Memoirs

It was rainy and cold in Baie-Comeau when Mila and I left the victory celebration at about one o'clock in the morning and returned to our hotel suite in what I had grown up calling "the Mill Manager's House." Earlier, at eight o'clock, the CBC decision desk had announced that "Brian Mulroney has led the Progressive Conservative Party to a majority government and will become Canada's eighteenth prime minister." I stood before the TV set with Mila, surrounded by cheering friends, as the beauty of the moment washed over me. I turned to my old pal Sam Wakim and joked, "I always said the CBC was an intelligent network." As promising returns had come in from Newfoundland, I had asked Fred Doucet, my long-time friend and chief of staff, to call into Madawaska for a poll any poll result. French-speaking nothern New Brunswick had been Liberal territory forever, but a promising young candidate, Bernard Valcourt, was running for us there, and Mila and I had campaigned tirelessly with him, trying for a breakthrough. I knew that if we were ahead in a rural poll there, we were in for a big night. When I saw the grin on Doucet's face as he concluded the call, I realized that we were looking at a landslide. Valcourt was rolling to victory, and so were we. My own constituency was vast and remote. Owing to reporting difficulties, for some hours the returns from Manicouagan were limited to one large Indian reserve that had overwhelmingly voted Liberal, conveying the impression to the watching nation that, while we were winning everywhere else, I was in serious danger of losing my own seat. This began to be reported almost as fact. Watching at Stornoway, our Ottawa home, ten-year-old Caroline was deeply dismayed. "I'm outta here!" she announced. She gathered her brothers silently and went upstairs to bed, awakening the next morning to the refreshing news that her father had indeed made it back to the House of Commons. Toward the end of the evening, when the dimensions of the PC sweep looked historic, I got a call from Prime Minister John Turner, conceding the election. I'm sure it was a very painful moment for him once the golden boy of Canadian politics, now defeated after barely two months in office. He was extremely gracious, congratulating me on a strong campaign, promising a smooth transition and wishing me well. I congratulated him on winning Vancouver Quadra, and we both chuckled over the tremendous effort his sister Brenda had put into the fight, just as my sister Olive and brother Gary had won Manicouagan for me. We agreed to an Ottawa meeting to finalize the transition. Immediately after John's call, I changed from the old pair of slacks and green V-neck sweater I had worn all evening to a blue business suit, so that Mila and I could speak to our supporters (by now in varying degrees of lubrication) gathered in the local arena. The atmosphere was electric when we arrived, as the band belted out our campaign song and thousands of Baie-Comeauites including hundreds of childhood friends who had encouraged me all my life chanted "Brian! Brian! Brian!" just as countless supporters had done across Canada. When we ascended the stage, the cheering was almost intoxicating, so joyful was the mood, with people surging forward in waves. I could sense the great pride this hard-working crowd took in watching one of their own achieve the highest office in Canada. It was like a reveillon, St. Patrick's Day, and Pierrette Arsenault's wedding all rolled into one. I could hardly believe what I was seeing, and what I knew was really happening. For a few days I had worked on a victory speech. Although a little too long, it was well received by the enthMulroney, Brian is the author of 'Memoirs ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780771065361 and ISBN 0771065361.