think that is just who Jamie was - somebody that you couldn’t help but form a strong bond with if you were on the same side of the fight.

In December 2017 Jamie took on the role of CEO of the company and from that point forward he was the most loyal, completely irreplaceable, best boss (I can hear him yelling at me now saying he wasn’t my boss, but my Partner– but I can’t help trying to get a rise out of him even after he is gone) and friend any of us could ever dare to hope for. And for four plus years he took us all on the ride of our lives...

In February 2018, just a few short months after Jamie took over, we sold 25% of the company to Aurora Cannabis for a significant premium based on Jamie’s sole ability to build a rapport with the CEO of Aurora at the time (in my view, Jamie’s ability to relate to and gain the trust of people he barely knew was his best strength). Aurora was betting on us to become the cannabis retail leader in Canada (cannabis was legalized in the fall of 2018). PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO LOOK AT THE PIC OF OUR BOARD OF DIRECTORS at a cannabis grow op – nothing about any of theirs or our backgrounds, experiences, age, and our complete lack of actual personal interest in cannabis screamed that we were the best team to bet on to become the leading weed dealers in Canada!!! But Jamie sold Aurora on it and told us not to worry and that we would figure how to deliver on the promises later... Jamie thought at the time that deal would be the pinnacle of his career with Alcanna – little did we know it was just the start! We did use some of this newly gained treasure to help fund our entrance into cannabis retailing – and we came out of the starting block on October 17, 2018, just 7 months after getting funded, well… just smoking!!! Huge lineups around the block at each store we opened for weeks on end – this rag tag team, lead by Jamie, had pulled off the unthinkable – we were leaders in cannabis retail right from the start and we didn’t stop – by the time we sold the business in 2022 we were one of the top 2 cannabis retailers in Canada.

We eventually used most of the funds from Aurora to rescue our declining liquor retail business (that we were able to direct the funds wherever we wanted, without restriction, delighted Jamie to no end as he knew we needed the money to save liquor and he loved the entertainment of the battles he had with Aurora who didn’t think much of that plan!). After we had exhausted a number of ideas to try to turn our fortunes around, a bit of anger from losing, and probably too much wine and beer to drink, we decided to start our own discount liquor retail brand to try to squash the discount liquor retailer competitors that were stealing our market share. We had absolutely no business plan, none, just a silly name (“Deep Discount Liquor”) that we came up with one evening – AND Jamie’s determination to win (which I believe was his 2nd best strength)! We eventually joined forces with Tank Vander, who was the toughest of all the discounters, again based on Jamie’s ability to establish a relationship, this time with ‘the enemy’, and brought Tank, his team, his family and his chain of discount liquor stores, Ace Liquor, into our fold. Together with Tank, the other main competitor inevitably ended up in bankruptcy (Jamie saw this outcome for the competitor long before the rest of us – Jamie’s ability to look out into the future and spot danger or an opportunity was his 3rd best strength). Our liquor retail business was back to winning based on Jamie’s determination and desire to win (and then it only further accelerated in 2020 as a result of the COVID restrictions on restaurants and bars, and liquor stores being deemed an ‘essential service’).

There were many trials and tribulations over that time. Our relationship with Aurora ended when they were struggling for cash – Jamie fought hard to get us out from underneath them before they impacted our winning streak. There was a lot of learning through our cannabis journey and Jamie did everything he could to figure out “where the puck was going” long before it got there so that we could keep winning (supply was inconsistent, quality was inconsistent, customer brand preference was ever changing and he did everything to try to keep on top of the constantly shifting dynamics). We sold off our US retail liquor stores for a sizeable amount in retrospect (Jamie saw the shifting competition long before the rest of us and got us out just in time at peak value). Our team and our business survived COVID and were stronger for it (it took a lot, meaning it took a Jamie, to hold everybody together and keep on the same page, despite very polarizing views on how we should handle, well, everything to do with COVID, restrictions, people matters, etc.). We bought a publicly traded cannabis retailer and took our cannabis stores public (Nova Cannabis) to take advantage of the crazy valuations out there at the time for cannabis companies (Jamie knew that we weren’t participating in that value bump because our successful cannabis stores were buried within the much larger liquor retail business). And then we eventually sold the company to Sundial/SNDL for a big premium in March 2022 (Jamie saw that cannabis valuations were at a peak and decided it was the right thing for our shareholders to get out then and for our businesses to have a new owner that was committed to them for the long term).

Through all of this, in just 4 short years, Jamie pushed us beyond the limits that we thought were there for our company and for us personally. But through it all, the laughing, the debating, the late-night crazy texting, the friendship, and the winning resulted in all of us having the best time of our lives.

And through that time, we all welcomed Jamie, a work colleague, into our personal lives as well – not something a few of us were accustomed to doing! My daughters and my wife adored Jamie as well. One day, my girls talked Jamie into coming out to Vermilion (my hometown, but also where Jamie had made a number of trips to with Don Mazankowski decades before as Vermilion was in Don’s Federal riding) for the annual fair. As soon as he got to the fair, the girls proceeded to convince (maybe con?) him into going on all the crazy fair rides, not the easy ones – who else’s boss is doing that with their kids?!?!? Jamie delighted in recalling the story of the “two little demon girls with their piercing eyes” that convinced him to go on the rides and ended with him claiming to have vertigo for a few months.

When Alcanna completed the sale to SNDL, a small part of me expected Jamie to disappear into the night and for us not to really have much contact with him again. That is what most CEOs/leaders would do. But that wasn’t Jamie. Since then and until now, another 4 plus years have gone by, and he chose to stay in our lives, keep connected, contribute to this community through the Edmonton Stingers and other ways, and keep the fun times going. The first 4 plus years developed a deep connection for a number of us with Jamie. But this last 4 plus years endeared us to him forever.

Here is what I wrote for him when he left Alcanna after the sale was completed:

“Everybody on this team, YOUR TEAM, will be fondly – hell, with a big grin on our face – recalling and telling stores from these past ~5 years that happened ‘with you’, ‘about you’ or ‘because of you’ for the rest of our lives. It takes a very special person to have had such an impact, professionally and personally on such a big group of people all at the same time. I hope you know how much respect, admiration and love that we have – that I have – for you. Thank you for the unwavering loyalty, support and belief that you had in the team, and especially me. Your Partner, David.”

His death has left us all utterly shattered and in disbelief. We had nine unforgettable years with him. And I am still hungry for more of his love of people, theatrics and the chaos that he trailed in his wake. Rest easy Partner.

Many of my very favorite childhood memories took place at the Burns house. We’d walk through the front door, hear Uncle Jamie bellowing “MAAGGGIIEEE”/“HEATHERRRRRR”/“DONNNAAAAAALLLLD/“ROOOBBBBIIIEEEEE” while barbecuing sausages, and then he would promptly remind me—for the 700th time—of when I ate rabbit poo thinking it was chocolate. I was a toddler, for context.

Uncle Jamie made us all HOWL with laughter, and by being unapologetically, wildly himself, he gave us permission to do the same. I wish I had a voice memo of him imitating a guy at a restaurant somewhere in the South saying, “I just gotta get me some of that Key Lime pieeee,” or yelling, “That’s my coat, Bobby!” He would tease me about being an emo pre-teen and somehow make me laugh hysterically at myself. An impossible task.

As I got older, Uncle Jamie helped me navigate a very big decision business decision. He empowered me to trust my gut, and I have never looked back. I am forever grateful.

Thank you for the endless laughter, the incredible memories, and the friendship.

Love you, UJ. xoxo NOY,

Al

Jamie was my Canadian supplier of hot pepper spice called “Breaking Burns”.
I was his exclusive US connection. Sometimes we would use the post to mail the product across the border when I needed to re-up. Other times we brought in Terry to use as a mule when the authorities began checking our correspondence.

We shared many emails perfecting the recipe. He was masterful in his concoctions. My tolerance for hot spice was mind blowing to Jamie. I was hitting the hot peppers since I was a teenager so my tolerance is higher than the average user.

Eventually, after decades of friendship, he shared his secret ingredient to me in an email:

"well we have a secret ingredient...alpaca poop = super flavor peppers!!!!...must lock the recipe in a vault a la coca cola and kfc!!!! breaking burns is one of the few cdn businesses ever to successfully penetrate the american market....95% of sales!!!!!"

Jamie perfected the Breaking Bad hazmat suit without ever seeing an episode of the show. He subsequently watched the series.

I will miss dearly my Canadian connect, but above all else I will miss my friend. There is no substitution.

My dad had his AOL email address for decades, and when he finally switched to gmail (traitor, I say, as I still use my AOL email address) he put this (attached as photo) as his automatic email bounce-back. Which just felt so quintessentially him.

I met Jamie in 1989 when I joined Gordon Investment. We became a team with me the junior member at age 27 and he, at age 34, the wise sage I looked up to.

That next year, my son Andrew was born. At some point soon thereafter, Jamie asked how "Andy" was doing. Not yet fully appreciating Jamie's unsurpassed talent for teasing with mordant wit, particularly anything that came close to "pretentious," I told him my son was NOT to be referred to as Andy but always as Andrew.

Whereupon Jamie started whistling the unmistakeable theme song from the Andy Griffith song. The first few times, I resented the teasing but after a while I decided it was funny. For years after, whenever Jamie wanted to make me laugh during a meeting, the more serious the better, he would tap the Andy Griffith song on the conference table.

As my daughter Lauren said, Jamie was "mischievous." He could always make me laugh and I have a huge storehouse of memories of him making me laugh for the next 35 years.

I met Jamie in 1973 - I was starting at Queen’s and Jamie’s residence room was down the hall. Jamie had one of the few single rooms (of course!) and the only tv. We watched My Three Sons and played hockey in the hall. So began a friendship that lasted more than fifty years. He was Uncle Jamie to my kids and I loved him like a brother. Jamie was a force of nature and a force for good. Like so many others I will miss him terribly.

As a youngin’, and while on vacation with the Burns family, I remember looking at your dad with both admiration and a bit of fear. When he said ‘get in the car, we are leaving’ that didn’t mean in 5 mins, that meant- right now! All members of the Burns family and their guests knew the drill and jumped in the vehicle off to the designated next adventure.

As I grew older, the admiration remained, the fear drained and the respect grew. I mean, what didn’t Jamie do?? He dabbled in and was success in about a million things! I have fond memories of drooling all over the Guelph property and wishing one day I could live like that :)

From my eyes, your dad was a strong and independent man who, along with Terry, raised their 4 children to be creative, loyal, kind and successful. That is an amazing legacy.

It may seem that your dad left you too soon, but I am thinking that he needed to get on to a new adventure and someone in another realm said ‘ Jamie, get in the car, we are leaving’.

With so much love to the entire Burns family,
Lindsay

My deepest condolences go out to your whole family. Jamie was one in a million. His passion and conviction earned my respect. He was a man of moral values and was honest and transparent.
I do not have photos, but I have memories that I will hold onto forever. Rest in peace, Jamie. Hugs to you.
Heaven just got a lot more interesting with Jamie there!
With love,
Len