Читать книгу A Richard Rohmer Omnibus - Richard Rohmer - Страница 34

Ottawa / 7:00 a.m., EDT

The telephone was ringing. Porter struggled awake and reached out for it, almost rolling off the narrow couch in the process.

It was Tom Scott’s voice. “It’s seven o’clock, Prime Minister. You asked me to give you a call.”

“Thank you, Tom. I’ll get going right away.”

Still fogged with sleep, the Prime Minister sat up and tried to collect his wits. God, what a night! It was late when he’d got to bed. The television address had taken much longer than he’d expected — almost an hour — and after that there had been several important telephone calls. He had talked with the Canadian Ambassador in Washington, the Canadian High Commissioner in London, whom he had routed out of bed at 3:30 in the morning, and with several of the Cabinet ministers who wanted clarification and direction regarding the morning briefing.

About midnight Tom Scott had poured a drink for Porter, Thomas and himself, and the three of them sat and talked for a while, speculating about what action the United States would take should Parliament refuse the ultimatum. Finally the other two left and Porter had stretched out on the couch, completely exhausted.

He slept fitfully. Twice he was awakened with reports from the Chief of the Defence Staff, and then by a call from George Townsend, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, which had come through at 4 a.m. Townsend wanted the Prime Minister to know that Great Britain would stand behind Canada whatever the decision on the ultimatum. If it was rejected, the United Kingdom would do its best to support the economic structure of Canada in the face of the sanctions which the United States would undoubtedly impose, and would attempt to give the country preferential treatment in terms of trade. However, because of the tight restrictions imposed by membership in the Common Market, such preferences would have to be limited. But, as much as anything, Townsend wanted to offer his moral support.

Porter thanked him for the encouragement, and the two men went on to an extensive discussion of military support. Certain emergency measures were agreed on.

After speaking to Townsend, the Prime Minister called the Chief of the Defence Staff to inform him of the military arrangements he had made and to give him further instructions.

And now, just as he had got back to sleep, it was time to get going again.

The Prime Minister got up stiffly, showered and dressed quickly in the dark blue suit Mike Cranston had brought in the night before. After that he sat down to the light breakfast that was waiting for him on his desk and opened the Toronto Globe and Mail.

He saw at once that the Globe had done exactly what he had pleaded with the press not to do. Across the front page was the enormous headline, “U.S. Threatens Canada.” Underneath was an editorial by the editor-in-chief and a full report of the ultimatum and the actions of the government. The editorial was strongly anti-American, and called for demonstrations.

Porter was furious. His first thought was to get the publisher and the editor-in-chief on the line and raise hell with them. But he had tangled with both of these men before and he knew that it would be of little value to talk to them. There was never any question that they would change their position, no matter what the facts were, and it was clear to Porter that any call from him would only encourage them to take a more extreme view.

What he did do, however, was to get in touch with his long-time friend, the editor-in-chief of The Toronto Star and a bright and dynamic young man who shared many of Porter’s views. They discussed the approach the Globe and Mail had taken and ways in which the Star might treat the situation to counteract the dangerous effect of the morning paper. He also reported on his assessment of feelings of people in the Toronto area, where opinion was running high in favour of rejecting the ultimatum. Anti-Americanism was being expressed everywhere, and parades and demonstrations were already being organized.

At this point, off the record, the Prime Minister said that he had ordered the Chief of the Defence Staff to move regular-force troops into the city during the night. They were now secretly stationed, with their vehicles and equipment, at the Fort York and Moss Park armouries, and also at the Canadian Forces Base at Downsview. The CDS and his staff were in close co-operation with the Metropolitan Toronto Police and the Ontario Provincial Police. Similar action had been taken in Montreal, Windsor, Winnipeg, Calgary, Vancouver and Edmonton. Military forces were available to provide “aid to the civil power” if called upon by the local authorities.

When he had finished his conversation, John Thomas entered the office. He sat and listened while Tom Scott briefed the Prime Minister on the success of the parliamentary airlift and on general editorial reaction in the Canadian and American newspapers.

Scott reported that the leaders of the opposition parties had accepted the proposed motion on the ultimatum with only minor revisions. They had also wanted to know when the Prime Minister would have ready the preliminary remarks he would make in introducing the motion in the House.

“That’s right!” Porter said. “I promised to let them have a look at what I intended to say in advance. Could you draft out something, John? It should be very brief.”

“Glad to. I’ll have it for you in fifteen minutes.”

Thomas went off to another office to begin work on the draft, and after some more instructions, Tom Scott left the office. The Prime Minister called in his secretary to dictate notes on some of the points he wanted to make in closing the debate in the House.

It was soon time to leave for the Commons Chamber and the briefing. Before leaving, Porter called Scott on the intercom. “Tom, I’m leaving now. Would you hold the fort here and send down messages only if they are of the utmost urgency? The RCMP are standing by to get me through the mob of reporters that I’m sure are just outside the door.”

“Yes, sir, they’re there, all right, only this time there must be twice as many as yesterday.”

“Good Lord!”

Bracing himself, the Prime Minister picked up his black loose-leaf notebook and went out to the reception area to pick up the RCMP escort.

A mob scene it was. Clearly, the emotions aroused by the bluntness of the ultimatum were reaching a high pitch. There was a tremendous milling about and shouting as the reporters attempted to put their questions to him.

The Prime Minister grabbed the sleeve of the RCMP Staff Sergeant, senior man in the group, and shouted something in his ear. The Sergeant disappeared back into the reception room and reappeared immediately with a chair. Porter climbed onto it so that he could look over the crowd and speak. He raised his arms to signal for quiet. Gradually the babble of talk died down.

There was an air of tension and expectancy. This was the event and this was the man at the centre.

The Prime Minister smiled as he began to speak. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.”

There was much clapping and cheering.

“There is very little new for me to report to you this morning. Not a great deal has transpired since my television address last night.

“As you know, an extensive briefing of all the Members of Parliament is to begin in the Commons Chamber in three or four minutes’ time. I want that meeting to get under way promptly because there is so much to cover in the three-hour period available.

“The Press Gallery will of course be open during the briefing, and we have arranged for television coverage in the Commons, so the people of Canada will be getting the same information and background as their elected representatives and the Senate. The debate this afternoon will also be televised across the country.”

A shouted question. “What position are you going to take on the vote on the ultimatum?” It was the same question he had declined the day before.

“That is not a question I wish to answer at this time. When I come to wind up the debate in the Commons this afternoon I shall make my position absolutely clear. By then, too, we should have the results of the national telephone poll that is now going on. Before I state my position, I want to know what response there has been from the people.”

“It’s been fantastic,” a reporter shouted.

“Good!” said the Prime Minister. “Now if you will all be kind enough to let me and my football team through, I’ll get the briefing under way.”

The crowd of reporters opened up easily to let Robert Porter and his escort through. When they reached the foyer to the House of Commons the Prime Minister left the escort behind and proceeded directly into the government lobby. It was crowded with members of his party hurrying to their seats. Porter acknowledged the greetings as he walked down the long room towards the curtained entrance to the aisle which led directly to his place on the front bench.

As the curtain fell behind him and he started down the incline of steps towards his seat, he was startled by a thundering noise, a tremendous pounding of the desks by members of every party and a burst of applause from the galleries and from the senators seated on the floor of the House. It was an unusual sound, and the Prime Minister was profoundly moved by it.

As he walked slowly down the steps toward his seat, his eyes swept across the vast chamber from left to right. They took in an impressive and most unusual sight, one that he would never forget. Nor would he forget the atmosphere of apprehension and excitement that would inevitably mount as the events of that day moved inexorably forward, building up wave upon wave to the crest of decision which was to come shortly after five o’clock.

He stopped halfway down the aisle to acknowledge the rare tribute being paid to him. He knew that actually the applause was not for him but for the position he held as the First Minister of Canada. Nevertheless, he was deeply impressed by this sign that all present were united in a strong feeling for their country.

He turned to the left and saw the faces of his own members, sitting at their seats thumping away vigorously. He could see the vacant Speaker’s Chair, that small elegant throne from which the “chairman” of Parliament presided over the battles and debates, an ornate, carved dais which the Speaker would ascend that afternoon after the Speech from the Throne had been read in the Senate Chamber.

Overhead, the Press Gallery was crowded with the men and women who reported to the nation the happenings in the House. In the Visitors’ Gallery immediately opposite were many familiar faces — ambassadors, friends — and in a special section the provincial premiers, together with the two Commissioners of the territories, Jones of the Yukon and Nellie Vladm of the Northwest Territories.

The Spectators’ Gallery was jammed. Everyone who could possibly be squeezed in was there. There were even people sitting in the aisles. At the opposite end of the chamber, two television cameras which were now fixtures in the Commons Chamber, were trained on him.

This was Canada. Canada was in this room, and the eyes of all Canadians were upon Parliament and upon him.

As he resumed his walk down the aisle to his seat, he reminded himself that this was not a session of Parliament but only a briefing. Informality would have to prevail. The Speaker would not be in the chair. He himself would be chairman and general controller of the session.

In front of the Speaker’s Chair a large projection screen had been placed. To the left of the screen was a long table on which sat a lectern with a set of microphones mounted on it. The Prime Minister could see the Minister for External Affairs, his deputy and two other staff members seated at the table, ready to begin the briefing.

The Prime Minister arrived at his seat and remained standing. He nodded and half bowed to the Leader of the Opposition and to all sides of the House, while the banging of desks and applause kept on. Finally, with a gesture he had had to use twice with the press in the last few hours, he raised his hands to ask that the meeting might come to order and the proceedings begin.

As the din began to subside, he took out his glasses and ran his eyes over the points he had prepared in his notebook.

The Chamber had fallen silent. There was the odd cough and clearing of throat here and there and some activity in the Press Gallery. As the Prime Minister began to speak, even the small noises died down and his voice filled the vast chamber.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “we are at the opening of what may well be the most important and momentous day of decision in the history of Canada.”