Some Day the Sun Will Shine and Have Not Will Be No More (24 page)

The fears and suspicions of the provinces were given credence
(some of us continue to believe that this September conference was just a
set-up) when, on October 2—only a few weeks after our meeting—instead of looking
for compromise, the prime minister announced that it was his government’s
intention to unilaterally patriate and amend the constitution with a Charter of
Rights binding on the provinces. He proceeded to introduce a resolution in the
House of Commons to this effect.

The provinces convened a meeting in Toronto on October 14, where five provinces
(British Columbia, Alberta, Manitoba, Quebec, and Newfoundland) announced they
would fight the federal resolution in the courts. And this we did with the
Manitoba, Newfoundland, and Quebec courts hearing the matter. Later the
provinces of Nova Scotia, PEI, and Saskatchewan were to join the opposition.
Ontario and New Brunswick remained as supporters of the federal position.

The press described the provinces who opposed the federal action the Gang of
Eight, not a particularly positive initial description but one that would stick,
given the press’s penchant of favouring the federal position and erroneously
seeing the eight opposing provinces as obstructionists rather than concerned
leaders about how our country was to evolve.

The actions of the eight were not simply to challenge the proposal in Canada
but also in London, where Newfoundland made a submission to the Select Committee
on Foreign Relations of the House of Commons, calling on that body to reject the
Canadian government’s unilateral bill.

On March 31 (an ironic time given that Newfoundland’s entry into Canada
occurred at the stroke of midnight March 31, 1949), the Newfoundland Court of
Appeal in a unanimous decision ruled the federal resolution to be illegal and
that the federal government could not unilaterally change Newfoundland’s Terms
of Union with Canada. Then on April 8 the parties in the House of Commons
reached an agreement to delay any vote on the constitutional measure until the
Supreme Court of Canada rendered its decision on the constitutionality of the
measure. Finally, on September 28, the Supreme Court of Canada ruled the federal
measure to
be unconstitutional: “We have reached the
conclusion that the agreement of the provinces of Canada, no views being
expressed as to its quantification, is constitutionally required for the passing
of the ‘Proposed Resolution for a Joint Address to Her Majesty the Queen
respecting the Constitution of Canada’ and that the passing of this Resolution
without such agreement would be unconstitutional in the conventional
sense.”

To this day the federal government characterizes this major defeat this
way:

And so this attempt by the federal government to fundamentally and unilaterally
alter the Constitution of Canada went down to crushing defeat. Following this,
Prime Minister Trudeau needed the provinces’ support to carry out his
constitutional project. Is there another democracy where a prime minister has so
brazenly tried to impose his personal vision unto the people? And to think, two
provinces saw no problem with such an effort!

And so all parties were back to the drawing board for Constitution making, with
thankfully a more reasonable federal government.

The momentous days were from November 3-5, 1981. On November 5, the
Constitution of 1981 was born! Through the evening of November 4, meeting in the
Château Laurier Hotel, the four
premiers of PEI, Nova Scotia,
Saskatchewan, and Newfoundland, with senior designates from Premier Lougheed of
Alberta and Premier Bennett of British Columbia, worked on a proposal presented
by Newfoundland. By 12: 30 a.m., this proposal, with some changes, was agreed to
and retyped. It was agreed that I would present this amended Newfoundland
proposal to the Gang of Eight’s scheduled breakfast meeting that morning. Seven
of the eight provinces agreed with the proposal without further amendment.
Quebec opposed it. It was agreed by the seven that I would present this proposal
to the full conference later that morning. Upon invitation from the prime
minister, who was aware that there was a new provincial proposal, I presented
the proposal and after a number of hours of discussion and additional
amendments, the Patriation Agreement was born.

This series of events got very mangled later by various commentators,
journalists, “scholars,” and authors, and for thirty years the real story of how
the deal came together was submerged. Full elaboration on this sad state of
affairs is explained in Appendix I.

The immediate, large issues of the day here enumerated only strengthened our
resolve that as important as they were, they could not lead (alone or in
combination) to the goal that we sought: real, fundamental change leading to a
proud and self-reliant place—a “have” province.

“The Newfoundland and Labrador cod, the so-called northern stock, are pretty
fish with amber leopard spots on an olive green back, a white belly, and the
long white streamlining stripe between the belly and the spotted back.”

— Mark Kurlansky

“The history of Newfoundland, especially its earliest annals, is essentially a
history of the cod fishery.”

— D. W. Prowse

EACH TIME I THINK
of fish I think of growing up in
Marystown and how the cod fishermen cursed the crabs that would get tangled in
their nets (a far cry from the lucrative crab fishery of decades later). I think
of the older, retired inshore fishermen yarning in Thoms's store in La Scie and
of my visit to the Horse Islands in the spring as sealing gave way to cod
fishing. I think of the Canning family of Englee, a highliner fishing family who
did not have time to complain as they toiled each spring and summer morning
at 4: 00 a.m., steering their trap skiff around the harbour headlands. I think
of being in the trap skiff with the fishermen as we left Sandy Hook, southern
Labrador, at 3: 30 a.m. to head to the fishing grounds. I think of the Wentzels
of Tub Harbour, the Rossiters of Snug Harbour, the Bradleys of Indian Harbour,
of George and Mabel on Square Islands, and my friend in Croque to whom I loaned
thirty-five dollars for food so he would
not be dependent on the
merchant, along with the hundreds of other fishermen around the island and off
the coast of Labrador. When I think of fish I think of my grandfather Peckford
with his fishing rooms at the Battery in St. John's, and others in Bay Bulls on
the Southern Shore.

It was a hard life, but a good one and a special one. Yet we were just not
making it.

Two of Newfoundland's biggest long-term resource mistakes concerned fish and
water power.

I remember Gordon Winter, who was lieutenant-governor during my first three
years as premier. He was one of the signatories to the Terms of Union with
Canada in 1949. He, of course, had been reading the debates I was having
concerning fish, water power, and the new offshore oil and gas potential.

Mr. Winter was not one to speak brashly or quickly. He gave everything a lot of
thought. One day he and I were alone in his office at Government House reviewing
some matter of mutual interest when he changed the subject and began asking me
questions about my position on the fishery. A very interesting discussion ensued
as we both debated the merits of federal versus provincial control of the
fishery. Of course, I was quick to point out that it was not a matter of
either/or, but a shared issue, truly in the spirit of the Confederation and the
British North America Act of 1867 where certain matters were exclusively federal
or provincial jurisdiction. But in other areas there was a dual responsibility
between the federal and provincial governments. I could see that Mr. Winter had
been mulling over this whole matter for quite some time and was
uncharacteristically exercised about it. At the end of the discussion, which
must have lasted a couple of hours, he looked directly at me and uttered, “Yes,
I agree now. I think we made a big mistake in the Terms of Union concerning the
fishery. We should still have some real say in the fishery.”

It is an irony not lost on those of us who are interested in Newfoundland
resource history, and the fishery in particular, of that which had helped mould
our culture and make us who we are, that throughout our long history
(1497 to 2012, spanning 515 years) we
were virtually in control
of our fishery for only thirty—yes, thirty— years.

From 1497 to 1587 Newfoundland was visited by several nations who fished its
surrounding waters and took the fish back to their countries. The English did
the same, with, however, an increasing number of English fishermen squatting on
land in the various coves and inlets on the eastern part of the island, but
always controlled by the English merchants and fishing admirals. After Sir
Humphrey Gilbert claimed Newfoundland for England in 1583, the same mode of
operation continued, with settlement legally prohibited, but with some English
staying. The fishery was totally controlled by England and other
countries.

The Treaty of Utrecht of 1713 gave the French certain fishing rights, and
although they were unable to legally settle, the French in Article 13 were
allowed “to catch fish, and dry them on land, in that part only, and in no other
besides that, of the said island of Newfoundland, which stretches from the place
called Cape Bonavista to the northern point of the said island, and from thence
running down by the western side, reaches as far as the place called Pointe
Riche” (Noel, 11).

So from 1713 onward both England and France were fishing legally the waters off
the east coast of Newfoundland, with the French, as S. J. R. Noel says in his
book
Politics in Newfoundland
: “France had nevertheless retained for her
subjects important rights of easement upon a thousand miles, or roughly
one-third, of its [Newfoundland's] coast” (11).

And the great democratic movements that brought Representative Government to
the island in 1832, and full Responsible Government (self-governing dominion)
in 1855, still saw this treaty in full force. And although changes were made
in 1783 through the Treaty of Versailles that excluded the French fishing rights
to two bays on the east coast, such rights were extended on the west coast of
the island, which really gave the French more coastline than under the agreement
it replaced.

Noel makes the important point:

In one of the truly great moments in Newfoundland history, further changes in
French fishing rights were made (1857 convention between England and France),
ostensibly to relieve the present tensions between Newfoundlanders and French
fishing interests, only to see the French gain a more secure foothold through
such arrangements. This caused an uproar in the country and led to a special
resolution in the legislature condemning

As a result of this resolution, the prime minister and the Leader of the
Opposition went to London and persuaded the British colonial secretary, Henry
Labouchere, to withdraw the convention and later in a communication to the
governor of Newfoundland conceded:

Of course, the previous French fishing rights of the Treaty of Versailles
prevailed, and hence Newfoundland continued to try and succeed as a society,
even though the reason for its existence, its fishery, was not truly under its
control.

Finally, a half-century later in 1904, with international events elsewhere in
play involving England and France, an agreement between the two countries was
reached, which saw the fishing rights of France in Newfoundland exchanged for
previous English territorial rights in West Africa.

I will let Noel have the last word on the end of a sad tale that lasted
centuries, on the one hand, and the optimism that the new agreement
engendered:

So from 1904 to 1934 Newfoundland had control over its fishery.
Sadly, 1904 was just seeing the results of the great railway fiasco, and a year
later the beginning of the Grand Falls mill giveaway, to be followed, early in
the 1920s, with the Corner Brook mill sellout.

There had emerged in the last few decades of the nineteenth century the view
that the island was laden with resources and that a railway would tap this great
potential, unleashing a great prosperity across the country. The vast timber
resources would be seen for their great wealth and further prosperity could be
assured. The problem with this notion, as I pointed out in my earlier book,
The Past in the Present
, was that if this were the case, why in
heaven's name did we have to give so much away to get the Grand Falls and Corner
Brook mills and the railway? It either made economic sense or it didn't. Hence,
in the midst of this great industrial push, little was done on the real resource
on which the country depended. The Amulree Commission's Report, which led to the
suspension of self-government, tellingly points out: “We have already emphasized
the fact that the fishery is the mainstay of the country—policies pursued by
successive governments in recent years have tended to obscure this essential and
all-important consideration.”

And prophetically, given the later Smallwood government debacle of the Upper
Churchill Falls contract and other concessions to Brinco, the Commission stated,
“Unless this process [of major concessions to outside interests] is checked,
similar results may be expected to follow in Labrador, which promises to become
a favourite resort for concession-hunters.”

And so the thirty short years of fisheries control saw us squander the first
opportunity in our history to be masters of the very reason for our presence in
this part of the world. Whiteway, Morris, and Squires had spun their toxic
political rhetoric upon the country.

A report that I had commissioned after I became premier and that was conducted
by Nordco, entitled, “It were well to live mainly off fish,” makes a valid
point on page 25 when it states, “The conspicuous lack of development of
Newfoundland's fishing industry, during these early decades of the 20th century,
left her in a disadvantageous
position to compete in the world
markets against rapidly developing fishing industries of nations like Iceland
and Norway.”

One would think that with the opportunity of Confederation with Canada
in 1949 being the option that Newfoundlanders chose (at least according to what
we know), our negotiators would have realized that Newfoundland needed another
opportunity on doing it right on the fishery.

But it was not to be.

And now looking back on it, how could it be, really? I mean, what is thirty
years, especially when you spend most of your time on other things like giving
away forest rights and mineral rights? And look at the Newfoundland
representatives who negotiated the deal: Albert Walsh, who had been a supporter
of Squires, did well off the Commission of Government and became the first
lieutenant-governor after Confederation; Philip Gruchy, manager of the Grand
Falls mill, hardly an expert in the fishery; John B. McEvoy, a St. John's–born
lawyer, trained in Halifax, worked as a legislative librarian in Halifax and
later as a lawyer in St. John's—not your rural fisherman type; and Gordon A.
Winter, St. John's-born and of the urban merchant class, unconnected to the
fishery.

And then there was Joseph R. Smallwood, a Squires admirer and author of
the 1931 book
The New Newfoundland
with its opening statement: “After
more than three centuries' existence as a remote and obscure cod fishing country
Newfoundland in the past decade or so has entered upon a new march that is
destined to place her, within the next dozen years, in the front rank of the
great small nations of the world. That new march is toward modern large-scale
industrialism.”

And so Confederation saw, for the first time by our own hand, the transfer of
all meaningful say in the fishery to the bureaucrats on the Rideau Canal in
Ottawa. And things did not get better. Smallwood, true to his philosophy of
the 1930s, proceeded to fulfill his obsession with industrialization. A long
series of enterprises was started and failed, and all the while the federal
government was improving the social condition of the people through family
allowances and old-age pensions but doing little of substance with the fishery.
As a matter of
fact, significant increases in northern cod catch
by foreigners were beginning to occur; Nordco points out in their report that it
rose from 40,635 tonnes in 1953 to a whopping 659,000 tonnes in 1968. In
contrast, in 1968 the total inshore and offshore catch by Newfoundland
was 121,000 tonnes.