A Richard Rohmer Omnibus. Richard Rohmer
from the NDP and two from Social Credit.
“For myself, I would open the debate by putting forward the motion in our joint names, and take that opportunity to provide the House with the background of the President’s telephone call. Although this will have been extensively covered at the eight o’clock briefing, I think it should be repeated for Hansard.”
“That’s fine as far as my party is concerned, Prime Minister,” said George Foot. “But we would very much appreciate knowing something about the line which you are going to take at the opening. If you could let us have a brief sketch of your remarks, it would be helpful. We will then be in a position to prepare our speeches so they will not cut across your approach or be contradictory. If I have to take a position on any point which is contrary to what you say in your remarks, that would also give me the opportunity of letting you know before the debate starts.
“Let me put it to you another way. I’m personally most anxious that all of us in the House present a solid front to the Americans and to our own public, as far as possible, but at this moment I don’t know what the motion is going to be and I don’t know all the facts. So I can’t tell you now, Bob, what the final position of my party is going to be, or, for that matter, since it is a free vote, what my own position is going to be. However, as a matter of principle. I do feel very strongly that if Parliament can come out of this with a unanimous decision, or one which is close to it, it will strengthen Canada’s position in negotiating with the representatives of the United States in the future. To have Parliament split in a crisis of this magnitude would be a disaster.”
“I certainly agree, George. What do you think, Donald?”
Donald Walker had been the Leader of the NDP for many years. He had led his party in opposition to the building of the Mackenzie Valley gas pipeline and the sale of Arctic natural gas and oil to the United States. Furthermore, he had encouraged his party to take a position of strong economic nationalism, and he frequently made heavy attacks on corporations under foreign control. For Donald Walker, this moment of confrontation with the United States was an event which he had long and eagerly anticipated. His grey, sallow face, topped by a thatch of white hair, reflected little emotion, however, when he said, “Prime Minister, you and all of Canada know fully the position which my party has historically taken against the export of natural gas to the United States and against the building of the Mackenzie Valley pipeline. We have long expected that the American corporations, and the U.S. government, having failed completely to plan for their country’s future energy requirements, and having taken no steps toward controlling their escalating population, would inevitably take such a step. The New Democratic Party has few members in the House, but our voice is strong. I can tell you one thing, and that is that I will do my best to persuade my party to stand against this intolerable American threat regardless of the consequences.
“So far as I am concerned, the proposals for the briefing tomorrow morning and the handling and timing of the debate are satisfactory. Subject only to seeing the form of the motion you propose, I will be pleased to move it jointly with the three of you.”
The Prime Minister smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Donald. Your position is one which has not come as a complete surprise to me. Your willingness to co-operate is much appreciated.
“Now, Pierre, how about you?”
Pierre Johnson cleared his throat. “Prime Minister, so far as the arrangements are concerned, they sound fine to me. I am not going to say what my position will be until the debate. I want my own members to make up their own minds, since it is to be a free vote. I do feel that this is no time for Canadians to cling to regional or cultural differences, and I offer you my co-operation and my support.”
“Thank you, Pierre.
“Well, gentlemen, I won’t keep you any longer. I will try to keep you informed as matters develop, and to consult with you as the circumstances require. I have also asked the provincial premiers to be in Ottawa by six o’clock tonight. I feel that their views should be solicited and that they should take part in the decision-making process over the next few hours. I hope this meets with your approval.”
The other party leaders nodded their heads in assent.
“One final thing,” said the Prime Minister. “I’ve asked the President of the National Press Gallery, and the networks, or their senior representatives, to meet with me. Tom Scott has just informed me they are here. I’m going to ask them to play down as much as possible the ultimatum given to us by the President. The last thing I want is for the country to panic, so we’ll need maximum restraint from the media.”
As the opposition leaders rose to go, George Foot said, “Well, I wish you luck, Prime Minister. You’ll do well to keep the press under control with a news story as big as this one. But you can rest assured that I and my party will do nothing to make this situation more difficult. If we stand together we will show the President that we have some muscle too.”
Washington / 10:22 a.m., EDT
The President loped across the green lawn of the White House toward the huge Navy helicopter waiting for him, its blades already starting to turn.
A tall, angular, athletic man, he moved quickly and decisively. His white hair blew wildly in the down-draught from the idling blades as he entered the door, followed by a retinue of six aides and secret service agents, all lugging their briefcases and green army-issue parkas, a strange sight on a warm autumn morning in Washington.
The President acknowledged the salute of the chief crewman as he entered the aircraft. He shoved his mane of hair back in place. As he walked toward the cockpit of the monster helicopter, he stripped off his coat and threw it on one of the passenger seats. Without breaking stride, he ducked his head as he entered the cockpit.
“Are we all set to go, Mac?”
The pilot replied, “Yes, we are, Mr. President. I’ve got all the taps on, and we’ve got traffic clearance across to Dulles at 3,000 feet.”
“O.K., let’s go. I’ll ride as a passenger on this one.”
Flying the helicopter, flying Air Force One, flying anything he could get his hands on was an enormous release for the President. He had been a pilot, and a first-class one, from the time he was twenty, when he joined the USAF. He had become one of their top fighter pilots in the European theatre, flying P51’s in the Eighth Air Force as escort for the B17 Flying Fortresses. During his tour of operations he had shot down eight enemy aircraft and eventually had commanded his own squadron. There were times when, after long escort flights of six or seven hours, the ground crew would have to lift him out of the airplane. He would be so stiff from being cramped into the small cockpit that he couldn’t move.
After the war, when he had graduated from law school and started to practise law in Houston, he kept up his flying. He had also begun to take part in his family’s oil business, and the firm’s fleet of aircraft provided him with an opportunity to maintain his standards. Even now, at the age of fifty-nine, the President of the United States flew as often as he could.
After the short hop from the White House lawn to Dulles, the helicopter set down with a bit of a bump about fifty yards away from the enormous silver Boeing 747, Air Force One, which was sitting waiting for him on the ramp. He and his six companions immediately transferred to the giant aircraft to join the large staff already on board. The President went directly to the cockpit.
The captain of the 747, Colonel Mike Wypich, with whom the President had flown so many times, had Air Force One set up for him in the usual way and was just completing the pre-flight checks. Finally Wypich said, “It’s all yours, sir.”
The President responded, “Good.” Then he changed his mind. “No, you taxi out, Mike. I need practice in taking down the clearance.”
He called Dulles Ground Control for taxi clearance, then switched to Departure Control for flight clearance. Both came through immediately. The President’s pen moved rapidly as he copied down the details on his route pad. When the controller had finished reading the message to him, the President read it back to confirm that he had it correct. “ATC clears