It may be that I’m indulging in some analysis through rose-coloured glasses here. But it seemed that, half a century ago, some of the people who occupied some of the top jobs in politics in this province were superstars in a way that they’re simply not today.
Darcy McKeough was one of those superstars.
He was so full of energy, enjoyed politics so thoroughly, and was so capable of juggling different responsibilities that, in the mid-1970s, he was Premier Bill Davis’s minister of the treasury, economics, intergovernmental affairs, and municipal affairs — all at the same time. He was responsible for so much of what happened in this province, he earned the nickname “The Duke of Kent,” a reference to the county in southwestern Ontario he represented in the legislature for 15 years, from 1963 to 1978.
McKeough died Wednesday from complications related to pneumonia. He was 90.
McKeough got his big break in politics from Davis’s predecessor, Premier John Robarts, who put him in cabinet as minister without portfolio in 1966. Robarts became both a mentor and close family friend to the McKeoughs, so much so that the premier became godfather to one of the McKeough kids.
After Robarts announced his retirement from the premiership in 1970, McKeough leapt into the race to succeed him, despite being only 38 years old. He was ambitious as hell and had a ton of experience for someone so young. He found himself in third place on the penultimate ballot — the position of kingmaker. He marched his delegates over to Davis’s camp and made “Brampton Billy” the next premier over Allan Lawrence. While Robarts was officially neutral in the race and had a close relationship with Davis, he did admit to friends after the fact that he “voted for the father of my godson.”
McKeough truly shone during the Davis years. While chomping on his omnipresent pipe, he accumulated more and more responsibilities as his ability to steer Ontario through choppy economic waters became increasingly apparent. And he had a solid working relationship with the federal finance minister (and future prime minister) John Turner, continuing a tradition of federal Liberals and provincial Tories collaborating for the greater good.
One of the reforms McKeough ushered in was regional governance. Despite hearing horror stories that citizens would lose touch with their communities, McKeough believed services could be more effectively delivered on a more regional basis. Fifty years later, most of those regional governments — Hamilton-Wentworth, Durham, York, Halton, Ottawa-Carleton and more — are still intact (although Peel’s two main cities, Mississauga and Brampton, are in the process of divorcing).
“He just loved digging into a level of detail about reforming government,” son Stewart recalls. “He was always trying to make things work better.”
McKeough did have one particularly troubling moment in public life. In 1972, a story broke that McKeough’s Ministry of Municipal Affairs had approved a housing project in which the minister had a financial interest. McKeough was unaware of the approval, but the story caused significant headaches for the Davis government.
McKeough needed advice he could trust, so he took Robarts out for lunch. Half a century ago, even the appearance of conflict was deemed enough of a problem to warrant a ministerial resignation, and Robarts advised him to quit. McKeough took his friend’s advice.
But less than a year later, he was back in cabinet as minister of energy and, eventually, as treasurer again.
After the Tories won the 1977 election and Davis’s position in the province and party became increasingly unassailable, McKeough came to realize the window for his becoming leader had closed. He quit politics in 1978 and moved into the private sector, becoming a highly successful corporate executive. He maintained his interest in public life and looked to mentor up-and-coming politicians.
“He told me the best times in his life were when he was in politics,” says Monte McNaughton, the former PC cabinet minister who left the Ford cabinet two months ago for an executive job at Woodbine Entertainment. “He said he always missed the thrill of politics ever since he walked out the front door of Queen’s Park.”
McKeough’s son Jamie confirms that: “It’s fair to say he missed politics. He loved it.”
Jamie adds that, back in the day, his father loved nothing more than to do battle with NDP leader Stephen Lewis in the legislature, “then go out for drinks with him at La Scala afterwards. It was a different time, and that love of politics never left him.”
Even after Robarts’s death in 1982, McKeough continued to be the keeper of the flame for his mentor. Every December, he organized an annual luncheon in Robarts’s memory, inviting numerous colleagues with whom he’d worked in politics back in the 1960s and ’70s. Having written a book about Robarts, I was invited to join the gathering about 15 years ago, despite being a decade or two (or three, in some cases) younger than everyone else. A quarter century ago, more than two dozen people would show up at the tony Toronto Club, swap stories from the good old days, and toast Robarts’s memory. More recently though, with so many colleagues dying, attendance was closer to 10. Then, just two weeks ago, McKeough sent out a note to attendees, saying that, for the first time in half a century, this year’s luncheon would be cancelled. No explanation was given, but when the organizer is 90 years old, no explanation was necessary.
One of McKeough’s best friends over the years was Alan Eagleson, former executive director of the NHL Players’ Association; like McKeough, he was elected as an MPP for the first time in 1963. For years, the two spoke on the phone twice a week. According to Eagleson, one recent call was particularly joyous.
“He’d been going to Windsor for seven or eight weeks for skin-cancer treatments,” Eagleson tells me. “Then this week, he said, ‘I’m totally clear of cancer. I’m going to have a martini to celebrate!’”
But the celebration was short-lived, as McKeough died at home the next day.
“He had been getting radiation treatments for the cancer,” Stewart says. “And that really took a lot out of him. He got pneumonia and ended up in hospital in October. But he came home and, thankfully, he went quickly.”
“I never knew anyone who had a harsh word about him,” Eagleson adds. “And I never saw a happier personality.”
McKeough’s wife, Joyce, died two and a half years ago, “and there’s no doubt his zest for life faded a bit then,” Eagleson acknowledges. But despite failing health, McKeough continued to take an interest in politics, particularly in his young protégé McNaughton, who represented the same part of Ontario as McKeough had.
“Steve, you’ll remember we all had dinner together back in September, and after that dinner, he sent me a letter, reminiscing about his life out of politics,” McNaughton tells me. “He said he always regretted leaving early and should have made a comeback.”
The point of the letter was not lost on McNaughton. In fact, when McKeough and I spoke on the phone a few weeks ago, he confessed he was surprised and disappointed that McNaughton had left politics. McKeough saw the former highly successful labour minister as a potential successor to Premier Doug Ford and had championed the career of the former MPP for Lambton–Kent–Middlesex since McNaughton entered politics in 2011.
“I loved Darcy McKeough,” McNaughton says. “He was a great friend and mentor. And he contributed so much to our province and country. He was truly a great Canadian.”
A funeral service will be held next Friday at Christ Church in McKeough’s hometown of Chatham at 11:30 a.m.