Albert Abraham Saltiel
Sept. 18, 1947–April 2, 2026
Albert Saltiel
Peacefully, on Thursday, April 2, 2026, after a courageous battle with cancer. Up to the very end, he was accompanied by his loving friends and family. Loving husband of Nicole for almost fifty years. Devoted father of Gabriela (Ryan). Son of the late Jacques and the late Frida. Dear brother and brother-in-law of Nick, Henry, Dan and Aurelia, Caroline, Michael and Emanuelle. Cherished uncle of Karla, Leah, Jacob, Ben, Noa, Cloe, Nakaï, Frida, and Melanie, great uncle of Lucas, Zev, Kasey, and great great uncle of Jack, Kymani. Beloved son-in-law of Marguerite and the late Marc. A special thanks to the palliative care team at Aux Trois Sentiers.
Funeral service from Paperman & Sons, 3888 Jean Talon St. W., on Tuesday, April 7th at 11:00 am. Burial at the Knights of Pythias Section, Mount Pleasant Cemetery, Duvernay. Shiva strictly private. Donations in Albert's memory can be sent to Aux Trois Sentiers at 514-903-0464 or click here or by cheque addressed to Aux trois Sentiers, 251 avenue des Pins Ouest, Montréal, QC, H2W 1R6.
From https://www.paperman.com/funerals/Albert-Saltiel-C8E71EEE
Albert passed away on April 2, 2026 after a several years long battle with cancer.
Albert was born in Thessaloniki, Greece, where his parents had escaped the Nazi occupation and then returned after the end of World War II. Albert's family moved to Montreal in 1958, where Albert attended Algonquin and then MRHS.
For many years, Albert owned a sporting goods store, first in Alexis Nihon Plaza at Atwater and St. Catherine, and later in the West Island.
Tom Vikander recalls that during our first year at MRHS, 1960–1961, Albert sold Bic ballpoint pens to classmates at MRHS. Bic pens were not yet available in Canada. Albert had imported his supply from France, Tom recalls that the ink from Bic pens did not smear as did the ink from the low cost ballpoints being sold in Montreal at the time.
Here is an obituary for Albert written by his close friend, Percy Zelnick:
My Friend Albert
When I look back and think about what guided me to the life I enjoy in Solana Beach, outside of my immediate family, my mind goes straight to Albert. In terms of real face-to-face time, he has no rival. I met Albert early in high school, and from that point until I left Montreal in 1979, he was woven into the daily fabric of my life. School or no school, I saw him all the time. His parents, Jacques and Frieda, were also part of that world. We were always within earshot—sharing endless meals, watching TV comedies together, following sporting events, sorting through major life events, and simply being part of each other’s days.
I met my wife, Marilyn, in 1969. From the beginning, Albert, Marilyn, and I were closely connected. We were one. Marilyn, who is shy, always felt deeply accepted. Though life carried Albert and me in different directions after I left Montreal, he remained one of the fixed presences in my life.
I spoke with Albert on the afternoon of his passing. His voice was as strong as ever. And in those final hours, even as he faced his own leaving, he was trying to comfort me for not being able to be by his side.
That was Albert. Oh my, his leaving hurts. Where do you find a friend like Albert?
I want to leave you with a moment from the spring of 1964. For four years, every school morning, Albert rang our doorbell. From there, we walked to MRHS, picking up friends along the way.
At the end of the school day, the posse gathered again and headed home. One by one, people peeled off—David Schouella and his friends, then Marc Shell, then Steve Fisher and a few others, and finally Eddy Bass. And once Eddy crossed Graham Boulevard, something changed. The walk slowed down. Albert and I stretched the time together. Sometimes we stopped at a restaurant. Other times, we went back to his home.
Albert transformed and became all of it- at once: author, poet, historian, philosopher, Greek mythologist, moralist, sportscaster, and journalist. Albert was Google before computers. He read the classics every night and then brought them to life for me. Because of Albert, I got to know those works and think about the big questions. And no book ever matched the color of Zorba the Greek. Even the movie couldn’t touch the way Albert told it.
I was tempted to say, “See you later, buddy,” but the truth is, Albert is still with me—just as he was in 1960 and just as he was last Thursday.
So, here’s to you, buddy. Warm hugs to you.
And to your mom, Frieda and dad, Jacques, and to Nicole, Gabriela, Henry, and Nick.