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Running for Election

In 1911, when John Diefenbaker was fifteen years old, Liberal Prime Minister Wilfrid Laurier called an election. Laurier had been running Canada like a well-oiled machine since 1896. He had created the provinces of Saskatchewan and Alberta. He had opened the floodgates to immigrants and the population of the dominion had grown from four million to seven million. He was the first and perhaps the greatest French Canadian leader, able to balance Quebec interests with the interests and the demands of the rest of Canada. He was known as the “Knight of the White Plume,” and he predicted bravely that the twentieth century belonged to Canada. Laurier wanted another term, so he called the election and ran on the platform of reciprocity – freer trade with the United States.

It was a big mistake. The Conservatives, led by Robert Borden, unfurled their Red Ensigns and waved them like mad, singing “Yankee Doodle Laurier.” They believed open trade with the U.S. would lead to stronger economic and political union with the Americans and eventually Canada’s sovereignty would be diminished. After all, Canada was only forty-four years old and still had important ties to Britain. And then “Champ” Clark, the Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives, declared his support for reciprocity because he hoped, “to see the day when the American flag will float over every square foot of the British North American Colonies clear to the North Pole.” This didn’t help Laurier’s cause one iota. His campaign was dealt another blow when Clark announced, “We are preparing to annex Canada.” The flag-waving and the shouting of the Conservatives grew to near pandemonium. Laurier was voted out of office tout de suite.

Young Diefenbaker watched this firestorm of emotion and politics with wide-open eyes. “The election had a profound influence on me, and perhaps more than anything else made me a Conservative,” Diefenbaker wrote many years later. “I attended all the meetings in Saskatoon. The Tories had a marvellous campaign. They didn’t have any arguments but they raised the flag and we’d sing… ’We’re soldiers of the King.’ The result was a tremendous revelation of Canadian determination to be Canadian. This impressed me greatly.” The impression would last a lifetime.

John had done exceedingly well in the mock parliaments during his university years, but the first real test of his speaking skill came when he was elected to city council in Wakaw, by a slim margin of twelve votes.

People began to notice this brash upstart, and the Liberal party tried to enlist John in 1921. He declined. They were flabbergasted. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to join the Liberal party? So one day when John was out of town the Wakaw Liberal Association elected him secretary, sneaked into his office, and left their minute books and pamphlets on his desk. When he got back and discovered this, he immediately marched to the Liberal president and gave the books back.

On June 19, 1925, Diefenbaker let the world know he was a Conservative. Well, actually he addressed a small group of Conservatives at an organizing meeting in a tiny room in Prince Albert, but it felt like he was telling the whole world. It was his first official act as a Conservative. His feet were wet, so he dived in and two months later was declared the party’s federal candidate by acclamation.

He might as well have been invisible. The Liberals were already in power both federally and provincially, and the Conservatives were at the bottom of the political heap, with no real hope of a victory in Saskatchewan.

The election was called for October 29, 1925. Diefenbaker squared off against Charles Macdonald, the Liberal candidate. The war of words was fast and furious, and at one point John was described by his opponents as a “Hun.” This was an attempt to identify Diefenbaker with the German forces who had been the enemy in the First World War. “Matters were made little better when I was simply called a German,” John later recalled, “I was not a German, not a German-Canadian, but a Canadian.” Diefenbaker, as he would repeat throughout his lifetime, was always a Canadian first. During a speech at the Orpheum Theatre in Prince Albert he attacked his opponents by saying: “Am I German? My great-grandfather left Germany to seek liberty. My grandfather and my father were born in Canada. It is true, however, that my grandmother and my grandfather on my mother’s side spoke no English: being Scottish, they spoke Gaelic. If there is no hope for me to be Canadian, then who is there hope for?”

It was a rousing reply, though he had slightly stretched the truth: his Diefenbaker grandfather was born in Germany and his Bannerman grandparents spoke English. The point was still the same.

But just as Diefenbaker was fighting off his opponents’ claims, he was sideswiped by the leader of his own party. Arthur Meighen was a hard-minded, steely-eyed man who had briefly been prime minister (he succeeded Robert Borden in 1920 and was voted out of office in 1921). Meighen declared he would alter the Crow’s Nest Pass freight rate, which was subsidized to keep the grain flowing to the West Coast cheaply. Meighen also opposed the completion of a Hudson Bay railway, which would give farmers in Saskatchewan another outlet for their grain.

Diefenbaker publicly disagreed with his own leader, and it didn’t win him any points with his party. x201C;My position was difficult,” Diefenbaker later wrote. “It need not have been. But I chose to speak for myself.” This wouldn’t be the last time he would follow his own path instead of toeing the party line.

He campaigned tirelessly through every small town and hall in his constituency, but there was no hope. Even though the Conservatives won the most seats in Parliament, they did not get a clear majority and Mackenzie King remained prime minister. The news was even worse for Diefenbaker: not one Conservative was elected in Saskatchewan.

But party supporters who witnessed his valiant battle wouldn’t forget the name of John G. Diefenbaker anytime soon. Diefenbaker was soon invited to speak at other conventions, always making an impression. Bruce Hutchinson, a reporter covering a convention of the British Columbia Conservative party, wrote: “From this frail, wraith-like person, so deceptive in his look of physical infirmity, a voice of vehement power and rude health blared like a trombone.” If Diefenbaker was a trombone, the song he was playing was one of frustration. He would play quite a few sad tunes before he could blast away in the House of Commons.

Almost a year later, Mackenzie King was hit with a scandal over corruption in the customs department. He asked for the dissolution of Parliament, but the Governor General refused and Conservative leader Arthur Meighen became the next prime minister. He was promptly defeated and the next day the headlines announced a new election.

If the fight was hard last time for Diefenbaker, this time he was up against the political heavyweight champion of Canada. William Lyon Mackenzie King himself ran in Diefenbaker’s riding because in the previous election King had lost in his home riding. King, who had been groomed by Laurier, was a wily opponent well versed in political sparring. Stocky and intelligent, he had been prime minister since 1921, except for Meighen’s brief interlude.

Diefenbaker geared himself up for another battle but was blindsided once again by his own party. Arthur Meighen was completely opposed to the Liberals’ old age pension plan, which was something voters wanted. Diefenbaker thought the pension was just a matter of plain, honest decency. Meighen also continued spouting out his views on the Crow’s Nest Pass rates and the Hudson Bay Railway.

By constant touring, Diefenbaker overcame these problems. He even gained ground on the prime minister. Could the impossible happen? Could Diefenbaker actually defeat Mackenzie King?

Chances for such an upset were dashed when the Toronto Telegram reported that a top Conservative in the east, R.J. Manion, claimed that 99 per cent of Prince Albert voters were immigrants with hard-to-pronounce names: “Mackenzie King has gone to Prince Albert, has left North York. He doesn’t like the smell of native-born Canadians. He prefers the stench of garlic-stinking continentals, Eskimos, bohunks, and Indians.”

His statement hit the papers across the country. For Diefenbaker, who had one of those hard-to-pronounce last names, this was a terrible blow. Liberal pamphlets flooded Prince Albert saying: “Citizens of Prince Albert: Mark your ballot for Mackenzie King and reject this insult!” The final tally of votes in Prince Albert was Mackenzie King 4,838, Diefenbaker 3,933. The Liberals won a majority of seats, and only one Conservative was returned to power in the western provinces – R.B. Bennett, a rich tycoon. Meighen lost his seat.

On a cool October night in 1928 a thin stranger slinks into the rear of a hall in Hawarden, Saskatchewan and seats himself in a dimly lit corner. The place is packed with Liberals. They’re edgy because in two days a provincial by-election vote will be held in Arm River constituency, and it has been a drop-kick, drag-’em-out battle – a sign that the upcoming provincial election will be even tougher. The Conservatives are pressing the Liberals to explain their patronage practices and the presence of Catholic nuns and teachings in public schools.

This meeting is intended to bring the Liberal ranks together. Premier Jimmy Gardiner and his Minister of Agriculture, CM. Hamilton, are there to speak. The crowd of three hundred waits in anticipation.

Mr. Hamilton walks to the front of the stage. He extols the virtue of his government’s record, but the stranger interrupts him part way through the speech, then again a few minutes later. And again and again.

This is too much for Premier Gardiner, a relentless Liberal, who had served as a member of the legislative assembly in Saskatchewan since 1914. He gathers up all his political outrage and demands, “Who is this person? It takes us little time in Liberal meetings to put an end to characters like you. It’s easy to sit down there and ask questions you’ve been sent to ask, and paid for. Well, I’m going to give you the opportunity to let this audience see and hear you. I’m going to give you the platform for twenty minutes.” He smiles.

The stranger stands and Gardiner’s smile slips from his face. He squints his eyes as a familiar tall, thin, wraith-like man steps into the light. It is John Diefenbaker.

“The offer doesn’t apply to you,” Gardiner says quickly. “What are you doing here anyway? I wouldn’t let you speak on my platform for anything.”

“But you asked me,” Diefenbaker replies, striding along until he reaches the foot of the platform. Gardiner continues to protest but Diefenbaker lectures him, saying, “Fairness is essential in every walk of life. You challenged me, and I’m here.”

The audience begins to murmur, then to yell, “Let him speak.”

Gardiner steps back. “I want to be fair. I’ll give you ten minutes.”

“No,” someone shouts out, “Give him the twenty minutes you promised.”

Gardiner sits down and Diefenbaker takes the stage.

“I have some questions in connection with education,” he says, then he pauses. “As it appears to be the custom for speakers in this campaign to indicate their religious beliefs, I hereby state that I am a Baptist and I am not a member of the Ku Klux Klan.” That declaration out of the way he asks question after question, each embarrassing to the premier and his government. Why are nuns teaching in a public school? When is the Liberal patronage going to stop? Diefenbaker finishes his barrage within ten minutes and returns to his seat.

Somewhat flustered, Gardiner takes the stage again. Its 10:30 p.m. and as he begins his speech, his spine straightens, his voice shakes the rafters, and word after compelling word is launched at the crowd. But he ignores Diefenbaker’s questions.

The crowd interrupts, asking him to answer the charges.

“You wait,” Gardiner promises. He continues talking and talking and finally, he stops, looks at his watch and announces, “Its midnight. I never discuss politics on Sunday. I believe we should keep Sunday a holy day”

And that was that. On polling day in Arm River, 91 per cent of the population turned out, an extraordinary number for a by-election. The Liberals held onto the seat, but only by fifty-nine votes.

More importantly, this one feisty performance by Diefenbaker caught the attention of a number of people high up in the Conservative party, both federally and provincially. “Out of that meeting at Hawarden,” Diefenbaker explained, “stemmed my invitation to contest the federal seat of Long Lake in the 1930 election, my bid for a provincial seat in Arm River in 1938, and finally, my nomination and election to the House of Commons in Lake Centre in 1940.”

It was indeed a good night’s work.

A provincial election was called for June 6, 1929 and Diefenbaker decided to switch from federal to provincial politics. The Liberals had been ruling Saskatchewan since 1905, but there were holes in the Liberal armour now. People resented the patronage practices. The province was ripe for a Conservative win.

Diefenbaker squared off against his old foe T.C. Davis, who was the owner of the Prince Albert newspaper and the attorney general. Diefenbaker was promised the attorney generalship himself if the Conservatives were victorious.

The mudslinging began at once. The Liberals accused Diefenbaker of working hand in hand with the Ku Klux Klan, a group that was anti-Catholic, anti-Jewish, and against non-English and immigrants of colour. The Klan also hated the Liberal party. Diefenbaker explained that “everyone who opposed Gardiner, his policies, and the viciousness of his machine was tarred with the dirty brush of Klan fanaticism.”

The Conservative party won the election, ending twenty-four years in power by the Liberals. Diefenbaker wasn’t able to join the celebrations: he lost his riding to Davis by several hundred votes.

John didn’t stick around to lick his wounds. Instead, he retreated to Toronto and married Edna.

In 1930 Diefenbaker and Edna were in Toronto for a holiday, so John could relax. His health wasn’t getting any better; in fact, he was still suffering from internal bleeding and stomach pains. The stress of his political life and his numerous trials had taken their toll. It was time to rest.

Then a telegram from the Conservative association arrived. John read it carefully, his hands shaking. They wanted him to accept the nomination for the federal riding of Long Lake, a riding that was supposed to be an easy win.

He talked to Edna. He felt the tiredness in his bones. The aching in his stomach. John, who had dreamed of this all his life, was forced to say no. He was too sick. Too tired. He watched sadly from the sidelines as another man won the seat and went to Ottawa.

The country, and particularly the Prairies, was changing for the worse. The stock market had crashed in 1929. The price of wheat, a major Saskatchewan export, began to drop, and the onset of drought made the amount of wheat available for sale even smaller. Next came mass unemployment and a general disenchantment with politicians. This was a tough time to be a government.

By 1933 Diefenbaker began once again to dabble in politics. He was elected as the vice-president of the provincial Conservative party. Later that same year he ran for mayor of Prince Albert and lost by forty-eight votes.

A provincial election was held on June 19, 1934. Diefenbaker didn’t run, but he worked desperately behind the scenes. The Conservatives, squeezed by the Liberals on one side and the new Farmer-Labour party on the other, failed to win a single seat.

The western world was in the throes of major political change. Across the ocean the Nazi party unfurled its swastikas in Germany. The Depression continued sending dust cloud after dust cloud into the Prairies. And thousands of unemployed men of all ages now hitched rides on the train to look for work.

In May of 1935 the “On-to-Ottawa” journey was begun from the West Coast. At first there were just a thousand unemployed men packing the freight cars. Then two thousand. Three thousand. The movement gathered steam and support every time the train stopped at a railway station. In Regina the RCMP halted the gathering, and after negotiations and a violent clash that ended with the death of a policeman, the marchers were dispersed. The whole episode made the federal Conservatives, under the leadership of Bennett, look bad.

Parliament was dissolved a few months later. Diefenbaker declined the nomination in Prince Albert saying, “I think this is a time for us to have a farmer as a candidate.” A farmer was chosen and Diefenbaker, now the president of the provincial Conservative party, did all he could to help the cause. But it was a mishmash of an election: the Co-operative Commonwealth Federation (CCF) was rising up in the West; Social Credit, an Alberta-based party, was now nominating federally; the brand new Reconstruction party, an offshoot of the Conservatives, appeared; and the Liberals still had their political machine in high gear.

On October 14th it was a landslide for the Liberals, and after all the other parties took a piece of the pie the Conservatives were left with only forty seats.