by John English
Not least among the charms of political power was its appeal to interesting men and enchanting women. As his traditional family came undone in the mid-seventies, Trudeau eagerly sought out brilliant minds, great artists, and striking women. He would invite leading writers and thinkers to dinner at 24 Sussex, and rarely were the invitations declined. Trudeau was congenitally flirtatious, and as he and Margaret grew apart emotionally, he reached out for the assurance and intimacy that other women could give him. In 1976, before they had separated, he had become entranced with the classical guitarist Liona Boyd, then at the height of her fame. According to her account, she first met Trudeau in June 1975, when Liberal MP Bob Kaplan, a family friend, asked if she would like to entertain the prime minister. She eagerly accepted and, to her surprise, joined the Trudeaus with Kaplan at Harrington Lake. After an afternoon in the water, where Pierre did water-piggybacks with the delighted Sacha and Justin, she brought out her guitar and elegantly and expertly played a classical selection for Margaret and Pierre, Kaplan, and the children, who were gathered before her in the spacious living room. In February 1976, when Trudeau was in Kamloops, British Columbia, a local newspaper editor invited Boyd, who was also in the city, to bring her guitar to Trudeau’s suite to entertain the weary prime minister and his staff. She played for half an hour. Then she and Trudeau swapped stories about her time in France and his youthful wanderings there. She claimed in her memoir that “Cupid had caught me completely by surprise.”10
Trudeau had just returned home from his trip with Margaret to Latin America, where they had often jousted over the arrangements and Castro had flirted gallantly with his wife. They had been close and loving certainly during their magic spell in Cuba, but as Margaret noted, when they returned home, their problems quickly resurfaced. Boyd accepted Trudeau’s invitation to visit them in Ottawa, and she did so one evening after an Ottawa concert. At Trudeau’s request, she also performed for British prime minister James Callaghan in mid-September 1976. Trudeau was attentive to her, but a letter he wrote to her on November 17 indicates that their relationship, if warm, was not intimate: “Margaret and I were disappointed to miss your concert with Gordon Lightfoot at the Arts Centre. We do hope to be in your audience the next time you are in Ottawa and, meanwhile, we do wish to thank you for your latest recording which we are enjoying greatly. Sincerely—and a big hug! Pierre.”11
In her memoirs, Boyd described the growing affection between her and the prime minister as simmering while his marriage was failing. Trudeau intimates, including members of his family, believe the closeness of the relationship was exaggerated in this book. According to Boyd, it reached a sudden intensity in 1977 when Margaret and Pierre parted and Boyd brought, in her words, a “lightness” to Pierre’s life.* By mutual agreement, the lovers cloaked their relationship in secrecy, depending on Trudeau’s competent and discreet assistant Cécile Viau to work out the liaisons and on his driver Jack Deschambault to ensure their privacy. Because Margaret returned regularly to 24 Sussex until she was finally able to buy her own nearby home, there was always potential for embarrassment, and one day it happened. Margaret appeared at Easter, and the boys began, in Boyd’s words, “an animated account of my activities with them and their father at Harrington Lake during the preceding days.” On another occasion, when Margaret arrived home unexpectedly, Boyd was whisked away to the Château Laurier, where, she claimed, Pierre used fire escape stairs to reach her later for their tryst.
By this point, Trudeau and Margaret were publicly separated, although still legally married. Their public appearances often seemed affectionate but the marriage had clearly collapsed. Trudeau was understandably sensitive about keeping up “appearances in front of the boys.” And Boyd was not Trudeau’s sole romantic interest. There were many others, and they, too, conducted relationships that Trudeau concealed behind the shades. But, according to Boyd, she and Trudeau enjoyed being drawn into the web of celebrities spun by Erickson and Kripacz, who in her words “cultivated” the international set “like Mikimoto pearls.”12
Although secrecy was paramount, Trudeau could be reckless. Boyd recalls how they later attended a “Rosedale pool party where everyone nonchalantly disrobed.” Trudeau, she writes, “was definitely a risk-taker. How easy it would have been for gossip to travel.” But the Canadian press in those times did not gossip, at least not about the prime minister. Margaret Trudeau, however, was not off limits, partly because the foreign reporting of her controversial ways gave Canadian newspapers a pretext to describe her apparent misdeeds, usually with a tone of fifties sanctimony, rather than sixties liberation. Trudeau, though a modest international celebrity, largely escaped scrutiny of his private life. That double standard was unfair—and Margaret, with considerable justification, resented it.13
When Keith Davey invited the prime minister to dinner after the Grey Cup Game in Toronto in November 1976, his staffers told him that Trudeau would be bringing Iona Campagnolo, the glamorous MP from British Columbia, but then said it would be Kristin Bennett, the attractive daughter of Bill Bennett, who had worked as an assistant for former Cabinet minister C.D. Howe. Trudeau had met Kristin in 1968, and they would date regularly in the late 1970s.14 Trudeau, it seemed, needed beautiful women beside him, and his correspondence with women resumed in 1976. In the fashion of many public figures, such as Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, Harold and Dorothy Macmillan, Harold Nicolson and Vita Sackville-West, Trudeau seemed prepared to stay with Margaret in a public relationship while each of them had other private relationships. His Roman Catholic faith made separation difficult and divorce a major challenge. Margaret later said that Pierre was willing to allow her to live in his house but not to let her pursue her career and dating life publicly. Yet the strong emotions they both felt overwhelmed the possibility of discretion, and, in Margaret’s words, “Pierre’s position became intolerable.” His anger exploded into a clash in the spring of 1977 that left Margaret with a black eye, which was remarked on when they appeared together at the National Arts Centre. When they finally parted, his resentment expressed itself in the demanding separation agreement in which Margaret was given neither custody of the children nor financial support.* Margaret also gave her wedding and engagement rings back to her former husband.15
Yet Margaret and Pierre remained close. Evidence supports Margaret’s claim that their separation improved their relationship. She and Jane Faulkner, for example, helped Trudeau look for a house in Montreal after his defeat in 1979. He did not, however, take their advice—they detested the one he chose, the art deco masterpiece designed by Ernest Cormier high on the slopes of Mount Royal. At times Margaret also chose clothing for him, as in 1981, when she purchased a beautifully tailored suit by the Italian designer Zegna at Toronto’s stylish Studio 267. Of course, the children caused them to interact continually—and as time went by, more happily. In this respect Margaret fits into the broader pattern of Trudeau’s ongoing connections with women he had dated or with whom he had developed deep friendships.
For Margot Kidder, a later companion, it was Trudeau’s sensitivity to women that created the lasting bond, one that endured sometimes careless behaviour or long absence. He maintained lifelong warm relationships with the greatest love of his youth, Thérèse Gouin, and with Carroll Guérin, the most important woman in his life in the early sixties. With Madeleine Gobeil, there was a severance after the abrupt break-up when he married Margaret—but then they got in touch after the marriage collapsed and he shared his deepest feelings with her. With Kidder and with some others, the attraction was Trudeau’s “unconscious ability to make women see the little boy who lives trapped under the layers of defences, because once a woman has seen that essence in a man she’ll never get over him.” Trudeau, Kidder believes, had once been hurt, and the wound never healed—and intrigued each new woman he allowed into his life. He also exuded “the air of a protective and adored father,” which made some women “want to crumple up into [his] chest like some furry pet.” These qualiti
es, Kidder believes, are a common trait of men who are “truly successful with women,” and Trudeau had them both. He also focused intensely on each woman for the full time she was with him, making her feel very special. Kidder, like Margaret, “fell head over heels in love with him, and just plain stayed that way.”16
And yet the loss of power in 1979 affected Trudeau’s personal, as well as his public, life. The dinners at 24 Sussex, the swimming pool, the sauna, and the celebrity cast a certain spell on Trudeau’s relationships, as Kidder, Boyd, and others openly attest. There was no question, Kidder wrote, “that it tickled the ego to be ushered into Sussex Drive as if you belonged there and have your suitcases taken up to your room (minutes, no doubt, after another lady had been ushered out, but you didn’t know that until years later when you began comparing notes).” And celebrity attracted the same response from Trudeau, a truth that Gale Zoë Garnett, one of Trudeau’s most clear-eyed lovers, claims is important in understanding him. After Margaret left, Trudeau usually invited particularly captivating female celebrities, such as the classical pianist Monica Gaylord, actress Kim Cattrall,* and Liona Boyd, to public events in Ottawa or elsewhere. In Boyd’s case, she often provided the entertainment herself—as when she appeared at the state dinner for Mexican president José López Portillo. As she entered the room, she was greeted with ebullient Mexican “wolf-whistles and loud calls of “‘guapa,’ ‘rubia,’ ‘que linda.’” Trudeau also invited singer Buffy Sainte-Marie to a dinner in November 1977. She replied: “Just to thank you personally for the invitation to dine … with 1600 people? It would have been lovely I’m sure, [but] perhaps there’ll be another chance sometime to dine, with about 1598 fewer folks.” And there were—for many.17
After the disappointing Liberal defeat, however, Trudeau had a lot to think about beyond his personal life. Amid the tears on election night, there was considerable grumbling about his leadership. John Turner’s name came quickly to the lips of many, especially as polls during the campaign seemed to demonstrate that the former finance minister could have crushed Joe Clark. Others, angry with what they believed was Turner’s disloyalty, looked instead to Donald Macdonald as the next potential leader. Trudeau, however, continued to inspire many Liberals, particularly among ethnic groups in English Canada and, more broadly, in Quebec, which had given him 67 of 75 seats and a remarkable 64 percent of the vote. That strength provided insurance against an early caucus revolt. Yet even Trudeau’s closest supporters wondered about his future, and the precarious Clark minority government made such musings imperative. Although the Liberals remained strong in Quebec and respectable in Atlantic Canada, west of the Ottawa River the party’s future seemed in doubt. In none of the four western provinces did it receive more than 24 percent of the popular vote, and in Ontario it stood at only 37 percent, compared with 42 percent for the Conservatives.
Moreover, the loss of many Cabinet ministers closely identified with Trudeau in both Ontario and the West represented a real personal defeat for him: Iona Campagnolo and Len Marchand in British Columbia; the Tory turncoat but Trudeau friend Jack Horner in Alberta;* Otto Lang in Saskatchewan; and in Ontario, Tony Abbott, Norm Cafik, Bud Cullen, Barney Danson, Hugh Faulkner, Alastair Gillespie, Martin O’Connell, and John Roberts. Ironically, Jean-Luc Pepin, whose report on Canadian unity Trudeau had reportedly dumped in the waste basket, won a Liberal seat in Ottawa, though some critics suggested that Trudeau’s well-known antagonism toward him may have played a role in his victory. Trudeau stayed silent behind his mask, seemingly indifferent to the disappointments accumulating around him. Not surprisingly, when Ontario constituency associations met in the spring of 1979, many grassroots Liberals asked when Trudeau would finally leave office. His closest aides did not know—and, in truth, neither did Trudeau.
First, however, there was housekeeping to do. Trudeau had to reduce his political staff—drastically. He kept Jim Coutts and Tom Axworthy but not Colin Kenny. Gone, too, was the private plane and the seamless delivery of luggage to elegant hotel suites. Now the rooms were of normal size, and Pierre was responsible for his own room-service charges. Trudeau was notorious among his staff for never carrying a wallet, but now he had to pay for his own taxis. According to Richard Gwyn, when Trudeau took a six-dollar ride in a Toronto taxi one day, he offered the driver an extra 25 cents. Plaintively, he asked, “Is this enough?” The driver, who recognized him, said nothing and declined the modest tip.
Despite many complaints, the Liberal caucus suppressed the grumbling, and in mid-June endorsed Trudeau’s leadership, although it was Allan MacEachen who met the press after the meeting, not Trudeau. Then, on July 19, Trudeau called a press conference and announced that he intended to remain as leader. Why? reporters wanted to know. “My judgment as of now is that I’m best,” he responded. Perhaps he sensed that Joe Clark’s Conservatives lacked “the discipline of power,” the title of journalist Jeffrey Simpson’s fine analysis of Clark’s victory and its aftermath. More likely, Trudeau knew that Lévesque’s referendum was now imminent, and that as Opposition leader he would gain far more listeners than he would as a mere former politician. In any event, summer had come to Canada. Decisions could wait, but his boys could not.18
With school out, Trudeau first took the boys on a holiday, and then he joined a motley group of canoeists on a trip down the Arctic Hanbury-Thelon Rivers. All the canoeists had duties, three as chefs and five, including Trudeau, as rotating dishwashers. The meals in the rugged wilderness were worthy of a prime ministerial residence, with baked stuffed fish, lamb kabobs, cheese fondue, and Mouton Cadet Bordeaux. Trudeau was a newcomer to the group, which included future MP John Godfrey, current Liberal MP Peter Stollery, Craig Oliver of CTV, Gérard Pelletier’s son Jean of La Presse, Tim Cotchet of CTV News, public servant and art connoisseur David Silcox, and adventurer John Gow, who, though he had survived an air crash in which he lost half a leg and half a foot, was physically strong and full of energy. Trudeau canoed with Jean Pelletier, but he did not know many of the others. He called Gow “Don” for three days until Godfrey finally summoned the nerve to correct him.
According to Godfrey, Trudeau’s special talent was “making fireplaces out of flat rocks every evening as we set up camp. He was painstaking, meticulous, even Cartesian in this time-consuming activity.” He also specialized in over-proof martinis, which dominated happy hour on this most elegant of wilderness excursions. Trudeau was convivial, no doubt partly because of the libations. On the final night, he and Godfrey had a lively discussion about personalism, Trudeau’s particular approach to Roman Catholicism, which unfortunately remains lost to history because Godfrey cannot remember any of it. David Silcox does recall Trudeau correcting him on a classical reference, which revealed Trudeau’s capacious memory and fine classical education. He was good company, but sometimes he would leave the group and wander along the lake by himself, lost in contemplation. He was reserved, and his eminence brought respect. However, John Gow dared the confident Trudeau to take on some hazardous rapids in his canoe, rather than walking around them in an easy portage. Godfrey tells the tale:
Pierre could not have resisted a challenge like that from a young buck. In a canoe we are all sixteen years old again. But Pierre was also the master of the calculated risk: voir, juger, agir. I don’t know how many times he walked up and down that bloody rapid, looking and judging. John Gowe [sic], in his early thirties, was the first to go. A mountain guy, he … shot down that S [rapid] as if nothing was involved. As Pierre prepared to go, most of the others, especially the journalists, rushed to the top of the bluff, telephoto lenses at the ready, prepared to document the death of the former prime minister. Since my camera was not that good, I decided it might be more helpful to be at the foot of the bluff to lend a hand if anything went wrong. Pierre came shooting down. It was not going well, and he was coming straight at the wall of the cliff. Since I was level with him I could see what the others could not: his eyes. At one moment I saw a look of horror as he thought he w
as going to crash, and then he took a mighty swipe with his paddle and in a raggedy fashion saved himself…. At the bottom of the rapid, as we reloaded the canoes, everyone congratulated him on his successful run. Afterward I said to him, aside, “That was pretty good, but I was watching you and there was a moment.” He turned to me and said simply, “There is always a moment.”19
Trudeau’s canoeing partners had observed that his physical strength remained remarkable, his intellectual agility impressive. But in the fall of 1979 it seemed that his political moment had passed. He returned to Ottawa refreshed and appreciative of the joys of life without helicopters hovering above and security personnel all around. Then, at Erickson’s invitation, he went off to Tibet, very much a forbidden kingdom but one whose mystery intrigued Westerners. It was his first long trip away from the boys since his separation, and they waited anxiously for his return. When he came back, in Sacha’s words, “he looked and seemed different.” He had a beard and a tan but also “a strange energy.” He was “more aggressive and alive than usual.” Sacha still beams when he recalls his father then: “It was as if his eyes still reflected the sights that he had seen, as if his body was still poised to meet them head on. This was a new father, not the patient and adoring father but the free spirit who had wandered the world. The lone traveler. The observer of things. The holder of secret knowledge.” He brought back wooden swords used in Chinese operas and papier mâché masks for the delighted kids.20
When Trudeau left Ottawa, he had been grumpy, blaming his aides for the bad election result. He had always treated junior staff graciously, but most uncharacteristically he had refused to come out to say goodbye to the switchboard operators at the final party at 24 Sussex. In the fall, after his holiday, his mood was better. One of his surviving staff members, press secretary Patrick Gossage, wrote in November that Trudeau had become “more adaptable, but his convictions have not changed. He is asking as much as answering questions now, and he enjoys the turnabout. He is closer and more open with those around them.” On a political trip to Calgary, Trudeau’s “delight” was “infectious,” especially when a Turkish-born taxi driver “bowed and scraped” and refused to accept the fare from his eminent and gregarious passenger. Sometimes, however, he missed the intrusive bodyguards: at a Liberal dinner and dance, Trudeau, “caught in the ample arms of a huge blond … made it crystal clear as he swirled by [Gossage] that he wanted to be saved.” The gallant PR man “cut in”—and Trudeau escaped.21