The embodiment of the Big Blue Machine
IN A NEW BOOK, STEVE PAIKIN EXPLORES THE SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN BRIAN MULRONEY AND BILL DAVIS
The summer of 1984 was one of the most astonishing in Canadian political history. Four days after Ontario premier William Davis’s shocking announcement on Catholic school funding, the Liberal Party of Canada crowned John Turner as its new leader, replacing Pierre Elliott Trudeau. Despite being out of politics since 1975 and having to shake off an enormous amount of rust, Turner won the leadership by a vast 464- vote margin over Jean Chrétien on just two ballots. However, many misinterpreted the ease of his victory. Liberal delegates had given their heads to Turner, but their hearts were with Chrétien. Polls were misleading, suggesting Turner had a lot more popularity in the country than he really did. So the new prime minister struck fast, wasting no time in calling an election on American Independence Day for Sept. 4, 1984. Liberals quickly learned their support was a mile wide and an inch deep. Turner’s decade out of public life really showed. Conversely, Opposition leader Brian Mulroney had spent the past year tangling with Trudeau in the House of Commons, getting the typically fractious Progressive Conservative caucus actually to sing out of the same hymn book, and preparing for the ensuing election. Mulroney was good to go. Actually, he was very good to go.
One thing the Tory leader never had to worry about was whether Bill Davis would be there for him. If Ontario’s premier had stumped for Joe Clark in 1979 and 1980 — for a leader Davis didn’t have a tremendous amount of confidence in — then he’d be there for Mulroney, whom he’d supported at the 1983 PC leadership convention and personally liked. In his memoir, Mulroney wrote that he wanted Norman Atkins to be the PC national campaign chair “for the simple reason that I wanted Davis personally onside in the election.” He was.
At one point in the campaign Davis spent f our straight days barnstorming through Ontario with Mulroney in places where a flashy Quebec businessman might not ordinarily be so welcomed. But when Bill Davis got off a bus with his friend, the national PC party leader, you could see rural Ontario warming up to Mulroney in ways that might otherwise not have happened. It was during this time that Davis let his mask of modesty slip. One day, in Oxford County in Southwestern Ontario, Mulroney and Davis were chatting at the back of the campaign bus, waiting for an event to begin. The two Progressive Conservative leaders began talking about the Ontario Tories’ much- vaunted Big Blue Machine and how grateful Mulroney was that Davis was enlisting it in the service of the party’s federal leader. Again, in his memoir, Mulroney quotes Davis as saying: “Brian, the ‘Big Blue Machine’ is the best at getting the buses to meet your plane, taking you to a room overflowing with supporters, arranging the technology for the reporters to file their stories, and then getting everyone back safely on board the plane. But the leadership, strategy, and message for the campaign, that’s what I do. The real ‘Big Blue Machine’ — you’re looking at it right now.”
Wow! It seemed an uncharacteristically braggadocio sort of thing for the premier to say. So during one of our interviews on TVO in 2009, I asked Davis about it. Of course, he denied saying it.
“I said to Brian, ‘ The word machine is overstated. I am part of an organization. I will help. If I help, the others will help, too,’ ” Davis says he said.
On a phone call in 2015, I told Mulroney about Davis’s version of their conversation. He burst out laughing. “We were in Oxford, Ont., at the back of the bus. He had the pipe going, and when I asked about the Big Blue Machine, he said, ‘ Brian, you’re looking at it.’ ”
“He denies saying that,” I reiterated to the former prime minister.
“He may deny it, but it happened!” Mulroney continued, still laughing.
Mulroney’s point is not to embarrass his old friend. Rather, it’s to demonstrate that he thought Davis was such a skilled politician, that the 18th premier was, indeed, the embodiment of the Big Blue Machine.
“Bill Davis had a way of connecting with the people of Ontario that was unique,” Mulroney says. “He didn’t need advisers to tell him how to do the job. Look what happened when he left. The idea of some Big Blue Machine is a myth. The Big Blue Machine was Bill Davis.”
The s t or y hi ghlights one of the more interesting character developments in Davis’s life. As long as he could remember, his parents drummed into him the need to be modest, moderate and never boast about his accomplishments. And until he recaptured his majority government in 1981, Davis followed his parents’ wishes. But as he has gotten older, enjoyed more political success and watched other politicians who can’t touch his record enjoy accolades to which perhaps they’re not entitled, Davis has let more of the competitive side of his personality — well, let’s call it what it is: his ego — come out. It’s not a bad thing. In fact, one wonders why it took so long.
Of course, that 1984 election was a magical one for Tories all over Canada. Mulroney won 211 seats — the largest number the winning party had ever captured in the House of Commons — including a whopping 67 out of 95 seats in Ontario. When it came time for Brian and Mila Mulroney to host their first black- tie dinner at 24 Sussex Drive, the guests of honour were none other than William G. Davis, his family and friends. Guests included John Tory, Hugh Segal, Eddie Goodman, Norman Atkins and their spouses. Davis’s secretary, the legendary Helen Anderson, was there. And so were the five Davis kids.
“We toured the residence, we sang Frank Sinatra songs, and it seemed to be as exciting for them to show us around as it was for us to be there,” recalls Nancy, Davis’s oldest daughter.
Another indication of how much respect Brian Mulroney had for Bill Davis’s advice came when the new prime minister wanted to appoint his first Canadian ambassador to the United Nations. “I wanted someone outside the bureaucracy and I didn’t want a prominent Conservative in the role,” Mulroney told me. He knew former Ontario NDP leader Stephen Lewis from Lewis’s high- profile Kierans, Camp and Lewis weekly panel discussion on Peter Gzowski’s Morningside program on CBC Radio. Mulroney and Lewis were also guest panellists together during a television broadcast of the 1979 election night coverage. He remembered that Davis had once told him that Lewis and the premier had an excellent relationship when they were both at Queen’s Park. When Mulroney called Davis to talk about his idea of appointing Lewis to the UN post, Davis’s immediate reaction was: “Great idea.” Mulroney asked Davis to gauge Lewis’s interest in the job. The premier brought Mulroney’s offer to Lewis, it was accepted and Lewis spent the next four years of his life in New York as Canada’s ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary permanent representative to the United Nations.
“Bill Davis taught me Tories are not all evil,” Lewis told the Globe and Mail. “Just misguided.”
When Mulroney sat down with his senior advisers to put together the first cabinet of a national Progressive Conservative majority government in 26 years, he also sought Davis’s advice. “I wanted his judgment on my Ontario MPs and just the overall process of cabinetmaking,” Mulroney recalls.
Before long Mulroney’s government found itself in troubled waters. Despite its overwhelming numbers, for a time it seemed to stumble from crisis to crisis. Several supporters convinced Davis to speak to the prime minister and offer some advice, which he did.
“I told him the people who get you into office aren’t necessarily the best people to keep you there,” Davis says. Apparently, Mulroney agreed. Shortly after that conversation the prime minister replaced his chief of staff with Derek Burney, a widely respected professional who brought much more discipline and order to the Prime Minister’s Office.
ONE THING THE TORY LEADER NEVER HAD TO WORRY ABOUT WAS WHETHER DAVIS WOULD BE THERE FOR HIM. — STEVE PAIKIN