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Liberal Convention

Landsdowne Park, Ottawa

August 7, 1919

“I would like to borrow some poetic words of Tennyson to pay some slight tribute to the memory of our great and dearly beloved leader, Sir Wilfrid Laurier.”

Excitement coursed through King like electricity. His face was shining like the sun. On the podium King was perfectly placed. In a large photograph on the wall behind him, Laurier, the recently deceased party leader, smiled with benevolent serenity. King’s future was in the hands of the Liberal convention-goers before him. He was close to capturing the finest feather yet for his cap: leadership of a national party and the distinction of being the first leader to be elected at a national convention rather than selected by an elite group of peers.

“This is a great favourite of mine,” King wrote of this photo of himself taken during the Diamond Jubilee of Confederation celebration, July 1, 1927. “Hands and expression, position, uniform and all. Beautiful!”

King addressed the delegates as a strong man, only forty-four and eager to rebuild the party and bring the Liberal platform to the nation. He tried to convince the delegates that he could meld together the old and new to bring the party to triumph. Although a faithful Laurier Liberal, he was nonetheless prepared to welcome the Union Liberals back to the party and heal the deep schisms caused by wartime conscription. He would even extend the hand of friendship to members of the new parties – the Progressives and the United Farmers who could be persuaded to support the Liberal cause. His words of peace soothed the ears of the postwar audience.

King promised to seek harmony across the Dominion by finding commonality in the tariff, freight rates, and other problems now separating the agricultural west and industrial east. And who better than King the Conciliator to invite labour, community, and industry to the table to frame the future? Problems that had surfaced in the Winnipeg General Strike could not be ignored. King was ready to consider new solutions, even those being spoken about by a growing Left – solutions such as old age pensions.

Under his leadership the Liberal party would stand tall in the world. King had developed important American bonds, which could help develop Canadian interests south of the border. His experience overseas and in Britain left him eager to see Canada counted in the international community. At the last words of his speech, a tumultuous demonstration erupted. The throng of Liberal convention goers was on its feet, applauding madly.

King took his seat, feeling so near his goal that he fairly trembled. He remembered his morning reading in the inspirational book Bella had given him. Emerson’s words had prophesied, “Nothing will be impossible unto you. So nigh is grandeur to our dust. So near is God to man. When Duty whispers low, Thou must,’ Youth replies, ‘I can.’”

He dared to breathe more calmly, feeling that somehow all the others gone on before – Father, Mother, dear Bella, and even Grandfather – were close at hand. Soon the call of God would be answered and the struggle of the common people would be his fight as never before. When the votes were tallied, Laurier’s mantle would fall on him.

Laurier House, Ottawa

December 6, 1921

“Oh Rex, you shouldn’t have!” Joan Patteson exclaimed. Older than her friend by four years, Joan was fifty-something and wore a stylish yet matronly coiffure. Her brown eyes glowed as she read aloud the inscription on the delicate bracelet.

“To M.J.P. from W.L.M.K

A strength was in us from the vision

The Campaign of 1921.”

“I hardly deserve this,” Patteson protested, handing the bracelet over for her husband, Godfroy, to inspect.

“Oh my yes,” King disagreed gently. He had met Joan and her bank-manager husband several years before, when they were neighbours in the Roxborough Apartments. Their friendship had deepened over literary discussions, hymn sings, rambles at Kingsmere, and quiet evenings like this one. The Pattesons always welcomed him, Joan in particular. Her warm smile, fine mind, and lovely Christian character were much like Mothers, King had discovered. She knew how much he had suffered from the loss of Mother and how Max’s latest illness tormented him with worry. Joan had lost a young daughter, Nancy, and knew more about her friend’s pain than what he could express.

Over the last few weeks of campaigning, the Pattesons’ support had been uplifting. Yesterday’s flowers, which had greeted him cheerfully when he arrived home, were only one of Joan’s thoughtful gestures.

“After we hear the results on the radio, what is the first thing you will do as prime minister, Rex?” Godfroy queried.

“If I should be prime minister the course of my actions will be decided by Parliament and the people,” King answered gravely. “But I know what I shall do when this campaign is over.”

“Go to Colorado?” Joan guessed softly.

“Yes,” King replied. No more was said. Everyone in the room knew that Max now had muscular dystrophy and it was choking the life out of him. Their next visit, King knew, could be their last. Bella, Father, Mother, and perhaps Max. King’s dreams of being prime minister might soon be met, but who was to share his worries about his strains and stresses? Sister Jennie had trials of her own. Who was to help him measure up to the task of being the most important person in the Dominion of Canada?

The radio crackled alive. The news it would bring would change King’s life.

North York, Ontario

September 16, 1922

“Mr. Prime Minister, can you comment on the press release issued from London?” a young reporter called out. Hoping to be the first with the scoop he persisted, “What response will Canada give Britain’s invitation to send troops to the Near East?”

King fairly spluttered. He had heard nothing about the statement! Undoubtedly, it had to do with European events at Chanak. Britain wished to limit Turkish expansion in the Dardanelles, an important waterway between the Black and Mediterranean Seas. Headlines like “Turks Attack Christians in Constantinople” and details of the atrocities burned holes in the newspaper daily. However, King had heard nothing about this! How could newspapers be better informed than the Prime Minister’s Office? And how could the British government take for granted Canada’s commitment to a European military action?

King was fuming, but he kept his burning indignation under control. In a monotone voice he replied, “That is a question to be decided by the Canadian Parliament.”

Fortunately for the new, inexperienced Prime Minister, the tides turned and the Chanak Crisis soon passed. On the point of autonomy, however, King remained unchanged. In March 1923 he sent one of his crack Liberals, Ernest Lapointe, the minister of marine and fisheries, to Washington to sign the Halibut Fisheries Treaty on behalf of Canada. A precedent in Canada’s relationship with the mother country was set. No representative of the British Crown was invited.

Laurier House, Ottawa

March 11, 1923

Prime Minister King proudly pointed out to his guests a framed poster on the wall of the third floor hall. The Governor General and his wife, their Excellencies, Lord and Lady Byng, were two of the first official visitors to his new home. “This is the reward of a thousand pounds offered on my grandfather’s head,” King told them, “by the Lieutenant Governor of Upper Canada, Sir Bond Head.”

“Was Bond Head a fool or a wise man?” Lord Byng asked in pleasant provocation.

“Indeed,” King chuckled. “I grew up,” Willie continued nostalgically, “looking at this picture, dreaming of righting the wrongs against Grandfather’s reputation and carrying on his work. Remarkable, isn’t it, that less than a century later, the ‘scoundrel’s’ grandson should, as prime minister, have as one of the first guests in his home, His Majesty’s representative?” King’s blue eyes were merry with the irony of the situation.

“Politics doesn’t interest us,” Lady Byng sniffed. Lord Byng stood soldier straight. His moustached mouth did not twitch or open to disagree with his wife. “In fact, we shun and detest politics. To change the subject,” Viscountess Byng trotted on with her British accent, “let me say that Lady Laurier was very generous to will you this lovely home.”

“I am grateful to Lady Laurier. However, politics do not pay handsomely and it is no secret that I could ill afford the work to renovate the house. Fortunately, I have many generous Liberal supporters,” King explained. “If we step into the library I can show you some of the fine things Peter Larkin has sent from Britain. Lady Byng, would you care to see the portrait of my mother? And Lord Byng, you might be interested in glancing at some of the works on what I call ‘the shelf of the humble,’ the books written by my grandfather, my father, my brother, and myself.”

King and his guests concluded the tour and returned to take tea in the dining room. The conversation centred on the Byngs’ admiration for the lovely furnishings sent by Larkin, the Salada tea magnate, King’s benefactor and Canadian high commissioner to London. Talk of Britain led Lady Byng to comment on the length of Canadian winters.

“I miss the pipe of the cheeky wren and the little robin redbreast that we heard at home on even the dullest winter days,” she bemoaned.

As the dessert tray went round, Byng started talking about his interest in phrenology. He was one of a number of people who believed that examining the shape of someone’s head could “scientifically” tell them about that person’s character. Phrenological diagrams divided the head into certain areas, and practitioners only had to feel someone’s head to know whether they were cautious, secretive, spiritual and so on. Byng was very interested in the size and number of bumps on the heads of King’s ministers.

King was glad politics were not a topic of conversation. As the new leader of the country, he was cautiously learning how to manoeuver in Parliament. He tried to balance the needs of his constituents in North York and those of his own party. He wanted both to woo the errant Union Liberals and Progressives back to the Liberal party while doing as much damage as was civilly possible to his “worthy” opponent, the Conservative leader and former prime minister, Arthur Meighen. King had previously met Meighen on the debating floor at university. Today, as political adversaries, the two cordially despised each other.

When King was not working, he found it pleasant to relax in the golden-bricked security of his Sandy Hill home. The antiques around him whispered stories of the past. The portraits on the walls watched over him: Sir Wilfrid and Lady Laurier, Gladstone, Mother and Father, his grandmothers and Grandfather. On the mantel of the bedroom fireplace, the vigil was kept by the photographs of his dead siblings, sister Bella and recently deceased brother Max.

Although Lady Byng poured the tea, the real presence presiding in the sombre-panelled dining room was the portrait of Mother. Lady Byng felt a sense of family at Laurier House, although the family was alive only on canvas and celluloid. Approving looks came from painted eyes. Encouragement smiled on sepia-toned lips.

“Are you not lonely here, Mr. King?” Lady Byng queried.

“I should ask for nothing more than to be married,” King replied frankly. “But alas, such joyful domestic circumstances continue to elude me. I am, though, quite happy to have a home.”

He was home, but since Max’s painful and tragic death less than a year ago, more than ever Willie was alone. He was thankful the affairs of the nation demanded his attention and took up long hours, six and a half days a week. If he could, he would work even longer and harder to serve the people, to succeed in doing Gods will. And somehow he felt that Mother, Father, Bella, Max, and even Bert and others were nearby, pushing him on. “And I must confess,” he added, speaking in Lady Evelyn’s direction, “I never feel them far away. It’s almost as if they are trying to communicate with me.”

“Well, Mr. Prime Minister,” Lady Byng responded with a glance in her husbands direction, “there are many ways in which it is possible to communicate with the spirits of those who have departed. There are, in fact, many well-born and educated people, such as yourself, who know this. There are even guides who can help research.”

Lord Byng cleared his throat uncomfortably. The study of bumps on heads was different from psychical research.

“Perhaps we can speak about this at another time,” Lady Byng concluded before sailing off on a description of her rock garden.

London, England

September 23, 1923

King felt he usually looked flabby. He was, in some ways, meek and fuddling in appearance: a dumpy middle-aged man in a drab, grey suit, a shank of hair pulled stiffly across his forehead to hide his balding pate. For the Imperial Conference in London in 1923, King had been shopping. The prime minister of Canada had a new look to present to the world.

His eyes shone blue-jay bright. A shiny black top hat sat firmly on his head. Striped trousers, white shirt, collar, vest, handkerchief, tie and tie pin were all carefully chosen. Swinging his cane and looking like a man in a hurry to complete a mission, he stepped smartly across the pavement. The business of the Dominion of Canada was singularly on his mind.

King was ready to begin the weeks of meetings of an Imperial Conference that would see an important shift of thinking. Canada, under King’s administration, would no longer instantly obey Britain’s orders – at least, not before parliamentary consultation occurred to determine her best interests. And this was only a first peek at the changes that needed to come.

Prime Minister’s Office

East Block, Parliament Buildings, Ottawa

June 29, 1926

Part of King wanted to crumple the letter furiously. The Governor General had refused the advice of his prime minister. Despite King’s eloquent and well-reasoned request, Lord Byng refused to sign the Order-in-Council dissolving Parliament in order to call an election!

The election of September 1925 had produced no clear majority. The Conservatives possessed 116 seats, the Liberals 101, and the Progressives the decisive 24. Although he had lost his seat, King, supported by some members of his party, decided to continue as prime minister on the condition that he could obtain a vote of confidence in Parliament. If the Progressives would support the Liberals’ bills, King would be able to govern.

When a seat was found for him in a by-election in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan, and a positive vote secured in the House of Commons, King became the first Canadian prime minister to head a minority government. Daily he sweated a dainty step on the tightrope between presenting policy pleasing to the Progressives and policy acceptable to his own party. Yet, a bill to set in motion the federal/provincial machinery for an old age pension was not enough, and the tightrope snapped. A Customs scandal involving alcohol smuggling caused some of the Progressives, such as an agonized Agnes Macphail, to doubt the government s innocence and moral integrity. The Liberals’ crucial support was slipping away.

The debate over four days and nights could not resolve the issue, and it was clear that King’s government was coming down. Before he was pushed too far, King snapped back up, eager to have Parliament dissolved in order to hold an election and gain a secure majority. He was refused! The Governor General had initiated a constitutional crisis unprecedented in the history of Canada!

Since Byng would not adhere to the constitution and dissolve Parliament as his prime minister requested, the prime minister had taken another line of action. To everyone’s surprise he had resigned.

King reread Governor General Byng’s letter accepting his resignation.

Gov’t House

Ottawa

June 29th, 1926

My dear Mr. King,

I must acknowledge on paper, with many thanks, the receipt of your letter handed to me at our meeting yesterday.

In trying to condense all that has passed between us during the last week, it seems to my mind that there is really only one point at issue.

You advise me “that as, in your opinion, Mr. Meighen is unable to govern the country, there should be another Election with the present machinery to enable the people to decide.” My contention is that Mr. Meighen has not been given a chance of trying to govern, or saying that he cannot do so, and that all reasonable expedients should be tried before resorting to another Election.

Permit me to say once more that, before deciding on my constitutional course on this matter, I gave the subject the most fair-minded and painstaking consideration which it was in my power to apply.

I can only add how sincerely I regret the severance of our official companionship, and how gratefully I acknowledge the help of your counsel and cooperation.

With Warmest Wishes,

Yrs sincerely, Byng of Vimy

King came to a realization. Let the Governor General give Meighen his chance to govern, he decided almost gleefully. Let Meighen inherit the problems of the West and more! King would sit back while keeping one eye open for an opportunity. When the chance came, he would seize it. The country needed an election to let the people show that they wanted to end autocracy. He would go forward with the strength of God and His Might and Right to battle as his forefathers battled for the rights of the people – and God’s will on earth. Already ideas were booming into his mind like thunderclaps. Grandfathers war for the rights of the many against the wishes of the powerful few in government, was not over – not yet.

Liverpool, England

October 17, 1926

King descended the ship’s gangplank, his face set in a determined smile. Once again he was in England to attend an Imperial Conference in London as Canada’s prime minister and secretary of state.

Meighen’s government had lasted three days. King had quickly swept it out of the way with a trap of technical questions that had led to a vote of confidence. Before Meighen could take office, he had to satisfy the curious dictates of the day, which said that ministers must be reelected before assuming office. While Meighen was out of the House seeking re-election, King descended on his unprotected ministers one by one. His relentless questioning ascertained that none had taken an oath as minister of the Crown but were merely acting ministers. These men, King revealed, were not “entitled to spend one five-cent piece of the public money.” The ensuing clamour in the House led to a federal election. Meighen lost, and the Conservatives slipped to 91 seats. The Progressives held 12, the United Farmers of Alberta (U.F.A.) 11, and several seats went to Labour and Independents. The Liberals garnered 116 seats, and an additional 10 seats were won by the Liberal-Progressives. King had a firmer mandate to rule. Chosen by the people. Chosen by God.

Only two weeks after the fatiguing election he had boarded the ship for England. In some ways King had not been able to prepare for the conference, but in others he was more than ready. The conference of 1923 had seen a shift in attitudes. Now King firmly intended to steer the other delegates toward voting for recommendations of constitutional equality with a clearly defined role for the Governor General.

Canada had grown up and was now more than capable of regulating her national affairs on her own. She also had her ideas about international issues, and these were sometimes different from those of the mother country. When the Balfour Report defined the dominions as autonomous and equal in status, it was clear that the Colonial Era, as it had been known, was over. An age of partners in a Commonwealth was beginning, and Canada and her sister nations considered themselves equal partners.

When the endless meetings, official engagements, and necessary tea appearances were finished, King planned to do some private visiting. He had some questions of his own that he had to investigate. Questions about the past and the future, that only people like scientist and well-known British spiritualist Sir Oliver Lodge could answer.

Laurier House, Ottawa

July 3, 1927

“At work already I see?” King asked, joining his guest.

“Yes, I’m doing a map of my route” the tall, slim young man replied casually. Charles Lindbergh, the American aviation hero, had bravely completed the first nonstop transatlantic flight in May. Now he was the star of Canada’s Diamond Jubilee birthday celebrations. “I must say, that was some day yesterday! Landing here in Ottawa, then the ceremonies, the visits, the receptions, the champagne. You Canadians sure know how to celebrate! Oh! That reminds me, here are your studs. Thank you for the loan.”

“Mrs. Patteson gave those to me. Perhaps she noticed you were wearing them at the party here yesterday evening. She would have been honoured. By the way, Mrs. Patteson told me that she has heard wonderful reports of the entire celebration. The newspapers said sixty thousand were at Parliament Hill on Friday to see the dedication of the Carillon. Did I tell you,” King confided, “that the first impression of the Carillon bells was almost ruined? An aeroplane circled near the Peace Tower, making a frightful noise!”

Lindbergh smiled and then bowed his head as his host said grace.

“Nonetheless,” King went on after the prayer, “Governor General Viscount Willingdon and I said our inauguration speeches and the clock was started exactly at noon.” King glanced at his guest, but the significance of the auspicious moment seemed unappreciated by the young man.

“I ordered the clock started exactly at noon, with both hands pointing straight up,” King explained. He paused and looked at Lindbergh again.

At a loss, Lindbergh sipped his tea.

“The great feature of the day was the radio broadcast across the nation and even as far as Brazil, I’m told. Never before has the human voice been heard at the same time by so many people. I feel it is the beginning of Canada’s place in the world, as a world power.” He chuckled, “And the next day you arrived – like a young god from the skies in human form!”

Lindbergh looked uncomfortable, but with his mouth full of eggs, he could say little.

“I thank Providence that I could be in office for this occasion. I think I’ll make a book of some of the wonderful messages given,” King mused. “The only thing that marred it was the death of that young pilot yesterday”

“I must agree,” Lindbergh replied cautiously, “with his flight instructor. Johnson was trying to be a little too ambitious.”

“Perhaps. Nonetheless, it is a tragedy, and before church I will see that the arrangements for a proper military funeral have been made. And you sir, what are your plans today?”

“I’d like to catch up on my correspondence.”

“You must use my library. And if you happen to be writing to your mother give her my regards and tell her I am most interested to hear that we might have a Mackenzie family connection!”

“I will, and thank you for the use of your library. It will inspire…” but before Lindbergh could finish there was a scuttle-clicking on the floor.

“Look who smells sausages!” Lindbergh remarked as a little Irish terrier bounded into the room.

“Sit, boy!” he ordered, rewarding the dog with a piece of sausage.

“Colonel, you’ll encourage his bad manners,” King admonished in a mock serious tone. “But I must say, I give the little scoundrel the occasional tidbit too, don’t I, Pat?” Pat streaked over to King, and sat expectantly with his tail thumping furiously. He received another savoury treat and a warm pat from his master.

Outside the window, the prosperity of summer stretched lazily down the street, over the city and across the province. For her sixtieth birthday, the whole nation seemed to be unified.

At Laurier House, a good mood scampered around the room like a well-fed dog with a wagging tail. Only the happiness of the moment mattered.

No one saw the shadow of the rain clouds creeping across the lawn.

Ernest Lapointe introduce “Our Leader” with cheers at the 20th Anniversary of King’s Liberal leadership.

A little group at Kingsmere: Godfroy Patteson, Etta Wriedt, Joan Patteson, King, and dogs – Pat and his brother, Derry.