If you have read the recent articles in the newspaper, The Independent, you know the rest. Essentially PASNY and the New York investors, especially PASNY (a big customer of Quebec power) thought that they would be able to get Lower Churchill power through Quebec. They soon realized that the Anglo-Saxon route was not economic at that time and that one of the remaining sources of power lay in Labrador. Mr. Dyson confirmed this in my conversation and volunteered that PASNY had actually met with Quebec to try and push the matter. All was for naught, however, as we know only too well when it comes to dealing with Quebec and Labrador power.
You may be interested to know that this was not my only effort to try and develop Lower Churchill. At the time of the PASNY interest, we had also talked to other eastern U. S. states and to Ontario. A federal-provincial Lower Churchill Development Corporation was formed. I sought out aluminum producers and met with Alcoa and several other producers over the years. I met with Quebec when I was Energy minister and tried to forge a deal, met with Premier Lévesque, Premier Bourassa, was involved in two court actions to get a better deal on the Upper Churchill, which could trigger development of the Lower Churchill and actually spent the people’s money in studies relating to crossing the Strait of Belle Isle. You may remember a First Ministers Conference that was televised where I mentioned putting wires in a pipeline to carry Labrador Power through Quebec, a not too subtle reference to the ability of oil and gas pipelines to move across provincial borders. And there were endless efforts to try and get the federal government to allow for the wheeling of power through Quebec, as PASNY tried to do.
Given that you saw fit to very publicly present your views, you will not be surprised that I will do likewise. I will be sending this to the CBC afternoon radio open-line show in question and distributing it widely to all the press in the province and to many citizens of the province as well.
A. Brian Peckford
To indicate how set against Newfoundland Quebec really was, one has only to remember that the Parti Québécois had not recognized the Labrador/Quebec Privy Council decision of 1927 concerning the border between the two. We thought at the time that this was just political bluster by an Opposition party for local consumption. After the party became the government in 1976, reality sank in.
This was most clearly demonstrated to me when I attended a Mines Ministers Conference in Quebec City in the late 1970s. I arrived at the hotel the afternoon of the day of registration. There was to be a reception that evening hosted by the Quebec minister. I registered in the lobby of the hotel and was about to take the elevator to my room when I noticed a large map of Quebec hanging just behind the registration desk. There was no Labrador—it was all Quebec. I blew my top. I immediately complained to the people at the desk, went to my room, called to see where the minister was, and within a short period of time spoke to him. I indicated in no uncertain terms that this brazen display was unacceptable and that we would have to withdraw from the conference if this map remained on display and that I would hold a press conference announcing our withdrawal and why. The map was quickly removed.
The Churchill defeats were deeply bitter disappointments and it makes me now recall a staunch supporter.
I always liked small communities. I was raised in them, and as I got older I was always drawn back to them. In politics this can be good or bad. Good because you got to know more of your province, bad because there were fewer voters and time seemed always of the essence. Nevertheless, I prevailed in one election campaign, much to the chagrin of the election planners, to visit the community of La Poile, an isolated community on the southwest coast of the island. I had prided myself that I had been to nearly all the inhabited places on the island, and La Poile was one that I had never visited, and hence I wanted to add it to my list as well as show my concern for those who lived there.
So with the required campaign staff press person or two and a megaphone at our fingertips, we set off in helicopter. Of course, the south and southwest coast is notorious for its fog, as the election planners kept reminding me. And so it was with great relief that, as we came to the coast from the north, we could glimpse that a glorious day lay over the community. The pilot landed the helicopter in one of the few places just large enough to do so, and we are off around the harbour/pathway to an appropriate location to deliver a speech on behalf of the party, our candidate, and myself, explaining why the people there should vote for us.
After tracking down a well-used pickup truck, I got into the back of the vehicle and with megaphone in hand began to wax eloquent to almost all of the inhabitants of the community.
In the course of my talk I happened to glance off to my left, and I noticed in the far end of a rocky field, just beyond the truck, an older gentleman sitting, likely out of earshot even for my well-performing megaphone. For a politician this is most aggravating, but I soldiered on, trying not to be put off by one of the elder citizens of the community, obviously a supporter of the opposing party.
After completing my speech and getting down from the truck to mingle among the people, I glanced to see if my wayward voter was still in his place in the field. Sure enough, he was still there keenly following the proceedings. I signalled to one of my campaign staff that he should, with the candidate, request that the people move just down over the hill to a pre-arranged lunch at the local school. I then whispered to him that I would be a little late for lunch, but given that it would take some time for everyone to get refreshments and a sandwich, I was sure to be there with lots of time to speak one-on-one and answer any questions.
As the people moved down toward the school, I jumped over the rail fence and made my way up the field to meet the challenge before me, sensitive that this might not be easy, a Tory premier meeting a senior citizen in a historically Liberal community.
It was one of those special days, warm and so clear that you could see for miles, and for a moment I savoured the peace and freshness that was all around me. I sat down next to my distant spectator.
“How are you today, Skipper?” I asked.
“Number one,” he replied, with a slight twinkle in his eye.
“You never came down by the truck?” I inquired.
“No, boy, me legs are not what they used to be, can barely walk a few feet. And I don’t like asking for help. But me ears are good. I heard most of what you had to say.”
“Good for you,” I said, trying to keep a brave face. “Well, perhaps then I can count on your vote come polling day. I am doing my best to get around to many of the smaller places and not just go to the big places where most of the votes are.”
“No, ’tis a good thing you’re doing, I’d say,” he retorted, “a really good thing.”
Mindful of my lunch obligation just down the hill and aware of the coy approach of my new acquaintance, I got up to leave and was about to bid a friendly goodbye when he raised his arm and with sudden conviction exclaimed, “No, don’t go yet. Please, sit down. I won’t be long.”
His tone, more than the words, told me he had important things to say. I quickly sat down again.
“Do you know something?” he said in a quivering voice.
“What’s that?” I said, half afraid to ask.
“Joey Smallwood said he had been in every community on the island. You’re too young to remember. But I remember. I heard him say it on the radio. But dat’s a lie. He was never in this place, because I have lived here for over seventy years and I should know.”
Somewhat taken back, I responded, “Yes, Skipper, I have heard Joey say that many times. But I did not know if it was true or not,” I responded eagerly.
His voice now raised, he exclaimed, “And another thing. You’re the first prime minister or premier to ever set shoe leather in this place. Did you know that?”
Now fully surprised, I replied, “No sir, I did not know that.”
“And I’m some proud you’re here,” he continued in a broken voice, “and I bet you don’t know how many people vote Tory in this plac
e, especially since Confederation with the Baby Bonus and old-age pensions. Let me tell you: two. And I was always one of them.”
Somewhat shaken, I gently put my arm around the Skipper’s shoulders and looked him straight in his watery eyes. “And you will never know how proud I am to meet you!” I uttered in my own quivering voice.
Well, we yarned a bit. Old buddies we were, or so it seemed— all in these few precious moments. I told him about my grandfather Peckford and his fishing exploits and about George Prole in Nippers Harbour, who was so much like him.
He told me of his life of fishing, the good times and the bad, and how he never trusted Smallwood and thought Confederation would make us lazy; all that free money wasn’t good, he allowed.
Needless to say, in a few short moments I could have sworn I had known him all my life—a few tears from both of us, and then they were gone.
I rose to go, our hands clasped together. I made a solemn promise that I would return to see him. With that, we parted.
I galloped down the rock slope, over the fence, and barged breathlessly into the school and into the fray.
Two years later I accepted an invitation to speak to the annual Port aux Basques Progressive Conservative Association. La Poile is in this district, so I let it be known that I had a promise to keep, and that I had to go to La Poile on this trip. The schedule that had been so carefully prepared had to be scrapped, and I would spend an extra day in the area to accommodate all the other meetings that had been painstakingly arranged. We decided that on the day of the annual meeting we would leave early, helicopter to La Poile in the afternoon, and go on to Port aux Basques that evening for the dinner and dance and meeting.
By helicopter we went south from Deer Lake, crossing Grand Lake and moving down over the western edge of the Annieopsquotch Mountains and Lloyd’s River. The pilot told me that the weather reports were not good on the coast and that fog was likely to be rolling in. He knew my story and how badly I wanted to get to La Poile. So we continued. And then we saw in the distance the fog bank at the coast. We continued into the fog. But it was impossible.
We were now over the ocean and descended to about fifty feet so we could see water, and then travelled westward, intermittently seeing the water. We crawled along the coastal edge, land and water. Miraculously, we saw some lights and buildings ahead, and after several attempts we landed nimbly on the government wharf. What a flight!
People had gathered nearby after hearing the helicopter and knowing that, perhaps, given the fog, the wharf was the only safe place to land. We were in Rose Blanche, the first large community west of La Poile. We were able to hire a car and get transported to Port aux Basques to join the festivities already in progress.
When I got up to speak later that evening, I decided I would dispense with my original thoughts and instead I would tell the story of my attempt earlier that day to get to La Poile and why.
And I told it all in great detail. Slowly, and with every detail, the audience got a sense of the importance of the story and its emotive effect. As I finished to a hushed crowd, a person stood up near the back of the hall.
“Brian, I know the person you’re talking about. He was my uncle. He spoke of you a lot and he always said you would return to see him. He passed away last week.”
CHANGE ISSUE #3—OFFSHORE OIL AND GAS: THE LAST CHANCE
“I must go down to the sea again.”
— John Masefield
WHEN I APPROACHED PREMIER Frank Moores and said I would like to have the vacant Mines and Energy portfolio, I knew that it was the place to be.
I was blessed with really good people who had been hired earlier by the government, especially Cabot Martin, Steve Millan, John Fitzgerald, and Lorne Spracklin. These people were invaluable in those early years: Cabot with his passion for the new opportunity and his devotion to Newfoundland; Steve, the steady, methodical Trinidadian; John, to remember what the rest of us forgot; and Lorne, the numbers man. It is extremely doubtful that we would have been successful later without the passion, persistence, and dedication of these four public servants.
The Petroleum Directorate was established and the important document “The Heritage of the Sea,” our case on offshore minerals rights, was prepared and distributed to every household in the province, and the strong support of Premier Moores and the Cabinet validated our endeavours. This led logically to negotiations with all the oil companies who had an interest in the offshore to accept our regulations. I remember well all the trips to Calgary meeting with oil company executives. I particularly remember a meeting in New York when most of the companies came on side and were instrumental in getting Petro-Canada, then owned by the federal government, to accept our regulations.
Of course, the federal government was aghast at the audacity of Newfoundland to claim ownership of the mineral rights offshore and, I suspect, thought that we would soon abandon what they considered a silly and frivolous position. So the period from 1976 to 1979 was one of getting the Cabinet to agree to our many proposals for staff, legislation, and regulations, and to have a mandate to negotiate with the companies. The Newfoundland Regulations were gazetted in November, 1978, and the Petroleum Directorate was formally established after I became premier in 1979. In this atmosphere of competing jurisdictions and two sets of regulations, the oil companies withdrew in 1977–78 and no drilling occurred. Thankfully, they returned in 1978. Of course, the companies were not pleased with “having to serve two masters,” and there were voices around the country who saw the province—and me in particular—as being provocative, if not belligerent, and the province acting like a banana republic.
I became premier in March, 1979 (on St. Patrick’s Day), and the first discovery of oil at Hibernia occurred a few months later. However, it was not known at that time whether it was a significant discovery and whether it would be commercial. It was not until 1985 that it was declared a significant discovery. However, it was known that a significant flow of oil was encountered on that first discovery and that there seemed to be a large pay zone. So hopes were rising that this would turn out to be something worthwhile.
The first glimmer of hope in our quest came with the election of Joe Clark as prime minister in June, 1979. I had campaigned for Joe in his successful leadership bid of 1976, and he was well aware of the province’s desire to gain control, like the other provinces, of its oil and gas resources. After many discussions and meetings, I received a letter from Prime Minister Clark on September 12, 1979, in which he said:
I am happy to confirm the acceptance of the four principles which are set out as an annex to this letter. The four principles essentially confirmed Newfoundland’s right to ownership of the oil and gas resources of our coast. The first principle reads: “The Province of Newfoundland should own the mineral resources of the continental margin off its coast insofar as Canada is entitled to exercise sovereign rights over these resources in accordance with international law. Such ownership should be to the extent possible the same nature as if those resources were located within the boundaries of the province. The legislative jurisdiction of the ownership should be the same as for those resources within the boundaries of the province.”
This was a tremendous achievement—or so we thought at the time.
But it was not to be. The Clark government lost a non-confidence motion on the budget in March, 1980, an election ensued, and the government was defeated. The subsequent Trudeau government would not honour the letter, and our early hopes for a full agreement along the lines of the Clark commitment were dashed. It is a bitter irony, not lost on many of us, that the government fell as a result of a budget measure by then minister of Finance, a Newfoundlander, John Crosbie.
The echoes of times past rang in our ears: the fight for Representative and Responsible Government in the 1830s and 1850s; the promise of the fishery and the French fishing interests; the promise of the alleged immense wealth and prosperity that would flow from the centre part of the province with the paper mill
s of Grand Falls and Corner Brook; the major concessions of the building of the railway; the broken promise of a restored independent country; of Confederation with no real provincial fishery power; the Churchill Falls power contract; and Smallwood’s industrialization at almost any cost.
Perhaps the least known, but of potential great importance, was of the great trade agreement negotiated by Prime Minister Robert Bond and the U. S. Secretary of State, James Blaine, originally agreed to by Britain but vetoed by them soon thereafter as a result of “Canadian” opposition to the treaty.
Through this treaty Newfoundland would have been allowed to export mineral products—and most importantly fish products—to the United States duty-free. Sadly, we remained a producer of raw fish shipped to the United States, with all the processing jobs in the state of Massachusetts. It would be ninety-four years later, long after Ontario had its own free-trade agreement with the United States (the Auto Pact), before we would see tariffs being reduced on fish exports, thanks to Brian Mulroney’s courageous insistence on signing a free-trade agreement with the United States.
And so we were back to square one and having to deal with a government whose view of the country was one of a more powerful central government with its desire to ensure that jurisdiction of offshore minerals remained firmly in federal hands and that any sharing of management responsibilities and/or revenues would be decided solely by the federal government.
Meanwhile, I was having trouble with my Energy minister and former leadership rival, Leo Barry. He made it clear that in the pursuit of a deal on the offshore, he wanted a lot of freedom/flexibility, contrary to the practices then in place as it related to policy, especially large policy issues like the offshore.
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