WhatFinger


Arthur Meighen

Our historical figures are not treated with the respect they deserve



The Right Honourable Arthur Meighen In 1952, my office was on Bay Street. There were three of us. Ralph was the boss and Mary acted as receptionist and secretary for both of us. Actually, Premier Leslie Frost was our boss, but we didn't get to see him very often. At Christmas, Mary gave Ralph a book. He gave one to me and I gave a book to Mary. The rule was that they had to be about Canadian politics and politicians. Federal, provincial or municipal and non-fiction. We often joked about the amount of fiction in non-fiction books about politicians. At Christmas that year, Ralph gave me a book about the state of federal politics and government between the first and second war. I enjoyed it, for in it Mackenzie King was portrayed as a scheming and devious man...which was a view I strongly held.

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A view that was passed on to me by my father.   He knew the only real truth came from the Toronto Evening Telegram, the United Church and the Conservative Party.   I think dad was gone by the time we found out that Mackenzie King talked to his dog and his long-dead mother.   As a lad, I often talked to my dog.   Unlike King, I didn't expect to get an answer.   The hero for me in the book was a victim of King's dastardly deeds...a man called Arthur.   He was still alive, and in spite of his advanced years, according to a newspaper story, he walked to his office on Bay Street every day from his home in Rosedale.   I recall reading a rather humorous piece about a bad fall he had walking down Parliament Street on his daily trek downtown.   His reputation as a Conservative was underscored when questioned by a reporter about the accident. "I don't fall very often but when I do, I make sure it is always to the right," he was said to have answered with a mischievous grin. When I mentioned to Ralph that it would be great if I could get Arthur to autograph the book, he encouraged me to go and see him.   Ralph even suggested he would be flattered to be asked. So I went. His office was not far away and rather than phone ahead for an appointment, I decided to simply drop in and ask for two minutes of his time. It was an expensive looking place with thick carpets and beautiful paintings on the walls.   A lady sat at one end of the reception area behind a small switchboard.    When I asked for a short meeting, she said he was very busy and I would have to write or phone for an appointment, stating the nature of my business.   When I said I simply wanted him to autograph the book that I held in my hand, she replied, "Oh, I thought it was Maxwell Meighen, the president you wanted to see.   If it's Arthur, his father, you wish to see, have a chair and I'll see if he's in."  In a few minutes, she beckoned me over and said he would see me.    "The switchboard girl tells me you would like me to sign a book. Is that so...?" he asked.  When I said I would be honored to have his signature, he asked my name. "I hope what I wrote is alright," he said, as he handed the book back to me.   I opened it and read, "To my new young friend, Clare," with his signature and the date written below.   As I thanked him and turned to leave, he said something like, "Don't rush off.   Tell me about yourself." For close to an hour we talked.   I told him about growing up in Huron County and that I was born in Seaforth.   My political stripe was confirmed when I told him my dad received a personal letter from Prime Minister R. B. Bennett in 1930, thanking him for working to elect the conservative candidate in our riding. He rubbed his chin and said, "Seaforth...Seaforth.   Is that not the home of William Aberhart?" I said, "Yes," and added that his brother, Charlie, had a drug store and his other brother operated a chopping mill to grind the grain of local farmers. Little things seemed to interest him.   Like when I told him the former premier of Ontario, George Drew and my mother were both born in Guelph.   He smiled when I told him I was an official delegate to the 1948 convention that chose Mr. Drew as the federal P.C. Leader and that I was also a delegate in 1949 when Leslie Frost was picked as Ontario leader and premier.   He seemed pleased to find that I knew something about the politics of the land and that I enjoyed talking about it. I was pleased and flattered when he asked me to come back again.   Although I didn't pick up on it at our first meeting, the next time we talked, I felt he was lonely.   I sensed that his friends and political colleagues were gone and not many walked in off the street as I did.   I could hardly wait to tell Ralph and Mary of my good fortune.   I had spent almost an hour with such a famous Canadian. In the months that followed, I made three or four more visits.   The great joy that came from chatting with someone who was part of the history of our country is still strong in my mind...even though it  happened almost 50 years ago. There was a down side to my visits though.   I was given an early look at what it can mean to grow old.   The staff seemed to treat this fine man as if he was little more than a nuisance.   They were not purposely rude but they responded to his questions and requests as if they were talking down to a child.   It was quite noticeable that respect for who and what he once was simply not there. Granted, although he was one of Canada's most gifted leaders, he was one of this nation’s most unsuccessful politicians.   He was in and out of politics for more than 30 years--and prime minister twice.  His Irish grandfather came to Perth County in 1843.   Arthur was born in 1874 on a farm near St. Mary's only a few miles from the farm where my wife Virginia was born.   He was shy and out of place on the playing field at high school, but he excelled in English and Math.   As a young man, he clerked in a St. Mary's store, taught school and eventually became a lawyer, without attending law school. It was recognized as early as high school that he had a skill that overshadowed his wooden demeanor and shyness.   He was another person, bold and assured when discussing or debating an issue he believed right.   The words from this usually reserved and shy young man rang out like music.   His stance and gestures seemed to accentuate and give rhythm and balance to his words.   Words put together with an eloquence that gave him command of debate in parliament.   He could mould the minds and hearts of an audience...as if he were conducting the Boston Pops.  The polite gentleman from St. Mary`s, who enjoyed talking politics with a young fellow from Seaforth, died on August 5, 1960. Our country's history is so full of men and women whose political daring and skill made Canada the finest country in the world.....and their names and achievements are resting in boring books on dusty shelves. We ridicule and knock Americans for their patriotism and their reverence and respect for their heroes of the past. Sure they unashamedly flaunt the deeds of their early pioneers - the men and women who built their country. We don`t.  When I remember Arthur Meighen, who gave most of his life to the service of his country, and was twice Prime Minister, I have to wonder, is he looking down on us now, thinking, "If only I had been an American."?  


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Clare Westcott -- Bio and Archives

Clare Westcott served as Commissioner of Metro Police and a Citizenship court judge following a long career at Queens Park.


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