Renegade in Power: The Diefenbaker Years 9780773595378

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RENEGADE IN POWER:

THE DIEFENBAKER YEARS PETER C. NEWMAN W IT H AN IN T R O D U C TIO N BY

D E N IS SM IT H

The Carleton Library No. 70 McClelland and Stewart Limited

THE

CARLETON

LIBRARY

A series of Canadian reprints and new collections of source material relating to Canada, issued under the editorial supervision of the Institute of Canadian Studies of Carleton University. Ottawa. DIRECTOR OF TH E IN ST IT U T E

N. H. Lithwick GENERAL EDITOR

Michael Gnarowski EX EC U TIV E EDITOR

James Marsh EDITORIAL BOARD

Duncan M. Anderson /i-cent decision had seemed like a handy compromise. His offhand comment was interpreted by international financiers, who didn’t know Alvin, as a sign that the government might not continue to support the 92!/ i-c en t price, and was responsible for wiping out a hundred million dollars’ worth of the nation’s foreign exchange reserves during the next five days. Further panic selling of the Canadian currency was averted only when Finance Minister Donald Fleming sharply and publicly repudiated his cabinet col­ league. In a formal statement issued on June 10, Fleming declared: “A fter consultation with the Prime Minister, I wish to make it clear beyond question that the rate of 92'A cents in United States funds is definite and final. We chose this rate after careful consideration of our balance of payments outlook.” Hamilton came out of the 1962 campaign with forty-two of the Prairie provinces’ forty-eight seats — a drop of only five from the 1958 sweep. Two days after the election, while the final details for the nation’s austerity program were being approved by cabinet, Hamilton went on a national television program (the c u c ’s “News­ magazine,” June 20) and announced: “This country has never been in better shape, and with every indicator rising, there is no crisis that anyone can point a finger at. In fact, just the opposite is the case.” Four days later, the Diefenbaker government clamped on the most rigid peacetime austerity program in Canada’s history. 144

It was this kind of simple-minded optimism that dismayed Hamilton’s supporters and encouraged his enemies. It had no effect at all on the Prairie voters. In the 1963 campaign, when the Con­ servatives were losing ground everywhere else, Alvin enjoyed an even more triumphant reception than he had been given in 1962. In Estevan, Saskatchewan, the chairman of a Tory rally introduced him by gloating, “We should all thank God and Mr Diefenbaker for having the foresight to appoint Alvin as Agriculture Minister.” At the conclusion of most of his meetings, at least one farmer would come up to Hamilton to ask if he might remain in charge of Agri­ culture in a Liberal administration formed by Pearson. "N ot a chance,” was Hamilton’s standard reply. “If you want me, you’ve got to vote Conservative.” On April 8, 1963, Hamilton delivered forty-one Prairie seats, making a respectable showing out of what might have been a Conservative rout. Nearly every rural constituency in Ontario and Quebec that he had visited during the campaign stayed Tory, and he finally achieved his ambition of unseating Hazen Argue, the former n d p House Leader who had become the Liberals’ farm critic, in the Saskatchewan riding of Assiniboia. Since it had been largely Hamilton’s efforts that had held the farm vote for Diefenbaker, the Conservative chieftain might have been expected to be grateful to Alvin for his efforts. But this was hardly the case. The relationship between the two men had always been somewhat difficult. Diefenbaker had known Hamilton since 1929, when Alvin was an overly idealistic and naive youngster, and the Conservative leader still thought of him in those terms. During the Diefenbaker Years, Hamilton disagreed with the Prime Minister’s emphasis on short-term political objectives, advo­ cating instead a series of long-term measures. Ideas which Alvin could never successfully sell the Prime Minister were often accepted when they came from other sources. Diefenbaker often humiliated Hamilton in private, and at least once in public. On November 9,1962, Hamilton made some startling proposals to the annual meeting of the Saskatchewan Wheat Pool in Regina. Instead of telling the farmers that he would do even more for them, he asked them to consider the idea of setting aside a portion of their final wheat payment to build up a fund for sharing any losses that might occur in credit sales abroad. H e also proposed that western wheat pools set up their own aggressive marketing 145

organization. Questioned in the Commons about these suggestions, Diefenbaker immediately repudiated the minister by announcing that his views “in no way represented government policy.” When Hamilton returned to Ottawa, he was reprimanded by the Prime Minister. Writing about his reception in the Montreal Star, W. A. Wilson noted that Hamilton had told an associate: “If I took my shirt off and showed you my back from here (pointing to his hips) to here (pointing to his shoulders) you’d see nothing but whip marks.” Despite this and other rebuffs, Hamilton remained completely faithful to the Prince Albert politician. In February of 1963 when some members of the Tory cabinet attempted their coup d'etat against Diefenbaker’s leadership, it was Hamilton who rallied the backbenchers and successfully beat down the insurrection. In one of his final appearances as Minister of Agriculture during the 1963 election campaign, Hamilton told his audience: “I just want to leave one thing with you. You have had a government in Canada this last six years that has a simple philosophy, an old philosophy. T hat’s to build Canada. N ot by worshipping statistics, but by watching for areas and people that need help - that’s the One Canada, One Nation basis. O ur task for the next two or three hundred years is going to be moving from the south into the north, so that future generations will know that we have not forgotten the principles upon which this nation was founded and which generation and generation have had to stand together to protect.” It was -an appropriate expression of Alvin Hamilton’s own flowering in federal politics - a unique phenomenon of the Diefenbaker Years.

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C hapter 11

GEORGE HEES: Y.C.D.B.S.O.Y.A. T o t h o s e w h o o b s e r v e d t h e Ot t a w a s c e n e c l o s e l y in the years between 1957 and 1963, the most improbable figure in John Diefenbaker’s improbable cabinet was George Hees, the member for Toronto-Broadview who served first as Minister of Transport and then took on Trade and Commerce, the portfolio that had so long been the personal domain of Clarence Decatur Howe. “Gorgeous George,” as his detractors called him, brought gusto to the business of government, a delight in power and in self that few men can sustain past the age of twenty. A huge man, healthy, rich, and handsome, he was a master of the Big Hello. He loved partying, swimming, football, and sometimes gave the physically frail the uneasy feeling that he might, at any moment, get down on the rug and wrestle in a burst of boyish goodwill. From the time that Hees went into politics he was plagued by charges that he was a mental lightweight, a perpetual playboy, an amiable goon. But, to the utter astonishment of the people who thought they knew him well (and this meant everybody who’d ever shared an elevator with George, so transparent seemed his talents), Hees turned out to be the most successful of the Conservative cabinet ministers. It was a success based not on good luck but on hard work and on an untamable zest in everything he did - which ironically, in the end, brought about his dramatic downfall. P art of John Diefenbaker’s appeal in the 1957 and 1958 election campaigns had been the feeling he gave that his party would handle the people’s business with a dedication and excitement that hadn’t been seen in the land during the Liberals’ fat, smug years of corporate efficiency. But once the Tories were firmly ensconced in office, the problems of power wore down the enthusiasm of nearly all the major figures in the Diefenbaker cabinet. Hees remained a refreshing exception, not because of any out­ standing personal brilliance, but simply because he cultivated with flashy single-mindedness the limited talents he did possess. He applied to politics the same animal will power that characterized his approach to everything. He had compensated for his failure at high-school football with a grim private training schedule that eventually made him a star 147

linebacker of the Toronto Argonaut team which won the 1938 Grey Cup - Canadian football’s most coveted award. After he had been flattened in a 1933 am ateur boxing bout at Toronto’s Maple Leaf Gardens, he resolutely slugged his way to the heavyweight championship of the British armed services. When World W ar II broke out, he trained himself just as hard to be a good officer, and eventually earned battle honours as an infantry brigade major. He then proceeded to prepare for public life with the same dogged determination he had shown in sports and the army, and became a key influence in the Conservatives’ return to power. Although he turned fifty while in office, Hees continued to look more like an athlete in his prime than a middle-aged politician. His face, flushed with good health and bursting out of a perennially too-tight collar, was nearly always adorned with a “Let’s go team!” kind of grin. His big frame (210-pound, six-foot-three) seemed to be planted on the ground with a permanent backward lean, as if he were holding the world on a leash. George Hees was a hard-breathing refutation of the theory that Canadian politicians have to be stuffy and pompous to be successful. H e loved to lead singsongs at parties, to play catcher at the m .p .’s annual baseball game, and to trade quips with backbenchers in the parliamentary corridors. His political duties seldom limited his fun. M ounted on a bronco and waving a cowboy hat, he led the parade that opened the fiftieth anniversary of the Wainwright, Alberta, Stampede. When he was supposed to turn the sod for Edmonton’s new international airport in 1958, instead of meekly digging up a ceremonial shovelful of dirt, he mounted a bulldozer and efficiently ploughed up the first twenty feet of excavation. H e seemed to be a man without any of the restraints of intro­ spection. To work hard, he also had to play hard, even when his hi-jinks were unbecoming to the dignity of a cabinet minister’s position. At the Ottawa Philharmonic’s 1958 Spring Time Party he rode a dapple grey farmhorse called Dan into the City’s Coliseum. H e was dressed as Prince Charming and his assignment was to rescue Snow White, portrayed by the television star, Joyce Davidson. Hees’s costume included a gold tunic which might have been taken for that of a storybook prince, but his pants were definitely those of a twentieth-century r c m p constable. At dress rehearsal, his outsize haunches astride the outsize farmhorse had split the rented costume’s white-satin pants from knee to knee. Hees frantically telephoned 148

itawa H unt Club members for a replacement, but the only pair of white riding-breeches that would fit him were owned by a Liberal whose wife wouldn’t lend them to a Conservative cabinet minister. The r c m p had to supply the emergency replacement.

H e e s c o u l d g e t a w a y with participating in such pranks, because he possessed that natural ebullience that comes from being born into a very rich family. His grandfather had established a prosperous Toronto window-shade and house-furnishings manufacturing firm in 1880. George received his early education at Trinity College School in Port Hope, Ontario; then attended Royal Military College in Kingston where, despite the indiscretion of running a car onto the commandant’s front lawn on the night of the June ball in his second year, he graduated in 1931. He spent the next two years studying political science at the University of Toronto, and another year at Cambridge, without qualifying for any degrees. After he returned to Canada in 1934, Hees married Mabel Dunlop, the daughter of Ontario’s provincial treasurer, joined his father’s Toronto manufacturing firm, and signed up as a defensive linebacker with the Toronto Argonauts. H e maintained the connection he had established with the army at Royal Military College by becoming a member of the Toronto militia, and at the outbreak of World War II was called up as a lieutenant in the Third Anti-Tank Battalion. A fter serving with distinction in the Normandy landings, he was promoted to brigade major of the Fifth Canadian Infantry Brigade. His last action was a combination of the brashness and wild luck that characterized his life. It happened during the Canadian advance along the Walcheren Island Causeway, off Antwerp. Hees was leading an infantry charge with his revolver tucked inside his battledress tunic. Then he felt something go through his elbow and passed out. When doctors removed his pistol they found it had been cocked by the impact of a German sniper’s bullet. The revolver had served as a shield, and the shot that might have entered his stomach had been deflected to cause only a minor elbow wound. While Hees was home on convalescent leave, George Drew, then leader of the Ontario Conservatives, asked him to make a speech in the by-election being bitterly fought in the Ontario constituency

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of Grey North. The Liberal candidate was General A. G. L. McNaughton, the former commander of the First Canadian Army, who had been appointed by Mackenzie King as his Minister of National Defence. The by-election was the first expression of public opinion regarding King’s policy of limiting overseas reinforcements to volunteers, a measure designed to keep anti-conscriptionist Quebec within the Liberal Party. McNaughton dismissed attacks on King’s policy as nothing more than petty electioneering. Hees was one of several army officers imported by the Conserva­ tives to give eye-witness accounts of overseas troop shortages. He strode into the last election meeting at the Owen Sound town hall in uniform, his wounded arm strapped grotesquely under an army waiking-coat. His empty right sleeve undulating with the passion of his plea, he described how in his job as brigade major he had been forced by the manpower shortage to order into combat cooks and postal-corps men untrained for fighting. McNaughton, who was badly beaten in the election two days later, demanded that Hees be court-martialled for political activity while in uniform. But King interceded, pointing out that it would only make Hees a popular martyr. In the general election that followed a few months later, King allowed the armed services to grant special leave for officers and men who wanted to campaign. Hees took his discharge and ran as a Conservative in Toronto’s Spadina riding against Liberal David CroII, a former Ontario provincial cabinet minister, who easily beat him. When Tommy Church, a Tory who had held the TorontoBroadview riding for fifteen years, died in 1950, Hees managed to beat Ralph Day, a former mayor of Toronto, for the nomination, and in September of that year he won the seat in a by-election. Soon afterward, the Hees family business was sold to a Bay Street syndicate for three million dollars. Hees hired an investment counsellor to look after his stocks, and took on politics as a full-time occupation. In Ottawa, he quickly gained the reputation of a parliamentary lightweight; Liberal backbenchers goaded him with the chant “Good suit —no brains,” whenever he rose to speak. He was labelled “the malarkey man in the House” by Jimmy Sinclair, the Liberal Minister of Fisheries, who called him “very charming, but better endowed physically than mentally.” Even when Hees’s attacks on government policies were well documented —such 150

as his speeches on national defence and housing - Libera! cabinet ministers brushed them off as “nothing but Heesteria.” The Conservatives seemed to agree with the Liberals’ assessment of the member from Toronto-Broadview. Despite the shortage of parliamentary critics, Hccs was never assigned any higher duty than deputy leader of the public works caucus. It was little wonder that his colleagues were shocked when Hees announced in 1954 that he planned to campaign for the presidency of the Progressive Conservative Association. This was a job that elder statesmen of the Party normally had to be persuaded to fill - an unpaid position that involved little more than interminable meetings and the assumption of blame for lost elections. Parliamentary frontbenchers campaigned against Hees and put up Gordon Churchill as their challenger, but Hees, who had gained the support of the Party’s growing Young Turk element, forced the issue to a vote and won easily. Hees’s presidency of the Progressive Conservative Association turned out to be a decisive influence in preparing the Party reaction­ aries to feel more amenable toward - if never to entirely accept - the rhetorical radicalism of John Diefenbaker. He turned the job into a personal crusade to sell his formula for a Conservative election victory. A booklet he wrote on political strategy advocated that Progressive Conservative candidates be promoted “in the same manner that corporations sell a particular brand of soap,” and urged candidates to plan their campaigns according to what the residents of their ridings liked to do. “I don’t care if they like acro­ batics or eating cream cheese,” he advised. “If they like it; give it to them. It’s about time we realized that people would rather be entertained than educated.” Hces’s most important activity was to journey into nearly every one of the nation’s constituencies, carrying his lecture course in political charm to anyone who would listen. His arrival in some out-of-the-way ridings gave local Conservatives the first indication in two dccades that their Party was still functioning nationally. In Prince Rupert, British Columbia, for example, a grizzled old man who claimed to be the town’s only surviving Tory told Hees that no Conservative official had come near Prince Rupert since R. B. Bennett’s time. One of Hees’s journeys into Saskatchewan won him the dubious distinction of having addressed the smallest public meeting in Cana­ dian history. On a trip through Saskatchewan with Alvin Hamilton, 151

then the Progressive Conservative leader for that province, Hees gave advance copies of his speeches to the Saskatoon Star-Phoenix, marked with dates of delivery. When Hees and Hamilton arrived at Star City, 120 miles northeast of Saskatoon, they were told by Jim Hill, the local organizer, that no hall had been hired because no other Conservative could be found in the district. Hees insisted that he had to make the speech, because the Saskatoon paper might run its report. Hill rounded up his brother George, and the two men sat in the back of Hamilton's car while Hees loudly intoned his address to them. This kind of determination was reflected even more flippantly in some of Hecs’s bets. H e once promised to eat his shirt if Elizabeth Janzen, the Progressive Conservative candidate for W aterloo North, was not elected. When she lost, he mounted the steps of Kitchener city hall and told the crowd of two thousand that had gathered for the occasion: “You’ve heard of nyton, Orion and D acron - you know, those materials you can do anything with except eat. Well, this shirt is made of Heeston, which eliminates that exception!” It turned out to be a shirt-shaped cake with red candy buttons, which Hees distributed among the delighted kids at the edge of the crowd after taking an enormous bite out of the cake’s “collar.” To more conservative Conservatives such tactics were tasteless heresy. Hees made so many speeches on so many subjects that old-line Tories complained he was hewing away from Progressive Conservative policies. Less charitable critics maintained that he didn’t even know what the Conservative line was. When he was asked by a friend about his political credo as president of the Progressive Conservative Association, Hees replied: “Whenever I see a hand sticking out of a sleeve, I shake it.” Hccs’s success in stirring up the dormant Tory organization and his growing popularity with young members of the Conservative Party eventually convinced him that he should try for the leadership. His first legitimate opportunity came when George Drew retired in the fall of 1956. Hees immediately set off across the country to assess his chances. In Ottawa meanwhile, Gordon Churchill led the Tory caucus in declaring itself for Diefenbaker. Hees had tried unsuccessfully to obtain a commitment from Churchill that, in return for his support, he’d be named deputy prime minister in any Diefenbaker administration. Journeying across the West to enlist constituency delegates, Hees came up against a solid phalanx of 152

Diefenbaker supporters. When he got to Trail, he telephoned the Ottawa office of the Canadian Press to declare that he too was a 100-per-cent Diefenbaker supporter. Having made this decision, Hees flung himself completely behind the Prince Albert politician and, when he won the leadership, Diefenbaker publicly acknowledged that Hees and Churchill had been mainly responsible for his victory. During the election that followed, Hees helped to bail the Party out of a serious financial problem. In the final week of the campaign the agents for some Ontario candidates were due to call on E. A. Goodman, a prominent Toronto lawyer, to receive a final and vital thousand dollars each from the Party treasury. But the money was not available. Diefenbaker, campaigning in F ort William at the time, instructed Goodman to get in touch with Hees. The amiable George immediately took a cab to his bank, signed a note for $69,000, and arrived at Goodman’s office, clutching a paper bag brimming with the cash. Diefenbaker deeply appreciated this tangible expression of loyalty and, when he was drawing up his first cabinet, readily granted Hees’s wish to be named Minister of Trade and Commerce. But as soon as the Toronto investment community heard rumours of the Hees posting, strong objections were made to Diefenbaker, and in the final cabinet roster Gordon Churchill got the Trade job, while Hees was given Transport. Because Hees moved into Transport just as the previous ad­ ministration’s $150 million airport expansion program and the final stages of St Lawrence Seaway construction were being completed, he was able to give the impression of tremendous achievements and activity. A t the same time, he studied the anatomy of his sprawling department with the care of a medical student learning the bodily functions, so that he really did provide able administration to a complex enterprise staffed by fifteen thousand civil servants. He dictated up to a hundred letters a day and refused to read bulky briefs, passing them back to one of his thirteen assistants with the notation: “Shake it down.” His telephone calls began with a hearty: “How-you-doin’, it's George Hees! and ended with a cheerful “Right-ec-O Boy!” H e seldom missed his daily swim in the Chateau Laurier pool (twenty lengths without a pause) and usually managed to arrange his daily routine so that he walked four miles. In the parliamentary session that followed Diefenbaker’s 1957 153

victory, the Liberals were certain they coaid capitalize on Hees’s reputation as a trifler to demonstrate to the nation the weakness of the neophyte Conservative cabinet. “He’s a birdbrain and we’ll prove it,” chortled one Liberal frontbencher. Lionel Chevrier, who had been Transport Minister in the former government, was picked to swing the hatchet. Chevrier waited until he spotted what he considered to be an obvious Hees blunder. A foreman had been dismissed from his job with the St Lawrence Seaway Authority, on Hees’s orders, when a Tory m . p ., A. Clair Casselman, complained that the man had worked against him during the election campaign. Chevrier angrily protested the dismissal. Hees sheepishly replied that he thought such firings were in line with parliamentary practices. “I can find nothing in the rules which permits it,” Chevrier shot back indignantly. Hees, grinning broadly, next day produced a letter written in 1936 by C. D. Howe approving the firing of a federal dockworker in British Columbia for Tory politicking. The Con­ servatives pounded their desks with delight, and even Paul Martin, the former Liberal Minister of National Health and Welfare, put his head in his hands to hide his guffaws. It quickly became obvious that Hees was the best-prepared minister on the Tory front benches. While his colleagues took most embarrassing questions as “notice,” Hees not only had his replies ready, but seemed actually to be expecting nearly every Opposition query. "I just happen to have brought my music with me,” he would boast before batting down some potentially explosive enquiry. The man who wrote Hees’s “music” was Mel Jack, whose official job designation was executive assistant to the Minister of Transport, but who in fact was one of the most important backstage Ottawa influences during the Diefenbaker Years. A man of seemingly end­ less inventiveness and sure political know-how, he gave his energy to each day as if it were his final one on earth. Jack was without doubt the best alter ego any Canadian politician ever had. He came to work before eight every day that Parliament was in session to scan newspapers - they arrived by special-delivery mail from a dozen key cities across the country - for items that might provide the Opposition with barbed questions. Jack would extract answers from department officials, then rehearse Hees until the minister was thoroughly familiar with each situation. Jack tended to treat Trans­ port, and later Trade and Commerce, as a fight promoter’s training camp for “his boy, George,” but in the process he got things done. 154

Much of Hees’s success as a minister was based on his willingness to make use of Jack’s sound political judgement and spectacular administrative ability. Jack had thirty-two years’ service as aide to Conservative politicians, including Hees’s father-in-law, E. A. Dunlop, an Ontario government treasurer; Earl Rowe, a Leader of the Opposition in the Ontario legislature; and Conservative federal chieftains R. J. Manion, Gordon Graydon, John Brackcn, and George Drew. When the Conservatives came to power, Jack was offered many jobs, including the chairmanship of the Civil Service Commission and the Clerkship of the Privy Council, but he chose to remain with Hees. The Hees-Jack combination proved so effective in Transport, and Gordon Churchill turned out to be so unerringly inept in Trade and Commerce, that by the fall of 1960 the same businessmen who had previously made fun of Hees begged Diefenbaker to have him replace Churchill.* Hees was transferred to Trade and Commerce on October 11, 1960. His main mission was to find a way of curing the nation’s chronic trade deficit. T o balance at least the merchandise account the new minister somehow had to stimulate a significant expansion of the nation’s secondary manufacturing industry - a sector of the economy that had enjoyed only two brief peacetime periods of prosperity. Manufacturing in Canada grew quickly during the 1900­ 1910 opening up of the western wheat economy when the rapid expansion of the railways gave impetus to capital-goods investment, and experienced a short, sharp boom during the late 1920’s. But in the postwar years, manufacturing had been declining in relative importance. To place the federal government actively on the side of promot­ ing the country’s manufacturing interests called for a complete reorientation in Ottawa’s postwar emphasis on the development of the natural-resources sector. Just as the notched profile of C. D. Howe had been the symbol of the rugged individualism required to ♦Probably Churchill’s most important contribution during his tenure in the portfolio was to bring into the government service Brigadier James Roberts, a former Bay Street investment counseilor who had been Churchill’s commanding officer in the 12th Manitoba Dragoons during World War II. Roberts eventually became the Department’s Deputy Minister and proved himself to be one of the ablest administrators ever attracted to Ottawa. 155

open up Canada’s hinterland, so the sprinting silhouette of George Hees would have to be recognized as the driving spirit in the bare­ fisted process of persuading reluctant Canadian businessmen to get out and sell their products in strange and difficult markets. “I’m willing to do anything that will increase Canadian exports. I’d stand on my head in Piccadilly Circus, if I thought it'd do any good," said the new Trade and Commerce Minister a few hours after taking on his new assignment. Just three days later, Hees called in his departmental officials and asked them how long it would take to gather the 111 Canadian trade commissioners stationed overseas for an Export Trade P ro­ motion Conference with the nation’s export-conscious businessmen. This scheme had been suggested under Churchill’s stewardship. When Hees was told it might be done within six months, he snapped back that it would have to be done in six weeks. “You and 1,” he told the assembled commissioners six weeks later, “came here to embark on the greatest selling effort this country has ever seen. I’ll be watching with interest, in the months ahead, the sales increases that take place in your areas. They’ll have a direct bearing on your advancement." If civil servants weren’t used to being talked to in this way, neither were callers on Ottawa ministers accustomed to being greeted by a man prominently sporting a tie clip, bearing the letters “Y.C.D.B.S.O.Y.A.” Hees would fidget with the gadget until visitors asked what it meant, then he’d burst out with “You Can’t Do Business Sitting On Your Ass!” and tell the astounded caller that he’d better get going and hustle up more export orders. As the fourteen hundred businessmen who registered for Hees’s first Export Trade Promotion Conference entered the wartime temporary building on Ottawa’s Wellington Street that had been specially reconditioned for the occasion, they were escorted by pretty girls to cubicles manned by the visiting trade commissioners. Every twenty-seven minutes, their interviews were interrupted by a girl’s voice on a loudspeaker system, gently announcing: “Gentle­ men, your interview is coming to a close.” Three minutes after that, the businessmen had to move into a different cubicle for another interview with a trade commissioner representing yet another poten­ tial sales area. Eventually, some eleven thousand interviews were recorded, and Hees was moved to sum up the results of the Confer­ ence in Churchillian tones. “Never," he declared, "were so many 156

potential business deals discussed by so many, in so short a time." The Conference resulted directly in the setting up of more than a thousand new sales agencies abroad and a considerably increased export volume. The Minister followed up the Ottawa conference with a road show that played every province, featuring eighteen of the Department’s top officials talking up the export message. He also toured several Canadian communities accompanied by a retinue of trade attaches from Ottawa embassies. When Treasury Board bounced one of his trade promotion gimmicks (bringing buyers from New York and Boston to Montreal and Toronto on a governmentchartered aircraft) Hees threatened to pay for the plane out of his own pocket. Treasury relented. For the spring of 1963, he organized Operation World Markets - a repeat of the first Trade Promotion Conference, expanded to include government-sponsored visits by five hundred foreign buyers to Canada. The precise impact of Hees’s energetic export campaign was diffi­ cult to assesj. During his two years at Trade and Commerce, Canada achieved a favourable balance in merchandise exports over imports, for the first time in a decade. Devaluation of the Canadian dollar, the wheat sales to Communist China, and the post-Coyne monetary expansion certainly were all partly responsible, but so was George Hees. If he had done nothing else but firmly establish in the minds of Canada’s businessmen that exporting can be fun, his efforts would have been well worthwhile. But Hees’s greatest accomplishment was to alter the stereotyped attitude that business had toward government. He proved to even the most rabid of free enterprisers that the federal administration need not be a bureaucratic nuisance, but could, if properly exploited, become a positive agency on their behalf. Hees’s enthusiasm was not entirely constructive. His indis­ criminate zest for increasing Canada's exports prompted him, on December 9, 1960, to declare, “You can’t do business with better businessmen anywhere,” although he was referring to an eleven-man purchasing delegation sent to Canada by Cuba’s Fidel Castro. On another occasion, at a Paris airport press conference, Hees thought­ lessly threatened the Common Market countries with “retaliation” unless they lowered their common tariffs vis-a-vis Canadian imports. The Minister’s most outlandish statements, however, were re­ served for the Liberal Opposition. “You should see them when they hear the latest unemployment figures,” he stated before a Tory 157

convention at the Chateau Laurier Hotel on March 18, 1961. “They sit there in the Commons mentally rubbing their hands. They giggle and snicker and smirk like a bunch of teenage girls. It’s something that disgusts an honest Canadian.” Speaking to the members of the Ottawa West Conservative Association during the 1962 election campaign, Hees explained his theory of how political candidates should be chosen. “When we were boys,” he said, “we used to stand on the com er and watch the girls go by. Some girls had IT and some didn’t. Now, we could tell just like that which ones had IT and which ones didn't. And that’s how you pick candidates - they’ve got to have IT .” This slapstick approach to politics was typical of the public impression Hees frequently projected of himself. It was only upon more intimate acquaintance that his effervescent charm and boister­ ous goodwill revealed themselves as the protective colouring for an outrageous ambition. With the robust resolution bom of a lifetime spent achieving unlikely objectives, George Hees 'Craved the prime ministership of Canada. It had been John Diefenbaker himself who first mentioned the swashbuckling Torontonian as a possible heir. A t a trade conference dinner in Ottawa during the winter of 1961, the Prime Minister had placed his arms on Hees’s shoulder, anointing him with these words: “George, nobody can take your place. Y ou’re the first.” But less than two years later John Diefenbaker’s reaction to the name George Hees would be a very different one.

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Chapter 12

THE GREY FLANNEL EMINENCE came to sym­ bolize the backroom political power of the Conservative Party was a chunky, singularly brilliant newspaperman-turned-image-maker named AlJister Grosart. His personality and accomplishments iso­ lated him among his fellow political organizers as a target for private and public attack, both on his integrity and on his calling. So many myths grew up around him that his name was added to Canada’s political dictionary. The expression “Grosart tactics” became a sneer or a compliment, depending on the political persuasion of the speaker. Very few people who encountered Allister Grosart during his five-year tenure as National Director of the Progressive Conservative Party of Canada could look on him with a neutral eye. At the 1959 annual meeting of the National Liberal Federation, Lester Pearson accused Grosart of “misinterpretation and dishonesty by unprin­ cipled, huckstering techniques.” At the same gathering, William Henderson, president of the Ontario Liberal Association, described G rosart’s influence as being so immense that Prime Minister Diefenbaker was dancing to the tune “of this grand master of the Madison Avenue Theatrical and Drama Society." Paul Martin flatly declared that G rosart had become “the new foreign minister of Canada,” and Major-General A. Bruce Matthews, president of the National Liberal Federation, referred disparagingly to “the nimble tactics of Mr G rosart’s Machiavellian techniques.” As a serious assessment of Grosart’s function, this round-robin of name-calling was unjustified. Allister Grosart did become a new and important power in Canadian politics. He did have absolute authority in the operation of the Party machine, and he was in constant touch with Diefenbaker on political questions. But if there was any unusual aspect to the relationship between the two men, it was in Grosart's ability to provide the logical framework for the realities of politics that Diefenbaker had already perceived intuitively. Whatever tension existed between them was probably due to Diefenbaker’s realization that to a considerable degree Grosart, and not he himself, had been responsible for the favourable image that T h e m a n w h o d u r in g t h e D ie f e n b a k e r Y e a r s

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had propelled him into office. Joey Smallwood, the premier of Newfoundland, sniffed at the root of the trouble when he said in an interview midway through the Diefenbaker Years, “Grosart’s a thorn to Diefenbaker; he’s a continuing reminder that the man’s divinity is limited.” Yet it was with Grosart that Diefenbaker broke his rule of never publicly sharing the credit for political accomplishments. On elec­ tion night in 1958, during the flight from Prince Albert to Regina f o r his jubilant t v victory speech, the Prime Minister acknowledged the debt to his political organizer by saying, within hearing of accompanying reporters, "Well, how does the architect feel?” At the main banquet of the 1959 Progressive Conservative Association meeting, Diefenbaker publicly repudiated the many Liberal attacks on Grosart, then, turning to him, declared, “You’ll be here just as long as we can induce you to stay.” Grosart’s role within the orbit of prime ministerial counsel-giving was two-fold: he advised Diefenbaker on his television technique and other matters of personal imagery; he also made recommenda­ tions on how government policies should be presented to the voters, and what the likely effect of future policies on public opinion might be. But the formulation of these policies was not his direct concern. The two men were able to work together because Grosart, unlike nearly all Diefenbaker’s other advisors, harboured no egocentric political ambitions. While almost everyone else around Diefenbaker passionately clutched at more personal power, Grosart was astute enough to realize that at this level of the political pyramid grada­ tions of power become meaningless. The prime minister’s power is supreme by definition. At such altitudes it’s not power that counts, but influence. That was what Grosart sought and achieved. By being honest with his leader and not asking for rewards, he built up a trust which, when reciprocated, made him one of the most influential men in Canada. Whenever the Prime Minister had a problem on which he wanted advice uncoloured by the ambitions of its giver, it was Grosart that he called. At least twice a week, Grosart would be invited to have breakfast at 24 Sussex Drive to discuss the affairs of state. That kind of intimacy prompted understandable jealousy among the legion of Tory politicians who thought they had a stronger claim on the incumbent. The anti-Grosart whispers began in the summer of 1960 after the defeat of the Conservative administration in New 160

Brunswick, despite the considerable involvement of G rosart’s federal machine. The 1962 election turned the whispers into open grumbling. At a post-election meeting of elected m . p .’s , Lawrence E. Kindt, the Tory m .p . for Macleod (Alberta), pointedly objected to the campaign’s "M adison Avenue” attempts to “herd” the voters, and when Diefenbaker praised G rosart’s contribution, he was answered by silence. After the disaster of the 1962 campaign, former admirers of Grosart within the Party accused hitn of having built up the Prime M inister’s image to a level impossible to sustain. Publicly, Grosart himself blamed the urban voters of Ontario and Quebec for the 1962 results, because, he maintained, they had resented a politi­ cian like Diefenbaker who identified himself with the “have not” provinces. But privately, he might have assumed more of the blame himself, because he had encouraged Diefenbaker to make his per­ sonal popularity the central issue of the 1962 contest. It was Grosart who overruled the few muted pre-campaign suggestions that the Prime Minister’s image had become so tarnished that an appeal based on it was bound to fail. “The p . m . is the campaign,” Grosart insisted. It was G rosart who approved “Diefenbaker: the Man for All Canada” as the campaign’s main motto, although Don Johnston, a Toronto lawyer, thought up the slogan. When the electors demonstrated that Diefenbaker’s popularity was not nearly as intense as he and Grosart had fondly imagined, the Party turned against Grosart. A few days after the 1962 election, he went into hospital with a bleeding ulcer. His collapse was a symptom of the kind of loyalty he gave to his job. It was a dedication with few boundaries. Just before the 1961 by-election in the New Brunswick riding of Restigouche-Madawaska, the Conservative finance committee in Ottawa had decided that the seat was hopeless, and that it would contribute only a token amount to the campaign of Edgar Fournier, the local candidate. Grosart disagreed with this assessment. He thought the riding could be won with the help of Charles Van Horne, the rebel Conservative m . p ., whose resignation had caused the by-election. When he found out that he couldn’t get national party funds to back his hunch, Grosart took a $20,000 mortgage on a house he owned at Pickering, Ontario, and tossed the money into the campaign. Part of it was spent for the rental of a helicopter that visited the riding’s hamlets, carrying the most popular stars of French-Canadian television, all urging the 161

people to vote Tory. The by-election’s results, which gave the Conservatives a healthy win, proved him correct. Because of the curious mixture of sentiment and ruthlessness in his nature, G rosart’s true character managed to elude most of his casual acquaintances. The key to knowing the inner man was to realize that despite his very real dedication to his job, he was neither able - nor willing - to immerse himself totally in politics. For Allister Grosart, beyond everything else, saw himself as a serious student of human nature, an avocation requiring more than the single-minded pursuit of power that is the dominant instinct of the political animal. Dated in his habits and mannerisms, Grosart seemed to the per­ ceptive who encountered him casually during the Ottawa years a somewhat lonely man. It was a solitude all the more crushing because it was the loneliness of an extrovert. All through a crowded, motley life, he had advanced himself by a combination of native cunning, driving ambition, unbounded self-confidence, and the silky-tongued blarney that was his birthright. Born in Dublin, on December 13, 1906, he was the grandson of Alexander Balloch Grosart, a Presbyterian preacher who turned literary critic and publisher after marrying the daughter of a wealthy Irish landlord. Young Allister was eight when his widowed mother decided to establish a school in China. G rosart’s early education was completed at the China Inland Mission Boys’ School, in Chefoo on the China coast, an institution that boasted such famous graduates as Henry Luce, of Time Inc., and Thornton Wilder, the playwright. He played soccer every Wednesday afternoon, spoke a kind of Mandarin patois, learned a great deal about the Bible, and was imbued with a rigid self-discipline that never left him. In his mid teens, he and his mother left China for Canada, where Mrs Grosart took charge of a Red Cross hospital at Kenora, Ontario, and Allister enrolled at the University of Toronto in politics and law. He earned his tuition by working at Eaton’s department store and becoming campus reporter for the Toronto Star. One summer he spent preaching three sermons a week to Baptist congregations around Collingwood, Ontario. The local deacons frowned on his frivolous interest in sports, but he must have been persuasive even then, because by the end of the season his girls’ choir had fielded a softball team. He got his b.a. in 1927 and enrolled in the Osgoode 162

Hall Law School, where the following year he won a Carnegie Fellowship to study International Law at Harvard. Instead of pursuing his studies, he joined the Star as a junior reporter. After stints on the hospital, waterfront, and hotel beats, he became mining editor, and later headed the paper’s “flying squad,” which became justly famous for blanketing spot news anywhere on the continent. In 1934 Grosart formed the Canadian Publicity Bureau, the country’s second public-reiations firm, for which one of his biggest deals was the Canadian promotion of the movie, Gone W ith The Wind, and later wrote a show business column for the Toronto Mail and Empire. A t the outbreak of World War it, he joined the army and became a machine-gun instructor, but was washed out for overseas service because of the after-effects of childhood pneumonia. He spent the war in the militia, ending up as b. major in the 2nd Battalion of the Irish Regiment of Canada. A fter the war he switched lines again and formed three separate firms to market Tin Pan Alley songs in Canada. His job was to make the rounds of bandleaders and vocalists plugging the songs whose United States publishers he represented. His repertoire included such ditties as “Deep in the H eart of Texas” and “You Are My Sunshine.” He retained a one-third interest in the song, “When My Baby Smiles at M e.” As the music business moved into the hands of disc jockeys, G rosart turned to advertising, and by 1948 was public relations manager in Toronto of McKim Advertising Ltd. One of the agency’s clients was the Progressive Conservative Party of Ontario, then led by George Drew. Grosart originated the successful Queen’s Park Reports broadcasts and became public relations adviser for the Party’s by-elections and the 1951 and 1955 provincial contests. H e planned Drew’s successful campaign against John Diefenbaker at the Party’s 1948 leadership convention, and ran Drew’s disastrous 1949 and 1953 federal campaigns. Between 1949 and 1957 he helped to plan eighteen federal by-elections, in different parts of the country, and it was here that he really learned practical politics. By 1956 Leslie Frost and Michael Starr had convinced him that the only man who could return the Tories to power was John Diefenbaker. Despite the long association with Drew, Diefenbaker asked Grosart to lead his fight for the Party leadership. It was in the hectic manoeuvring of the convention that Grosart performed his biggest service for Diefenbaker. By continu­ 163

ally hammering his slogan “We can win with Diefenbaker” so that it mesmerized the many doubters, he did more than any other individual to swing the majority of delegates behind the Prairie politician. One of Grosart’s minor but effective ploys during the convention was to find a way of finally teaching the Party how to pronounce Diefenbaker’s name. Even in 1956 many Tories were saying the word as if it were written Didcnbacker, which gave it an alien, Germanic sound. Grosart searched for a campaign song that would emphasize the long “a,” and came up with a ditty (sung to the tune of “Coming Through the Rye” ) that demanded the emphasized repetition of the correct and more Canadian pronunciation of the name: "Diefenbay-ker, Diefenbay-ker, Diefenbay-ker, Yeah! He will lead us On to victory. On Election day. John's the man W ho'll get 'em sw ingin’ Swinging back our way. It's Diefenbay-ker, Diefenbay-ker, Diefenbay-ker, YEAH!"

In exhorting delegates to swing behind Diefenbaker, Grosart pointed out that in the past five federal elections Tory strength had fluctuated between 27.3 per cent and 30.1 per cent of the total vote. This meant that the political lines in the country had become hardened and that only a leader who could appeal to the large proportion of uncommitted voters in the country could bring the Party into power. Diefenbaker, he insisted, was just such a man. “We can win with only 8 per cent more votes, and we’ll get them with Diefenbaker,” Grosart kept predicting. (H e was dead on. When the 1957 ballots had been counted, the Conservatives had received 38 per cent of the ballots.) A few months after he won the Party leadership Diefenbaker appointed G rosart campaign manager for the 1957 election. To capture the allegiance of the uncommitted voter, G rosart decided to sell his movement not as the Conservative Party (which Canadians had been rejecting with boring regularity since 1935) but as a dynamic new political force under the leadership of a vital and fresh personality. Everything in the 1957 campaign was directed toward promoting this image, including its major slogan, “It’s time for a 164

Diefenbaker Government,” thought up by Dalton Camp, a Toronto advertising executive. The slogan, which was used prominently in the Party’s one major full-page newspaper ad of the campaign, prompted an ill-timed burst of irritation from Louis St Laurent. Speaking to a rally for Ottawa-area candidates, the Liberal chieftain held up the ad featuring this slogan and, with undisguised contempt, told his audience: “You see, here is the ad, and what does it say? It’s time for a Diefenbaker Government. Where’s the name of the party? In the smallest print that they could put it in!” By stressing that most of the Tory candidates were not running as Conservatives at all, but as Diefenbaker men, St Laurent was helping to make credible the very argument Grosart was so anxious to put across. So much so, that the Tory organizer seized on a strange device. He had St. Laurent’s speech mimeographed on plain white paper and mailed it in unmarked envelopes to every Liberal consti­ tuency organization in the country. The Liberal candidates thought the St Laurent speech had been sent to them by their own head­ quarters, and faithfully repeated the line set down by their leader. They were, in effect, telling the voters that their political opponents were not the same old Tory Party they’d been in the habit of defeating, but something very different. Shortly after the voters nudged Diefenbaker into office, he asked Grosart to become, at a rumoured $27,000 a year, the full-time national director of the Party. It was a position that at the time had a strong amateur tradition, little influence, and undefined authority. As late as 1941, the Party had only two thousand sustaining members, and it wasn’t until the purchase in 1943 of a rundown brick house, once a high-priced Ottawa bordello, at 141 Laurier Avenue West that the Tories even had a permanent home. For the first few years of its existence, the national headquarters had a full­ time staff of only two, and maintenance of the building was financed by renting out its garages. Grosart’s immediate concern in the new post was to find a way of giving its many supporters across the country a sense of participa­ tion in Party affairs. This meant reversing the traditional policy of the Tory machine, which had been dedicated to keeping decisions in the hands of a few inside men. Grosart realized that participation in the political process can engage people’s emotions, giving the Conservative-inclined voter a real stake in the victory of the national leader. With Diefenbaker’s support, Grosart eventually persevered 165

over reactionary elements in the Party to have its constitution changed, so that the voting base on policy decisions - once firmly entrenched in the hands of fewer than two hundred Party executives - was increased to fifteen hundred men and women, representing every constituency in the country. He decentralized Party finances and introduced at least a rudimentary element of democracy into Quebec’s system of nominating Conservative candidates. Because he believed that except when a country is aroused by grave political abuses, elections are won by the continuous work of political organization, Grosart spent much of the time between electoral contests building up a cadre of forty-six thousand poll captains across the country. He also became an expert on publicopinion sampling techniques, but never relied on any polls he hadn’t checked with his own “play-back guys.” These were such people as taxi-drivers, barbers, grocery clerks, and pool-hall owners who, because they were in jobs where they hear hundreds of people sounding off about politics, could supply him with a montage of local opinion. During every by-election, Grosart would quietly visit the area, talk to his “play-back guys,” then return to Ottawa and reassess his strategy. Before the 1958 by-election in the M anitoba constitu­ ency of Springfield, for example, Ottawa Tories were worried about the effects of a recent freight-ratc increase. Grosart sat around local beer parlours and country stores, asking dozens of people, “W hat’s all this fuss about freight rates?” He soon discovered that few voters realized the higher transportation costs would affect them. Instead of worrying voters by trying to justify the increase, the Tory candidate ignored the issue and won. A more sophisticated group of “play-back guys” included a roster of twenty or so personal friends Grosart had in each province, on whom he could call for a frankly worded assessment of local condi­ tions. This system, plus G rosart’s investment in a continual private poll of Canadian political opinion, allowed him to make some sur­ prisingly accurate guesses. When Major-General Georges Vanier was appointed Governor General, Grosart predicted the Tories’ popularity would jump 10 per cent in Quebec. It did, exactly. During general elections, Grosart’s desk functioned as the control centre of the Conservative battle for votes, with Grosart as chiefof-staff, planning and co-ordinating the multitude of concerns that must be injected into a national campaign. He would spend from twelve to eighteen hours a day at his desk, taking and placing twenty 166

long-distance calls an hour, and ceaselessly scribbling notes Ot,’ a desk-blotter-size white pad. He chain-smoked and drank one glafc of milk after another. His instructions were issued in a voice wbkfi. as the campaign proceeded, became an ever lower-pitched grow]. But in his m anner he always managed to maintain the harsh P. B. Waite 3.

i . a u r i e r : a s t u d y i n CANADIAN p o l i t i c s by J, W. Dafoe, with an

•4.

c h a m p l a i n : t h e liE E o e f o r t i t u d e

Introduction by Murray S. Donnelly by Morris Bishop, with a new Introduction by the author 5. t h e r o w e l l / s i r o i s R E P O R T , Book I. edited and with an Introduclion by Donald V. Smiley 6. t h e u n r e f o r m e d s e n a t e oi- C a n a d a by Robert A. MacKay revised and with an Introduction by the author 7.

THE JESUIT RELATIONS AND ALLIED DOCUMENTS: A SELECTION,

edited and with an Introduclion bv S. R. Mealing 8. l o r d D u r h a m ’s m i s s i o n t o C a n a d a by Chester N ew . edited and with an Inlroduction by H. W. McCready 9. t h e r e c i p r o c i t y t r e a t y o f IS54 by Donald C. Masters, with a new Introduction by the author 10. p o l i t i c a l u n r e s t i n u p p e r C a n a d a , 1815-1836 by Ailcen Dunham, with an Inlroduction by A. L. Burt 11.

a h i s t o r y o f t r a n s p o r t a t i o n i n CANADA.

Volume I . b y

G . P. deT. Glazebrook. with a new Inlroduction by the author 12.

a h i s t o r y o f t r a n s p o r t a t i o n in C a n a d a .

Votunle 11,

by

G. P. deT. G la/ebrook. 13. t h e e c o n o m i c b a c k g r o u n d o f d o m i n i o n - p r o v i n c i a i r e l a t i o n s by W . A. Mackintosh, with an Inlroduction by J. H. Dales 14. t h e f r e n c h - c a n a d i a n o u t l o o k by Mason Wade, with a new Introduclion by the author 15.

ih e w e s te r n in t e r io r o f C an ad a: a r e c o r iv o i g e o g r a p h ic a l d i s c o v e r y . 1612-1917, compiled and wilh an Introduclion by John

Warkenlin 16. t h e c o u r t s a n d t h e C a n a d i a n c o n s t i t u t i o n , compiled and with an Introduction by W. R. Lcdcrman 17. m o n e y a n d h a n k i n g i n C a n a d a , compiled and with an Introduction by E. P. Neufeld 18. f r e n c h - c a n a d i a n s o c i e t y . Volume I. compiled and with an Introduction by Marcel Rioux and Yves Martin 19. THE CANADIAN ( OMMERCIAI REVOLUTION, 1845-1851 by Gilbert N . Tucker, edited and with an Introduclion by Hugh G . J. Aitken 20. J o s e p h h o w e : v o i c e o f n o v a s c o t i a , compiled and with an Introduction by J. Murray Beck 21. LIFE AND LETTERS OF SIR WILFRID LAURIER Volume I . by O. D. Skelton, edited and with an Inlroduction by David M. L. Farr 22. LIFE AND LETTERS OF SIR WILFRID LAURIER. Volume II. by O. D. Skellon. edited by David M. L. Farr

23.

l e a d i n g c o n s t i i UTIONAL d e c i s i o n s , compiled a n d with a n

Introduction by Peter H. Russell 24. FRONTENAC: THE COL RTIER GOVERNOR by W. J . Ecclcs

25.

In d i a n s

of

Tim

north

PACIFIC

coast,

compiled and with an

Introduction by Tom McFcat 26.

LIFE AND TIMES OF SIR ALEXANDER TILLOf'H GAI

T by O. D. Skelton,

edited and with an Introduction by Guy MacLean 27.

A HISTORY OF CANADIAN EXTERNAL RELATIONS:

Volume I. by

G . P. deT. Glazebrook. revised by the author

28.

A HISTORY OF CANADIAN EXTERNAL RELATIONS,

Volume I I . by

G . P. deT. Glaze brook, revised and with a Bibliographical Essay by the author 29. THE r a c e q u e s t i o n i n C a n a d a b_v Andre Siegfried, edited and with an Introduction by F. H. Underhill 30. n o r t h a t l a n u c t r i a n g l e by J . B. Brebner. with an Introduction by D. G . Creighton 31. a p p r o a c h e s TO CANADIAN ECONOMIC HISTORY, compiled and with an Introduction by W. T. Easterbrook and M. H. Watkins

32.

C a n a d i a n s o c i a l s t r u c t u r e : a s t a t i s t i c a l p r o f i l e , compiled and

with an Introduction and Commentary by John Porter 33. CHURCH AND STATE IN CANADA, 1627-1867: BASIC DOC UMENTS, compiled and with an Introduction by John S. Moir 34. WESTERN ONTARIO AND THE AMERICAN FRONTIER by Fred Landon, with a new Introduction by the author 35.

HISTORICAL ESSAYS ON THE ATLANTIC PROVINCES, compiled and with

an Introduction by G . A. Rawlyk 36. A HISTORY OF JOURNALISM IN CANADA Ian original publication) by W. H. Kesterton. with an Introduction by Wilfrid Eggleston 37. t h e o l d p r o v i n c e o f QUEBEC. Volume / . by A. L. Burl, with an Introduction by Hilda Neatby 38. t h e o l d p r o v i n c e o f Q u e b e c , Volume II. by A. L. Burt 39. g r o w t h a n d t h e C a n a d i a n e c o n o m y , edited and with an Introduction by T. N. Brewis 40. d o c u m e n t s o n t h e c o n f e d e r a t i o n o f B r i t i s h n o r t h a m e r i c a , edited and with an Introduction by G . P. Browne 41. E s k i m o o f t h e C a n a d i a n a r c t i c , edited and with an Introduction by Victor F. Valentine and Frank G . Vallee 42. t h e c o l o n i a l r e f o r m e r s a n d C a n a d a , 1830-1849, edited and with an Introduction by Peter Burroughs 43. a n a r r a t i v e , by Sir Francis Bond Head edited and wilh an Introduction by S. F. Wise 44. i o h n s t r a c h a n : d o c u m e n t s a n d o p i n i o n s , edited and with an Introduction by J. L. H. Henderson 45.

t h e n e u t r a l Y a n k e e s o f n o v a SCOTIA

by J. B. Brebner, with an

Introduction by W. S. M acNult 46.

r o b e r t l a i r d b o r d e n : his m e m o irs.

Volume I. edited and with an

Introduction by Heath Macquarrie 47.

ROBERT l a i r d B o r d e n : h i s m e m o i r s .

Macquarrie

Volume II. edited by Heath

48.

I I I h CA NA DIA N MUN ICIPA I SY STEM: ESSAYS ON THE I M P RO V EM EN T OF l o c a l g o v e r n m e n t by D. C. Row.at

49.

TH E b e t t e r p a r t o f v a l o u r : e s s a y s o n CA N A D IA N d i p l o m a c y

by

John W . Holmes 50.

l a m e n t f o r a n a t i o n : ru t d e i e a i o f C a n a d i a n n a t i o n a l i s m by George Grant, with a new Introduction by the author

51.

C a n a d i a n f o r e i g n PO LIC Y.

52.

M ON CK : LETTERS a n d j o u r n a l s ,

1945-1954 by R. A. M acKay, edited and with an Introduction by Ihe author ediled and with an Introduction by

W. L. Morton 53.

h is to r ic a l essays o n th e p ra irie p ro v in c e s,

edited and with an

Introduction by Donald Swainson 54. THE CANADIAN ECONOMY IN THE GREAT DEPRESSION by A. E. Safarian 55.

C a n a d a 's c h a n c i n g n o r t h ,

edited and with an Introduction by

William C. Wonders 56. THF DEVELOPMENT 01 C a n a d a ’s s t a p l e s . 1867-1939, edited and with an Introductory comment by Kevin Burley 57.

URBAN DEVELOPMENT OF SOUTH-CENTRAL ONTARIO by Jacob Spell

58. CULTURE AND NATIONALITY: ESSAYS Alfred Goldsworthy Bailey

l it

\ . G. IIAILEV;

by

59. COMMUNITY IN CRISIS: FRENCH-CANADIAN NATIONALISM IN p e r s p e c t i v e , by Richard Jones, with an ew Introduction by the author 60. PERSPECTIVES ON T ill: NORTH AMERICAN I n d i a n s , edited and with an Introduction by Mark Nagler 61.

l a n g u a g e s in c o n f l i c t ,

bv Richard J. Joy. with a Preface bv Frank

G . Vallee 63.

IHF LAST FORTY YEARS. THE UNION OF 1841 TO CONFEDERATION, by J C. Dent, abridged and wilh an Introduction by Donald Swainson

63.

LAURIER AND A LIBERAL QUEBEC: A STUDY IN POLITICAL m a n a g e m e n t , by H. Blair Nealbv. edited and with an Introduction by

Richard T. Clippingdale 64.

I HE TREMBLAY REPORT, edited and with an Introduction by David

Kwavnick 65. CULTURAL ECO! OC.Y: READINGS ON THE < ANADIAN INDIANS AND E s k i m o s , edited and w ith an Introduction by Bruce Cox 66. R t c o t I ECTIONS OF THE o n r o OTTAWA t r e k , by Ronald Liversedge. with Documents Relating lo the Vancouver Strike and the On to Ottawa Trek, ediled and w ith an Introduction by Victor Hoar 67. THE OMBUDSMAN PI A S : ESSAYS ON THE WORLDWIDE SPREAD OF AN i d e a , by Donald C. Rowat 68. NATURAL RESOURCES: THE ECONOMICS OF CONSERVATION, by Anlhony Scott 69.

DOMINION l a n d s p o l i c y , by Chester Marlin, edited and wilh an

70.

r e n e g a d e in p o w e r ,

Introduction by Lewis H. Thomas by Denis Smith

by Peter C. Newm an, with an Introduction