C.H. DICKIE: OUT OF THE PAST (Part 6 Conclusion)
We’ve been following Charles Herbert Dickie’s memoir Out of the Past.
Last week we accompanied him on his almost round-the-world voyage as he recharged his mental battery after the stress of seeing the money he’d made from the sale of his shares in the Tyee copper mine on Mount Sicker all but disappear in unsuccessful mining ventures in the Stewart River area of northwestern British Columbia.
Ever the optimist, although he lost his money and changed careers, he never did lose the mining bug.
In between, seeking relief from pouring more money (and effort) down holes that, he recalled ruefully, offered less and less in return the deeper they went, he took another voyage, this one to the Orient. This is where we pick him up in this week’s Conclusion.
But that isn’t the end of Dickie’s story any more than it was the end of his life and career. Despite his disappointing experiences in the B.C. Legislature, he returned to politics—this time, federally—and served several terms in Ottawa as a Member of Parliament.
In the final instalment of his life story which he wrote during his retirement, he gives insight into the dark-and-sometimes-dirty politics of big government. (Some things never change...)
We’ll finish with Mr. Dickie (one of my favourite pioneers, by the way) with a recap of his mining endeavours, both locally and up North.
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The author of this enjoyable memoir, Charles Herbert Dickie, obviously had as much fund recounting his colourful adventures as he'd had living them. (Family photo)
CHAPTER VIII
“Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.”
Early in the year 1911 I had been for some days confined to an hotel room in Los Angeles suffering from a severe cold that I could not shake off.
One morning I tossed a coin to see whether I would go to the hospital or to warmer regions—terrestrial—the hospital lost out and the next day I embarked on the—not palatial—steamship Kansas City en route for Panama and when we had entered the warm waters off the coast of Mexico my lungs cleared and my cold left me.
I never remember having travelled any appreciable distance without having some parasite attach itself to me and this trip proved no exception to the rule for a not ungentlemanly passenger, having ascertained that I had dabbled in mines, unloaded on me an interesting tale of his experiences in the ancient mining regions of Central America, confidently assuring me that he knew many properties that under mining methods of long ago could not be profitably operated, but now owing to the advances made in metallurgical science in mining machinery and mining methods splendid opportunities awaited energy and capital.
He always concluded by remarking that he had been shot in the head and that he could still feel the bullet ambling about in his cranium.
After I had listened to his story, told in the same words, at least a dozen times, I felt sorry for the poor fellow for I concluded he was insane and he being a splendid type of physical manhood and with the blackest eyes I had ever seen, I displayed no inclinations to question his oft-told tale.
From childhood days on I have ever had an instinctive dread of a lunatic. I well remember one suffocatingly hot night on a train crossing the Mojave Desert in the days before vestibule cars were operated. I could not sleep because of the heat so I went out in my pyjamas and sat on the steps of the car. The night was as black as Erebus and I had just begun to cool off when a man crowded down alongside of me. I spoke to him but he just mumbled for a time and then asked me if I could make out what the car wheels were saying; he said that he could get a part but not all of their remarks. I said, “Wait a minute”, and I arose and went to my berth. The next morning I saw my linguistic neighbour of the night before being escorted from a station platform by two policemen.
But to return to my mining acquaintance: It was another dark night in the Gulf of Nicaragua, one of those starry, velvety, dark, humid nights when equatorial stars seemed almost to touch the masthead. The passengers having retired I sauntered by the bow of the boat meditating over some few of the mistakes I had made in my life, whilst otherwise enjoying the silence and sheen of the phosphorescent sea, when a voice right at my ear said, “I can feel the bullet quite plainly tonight.” I said again, “Wait a minute” and I went to my stateroom and locked my door.
The next day we arrived in Panama, but I neither saw the gentleman in question debark, nor afterwards.
The “Great Ditch” [the Panama Canal] was nearing completion, would have been completed, but for that disreputable piece of terrain known as the “Culebra Cut.” After I had become somewhat familiar with the prevailing conditions in that oozy intestine that connects the two great continents I marvelled at the accomplishments that had crowned the efforts of Colonels Goethals and Gorgas, results only made possible by practically unlimited capital and the advancement of sanitary and mechanical science. Plus [the] thoroughness and intrepidity in that...one time...most deadly region, but which, at the time of my visit, had a lower death rate than New York City. Wherever one went throughout the Canal Zone there were fires burning all refuse and Negroes engaged combating the mosquito menace with kerosene, until in Panama or Colon one seldom saw a house fly or a mosquito.
I happened in Panama at the time of the Mardi Gras festival. The city was en fete and the plazas filled with Panamanians in their attractive costumes and pleasing forms and faces. On the balcony of a hotel, in company of a number of pleasant Americans, I saw a pageant composed of many very attractive floats. One of the best had “Uncle Sam” as its prominent feature but elicited no applause; another containing Britannia in the bow of a boat followed by a number of Sikhs. I don’t know from where, and a crowd of Barbados Negroes, was cheered to the echo.
My American friends said, “Why is this? It is our money that has made this carnival possible, but the people do not seem to like us.” I did not attempt to explain although I knew some of the reasons why such was the case, while I was quietly elated by the reception accorded “Britannia”.
I left Colon on the well appointed fruit steamer Abanguarez en route for New Orleans.
We called at Caribbean ports and loaded mountains of bananas. The banana might well be termed a horticultural sausage, the casings of which have laid countless pedestrians prostrate, while the gastronomically delicious fruit, artistically modelled for the clean sweet mouths of children, or the hardened taps and toothless jaws of those to whom merciful age has again brought youth, has contributed to the palatable delight of both young and old.
The passage up the Mississippi from the Gulf of Mexico is an interesting and unique one for one looks down from the deck of a steamer on the roofs of plantation buildings alongside the river. New Orleans is noted for its early history and its burial places, also for the fact that one walks uphill to reach the levees or docks of the great river on which it is situated. The “Father of Waters” [is] always a menace. In company with a gentleman I had met on the boat we “took in” a show on the evening of our arrival, the principal but most mediocre feature of the entertainment being Bud Fisher the creator of Mutt and Jeff.
My friend and I occupied box seats and Fisher used us as targets.
Now I have never been a contestant at a beauty show nor have babies usually cried or dogs barked at my face, as they would have done had Fisher’s portrayal been a faithful one. A bald head was my most prominent feature and on it was placed a hair or two. Then turning to my companion who was a better looking man than I, but who had a red nose which, he had informed me, was the bane of his existence, the so-called artist accentuated the proboscal discoloration, turning from time to time to put another hair on my head.
The audience, we were pleased to notice, did not view with approval the consummate rudeness of Fisher and the feature fell flat. The next evening we went to see Weber and Field in a sketch that contained in one evening more real humour than has appeared in two decades of Mutt and Jeff.
At a time when the forestry was British Columbia's largest industry, Member of Parliament C.H. Dickie publicly declared that high-lead logging was unnecessarily destructive and wouldn't be tolerated in European countries.
--B.C. Government photo
CHAPTER IX
“See what a duet I am raising, said Aesop’s Fly as he sat on the chariot wheel.”
While leading a Micawber sort of existence a Federal election hove in the offing and I being offered the nomination for member for the district I finally accepted and the fight started.
My Liberal opponent was the editor of a newspaper and was popular in his city [Nanaimo]. I had also opposing me a Socialist, an able speaker and an indefatigable worker, but friends rallied to my aid and, as the result of a hard campaign, I made the grade handsomely and was again a lawmaker and being older and more sedate than in my former unsatisfactory venture into political life I took matters more seriously.
I was especially gratified at the result of the election in the little town in which I had lived many years [Duncan]. When it was announced that I had received four votes to each one for my opponent, the tear came to my eyes and I was in part repaid for the hard wearying years I had spent in developing, in the main, unsatisfactory mining prospects for my handsome majority was proof that people thought I had played the game. It was worthwhile. It is always worthwhile.
The result of the election of 1921 was most disappointing to the Conservative party and it was with sadly depleted ranks they assembled for the 14th Parliament.
At a convention held just prior to the opening of the “House” at which gathering were Conservatives, Senators, Members and defeated candidates, strong pressure was brought to bear on Mr. Meighen before he would again accept the leadership. When that gentleman did reluctantly so decide it was with the distinct understanding that the party would loyally stand behind him even if he, at times, said and did things which perhaps might not entirely harmonize with the views of all of his followers.
Mr. Meighen was a disappointed man and perhaps just a little inclined to vindictiveness and he wished the assurance that he would be backed up if he at times felt that bitter language was justified.
The party lived fairly well up to the agreement as above outlined and Mr. Meighen certainly lived well up to his anticipations. The Conservative leader was easily the foremost parliamentarian and the most brilliant and versatile debater in the Federal Parliament and it was a privilege and a pleasure to listen to him when he “cleared his decks for action”.
That gentleman has been most unfairly attacked and maligned, especially in the Province of Quebec, and this fact doubtless impelled him to be relentless and pitiless in debate. Able and brilliant as Mr. Meighen unquestionably was, and lovable as he was to those who knew him well, it has been said that he was lacking in some of the attributes that are requisite in a successful leader of men: qualities which may be characterized in part as tactfulness, good-fellowship and diplomacy, or by the more vulgar phrase frequently used, “a good mixer”.
A kindly pat on the back sometimes makes for friendliness and loyalty and involves no loss of dignity.
To meet and leave with a kindly smile and leave a smile on the faces of those with whom you meet and part, leaves each happier and the world is better therefor.
It has been said that Mr. Meighen was too energetic, too busy, while in the House; be that as it may, he was sadly missed by his party when he was not in his seat.
The members of the opposition would appear almost happy when the Conservative leader was absent.
There were few, if any questions, that came before the House that Mr. Meighen could not deal with, more ably than could the majority of his followers, but it at times seemed that back benchers should have been allotted opportunities for debate before the salient points of the subject matter in hand were exhaustively dealt with by our front benches.
When any important question was before the House our leader and his chief lieutenants would, metaphorically speaking, strip the meat from the carcass and throw the bones to back benchers with instructions to growl at, worry, give ‘em Hell! somewhat disconcerting for those who did not favour talk for talk’s sake.
The man in a commanding position, who directs and counsels those under him, who gives them a chance to improve, to rise, gets the best out of sub-ordinates, both in loyalty and efficiency and builds up the most perfect machinery either industrially or politically.
Were Mr. Meighen a Matador, picadors and banderillas, some perhaps with matadorial aspirations, would be unnecessary adjuncts of that most cruel of sports—bull fighting.
When “Toro” entered the ring Mr. Meighen would be right there—he couldn’t be kept out—he would at once dispatch the bull and all would be left for his fellow actors would be to “peddle it.
I have said that Mr. Meighen was pitiless in debate. That eminent gentleman had at times an unfortunate habit of ridiculing an opponent and his arguments, pleasing usually for his followers to listen to, brought no “grist to the mill”.
It is not impossible to convince an opponent, by logical reasoning and argument, that he is wrong, if he is wrong and still retain his friendship or at least not incur hatred on his part.
I have often thought that if Mr. Meighen had been a surgeon he would have operated without anaesthetics; certainly so on a political opponent.
With all of his idiosyncrasies when Mr. Meighen decided to retire from active participation in politics was a loss to Canada. An honest, fearless, hard bitten fighter, asking and giving no quarter, always aiming at what was biggest and best for Canada and for the great Empire of which Canada is an integral part. Mr. Meighen was sadly missed both on the “Floor of the House” and throughout this Canada of ours.
The Government of Mackenzie King strategically and ably struggled through four years with the support of the Progressives and so-called Independents and Labour Members. "As the tempest drove they shaped their way” with no fixed policy except that of retaining the reins of power. The prairie members becoming too insistent it was decided by the Government that an election was advisable, Mr. Mackenzie King stating that he could not be trammelled as during the past four years and that he would not carry on unless given a clearer mandate from the people.
The result of the election was that the Conservative party “almost made the grade" and when the 15th Parliament was called that party assembled 117 strong, lacking only of a majority over all opposing parties.
The Liberals suffered serious losses but although Mr. Mackenzie King did not receive the mandate he had said was necessary he decided to carry on although he was, I thought, at times, unreasonably criticized for doing so.
Grave irregularities had for years been known to exist with respect to the customs enforcement at the Port of Montreal and law observing merchants in Canada finding they could not compete with those who were selling smuggled merchandise, formed the “Merchants Protective Association” and appointed agents to get definite evidence that would compel the Government to take action.
The case was proved to the hilt but still the Government was tardy.
Then H.H. Stevens, a hard-working member from Vancouver City, B.C., took a hand in the game with the resultant effect of a parliamentary commission being appointed to investigate the matter. An exhaustive inquiry was made into all phases of smuggling and it was disheartening for one wishing for good clean Government for Canada to observe from time to time that some members of the Commission almost seemed to have a brief for the law evaders.
It is, however, only fair to say that their attitude was doubtless governed by a desire to protect the Department of Customs. Therefore a moral wrong was justified by the exigencies of a discredited department of the Government in power. Mr. Kennedy, a Progressive member of he Commission being above all an honest man, sided with the Conservatives, and the result was, to make a long story short, the defeat of the Government. Mr. King asked for a dissolution, as his party wished control of the electoral machinery in the coming election. The Governor General would not assent and Mackenzie King having tendered his resignation to His Excellency—Mr. Meighen was requested to form a Government.
Then a wrangle arose as to whether or not His Excellency had exceeded, or wrongfully exercised his power and the contention that he had done so was used in the forthcoming election by demagogues who sought to gain votes by tweaking if not twisting the lion’s tail.
Mr. Meighen did the only thing that appeared sensible by appointing a temporary Cabinet, but his Government met with an adverse vote, owing to a gentleman from the West casting what he termed an inadvertent vote—a vote that will go down in history and the voter forgotten.
Mr. Meighen was granted a dissolution and an election was brought on.
The Commission that had been appointed to investigate the smuggling charges was given wide powers and the smuggling of liquor into the United States was exhaustively considered.
The kindest thing that could be said for the Liberal Party was that the attitude of the party did not seem to antagonize those engaged in illegitimate traffic as was abundantly evidenced at the next Federal election.
French Canadian Quebec, excepting Montreal, sent a solid Liberal contingent back to Ottawa. When will the people of that province realize that in their best interests and in the interests of a united Canada it is advisable, nay even necessary, that they should distribute their forces among both political parties?
The assembling of the 16th Parliament found the Conservatives with depleted ranks, greatly to their disappointment, as a victory was confidently expected. Mr. Meighen dropped out of the parliamentary arena, and the Hon. Hugh Guthrie was selected as a temporary leader of the Conservative Party.
Later on at a Convention in Winnipeg Mr. R.B. Bennett was chosen as Leader of the Conservative Party of Canada.
In 1930 the Conservatives came into power with a handsome majority, due doubtless, in a great measure, to the fact that the Canadian people placed implicit confidence in Mr. Bennett, who brought to the high and difficult position a wealth of legal ability and business knowledge together with political and financial acumen of a high order, coupled with a capacity for unremitting and indefatigable effort.
These and other outstanding qualities of a high degree enabled Mr. Bennett to pilot Canada through the financial maelstrom of the years ’29 to ’33 with some few scars but no barnacles and with an untarnished reputation. How near Canada was “on the rocks” and at times the apparently insuperable financial complexities and problems that were overcome is not fully realized by the ordinary citizen of Canada.
Mr. Bennett is so considered and is doubtless Canada’s greatest Leader and Statesman Empire Statesman.*
Meanwhile “descending from the sublime” to the mediocre, a kindly credulous western people have for years sent to Ottawa as their “member” the inconspicuous author of these carelessly framed reminiscences. While not labouring under any delusion that they will prove of interest to many, it has been to him a source of satisfaction to recall and string together in sequence some events of a commonplace and, times, carefree career.
*As shown in his memoir, our storyteller was a self-made man whose worldly experiences and firsthand observations made him a small-c conservative to the bone. He is, of course, entitled to his opinions but if ever one wants to measure the R.B. Bennett government’s response to the Great Depression—by far the worst in modern history—one just has to look at American President Roosevelt’s ‘New Deal’ and our own Liberal government’s handling of COVID-19.
On another issue that resonates today, Charles Dickie was ahead of his times as an environmentalist. Hansard records several of his speeches in the House of Commons (reprinted in the Cowichan Leader) in which he decried the clear-cut logging practices of his day and Canada’s wholesaling its raw resources rather than producing ‘value-added’ (finished manufactured) products.
To show how strongly he felt about this issue, at a time when the forest industry ruled the provincial economy, he fearlessly went on public record in 1928 as saying that, if loggers in Germany were to apply then-current B.C. logging practices, they’d be shot!
Charles Herbert Dickie (1859-1947) was the Conservative MLA for Cowichan riding from 1901-1903, and was elected three times federally, in 1925, 1926 and 1930. He was defeated in the 1935 election by CCF candidate James S. Taylor. As I mentioned earlier, he’s one of my favourite pioneers. —TWP.
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