The Canadian Civil War: Volume 5 - Carbines and Calumets

by William Wresch

  Chapter 32 –

  A great day; an awful day

  I suspect a lot will be written about the next morning. I am not sure how much I have to add. I was there. I was impressed. It was a morning that you know will be special. I think everyone in the room felt it. How did we know it would be special? I don’t know. But somehow we knew.

  I will say that Jolliet had carefully stage-managed the convocation that morning. We could tell that right away. Where before people just wandered and talked, this was to be formal. He had them set up the room with a large circle of chairs. There were probably fifty in the inner circle, and two outer circles that were somewhat larger. Because the room was rectangular, the “circle” was actually an oval, but that’s just detail. The convocation was to start at nine. People started arriving at quarter of, and the chairs slowly filled. Elise and I got there early, and it was interesting to see where people chose to sit. I chose to stand; Elise sat in the second circle. Others joined her in that ring while plenty took the other rings. There was no seating chart, and no invitations that we were aware of. People sat where they thought they belonged. By and large, the elders took the inner circle, and younger people took positions somewhere back from there.

  If you have seen videos of the session, you probably didn’t notice how quiet it was before the convocation began. I noticed it, because I recalled how loud the room had been at the reception. These people were talkers, but this morning they sat quietly. They may have exchanged a few words with the people seated right around them, but many said nothing at all. It was a huge room, and by the time the room filled there were surely a thousand people there, but it was unusually quiet.

  All the seats were filled and much of the standing room taken when Jolliet arrived. He rolled through the main doors in his wheel chair. He sat for a moment, looking at the room, and then he stood. His hands shook on the arms of his wheel chair, and it seemed to take him forever to get upright, but he managed it. Then once standing, he smiled and waved to the crowd. That started a cheer that lasted as he slowly walked the ten or twelve paces to his seat in the circle. He had an attendant on each arm, but he stood straight and slowly shuffled his feet, and got to his seat largely on his own. The crowd stood and applauded each step.

  Once at his chair on the inner circle, he stood smiling – and catching his breath. Clearly it had been a huge effort for him to take those few steps, and it was equally clear the effort was appreciated. He waved a hand in greeting and then motioned for them to sit.

  “My friends.” He said, but he was breathless and the words were barely audible. He paused, inhaled deeply, and tried again. “My friends.” This could be heard across the room. His old campaigning voice had somehow been recovered.

  “Thank you for all your years of friendship. Thank you for joining me here today.” He paused while the crowd applauded again.

  “We are here to decide if our country can be saved.” He paused and let that sink in. “Yes, you heard me. We are here to decide if our country can be saved.” If the room was quiet before, silence was absolute now.

  “I invited you to this place for a reason. If we are to envision our country’s future, we would be well served to begin with its past. Arkansas has an important place in our past. You will recall it was Louis Jolliet and Jacques Marquette and five very brave men who ventured this far when they paddled the Mississippi for the first time and learned about lands already well known to the tribes. They got this far, and fearful of the Spanish, and fearful of the local tribe, they turned north.”

  “I think that reminds us that conflict and fear has been a part of our country for over three centuries. We were never a single people with a single culture. We were never a single people with a uniform vision for the future. We were never a single community. We have always been many communities, with many beliefs, and many dreams – and many fears. Yet for three centuries we always found that in addition to our differences, we had one similarity – our desire to also be Canadians. We gather here to determine if we can rekindle that desire. I do not expect our work here to be easy, nor do I expect our work to proceed quickly. If we are to rebuild that belief in our nation, it will need to occur one small step at a time. Let me suggest the first step.”

  And he waved a hand. From the far end of the room a man dressed in tribal attire – an Arkansas? – worked his way through the people standing around him and crossed into the open area of the circle. He had been holding a calumet – a peace pipe – in front of him. At the center of the circle he stopped and raised the pipe above his head so all could see it. It was nearly three feet long, was covered in carvings, and wrapped in bead work. Four eagle feathers hung down on leather thongs. He held the pipe up, turned so all could see it, and then crossed the rest of the way to Jolliet. He held it for Jolliet, who took the mouthpiece while the man lit the bowl. Quickly smoke came from the pipe.

  Jolliet took the pipe, held it aloft, and began speaking again. “We sit together having endured injury. Too many have died. Too many grieve their loss. But – and this is crucial - we also sit together knowing we have caused injury to others. We have not been the people we want to be. We have not been the people we know we can be. We sit here aware of our shortcomings.” He paused there and looked around the room before continuing.

  “We have much work to do. Before we talk about the people we want to be and the country we want to have, let us begin as gatherings have begun for centuries. Let us share the pipe of peace. Who will smoke with me?” His hands shook so badly I thought he might drop the calumet, but he managed to hold it before him. “Who will smoke with me?”

  “I will smoke with you.” Came the response. Twenty people must have said it in the first instant, and then dozens of others followed, then more. I can’t be certain that every person agreed, but it seemed like it. He had asked for, and gotten, the commitment of the room. He raised the pipe, as if holding it out to all, smoked, and then passed it to the man on his left.

  How long does it take for a thousand people to smoke a pipe and pass it on? A long time. People waited patiently as it was passed around the inner circle and then was passed to the next circle back. They got a bit restless after that. Jolliet stood to retake control of the room.

  “A commitment to peace is crucial. We will wait until all who wish to smoke have done so. But while the pipe passes, assistants will pass out a piece of paper to each of you. The paper has two sides. On one side I wish you to write what you require for peace in our land. On the other side, I wish you to write what you will do for peace.”

  He waved his hand again and a dozen young people began passing papers to each person. They must have been carefully trained, for they did not just hand someone a piece of paper, they stood directly in front of the person and handed the paper with two hands, as if the blank paper had great value. It was an interesting touch. I was impressed that the kids could take it all so seriously. When I was given my piece of paper, the young lady handed it to me like she was giving me a sheet of gold. The paper was good quality paper, carefully inscribed as Jolliet had noted. One side said “What I require for peace” and the other said “What I will do for peace.” Oddly, I found myself holding the paper with both hands. Where normally a piece of paper would long ago have been folded in thirds and put in a pocket, this one remained in my hands – both my hands.

  Jolliet sat back down. He had also been given a piece of paper, and he set it on his legs and looked at it. Clearly he was contemplating an answer to the questions. That was the behavior he wanted to model, and that was the behavior that followed. The room stayed silent as people looked at their paper, or accepted the peace pipe, or began writing their answers on the paper. It was a room at work.

  An hour passed. By now the pipe had made it all around the room, and most people had written their responses to the questions. Jolliet raised his hand again, and this time a man carried
in a large barrel and set it in the center of the circle. It had been carefully decorated with a map of Canada. Once it was in place, Jolliet asked the men seated on each side of him to help him to stand again. Then they walked with him to the barrel. He took his paper, held it high so all could see it, and placed it in the barrel. The men on each side of him did the same. Then the three of them turned and walked towards the main doors where Jolliet’s wheel chair waited. While they were walking away, the rest of the room deposited their papers, some raising them in a manner similar to Jolliet’s, others just dropping their sheets in the barrel. Jolliet was pushed out of the room by his attendants, and several people left with him.

  Those who stayed behind began talking, and once the silence was broken, the noise level ramped up pretty quickly. Those around me were mostly talking about what they wanted for peace, but a few volunteered what they would do for peace. I heard a number of things I hadn’t expected. Maybe the most telling was a man who said he just wanted his kids to be able to go to school and not get beat up for who they were. Many of the other requests were similar in that they did not involve huge undertakings. They did not need a new province, or a promise of jobs. They wanted safety, or respect, or a chance to go to church. I wondered how much they spoke for the millions who were not in the room.

  Gradually people began to scatter. I found Elise. She had heard the papers would be entered into a computer system, and posted for all to see – those who were attending and the public at large. It seemed like a good plan. I was curious to see if more of the ideas were as simple as the ones I had overheard. In the meantime, people talked – some in the ballroom, some in other rooms, in the hallway, or out front of the hotel. The locations varied, but the topic was the same – peace.

  Elise and I wandered and talked to various groups of people. Maybe the most interesting conversation was with a group of priests. Several of them represented churches that had been burned down. The talk was about rebuilding, but rebuilding to serve their congregations while also not challenging local Protestants. Elise reminded them that before the current conflict there had been a trend of more northern Catholics moving south, slowly moving toward a majority. As the Protestant majority became a minority, it could feel threatened. If peace were reestablished, the recent migratory patterns would likely be reestablished. The challenge for the church leadership was to be a majority that respected the culture of the minority. The priests seemed to grasp the problem. In fact one had been working with local architects on church designs that featured smaller, less visible exteriors while creating maximum useable interior space. We left them at that point. I guess we will see over the coming years if those architectural ideas are implemented.

  Eventually we moved down to the dining room and had lunch. The afternoon assembly was to begin at two, so we had time for a leisurely lunch, and then were able to take a walk through a nearby park. It was a beautiful day, and it felt good to feel the sunshine on our faces.

  As we walked back to the hotel, we saw the ambulance pull up to the front doors. They already had a gurney out and were taking Jolliet from his wheel chair to the gurney as we ran the last block. We ran fast, but the crew was faster, getting Jolliet into the ambulance and driving away before we could get there. We stood panting in front of the hotel, listening to the scream of the ambulance siren, hoping for the best and fearing the worst. Many others quickly gathered out front as well, all facing in the direction the ambulance had gone, as if seeing it imparted some information. There were some questions from people, but no one standing out there knew anything beyond the obvious – Jolliet had been taken away.

  After a few minutes Jolliet’s ancient attendant worked her way through the crowd and took Elise’ hand. She led Elise back into the hotel and into a small room filled with luggage. I followed along and closed the door behind us.

  At first, the two women just stood there hugging. Both were crying. Eventually they stood and wiped their eyes. Somehow the old woman looked even older. She took a long time wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, and then she talked to Elise.

  “He was killed in June. The concussions from the attack damaged him in too many ways. He survived the summer on prayer. Then he had the idea for this gathering. It cleared his mind and gave him energy, but he knew he could not last. He was desperate you attend. He told me a dozen times if he was unable to finish the gathering, you were to lead it. This morning he could barely breathe when he got back to his room. He told me again – you were to lead. I doubt he will survive the night, but do not let his death end this. Lead. Please lead. Grieve later. Lead now.” Elise hugged her, and they cried some more, and then Elise left the room and went up to the ballroom.

  Most of the room was empty, but a group of young people were gathered around some computers at one end of the room.

  “Hi. How are preparations going for this afternoon?” She asked the group. There was a pause while they looked at each other, and then one of them spoke up.

  “We heard President Jolliet was very sick and the sessions might be cancelled.” A young man sitting closest to the computers turned to answer.

  “President Jolliet is very sick. But he would be very upset if sessions were cancelled. This gathering might be the last event of his life. We should make it successful, don’t you think?” This got affirmative nods. “Now tell me what you were preparing for this afternoon.”

  “We have entered almost all the written statements into the system. We were told to run two projectors, one for each question. They were to scroll across the screens set up over there.” He pointed to two large screens descending from the ceiling.

  “And how were you to set up the room?”

  “We were to take out all the chairs, so the room looked like it did yesterday.”

  “Good. Let’s do that. We start at two. I will introduce the activity, and then you will start the comments scrolling. Please put them in a loop so they come around again once all are finished. I would like the activity to last all afternoon and into the reception. By the way, I am Elise DuPry, and I am Assistant Interior Minister. Please let me know who each of you are.” And she went around and shook hands with each of them, getting their names and a bit of their background. As they went about their work, finishing the data entry and removing all the chairs, she addressed them by name. She stayed with the young people until nearly two, and then she positioned herself at the doors. Lots of folks poked their heads in to see if the afternoon session was still going to occur. She assured everyone the session would go on “just as President Jolliet would wish,” and she shook hands with all of them and spoke briefly with people she knew.

  By two, the room was mostly full. Elise walked over to the wall with the large screens, and began.

  “While I know most of you, for those I have not yet met, I am Elise DuPry. I am Assistant Interior Minister, but today I am most proud to say I am President Jolliet’s goddaughter. To me he will always be Uncle Claude.” She paused to let people appreciate that. “I know you are all wondering about his health. It is not good. As you saw this morning, he is seriously ill. What we can all do now is pray for him. But there is a reason why a seriously ill man would call this gathering. He loved you all, and he loved his country. It was his hope that we might yet find a way to preserve our nation. He has asked for your help in this endeavor, and he hopes you will continue this work, even in his absence.”

  “This morning he asked you to identify what you would require for peace, and what you would do for peace. Jacques, Pierre, Marie, and many others have put your statements into a computer system so they could be shared. Uncle Claude wanted you to see those statements this afternoon, to see what your peers want for their country, and what they will do for their country. His plan was for you to look, to talk, to consider what will be required for our country to be saved. He asked that you spend the afternoon in this review. Will you join me in this ac
tivity?”

  Lots of people replied “yes.”

  “Then Jacques, please begin showing the statements. Friends, let’s look, let’s talk, let’s consider the ideas we see here.” The statements started scrolling up the screen, and Elise stepped away. She joined a group near the front and reviewed the statements with them. At first, not much was said, but soon a few people started commenting on the statements, and once a few people started talking, the flood gates opened and the noise level hit maximum. Some statements drew more comment than others, but all got some reaction.

  How long can people stand and talk? With this bunch it was hours. Some of the older people asked for chairs, but most stood and talked. There was some movement in the room as people first talked with one group of friends and then with another, but the focus was always on the statements. Each was read and considered.

  About five several portable bars were rolled into the room, and the wine started flowing. After all, these people were mostly French, and while they disagreed about many things, the importance of wine was not one of them.

  I have to admit my feet got tired after a couple hours, and my wound started throbbing, so I decided I better go up to my room before I started bleeding. What I found in our room was the luggage from my Ford. There was a bullet hole in one bag, but otherwise the bags were fine. On top of the bags was a large white envelope. In it was a lease agreement that had been approved by Catherine. I have never seen an agreement this long. A team of lawyers must have worked overnight to come up with all the mumbo jumbo that was in it, or they just used copy and paste from their messages to bad customers past. Basically it said they were giving me another car – a Ford no less – but they would not approve any insurance on the car. Any damage to this car would be paid for by our company. It appeared they had even charged Catherine a $10,000 deposit. At the bottom of the envelope was a key – I had a car again! Catherine was definitely moving up my Christmas gift list.

  While I was tempted to go find my car and take it for a test drive, I decided to put my feet up for a while. I must be getting old, because I dropped right off to sleep. Three hours later I was awakened by hunger and went looking for Elise. She was still in the ballroom, as were most of the other people. Wow these folks have endurance. Food tables had been moved in to one end of the room, and some folks were making sandwiches and grabbing appetizers, but most were still talking. Meanwhile, the statements kept scrolling up the two screens, and people watched while they ate and talked.

  As I got closer to Elise I saw the ancient attendant was with her. That would not be good news, and it wasn’t. Elise excused herself from the people she had been talking with, and accompanied by the old attendant walked toward the door. I met her halfway and joined her as she left the room. There was no need to say anything. I knew where we were going, and why.

  Outside the hotel the three of us got in the first cab at the curb and rode to the hospital. Elise took my hand, but none of us said anything. At the hospital we were admitted to his room. There were no final words. A few family members were at the bed side. They said he had taken his last breath about fifteen minutes earlier. Elise took his hand, kissed his forehead, and told him how much she loved him. Then we stood as the others did. We conversed a bit in whispers, then a nurse came in and asked if we were ready for her to take him. Everyone touched his hands one last time and we filed out of the room.

  As an ex-president, his funeral would be a matter of state. No doubt officials were already on their way to manage moving his body to Green Bay, and arranging the funeral. Other presidents and ex-presidents would be notified and begin their travel arrangements. Much would be set in motion. Our little moment was over.

  Elise spent a few more minutes with Jolliet’s family, and then she went back to the hotel. Hundreds were still in the ballroom. She made no large announcement. Instead, she walked from group to group and simply said, “We will have a memorial service at nine and begin our morning convocation at ten.”