John Diefenbaker. Arthur SladeЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.”