Just Watch Me

by John English

  * Trudeau received many letters from young Canadians after his resignation. One of the most interesting came from future Power Corporation president André Desmarais. Then twenty-three, Desmarais wrote to Trudeau on December 2, 1979:

  Last week, when I heard of your decision to resign as head of the liberal party [sic], I was deeply saddened. Although it goes without saying that I fully respect your decision, I feel compelled to write to you.

  I wish to let you know to which [sic] extent as a young Canadian, I feel extremely privileged to have had several occasions to spend some time with you.

  Your years as prime minister of Canada will always be something I will look back to as a great source of pride. I believe all Canadians will in retrospect, realize that the foresight and wisdom with which you led our nation is what made Canada and Canadians what they are today.

  Your enormous contribution to all parts of our vast land, your complete devotion to the principles of liberty and justice as well as your determination and relentless efforts to preserve Canadian unity will never be forgotten.

  There are no words to express my thanks to you Mr. Trudeau, for all you have done for Canada.

  Desmarais, who wrote in both French and English to Trudeau, later married Jean Chrétien’s daughter, France. Trudeau gave them a journal as a wedding gift. Writing from Cap d’Antibes on his honeymoon, Desmarais thanked Trudeau for the gift and noted that there was “a striking resemblance between LaFayette and you.” Desmarais to Trudeau, Dec 2, 1979, and May 26, 1981, TP, MG 26 020, vol. 2, file 3-58, LAC.

  * The profound distrust between separatists and federalists after October 1970 was revealed in the testimony to the McDonald Commission and the Lévesque-appointed Keable Commission and in later publications. The principal source of both fear and resentment was the alleged creation of the supposed “Parizeau network” (réseau Parizeau), which PQ activist Jacques Parizeau had created in the fall of 1970 to spy on Ottawa. There were, it was alleged, three principal agents: Louise Beaudoin, director of the office of prominent civil servant Claude Morin and a future senior PQ minister; Loraine Lagacé, who served in the Quebec government’s office in Ottawa; and Jocelyne Ouellette, also a future PQ minister. The RCMP was extremely suspicious, particularly of Beaudoin’s close relationship to Jean Marchand, and of Ouellette, who was frequently seen with senior federal ministers. Morin himself was later revealed to have given the RCMP information—a revelation that profoundly affected the way Quebec separatists viewed the prominent PQ minister. Parizeau admitted to the National Assembly in 1977 that he had organized an information network “to see from where the next shot would come.” The suspicions and enmity no doubt were deeper because the spies and those spied upon had close personal relationships—in many cases of several decades. Marchand’s relationship with Beaudoin troubled those who knew about it, including Trudeau. RCMP allegations of separatist “prostitutes” were ludicrous, although Ottawa, with its abundant ambiguities during the seventies, did have a surprising affinity with spy novels like those of John Le Carré. Confidential interviews. On the network, see Pierre Godin, René Lévesque: L’Homme brisé (1980–1987) (Montréal: Boréal, 2005), 108–9 and 199ff., the chapter entitled “Entre fiction et réalité,” a reflection of the confused story of double loyalties. This was particularly relevant to the case of Loraine Lagacé, whose close relationship with Liberal MP Pierre de Bané caused her to be distrusted on both sides. On Morin, see ibid., chap. 18.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TRUDEAU REDUX

  The new government led by Prime Minister Joe Clark stumbled into the autumn, and, as Jeffrey Simpson argues in his book about its troubles, “the Government seemed determined to drive away the disaffected Liberals and New Democrats.” On the international front, the proposed move of the Canadian Embassy in Israel proved politically impossible, the expected accord with Alberta on energy pricing failed to materialize, and mediocre relations with Bill Davis, the Conservative premier of Ontario, worsened. Already, there was an urgent need for additional government revenues to make up for the dis appointing gains from energy production in the West, and to pay for the election promises of property tax relief and the deduction of mortgage interest payments from taxable income.

  To this end, Finance Minister John Crosbie, who had personally opposed the mortgage interest plan, now proposed an excise tax on gasoline. Though he initially met stiff resistance from Cabinet colleagues, they finally agreed after heated skirmishes on an eighteen-cent tax. They knew it would be politically controversial, but Trudeau’s resignation made Crosbie and others believe that the budget would face no serious opposition in the House. Journalists confidently predicted after Trudeau’s departure that the Conservatives were safe “at least into the spring of next year, because the last thing the leaderless Liberals want to force is an election.” Candidates for the Liberal succession were jostling for position: Donald Macdonald made it clear he was interested, and John Turner refused to reveal his intentions.1

  Trudeau met with Macdonald in Toronto during the Liberal convention—a favour that was correctly interpreted as a bestowal of his support. There were rumours of other candidates too: Quebec maverick Pierre de Bané openly declared his interest, and defeated British Columbia MP Iona Campagnolo had many supporters. When she wrote to Trudeau in late November, she expressed her sense that the Liberals were not ready for a female leader, that Turner and Macdonald had crowded out the field, and that the party would never see another leader like Trudeau. She revealed, incidentally, how uniquely jocular and warm their relationship was:

  My dear General (dispatches from a fascist raincoast),

  I sent you an official letter (for your files) on your decision to leave the leadership of our party.

  Now that I’ve had a week to think about it—this note is for you.

  First of all, you are definitely not dead! (I thought I was for a full two months after my defeat) but discovered finally a new role in life. With all the hypocritical eulogies, you, too, must have wondered at your mortality—Be assured the overwhelming number of words in your praise were utterly sincere.

  Typical was a sweet old woman who phoned me in tears last Wednesday night—she would not give me her name as she voted NDP provincially, but she said “Who will look after us old ones now that Trudeau’s gone? Clark’s gang only work for business.” You had a huge emotional effect on people and no matter what you do now you’ll always be P.M. to a huge number of Canadians….

  So now, to the rumour mill of the leadership race. Tonight I watched Laurier LaPierre for the “bleeding hearts” and Doug Collins for the “red necks” dissect my very modest publicity bubble for leadership (I’m not running but have not said so—Collins, fulminating at my loss of $13 m of the “taxpayers money;” Laurier, blessing me because I worked at learning French. Then “man in the street” comments from women saying they could never support a woman etc. (praise Islam & Pope J.-P.!)

  Anyway, I will fatten my trading stock and support Don MacD [sic] for better or worse and stick with the C.B.C.

  Campagnolo went on to explain why she felt a woman could not yet win the Liberal prize:

  Humiliating a woman candidate will be injurious to the party in the same way humiliating a Francophone will be (jean c?). Be assured you have been an outstanding feminist and it is the reactionary times and not your policies which have called forth the Chauvinist Liberal Caucus in such numbers, cynically, casting about for a good kid to make the party look equality-minded. (Swift polarization to Turner and Don has killed off any attempt at policy evolution). We could well end up with a single ballot convention and Turner not even running.

  She concluded with a wry reference to Crosbie’s mockery of Liberal elitists: “Well, as one of Crosbie’s middle-class ‘trendies’ to an upper-class one, my real candidate for leader is still you. This country is almost ungovernable and an aberration in today’s world—You did the job so well.”

  Another defeated minister, Barney Danson, s
ummed up the mood of late November among Liberal veterans: “I can only say that I was proud to serve under you and grateful to you for the fun, experiences and challenges we enjoyed together—even when I thought you did some dumb things, and especially when you tolerated my dumb things.”2

  With vivid memories, billowing hopes, and growing confusion, Liberals gathered in Ottawa on December 12, 1979, for their Christmas party in the West Block on Parliament Hill. Turner had announced on December 10 that he would not stand for the leader ship, and the following day Crosbie had delivered his budget, which included not only the gasoline tax but also several other new ones on the increasingly popular Canadian sins of smoking and drinking. As the smoke billowed and glasses clinked at the Christmas party, Trudeau entered the room at 9:15. He accepted a curious retirement gift (a chainsaw “to cut down the government”), greeted friends, and quickly left. Earlier that day he had told the Liberal caucus that they should vote against the regressive Conservative budget but added that he would not stay on if, as a result, the government fell. MPs and hangers-on mulled over the meaning of Trudeau’s words, speculated on possible reactions by the Conservatives, and, fuelled by the spirits of the season, vowed to attack the Tories in the morrow.3

  The Conservatives knew that the Liberals would vote against the budget—that they had decided to support NDP finance critic Bob Rae’s sub-amendment to the Liberal non-confidence motion. But the combined Liberal and NDP vote amounted to 140 votes, one shy of the total number of Conservatives and Social Credit. The latter group had generally voted with the Conservatives, although the government House leader had been cavalier in his treatment of Social Credit leader Fabien Roy—a careless attitude, given Roy’s tribute to the retiring Trudeau as “one of the most brilliant political minds Canada has ever known.” As evening fell on Ottawa, nearly all the political journalists expected that the government would survive—though barely. Throughout the day, however, Allan MacEachen and Jim Coutts quietly rallied Liberals, still fortified by the convivial spirits of their Christmas party and even more by the November Gallup poll and Martin Goldfarb’s private party polls. The Conservatives, in contrast, were insouciant, confident as they entered the chamber after dinner on December 13 that the Liberals—“disco Daddy and the Has-Beens,” as Crosbie wittily dubbed them—would not actually bring down the government. External Affairs Minister Flora MacDonald had not hustled back from Europe, another minister was in Australia, and no one had made any effort either to woo Social Credit members or to delay the vote. On the other side of the House, Liberal ranks were thin, and the government MPs began taunting and jousting with the Tories. Then, as voting began, the Liberal benches suddenly filled with members who the Tories believed were absent and others they thought near death.

  And so, at 10:20 p.m., to the shock of almost everyone, the Clark government fell: it was defeated on the vote, 139 to 133.* Canadians now faced a winter campaign, with the election set for February 18, 1980.

  The next morning, journalist Robert Sheppard reported: “If last night’s mood [among Liberal MPs] was any indication, the almost unanimous choice will be Pierre Trudeau” to lead the party into the election. Jim Coutts buzzed about the parliamentary corridors, feeding the lively conversations with hints that Trudeau would stay. The following day, Friday, the Liberals gathered in caucus, first in regional groupings and then in a national caucus at noon. Soon it became obvious that Liberals beyond Parliament Hill were not at all unanimous in their support of Trudeau as leader for the next election. In late night and early morning telephone calls, riding association presidents told MPs that there was considerable opposition to Trudeau and much support for another leader, particularly Donald Macdonald. The Ontario and western Liberal caucuses reflected this sentiment and favoured a quick leadership convention. The large Quebec caucus, however, stood behind Trudeau, as did the Maritimes.

  Trudeau, who shortly after the government fell had told some Liberal MPs he would return only if the “Emperor” asked him “three times on bended knees,” was less categorical when he opened the national caucus meeting, but his reluctance was evident as, in a low monotone, he read out a list of reasons why he should not return. He insisted on near unanimous support and already knew that many were opposed to him. However, as the caucus reassembled from the regional meetings, it became clear that the majority favoured Trudeau, though a significant minority opposed him. The Quebec caucus expressed its support for Trudeau but added, crucially, that it would support an alternative if English-Canadian Liberals clearly wanted one. This position derived from Marc Lalonde’s view that Trudeau should be pressured into accepting the leadership and should not seek it openly. The voice of the West was faint, but Ontario’s was powerful. Nevertheless, several leading Ontario Liberals, notably former ministers Judd Buchanan and Robert Andras, who had not supported bringing down the government, were known to oppose Trudeau’s return firmly.4

  The dominant presence in the corridors was Jim Coutts, but in the caucus it was Allan MacEachen, who had brilliantly engineered the defeat of the Conservatives. After he listened to doubts, contrary arguments, and confused positions, he rose to argue the case for Trudeau. Beginning slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned to Liberal principles and Tory dangers and cast the Tory budget as a fundamental assault on everything the party represented. Then his powerful voice, careful cadences, and Scottish eloquence overwhelmed the room as he moved on to the argument for Trudeau. One MP told Stephen Clarkson and Christina McCall that “for the first time in many years, Liberals seemed to know what they stood for, and the idealism Allan expressed was like a shot of helium gas that pumped us up for the campaign that followed.” For the Liberals present at that meeting, there was suddenly no other but Trudeau. When they finally ended the caucus early Friday evening, the press announced that caucus had unanimously agreed that Trudeau should return—or so it seemed. The truth was far more complex: Liberal phones rang endlessly throughout the weekend. Judd Buchanan, for instance, made many calls, urging that a leadership convention be called, and in Toronto the campaign team organized to support Don Macdonald fretted about what it should do. Meanwhile, the Liberal Party’s national executive gathered in Ottawa to approve the recommendation of the caucus.5

  Many of the executive members were angry. Neither Coutts nor MacEachen had consulted them about the plan to bring down the government. As so often, they resented the unelected influence of Jim Coutts and Keith Davey, but Allan MacEachen was more trusted because he had the advantage of his long and loyal service to Liberal leaders since Louis St. Laurent. He berated the executive, arguing that Liberals had had no choice but to oppose the reactionary Tory budget, that the polls showed the Liberals could regain power, and that a divisive convention would only help the hated Conservatives. His arguments carried the day. On Sunday, when Trudeau returned to Ottawa from Montreal, he phoned Macdonald—the man who had been his personal choice to succeed him. Macdonald told Trudeau he was ready to step forward. Trudeau replied that he had not yet decided whether he would refuse the call to stay, but he asked whether Macdonald would run as an MP if Trudeau remained as leader. “No,” Macdonald replied. Later that Sunday evening, Trudeau met with MacEachen, party president Al Graham, and representatives of the national executive. Over the weekend, Goldfarb had polled six critical ridings, and the results showed that the Liberals’ solid numbers increased still further with the assumption that Trudeau would be leader. But Trudeau also learned that he faced strong opposition in Ontario, and he knew that there were others who sought his position.

  On Monday Judd Buchanan reported that his conversations with leading Liberals in Ontario swing ridings indicated a preference for a convention and a new leader. He, along with Bob Andras and John Reid, urged Trudeau to resign. Surprisingly, Jean Marchand and Marc Lalonde also told him he would lose the election and advised him not to “come back.” However, Gérard Pelletier, whom Trudeau trusted most, strongly urged him to stay to fight the referendum battle, while Coutts and MacEa
chen warned that Turner might now return to politics and defeat Macdonald in a convention. All the while, Davey and MacEachen appealed to Trudeau’s sense of duty and his distrust of Turner.

  With tensions mounting, Coutts, MacEachen, and Davey met in the Château Laurier Grill at lunch on Monday and spied Trudeau dining nearby with Gordon Robertson. After lunch Trudeau joined the three and tried to clear up “his concerns.” Would it be fair to Macdonald if he stayed? What would he do with the new home in Montreal, where he planned to retire and raise his boys? Had he worn out his welcome? The last question was quickly answered with the new polls, but the other two lingered and bothered Trudeau. In the end, all agreed that there would be a press conference on Tuesday at 11 a.m. Coutts, MacEachen, and Davey were uncertain what Trudeau would decide, so Coutts agreed to draft two speeches for the occasion. That night Trudeau again called Macdonald, who reiterated his desire to run but refrained from advising Trudeau on the course he should take. Trudeau then phoned Coutts and told him he was going for a walk to think about his future. On that cold winter evening, he reviewed all his options before he returned to Stornoway and went to bed.