An Encounter with Trudeau

This is about my encounter with Trudeau.

Not Trudeau the younger, rather Trudeau the elder- Pierre.

Pierre Trudeau was well known for not suffering fools gladly, he also had the reputation of sometimes dealing with media people rather sharply.

Witness his response to the “How far would you go” question during the FLQ crisis. There is not a lot left to say when the answer given is “Just watch me”!

Forward to 1978. I was working at CKIQ radio in Kelowna, in the news department. In those days I lived in Vernon and drove into Kelowna for work each day. A medium commute by Vancouver lower mainland standards.

Living in Vernon meant I was also supposed to keep a news eye on that city for the Kelowna station.

So it came to be that Pierre Trudeau was coming to Vernon, and there would be a media availability. 

My News Director Peter Munoz asked me to do the assignment.

I loved working with Peter, he was a wonderful mentor, and I was sad to hear some years ago now of his passing. But, I was scared all to hell about covering Trudeau, and I told Peter that I thought the PM had a knack for trashing a dumb media question with his intellect. Trudeau seemed merciless.

Peter sold me on doing it by use of one of his mentorship devices—simply saying he himself had covered Trudeau, but I had not yet, and I should. That was enough.

A midsummer’s day in the north Okanagan, and Trudeau was due to arrive at 2pm.

A check in onsite with the government organizers of the media avail revealed the format. Questions from local Okanagan media only, any topic. One question only from each reporter- no exceptions, no follow up questions. No questions to be put by any of the national press corps people travelling with the PM

The room was dressed with five press tables for local reporters, two at each table. Ten questions total- that would be all.

Now I had to come up with a question. I had nothing I thought would make much of a splash. I was still thinking about that when the organizers announced the PM’s helicopter was delayed. He was flying in from Alberta, stopping in Vernon, then off to Vancouver. He was running about an hour late.

The Vernon stop was never meant to amount to much- in-out-gone, and no ripples.

But a political bomb went off in Ottawa during the PM's flight, and he himself had lit the fuse. The shock wave from it had not yet reached the west coast, and better yet for me, was not known to the national press corps travelling with the PM.

With the assignment delayed I phoned back to my CKIQ Kelowna newsroom to let them know of the delay, and almost as an afterthought asked that they check the news wires to see if anything was going on.

Our staffer came back on the line with a “ Holy Crap!” exclamation. The Solicitor General of Canada had just resigned from the Trudeau cabinet. Francis Fox had been caught out forging a name onto documents of a woman applying to have an abortion. She was his girlfriend. He was married to somebody else.

I got off the phone just as I heard the helicopter coming in to land. I hung out at the helipad, listened to the conversations of the press corps as they filed into the venue. Nothing was said about Francis Fox. They didn’t know!

Now Trudeau is in the room, and he really commanded a room.

The questions started from table one at the left, I was at table four, the eighth person in line order. All of the questions were local ones, Trudeau answered them, and was starting to show some agitation to his time being wasted. His responses became more curt and dismissive.

The fellow sitting to my left at my press table had me nervous. He was Brian Kennedy, a really good reporter. Brian was my direct competition, working at CKOV in Kelowna. And it was his turn to ask. He asked about something local.

And I was up.

Simple question really : “ Is it true Mr. Prime Minister that you have accepted the resignation of your Solicitor General Francis Fox- and why ?”

The room exploded. TV lights flashed on, the until then bored press corps all fired up their equipment. 

Trudeau was staring at me- hard, our eyes were locked. He looked really annoyed.  Then he smiled. He’d been caught fair and square and he knew it.

He answered the question and then did something I had never expected.

He looked down his nose from the lecturn and said “Would you like to ask me another question”?

I did, he answered, and the event was over. The journalists sitting at table number five never got to ask a question. Everyone burst out the door and filed stories about the Solicitor General being fired.

I’d gotten in the big question and a bonus question, and I always thought it was really gracious of Pierre Trudeau to recognize he’d been stung, and to reward the way that all happened,  in some small way, by asking if I’d like to ask a second question.

I’ve never forgotten it.

Turns out, the news about the Solicitor General was not intended to come out till Trudeau had reached Vancouver. But his flight was delayed, and Ottawa pressed the button on sending the news release just as Trudeau’s helicopter came over the horizon into my view

Sometimes timing is everything!

Trudeaus Nannies

I get it that the media hysteria going around about PM Trudeau hiring nannies on the taxpayer tab is among other things about bad optics. It seems like a dumb move  complete with hypocrisy.

But really, is this the issue that should possess Canadians?

Looking just a wee bit past your own nose at today's headline scan and we see:
- Ontarians paid $37 Billion above market price for electricity.
- Children living in house loaded with 10-thousand needles .
-  City of 5 million in India faces worst downpour of rain in a century .
-  or even  Study: Facebook use damages your well being.

Not to even mention much the ongoing scourges of poverty, homelessness, hunger , refugees fleeing war  and so on that dominate the headlines most days.

The Trudeau nanny thing is a little thing---a teenie tiny troublesome itch. But that itch is going to be scratched until it blows up into a real rash. I can already see how the first question period might play out when the house of commons resumes sitting. Oh boy is that itch going to be scratched!

It will be less than marvelous  how this will play out--right along party lines. The Conservatives will argue taxpayers funds should not be spent on the PM's nannies. The NDP will cry that at a maximum pay of $15 dollars an hour the nannies are being exploited by not being paid enough, The Greens could suggest it may all be worth it if the nannies also do the recycling and turn down the heat in the house at night. The circus is back in town !

And all the while other people will go hungry, veterans will wrestle with their demons, seniors will scrimp their spending, and the environment will continue to go to hell.

The nanny story should be no more than a distraction to the real political work of the country. But it's a story found to have legs by journalists engaged in the most time honoured tradition of chasing a story - following it to the last possible paragraph and sound bite.

That's why it is important for Trudeau to do the prudent thing and put an end to this. Pay up buddy !

Let's get on to doing the important work of the nation. And, lets get on to telling more important stories that really matter.

First job in broadcasting.

People usually remember their first job in their chosen career with a little bit of nostalgia.

Often that includes the name of their first boss, what the office was like, and probably how little they were paid.

I had all of that and more - but what I mostly remember is fear, lots of fear.

I'd completed my broadcast training and hit the road looking for a job.

Driving a 1969 Datsun 1000, loaded with a sleeping bag, demo tapes, and a map I headed up the Fraser Valley into the BC interior. I'd determined the Vancouver market was one that I was not ready for, so I sought some place small, where I could make a few mistakes and not get fired too quickly.
You know, some place not too difficult to start out, but where you could learn a lot.

I got as far as Kelowna , and there got a phone call from the first place I'd dropped off a resume' - Abbotsford BC.

The guy on the line had a job offer for me, radio news, evenings and weekends for the princely sum of $375 a month. It was 1973, and that kind of pay was real tight for the times, but what the hell, it was a start.

He asked when could I start, and I said as soon as I can get on the road and get there.
I arrived the next day.

CFVR Abbotsford, the sign hung there over the parking lot  like bait, and I took it.

I remember the News Directors first name was Terry, I don't recall his last name. I don't recall how long he'd been there, but he had the look and feel of a man who already wanted to get out.

We had a brief meeting, very brief, and I was hired.

Now the fear started to creep in, and it would get worse.

"Terry" now really looked like he wanted to get out of there--like now , or yesterday.
And so came the question from him- when can you start your first shift?

Remember I had taken the bait, and like an over eager fish I answered --I can start right away.

And with that Terry stood, got his coat on, plopped his hat onto his head and said:
" The newsroom is down the hall, it's 10 past 2, and you're reading the 3 O'Clock news"

Before I could try to shake the hook out of my mouth and dart for cover, he was gone, walked out the front door of the station building and drove away.

I found the newsroom, in it sat a man who looked perplexed as I walked in. His name was Con Hild , the sports guy.

I explained I'd just been caught, er hired, and I had to read the news on air in about 45 minutes, without any kind of training or orientation.

Con was a great guy and he helped me out, showing me the basic ropes of the place, what the format was , what commercial breaks played in that next newscast and so on.

Now it was 10 to 3, nothing had been written or prepared, there was no more that could be done but grab some wire copy from the Canadian Press teletype , a big metal monster of a thing that ground out stories. It was a noisy beast, but it was my salvation.

5 to 3, and I'm sweating like a pig ( do pigs sweat?) This one did.

The next few minutes were a blur, I read that news cast, signed it off, and melted.

The phone rang.

Always fear a phone ringing right after you're read a newscast. It is seldom good.

It was " Terry" with a short message- "Guess you'll do, come in at three tomorrow for the start of your first real shift "

I looked over to the sports guy, and he said :   " He does that all the time, he hires somebody throws them on air, and if they make it, they have a job"

"Terry" not long after left Abbotsford .

I stayed, but not for long.

I later worked for a guy whose cry before each newscast was " I'm not ready "

I can sure relate to that.