by John English
Things began badly at Caracas, the next stop. The Canadian ambassador’s wife had planned the normal program for a prime minister’s wife, but Margaret would have no part of it. She insisted on seeing a daycare centre sponsored by the wife of the Venezuelan president, Carlos Andrés Pérez—a suggestion that horrified Canadian officials. Nevertheless, Margaret persisted as she had in Cuba, and Señora Pérez agreed to accompany her to the slum where the centre was located. Margaret was so impressed with the work being done there that, after the visit, she wrote a song for Señora Pérez. Pierre, still in a playful mood from his Cuban adventure, urged her to sing it that evening. The occasion, however, was not a small gathering but “possibly the most formal and pretentious dinner” Margaret had ever attended as Pierre’s wife. Nevertheless, with Pierre’s encouragement, she rose and sang:
Señora Pérez, I would like to thank you.
I would like to sing to you
To sing a song of love.
For I have watched you
With my eyes wide open,
I have watched you with learning eyes.
The song, which undoubtedly would have charmed in a more intimate setting, embarrassed much of the crowd, most notably the Canadian delegation—which “to a man was horrified.” The news spread quickly to the top spot in all the Canadian media. “Margaret Trudeau did it again,” the Globe and Mail reported. In deliberate understatement, it continued that “those who attended said Mrs. Trudeau’s voice was strong, though untrained, and carried to all parts of the hall. She sang unaccompanied.”11 Indeed.
Even though Conservative Globe columnist Geoffrey Stevens declared the trip useful from the point of view of Canada’s foreign policy, talk-show hosts ridiculed the trip and regaled listeners with tales of Margaret’s misbehaviour and her charge on the flight back to Ottawa that “officials” had tried to steal her song during the dinner before she could sing it. Next morning, jet-lagged, Margaret woke to hear the clock radio broadcasting comments on her performance, nearly all of them caustic and negative. The host teasingly said, “Margaret Trudeau … why don’t you give us a call?” She did. It was, of course, a mistake, as was her decision to participate in a “call-in” program the following week.
As 1976 progressed, the Olympics, a royal visit, and even more travel and official dinners all brought further tensions to the marriage. In Japan, Ivan Head, who had become Margaret’s detested minder on official trips, told her she could not attend Pierre’s final press conference. She “made a scene” and Pierre gave in, but Margaret was, in her own words, “possessed.” Once in the official car, she demanded to get out, but the doors were locked. “The horrified Japanese guard hastily unlocked the door and, under the amazed and startled gaze of the officials standing in serried ranks up the stairs bowing, [Margaret] rushed up, three steps at a time, shouting, ‘Fuck you’ at the top of [her] voice.” As she suggests, “it wasn’t easy to live that one down.”12
The incidents multiplied, and Margaret’s celebrity—or notoriety—increased. Letters flowed in from all parts of the country and abroad, and full-time staff were hired to answer them, partly to shield Margaret from their vitriol. Trudeau himself sought help, but his interactions with his wife were increasingly argumentative and difficult. When they met Pope Paul VI at his summer retreat at Castel Gandalfo, Pierre irritated Margaret by denying he had any problems when the pontiff asked him if he did. He told Margaret he would not talk about his troubles in front of her—a clear indication of the counsel he was seeking from spiritual leaders and his distance from his wife. He began to seek guidance from others who knew Margaret well, such as Jane Faulkner, the wife of his Cabinet colleague Hugh Faulkner. Increasingly, Margaret’s antics attracted press attention, in a decade when the rules of political journalism were being rewritten by Woodward and Bernstein in their coverage of Watergate and by the outrageous political satire of Saturday Night Live, which the Canadian Lorne Michaels created in 1975.
Moreover, Margaret’s feistiness was not unique; it had a southern counterpart. Before Margaret spoke publicly about her psychiatric problems in the fall of 1974, Betty Ford, the wife of President Gerald Ford, had told the public about her mastectomy. Later, she was similarly candid on other subjects, expressing strong pro-choice views (despite her husband’s silence on the abortion issue), support for psychiatric intervention, acceptance of premarital sex, and her own enjoyment of sex. She was, the New York Times later wrote, “a product and symbol of the cultural and political times—doing the Bump along the corridors of the White House, donning a mood ring, chatting on her CB radio with the handle First Mama—a housewife who argued passionately for equal rights for women, a mother of four who mused about drugs, abortion and premarital sex aloud and without regret.”13 Conservative Republicans dubbed her “No Lady,” rather than “First Lady.” Canadian journalists, like their American counterparts, were quick to take advantage of this new openness toward political leaders’ wives and adapted to the new candour, particularly in English Canada. Peter C. Newman, whose frank and gossipy books on Diefenbaker and Pearson had transformed political writing in the sixties, now served as the editor of Maclean’s. Under his direction, that venerable monthly became a lively weekly—and it recognized few boundaries or taboos.
Sexual candour flourished, but the nervousness and uncertainty about mental illness persisted. Public opinion forced Thomas Eagleton, the Democratic candidate for vice-president, to resign in 1972 when the media revealed that he had undergone psychiatric treatment. It was not surprising, then, that Trudeau’s office reported in 1974 that Margaret was entering the hospital for “rest” and exhaustion, not that she was undergoing psychiatric treatment. The following year, the film One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest won a record five Academy Awards for its portrayal of a “sane” criminal who acted “insane” to secure entry to an asylum, hoping for a soft life. He found, instead, conditions of totalitarian oppression, where good and evil, sanity and insanity, love and fear were hopelessly inverted. This deeply influential film reflected and strengthened the arguments of French philosopher Michel Foucault that “mental illness” in contemporary psychiatric thought was a method of enforcing bourgeois morality and state authority. As news of Margaret’s confinement in the psychiatric ward seeped into the press, the reporting reflected the evolving understanding of what “mental illness” meant—a change clearly evident in an elegant letter Margaret received from the widely admired novelist Gabrielle Roy.
Dear Mrs. Trudeau:
I saw you and listened to you last night on television and I was deeply moved by the note of sincerity that rang through all your comments. Television has not accustomed us to such frank and soul-baring remarks.
I also had the impression that you were not talking for yourself alone but on behalf of all women, that you were speaking for each one of us all more or less enchained. Because the moment we love, do we not fall into a sort of slavery? Doubtless men do, too—who is truly free? but less perhaps than women for whom love is the center of life and who are thus the most vulnerable of creatures.
Roy concluded by wondering “if young women like you, full of the greatest courage there is, that of telling the truth, did not do more than governments to change the world.”14
Margaret’s own memoir of her psychiatric treatment and of the oppressiveness of conventional morality was clearly influenced by this contemporary ambivalent perception of mental illness. While the tabloids speculated, other publications maintained discreet silence: the Canadian Annual Review of Politics and Public Affairs, for example, never mentioned Margaret’s illnesses or even Margaret herself in its thick volume on 1976, and it made only one reference to her in 1977. Francophone journalists generally turned their eyes away from the prime minister’s private life, even if they mounted strong opposition against him politically. The Quebec tabloids also showed discretion—a characteristic that was absent from their European counterparts and the Toronto Sun, which frequently placed the Trudeaus’ troubles on
the front pages.15
Trudeau was baffled. He spoke with Margaret’s father, Jimmy Sinclair, about the problems when they secretly toured the Northwest Territories and the Arctic in the summer of 1975. He encouraged Margaret to take up photography, to travel when she wanted, and even to shop when the urge struck. In the summer of 1976, despite collapsing polls, he agreed to a trip to Jordan so he and Margaret could visit their friends King Hussein and Queen Alia of Jordan. Because of the “tricky” politics of the region—and of his own Mount Royal constituency with its large Jewish population—he added a week in Israel, a visit Margaret loathed because it was an official tour. She fought with the Canadian ambassador and with Pierre, who called her a “detestable” travelling companion. Once home, she defiantly smoked marijuana, infuriating Trudeau and taunting the RCMP security staff. In one fight, she tore Joyce Wieland’s La Raison avant la Passion quilt from the wall, ripped off the letters, and threw them down the stairs at Pierre. They argued constantly, but Trudeau “kept repeating” to Margaret: “You must do exactly what you want to do. You can do anything you want.” The trouble, Margaret wrote later, “was that I needed direction, not freedom.” Trudeau, as one perceptive commentator wrote at the time, may have had the body of a man in his twenties but not the mind of one. He turned back to where he had been before, getting old answers to new questions. In speaking to an interviewer on September 30, 1975, he said, “People want to be led, but they don’t want to be pushed. The distinction is vital. They have to be convinced that you are right in order to follow you willingly, and they have to remain convinced that you are consistently right.” Both in politics and in marriage, Trudeau no longer seemed able to convince others he was right.16
The Trudeaus spent Christmas 1976 with their architect friend Arthur Erickson in the Caribbean, where the premier of St. Lucia supplied a car, a yacht, and provisions. Nevertheless, despite the luxury and lush tropical ambience, Pierre and Margaret “lived locked in [their] own private nightmares.” When they returned on January 9, Margaret enrolled in a photography course at Ottawa’s Algonquin College, though she took time off to visit Washington with Jane Faulkner to open an exhibit at the Hirshhorn Gallery. She charmed the crowd and, especially, Canadian ambassador “Jake” Warren, who rhapsodized that “for many Americans, Mrs. Trudeau’s vitality, charm and engaging informality personify something special of [the Canadian] character.”
Then, in late February, Trudeau made a historic trip to Washington, primarily to counter a reassuring speech René Lévesque had made the previous month to the Economic Club in New York about Quebec independence. Trudeau and the new American president, Jimmy Carter, immediately warmed to each other, as did Margaret to Rosalynn Carter. When the Trudeaus arrived, the two couples posed on the White House veranda, and Margaret looked stunning in a white fur hat. On the evening of February 21 at the official dinner, however, she wore a short dress with a run in her nylons that gave the appearance of racy stockings. The crowd murmured, but her youthful beauty and exuberance charmed those she met. The guests dined on Alaskan king crab and stuffed saddle of lamb while the band played popular, romantic, and in the circumstances inappropriate music, such as Cole Porter’s “I Concentrate on You,” and My Fair Lady’s “I Could Have Danced All Night,” with its image of a young innocent girl falling in love with an older mentor. The White House was crammed with celebrities—John Kenneth Galbraith, Canadian-born Bonanza star Lorne Greene, singer Harry Belafonte, Elizabeth Taylor, and two young Carter enthusiasts, Bill Clinton and Hilary Rodham—but Margaret and her ripped stockings captured the most attention. The Washington Post featured her in its report, and the Globe and Mail found an “official” of a Canadian fashion association who condemned her for embarrassing her country. Why couldn’t she behave like a French president’s wife and make her nation’s fashion industry proud? Many years later President Carter recalled that he and Rosalynn could never understand what the controversy was all about. Even the Globe, to its credit, in a later editorial, approved of Margaret’s decision to “go short,” declaring that “the ability of contrasting hem lines to swirl harmoniously together was encouraging to behold.”17
On February 23 Carter sent a handwritten letter to “Pierre & Margaret Trudeau,” no doubt with the controversy fresh in mind:
Rosalynn and I really enjoyed your visit with us, and we look forward to seeing you often in the future.
Pierre, your experience & naturally frank discussion were very helpful to me as a new president. I feel that our countries are being drawn even closer together.
Margaret, you brought a delightful breath of fresh air and charm to Washington. Thank you. Your friend, Jimmy.
Trudeau received this note just as he was signing his own typed reply. He picked up his pen and added: “Your handwritten note has just been handed to me, and I find in it all the warmth and directness which made meeting and talking with you such an unforgettable experience. Margaret and I are very grateful for Rosalyn’s [sic] and your friendship, and hope that there will be many more occasions to renew it in the future.”
There were not. A few days later, on March 4, their sixth anniversary, Margaret decided to leave Pierre for a ninety-day trial separation. No public announcement was made. Even Trudeau’s aides were unaware of why Margaret was now so often absent.18
Margaret had planned a trip to New York, but instead, she accepted an invitation to go to Toronto to hear a concert by the Rolling Stones. They met at the new Harbour Castle hotel on Lake Ontario in Mick Jagger’s suite, where the singer was initially “polite and charming” over wine. Then they departed for the El Mocambo, a rock club on Spadina Avenue, where the Stones’ appearance surprised the audience. The next night Margaret stayed on in Toronto; went to another Stones session, which she photographed; and then helped to care for Keith Richards’ young son while Richards, already facing a heroin possession charge, was curled up on the floor. In the early morning hours, she invited the partying Stones into her room, where they drank, played dice, and smoked “hash.” The next day she flew to New York as headlines blared that the wife of Canada’s prime minister had partied hard with the baddest boys of rock. Paul Wasserman, the group’s agent, lied to the press, saying that Margaret had flown to New York with the Stones, which she had not. Jagger repudiated this story, telling journalists that he hardly knew Margaret—a “very attractive and nice person”—and that he was in New York with his wife and had not seen Margaret there.19
Despite Jagger’s reassurance, the separation remained a secret and the tabloid stories ran wild, especially in Europe, where Canadian “off the record” sources were easily found. Trudeau’s new press officer, Patrick Gossage, was bewildered as hundreds of calls demanded confirmation of rumours about the Harbour Castle party, of Trudeau’s marital state, and of Margaret’s whereabouts. Gossage wrote in his diary: “Has lust for personal knowledge of the great become the only common currency, the real edge of competition, which worries even the mighty Toronto Star, [and] the esteemed Globe and Mail?” Whenever Margaret returned to 24 Sussex, the Trudeaus maintained their discretion, although journalists staking out the house saw her come and go. Gossage’s diary records how difficult it was to handle the situation, particularly as Margaret had publicly declared that she had “had enough”—she had “abdicated.” Still, the prime minister’s official representatives were baffled and reflected their confusion in their comments. When the Trudeaus appeared as a family for the opening of the Canada Games in mid-May, they thoroughly befuddled the press, along with Trudeau’s own aides. But then, on May 30, the Prime Minister’s Office released a statement:
Pierre and Margaret Trudeau announce that, because of Margaret’s wishes, they shall begin living separate and apart. Margaret relinquishes all privileges as the wife of the prime minister and wishes to leave the marriage and pursue an independent career. Pierre accepts Margaret’s decision with regret, and both pray that their separation will lead to a better relationship between themselves.
The marriage ended as it had begun, in Linda Griffith’s words, with “all elements of humanity, magnified.”20
Patrick Gossage recorded in his diary that reporters “rationalized” their coverage of the marriage breakdown by relating it to the question of how it affected Trudeau in his role as prime minister. Did the troubles hurt his performance? Did the end of the marriage cause his popularity to soar, as Margaret alleged? The answer to the first question is probably yes, although the evidence is mainly circumstantial. After the separation, journalists recalled how he was uncharacteristically indecisive after the 1974 election, how frequently he travelled, and how quickly his temper exploded—in particular how, in November 1974, he became enraged in the House when he interpreted an opposition comment as a reference to his marriage breakdown. Still, anyone watching his interviews, reading transcripts of his news conferences, and examining his papers can only be impressed with his knowledge of issues and his quick responses. When, for example, he met the press in Washington after the “short dress” incident, Trudeau was well briefed, witty, and focused. Contemporary commentators were certainly impressed. Dick Beddoes of the Globe and Mail wrote sympathetically after Margaret gave an interview to People magazine, in which she talked about her intimate lingerie: “Trudeau has been uncommonly graceful about his wife’s indiscretions, his domestic pressures appearing not to harm either the country or his skill for government.” In an interview in which Quebec journalist Alain Stanké tried to break down Trudeau’s personal reserve, the prime minister remained thoroughly in control, except when he talked about his three sons—there his joy was irrepressible. Otherwise, he refused to admit close personal relations with anyone. While admiring Trudeau’s reserve, Gossage wondered what lay beneath the cool surface: “If you haven’t been through that route, you don’t know anything about the ragged ends of unravelled emotion.”21 The ends were indeed ragged.