Travel with me if you will, dear reader, to a time long ago when political leadership conventions were really exciting, even if they were perhaps a tad less democratic than today’s.
Nowadays, one-person/one-vote conventions are all the rage because they allow party members to vote directly for the leadership candidate of their choice. But back in the day, party members voted for delegates, who then attended these conventions and picked the leader. There was arm-twisting between ballots as life-long friends tried to convince each other to support their candidates. There was high drama. And while by today’s standards it may seem less democratic, it was a great show that captivated the country and created interest in the political process in ways that today’s contests simply don’t.
Perhaps the granddaddy of all exciting conventions happened 40 years ago this Sunday — June 11, 1983. And while I believe the facts support that statement, I may also be saying it because the 1983 Progressive Conservative leadership convention was the first one I ever covered.
The author reported on the convention for Toronto radio stations CHFI and CFTR Radio. (Courtesy of Steve Paikin)
The convention happened because, six months earlier in Winnipeg, PC leader Joe Clark determined that 66.9 per cent support from delegates was inadequate to convince party members that he had enough backing to remain. And, so, the former prime minister (he’d had that job for 273 days after having defeated Pierre Trudeau in 1979) resigned as leader and called for a new convention that would settle the question of his leadership once and for all.
Clark had won both the PC leadership in 1976 and the ensuing election over Trudeau in 1979. But too many Tories were furious that he’d lost his minority government so quickly. When Trudeau defeated Clark in a rematch in 1980, too many PCs wanted Clark out.
So, in June 1983, 3,000 delegates gathered at the Ottawa Civic Centre, either to choose Clark a second time or to find his successor. The candidates were a mix of some of the most legendary figures in Canadian political history, along with some intriguing curiosities.
Joe Clark and his wife, Maureen McTeer, with supporters. (Steve Paikin)
Clark went into the convention as the undisputed front-runner. He’d become the country’s youngest-ever prime minister in 1979 (age 39), and many felt he’d grown in stature and learned from his mistakes.
His prime challenger was the third-place candidate from the 1976 convention: Brian Mulroney, president of the Iron Ore Company of Canada, who made a compelling argument for his candidacy.
Mulroney, a fluently bilingual Quebecker and one of the country’s most outstanding orators, insisted that, if the PCs wanted to continue to concede Quebec to the Liberals, they’d never taste victory again. In fact, in the 1980 election, the Grits won 74 of Quebec’s 75 seats, despite Clark’s having learned more than passable French.
John Crosbie speaks with supporters. (Steve Paikin)
Newfoundland MP John Crosbie was by far the most bombastic and entertaining candidate. He was funny and intelligent but spoke no French at a time when the country was coming to believe that an ability to speak both of the country’s official languages was imperative. It hadn’t used to be, in the days of Lester Pearson and John Diefenbaker, neither of whom spoke French. But Trudeau and Clark permanently changed that dynamic.
Etobicoke Centre MP Michael Wilson came to the convention with serious economic credentials, having been a Bay Street businessman. But his gravitas came with no pizazz.
David Crombie was Toronto’s former tiny, perfect mayor and an MP from Rosedale. The fact that he was from Ontario’s capital city made him a tough enough sell for delegates outside Toronto. Speaking halting French was another issue. Mulroney would often joke, “When I become prime minister and appoint David Crombie my minister for bilingualism….” He didn’t need to finish the line for audiences to start laughing.
Left: Peter Pocklington and his wife, Eva, react to first-ballot results; right: John Crosbie dropped off the third ballot without endorsing either Clark or Mulroney. (Steve Paikin)
The wild card in the race was Peter Pocklington, the owner of the NHL’s Edmonton Oilers, who was garnering a lot of attention for his pledge to rip up the increasingly impenetrable tax code and bring in a flat tax. He promised that Canadians would be able to do their taxes in 10 minutes.
Two other fringe candidates — John Gamble, MP from Markham, and Neil Fraser, an anti-metric-system civil servant — rounded out the field.
Clark led on the first ballot with 36.5 per cent, but Mulroney was hot on his heels at 29.2 per cent. Crosbie was the only other candidate in the hunt, with 21.4 per cent. The rest were shocked to be in the low single digits.
Here’s why good old-fashioned delegated conventions were so much fun and such a spectacle to watch. In between ballots, delegates would strong-arm one another in hopes of convincing those supporting defeated candidates to come to their guy. Some of the conversations, caught on live television, were agonizing.
Seeing no hope of victory, Wilson and Pocklington dropped out after one ballot and walked to Mulroney’s box. The visible manifestation of momentum — two candidates and the lion’s share of their supporters crossing the floor to another candidate — would send shrieks through the arena, as Mulroney’s organization cheered, while Clark’s looked on glumly.
Left: Rosedale MP David Crombie (right); Etobicoke Centre MP Michael Wilson with two Bill Davis cabinet ministers in his box: Frank Miller (left) and Dennis Timbrell (bottom right). (Steve Paikin)
Things got even tighter after the second ballot: Clark was at 36.7 per cent, and Mulroney at 34.6 per cent. Even though Crosbie was well back, at 26.4 per cent, Crombie dropped off the ballot and endorsed Crosbie. Tories well remembered that Clark had come from third place in 1976 to win. Could lightning strike twice, this time with Crosbie? No. It was too high a mountain to scale, and Crombie had only 67 delegates to deliver anyway.
The third ballot saw a razor-thin margin develop between Clark and Mulroney, with the former PM’s lead dropping to just 22 delegates out of nearly 3,000 in the hall (35.8 per cent to 35.1 per cent).
After the first ballot, both candidates Peter Pocklington (third from left) and Michael Wilson (second from right) moved to support Mulroney. (Steve Paikin)
It set up a scenario where Crosbie, and his 858 delegates, would play kingmaker. Despite herculean efforts by the two leading camps to bring Crosbie to their side, the Newfoundlander dropped out, declined to endorse either man, and freed his delegates to support whomever they wanted. Nevertheless, there was a sense in the hall that most of Crosbie’s delegates would endorse Mulroney.
And that’s when something extraordinary happened.
After delegates had voted for the fourth time and while awaiting the results, Clark decided to take an impromptu stroll through the hall. Most of the journalists covering the event were tethered to the platforms near the candidates’ boxes. However, I was a one-man band covering the convention for CHFI and CFTR Radio in Toronto and therefore spent the entire day roaming the hall, just following my nose wherever it took me.
Brian Mulroney had been the third-place candidate at the 1976 convention. (Steve Paikin)
I could see Clark starting to walk across the floor toward Mulroney’s box and thus made a beeline for him (I was 50 pounds lighter then and could scoot through a crowd with alacrity!).
Suddenly, I had Clark all to myself. There were no other journalists nearby. I pushed record on my tape machine and began to pepper him with questions.
“Mr. Clark, where are you going?” I asked.
“I want to talk to Mr. Mulroney and his delegates,” Clark replied.
“Are you coming to concede?” I followed up. (Gotta admit, in hindsight, that’s a pretty cheeky question from a 23-year-old reporter to a former prime minister who probably suspected he was about to lose.)
“No, no,” Clark answered calmly. “I just want him to know that our party needs to be unified coming out of this convention. And regardless of who wins, I will do everything I can to bring unity to this party.”
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The crush of people surrounding our exchange heard Clark’s answer and began to chant “Un-i-ty! Un-i-ty! Un-i-ty!” It was a dramatic moment and I was not only right in the middle of it, but also had an exclusive on it.
The results of the fourth and final ballot changed the course of Canadian history. As expected, most of Crosby’s support went to Mulroney, who won big: 54.4 per cent to 45.5 per cent. Clark’s 22-vote, third-ballot lead disappeared into a 259-vote Mulroney triumph.
Fifteen months later, Mulroney would make good on his pledge to break up the Liberal fortress in Quebec. He won 58 of Quebec’s 75 seats en route to the biggest majority government in Canadian history — 211 seats.
Brian Mulroney with his wife, Mila. (Steve Paikin)
Clark, who just celebrated his 84th birthday earlier this week, got the foreign-affairs ministry and helped his prime minister defeat apartheid in South Africa. Wilson, who died four years ago at 81, became one of Canada’s most influential finance ministers, ushering in the Goods and Services Tax. Crosbie, who died three years ago at 88, got the justice portfolio. And Crombie, a lifelong Torontonian (and still going strong at 87), was delighted to get Indian Affairs and Northern Development (but not bilingualism).
Mulroney, who, like Clark, also just turned 84, would become the first Tory prime minister since Sir John A. Macdonald to win back-to-back majority governments. At eight years and 281 days, he is the seventh-longest-serving PM in Canadian history. And it all started 40 years ago this Sunday, when, despite having never won elective office at any level, he became leader of the Progressive Conservative Party of Canada in a thrilling showdown, the likes of which we’ll never see again.
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