Some Day the Sun Will Shine and Have Not Will Be No More

by Brian Peckford

  The year 1974 was an important one. I was invited into the Cabinet to serve as minister of Municipal Affairs and Housing. I felt willing and able to jump right into the ministerial fray. And I did. It was refreshing, if not daunting. The department needed serious restructuring. With the quick resignation of the then deputy minister, I was able to begin with many of the existing people there to improve the efficiency and financial apparatus of the place. This had been the repository of some of Smallwood’s appointments. There still was Mr. Harold Rowe, brother of one of Smallwood’s former elected lieutenants, Frederick Rowe (then serving his reward in the Canadian Senate), receiving a salary and having the title of Special Adviser. I respected his longevity and marvelled at the stories he could tell about when he and other ministers and deputy ministers were on the receiving line of Smallwood’s special intercom system and would hear Smallwood’s voice, at any time, summoning them to the “great one’s” office to be belittled in front of cold strangers.

  Lucky for me, one of the unsung giants of the Public Service, Peter Withers, was the assistant deputy minister, who I quickly appointed deputy minister. With his advice and dedication we enlisted many of the existing employees to begin the hard work of giving credibility to the department, especially within the government central agencies of Treasury Board, Executive Council, and the Department of Finance.

  First and foremost we had to get the existing staff on side. So a regular staff meeting was initiated, the first time in the department’s history. Then we began working on the finance administration side of things. We persuaded the Treasury Board to approve the creation of a Finance Division in the department. Then we began to provide some regional presence of the department in Gander and Corner Brook. Most importantly, we began to get a handle on the Capital Works process. Up to now a lot of projects were approved in an ad hoc manner where politics played too large a role. We tried to assess the projects on their merit and ensure that where health and safety were involved, such projects were recommended to Cabinet on a priority basis.

  I was also responsible for the Housing Corporation. This was the fiefdom of then Chairman Al Gosse, a dapper, short man exuding confidence and authority. The Housing Corporation was involved in many social housing projects around the province as well as at that time developing the major economic housing project (Newtown) that was to become a part of the City of Mount Pearl, a major bedroom community to St. John’s.

  At that time the federal government was involved in housing and each year there was a federal allocation to the provinces after relevant negotiations between the provincial Housing Corporation and the federal Canada and Mortgage Housing Corporation. One particular year at budget time we were informed casually by CMHC that our allocation had been drastically reduced. This came as a surprise since talks up to then had indicated that an allocation similar to the previous year was likely, and a lot of planned projects were predicated on such an allocation. When apprised of this sudden turn of events, I immediately contacted CMHC in Ottawa. However, it was impossible to speak to anyone in authority. I telexed the chairman, but received a gobbled, bureaucratic answer from some underling. I contacted other provinces and found that their Housing authorities had not received similar drastic cuts in federal housing allocations. This was indeed troubling and left me very angry. I contacted the premier and told him that, unless he disagreed, I was off to Ottawa to confront in person CMHC and have the allocation restored. Premier Moores was a little amused by it all and thought that it would be a wasted trip but told me if I thought I could do something there, go for it.

  Off to Ottawa I went, and I was in the office of CMHC the next morning, having taken an early morning flight from St. John’s. The president was Mr. Bill Teron, a developer friend of Prime Minister Trudeau’s. Teron was to build a controversial swimming pool at the prime minister’s residence, the funding of which is still a mystery. The Vancouver Sun of February, 2006, in doing a story on whether Prime Minister Harper should move to 24 Sussex Drive, described the history of the place:

  In 1975, Pierre Trudeau allowed a $200,000 pool house—complete with sauna and sitting area, joined to the main house by underground tunnel—to be built by Ottawa developer Bill Teron, who refused to say who paid for it. (Trudeau named Teron president of the CMHC in 1973 and deputy minister for urban affairs in the late 1970s.)

  Another reference to this incident is contained in a book written by Mark Denhez in 1994 entitled The Canadian Home: From Cave to Electronic Cocoon. In it one finds the following:

  Journalists also immortalized Teron’s little “chat” with Pierre Trudeau in 1974 concerning 24 Sussex. Gwyn [Richard Gwyn, a well-known commentator of the time] describes it: “Wouldn’t an indoor swimming pool be a great idea? It would cost, Teron reckoned, about $60,000 and could be built easily and without fuss by Public Works. It was not anyone’s fault, exactly, that the pool eventually cost over $200,000. Too much rock, mostly, and had to be paid by wealthy donors, in exchange for anonymity and a tax write off. What mattered about the pool was that it soon became a metaphor for breach of trust.”

  Of course, I had committed the cardinal sin of not having an appointment, so when I appeared at the reception desk to seek a meeting with the president for that day, I was met with surprise and an unco-operative attitude. I explained to the receptionist that I was the Housing minister for Newfoundland and had just taken an early flight to Ottawa and that I wanted to see the president on an urgent basis since I believed there was some mistake in my province’s allocation of housing money for this coming year. I was quickly informed that the president was busy all day. I indicated that I was available any time from then until midnight or the next day. Still no time available!

  Well, I said, “Please tell Mr. Teron’s secretary to tell Mr. Teron that I shall be here until Mr. Teron sees me—either today, tomorrow, or whatever day. I will be here every day during business hours to see him. I will not be leaving until I see him.”

  With a frown the receptionist said, “I will let her know.”

  And so the morning elapsed, people coming and going, and I just sat there in the reception office.

  “Oh,” I said to the receptionist, “does your president have another external exit beside this front door that I used?”

  Curtly, she replied, “No, sir!”

  Lunch came and went—and still no action.

  Around three o’clock this gentleman came to the reception room, introduced himself as a vice-president, and indicated that the president had instructed him to see me.

  “Thank you,” I said, “but I must see the president. No disrespect, but the issue is one for me and the president to resolve.”

  The hours passed, and it was now closing time. People were leaving for the day. Sometime between six-thirty and seven o’clock, the president’s secretary came to the reception area and asked me to come with her—the president was going to see me.

  Well, it was short.

  I was ready with my arguments, and as we shook hands I had begun to explain.

  “No, no,” Teron exclaimed. “Your allocation has been restored. Anything else?”

  Stuttering and surprised, I said, “No, no, no, that will be fine.”

  And Teron was out the door. Of course, I left elated and went back to my hotel. I didn’t know (and still don’t to this day) why I had been treated this way, and now that I had the full allocation, I don’t think I spent time trying to discover the reason for this bizarre action.

  Of course, on my return home I informed the premier, who was delighted, admitting, in telling my incident amusedly to Cabinet the next week, that he thought my action would be a waste of time.

  Being minister of Municipal Affairs provided good experience since it allowed me to get to know many parts of the province that I did not know or had not visited, as well as dealing with municipal organizations, which meant knowing about these communities and regions at the ground level. I remember once hiring a plane out of Goose Bay and trave
lling the Labrador Straits area, since it was often a forgotten area of Labrador and the province.

  During this period I also became aware of the inner workings of Cabinet, serving on the Social Policy Committee of Cabinet and then as chair of the committee. I became acutely aware, really for the first time, of the very poor financial position of the province, that we really did not have the money to do the things that we were now as a province expected to do. The degree to which this existed was a bit of a shock to me. Essentially, the province was cutting corners everywhere except in health and education, and the spending there on new hospitals and schools—like all capital works—was borrowed money. We had the lowest credit rating in Canada—many of our schools lacked the science labs and libraries commonplace in other parts of Canada—and trying to keep up in medical technology was almost impossible.

  In my own department new capital projects would take many years to complete: a $1 million water and sewer project would be done in annual phases of $250,000. In this way we could announce more projects, although it would take years for any of them to be completed. Because of the nature of the development of the municipal movement in the province, only a handful of councils levied property tax and hence were highly dependent on the province for funds. There was never enough money even for reasonable, vital things, and often there was no money at all. It was natural now in this circumstance to see both the Smallwood era of giveaways—like the Upper Churchill and the Terms of Union, of no meaningful fisheries, say—as gigantic blunders, sentencing the province to year after year of difficult budgets and parochial infighting everywhere.

  It was in this context that I began to view the new Department of Mines and Energy as a new and up-and-coming department. It seemed that there was promise here, and papers were presented to Cabinet about the possibilities of offshore oil and gas. The then minister of Mines and Energy, John Crosbie, resigned to enter federal politics, seeming always uneasy in his role having to play second fiddle.

  I then did the unthinkable.

  I went to the premier and told him that I wanted to be the new minister of Mines and Energy, just like that. I knew I was taking a chance, that I might come off brash and too opportunistic. But I weighed the risks: I had been given the Department of Municipal Affairs and Housing two years before. It had had many problems. I tackled those problems, kept the government and especially the premier out of trouble, and when there was trouble I did not run to the premier to solve them, but instead solved them at the department level. I had participated constructively in Cabinet and the Social Policy Committee and otherwise presented a positive image of the government through the department. I also knew that the premier liked to delegate, that he would want someone in this department who could tackle the emerging opportunities and challenges. I thought, therefore, that I was a good candidate for the job. And, frankly, I was afraid that if I did not show an interest right away the premier, on some other Cabinet colleague’s recommendation or strong lobbying, might just give the appointment to someone other than me.

  Thankfully, the premier agreed with me, and for that I am forever grateful. I don’t remember if he hesitated or whether it took a few days or not for him to make the decision. I suspect if I hadn’t received the appointment I might remember.

  From the first day, I knew I was in the right place. There were a lot of ideas floating around, both on the energy and the mining side. I knew a little about mining, representing a district that had three small copper mines in recent years. As a matter of fact, one such mine that had recently closed down, the Whalesback Mine, was reactivated by local investors and called Green Bay Mining. And two of my best friends, Fred Goudie and Joe Bomgartl, were both involved in mining in my district. And of course, on the energy side there was Newfoundland and Labrador Hydro (with whom during that period I had an uneasy relationship, given their sense of superiority and desire to deal with just the premier), and the promise of offshore oil and gas.

  When you have people like Cabot Martin, Steve Millan, and John Fitzgerald around, things are going to happen, especially when they realize (contrary to their likely earlier perceptions that the premier has appointed a lightweight) that I was open and ready to learn, that I was amenable to a strong provincial position on offshore, and that I enjoyed the cut and thrust of debate around new ideas. There was many a night that I stayed late (Eastern Canada Building, Bonaventure Avenue) to read and learn the new terms dealing with offshore. I remember meeting one fellow, a cleaner, at 6: 00 a.m., who was on his way to work as I was leaving after a night of study. I would return at 9: 00 a.m.

  So the department was a busy place. The mining side was busy with the iron ore mines in Labrador City and Wabush in Labrador, the zinc mine in Daniel’s Harbour on the island, and the closing of the fluorspar mine in St. Lawrence; the energy side was busy on both the developing offshore issue and the ongoing Upper and Lower Churchill issues, as well as the development of additional hydro power on the island.

  Two developments on the island—the Upper Salmon Hydro Project and the Hinds Lake Hydro Project—became very controversial. In both cases, being Energy minister, I was to take a leading role and found myself immersed in local, often vicious, personal negative reactions. It must be remembered that in the mid-to late seventies the province was mired in debt and at that time there was little on the horizon that would see an end to our economic and financial circumstance. Hence, every development of any kind or size immediately drew quick and local responses—all the way from jobs to environmental and native concerns, some legitimate and many others emotional responses to dire local conditions.

  In the Upper Salmon case, this development was really an extension to the already existing large Bay D’Espoir Hydro Development on the south coast of the island and would not generate that many jobs. But the local towns of St. Alban’s, Head of Bay D’Espoir, Milltown, Morrisville, and the largely Mi’kmaq town of Conne River were up in arms about jobs, the development risking caribou habitat, and local Liberals wanted to embarrass the government. This all came to a head in a demonstration at the Bay D’Espoir site when the management of Newfoundland and Labrador Hydro and I were there to announce the development. It was the first time that I saw pictures with negative statements about myself, and I was burned in effigy. I proposed a delegation to meet with me and reluctantly the crowd agreed; some semblance of reality was brought to what the development could and could not do for the area. Things proceeded after that in a relatively calm manner, the bottom line being that this was a short development with few permanent jobs and would not and could not be the answer for the more structural economic problems of the area.

  In somewhat of a similar vein, the Hinds Lake development drew the ire of the people in the south central Buchans area, even though the development was some distance in the southwestern area on Grand Lake. However, Buchans had seen its large decades-old base metal mine close and hundreds had left the community. It was felt that this development should help Buchans by building a new road to the development (there was a much longer road access already available) and hence make it possible for workers from Buchans to have a better chance to get the benefit of the development. This became quite a cause célèbre with the local unions, who, of course, mobilized the larger union movement and the Member of Parliament, a Liberal, and no friend, therefore, of the provincial Conservative government. Even the national CBC got in on the act.

  All of this culminated in a large meeting in Buchans (I think it was on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon) to protest the lack of commitment by the province and minister, in particular, with their plan for the development. I was asked to appear before this rally and explain myself. I remember my colleague, Joe Goudie, the Member from Labrador and fellow minister, accompanied me on this occasion. I drove to Buchans with Joe and arrived at the building where the protest rally was being held. We were right on time and the hall was already filled with proceedings about to start, all just waiting to see if I would attend. I walked in the buil
ding and proceeded to the front of the hall, accompanied by boos and catcalls. All the union leadership were present, and the MP—and CBC.

  Of course, the only topic was the hydro development. The various speakers all took their turns criticizing the government and me for the callous way this whole thing was being handled, followed by lots of supportive applause and each speaker referring to the fact that I was now there and would have to answer. This must have gone on for an hour or more. The anticipation grew because all were now waiting to hear from the one person all the speakers were saying could do something to help. All the speakers were on the stage, including me. When finally I was introduced, I decided I would not remain on the stage. Instead, I took the few steps down from the stage and stood immediately in front of the audience.

  I began very slowly and very methodically and in a subdued voice. I explained that like all such projects, this was a provincial project, not a local or regional project. It would provide electricity to the entire province. Would it be fair to charge everyone in the province higher bills just to please one group in one part of the province for a year or two? What about another project next year? Would I have to build a road or similar thing for people who protested and were having a hard time that had nothing to do with the project? The people from the Buchans area could still compete for jobs on the project and drive to the project like people all over the province. As Energy minister I could not be expected to try and solve the deep economic problems of a place or region on the back of a short-term project. That was not fair! I was not Santa Claus.

  Suddenly, to a number of these points, I heard someone say in a low voice, “Yes, that’s right,” and another, “Yes, I understand,” or words to that effect. I pointed out none too subtly that it was all right for those on the stage to criticize, but they did not have any responsibility on this matter to the taxpayers, to all the citizens of the province. I went on to describe other areas where the economy was not good, where a fish plant was closed down, where another mine had closed— three in my own district—where loggers had to drive from distant communities to the lumber woods, with others going to Labrador and others to the mainland—some who had relatives right here in this room. Miraculously, many were now applauding the things that I said. Now there seemed a very small minority in the room who were against me.