CBC Yukon's Nancy Thomson retires with no regrets

Yukon politicians could be breathing a sigh of relief this weekend — longtime CBC reporter Nancy Thomson has retired.

"Put it this way — ask every party that I've covered, they've all been angry at me," Thomson says with a laugh.

"A lot of the stories that I've done, you know, they've been controversial. Or there's been strong reaction to them, I guess you could say."

This week, Thomson closed her notebook and turned off her mic for the last time at CBC Yukon. She's been planning her retirement for a while, but still feels "gobsmacked" that the day finally arrived. 

"So much of my life has been tied up with CBC," she said.

Over the years, she's rankled politicians with tough questions, and told countless stories about Yukoners who have suffered injustice or societal neglect.

She's been celebrated for her investigative stories — including a series in 2018 that looked at how youth had been mistreated at some of Yukon's group homes. Those stories ultimately prompted a public apology from the territorial government, several investigations, and real changes to how the group homes are run.

They also earned Thomson a nomination for a prestigious Michener Award in 2019.

Another series of investigative stories in 2004, on prescription drug abuse in Watson Lake, prompted a political firestorm in Yukon. Thomson had spoken with 11 sources and reported at the time that Watson Lake's sole doctor was also the town's only pharmacist.

The Yukon News at the time wrote an editorial that praised Thomson's series and made its own claims about the doctor, who then sued the newspaper for defamation. The newspaper then wanted Thomson to disclose her sources as part of its defence in the defamation suit.

Thomson still gets emotional recalling that time, when she faced the possibility of having to protect her sources in Yukon Supreme Court, and face the consequences.

"It was a very, very stressful time," she recalled.

"It was horrible, because I'd look at myself in the mirror and I'm like, 'it's truth time,' right? The principle is the principle, and you do not back down on the principle." 

Thomson stood her ground, and refused to reveal her sources. The matter was ultimately settled in 2011 with a deal between the paper and CBC. 

"If you are passionate about this, and you're in it for the real reason, then you can't back down on that," she said.

Growing up in Ross River

Thomson grew up in the small community of Ross River, Yukon, and despite later living for years in Toronto and then Whitehorse, she's maintained strong ties — and a lot of affection — for her home community.

"I love Ross River. I was contemplating moving back, and I don't know. I don't know really if I will or not — but it's home."

She decided early on that she wanted to be either a lawyer or a journalist. She loved writing, and words. Journalism ultimately won out.

She was partly inspired by legendary CBC broadcaster Barbara Frum, but her chief inspiration was closer to home — her mother, Margaret.

Thomson describes her mother Margaret as an Indigenous activist and feminist — and an amateur journalist. Margaret was once a regular contributor to CBC Yukon as the community reporter from Ross River, sharing the goings-on in her community and introducing some Kaska words to radio listeners.

"She took her responsibility very seriously although you know, she was pretty busy with other things," Thomson recalled. 

"If I had a mentor, it would be my mother, for sure."

From spinning records to getting answers

Thomson's first job at CBC Yukon came in 1980, when she was barely out of her teens. She was hired to host a weekend music request show, spinning records by the likes of Leo Sayer and Queen.

She then moved to Toronto and spent the next decade earning a journalism degree and getting her start as a writer and editor. In the early 1990s, she returned to Yukon and a full-time career at CBC.

The next 27 years would see her working as a radio host, producer, and reporter. She's seen a lot of changes in the newsroom over the years, as technology evolved and radio became just one of several CBC platforms.

She says the fundamentals of her work are the same, though.

"We're here to represent the public interest. We're here to be the public's eyes and ears. We're here to ask the questions that the public wants asked, and we're here to get the answers that the public wants, you know, that the public deserves," she said.

"The CBC has never told me I couldn't do a story. And if you look at the vast bulk of my stories, they have been about Indigenous people and injustices."

'Stacks and stacks of documents'

Former CBC Yukon producer Arnold Hedstrom worked closely with Thomson for many years and recalls her tenacity, and her exhaustive research.

"Oh, stacks and stacks of of documents and papers," Hedstrom recalled.

"There were some difficult stories, but we always felt confident that we could put them out there because we had done our work with the legal department, we'd done our research — and you know when I say 'we,' I really mean Nancy." 

Thomson makes no apologies for ruffling feathers with her stories over the years.

"I've been called a muckraker, I've been called a 'yellow journalist,' all this stuff. Like, you know what? I don't lie. I've never lied, and I don't take things out of context. I do my job, is what I do," she said.

"And if that makes people in power uncomfortable, or if that brings uncomfortable truths to light, well, so be it. That's my job."

Looking back on her career at CBC, she said she's most grateful for the people who shared their stories with her. Sometimes they were difficult stories to tell, she said.

"I want to say thanks to the people who put their trust in me. Who had faith in me. I can't say what an honour that is, that faith and that trust," she said.

"That's bigger than a Pulitzer Prize."