Strange tales from Parliament Hill
Deep in the heart of the Ottawa political jungle there is a savant with a white binder containing salacious tales from parliamentary history. The man, who will go unnamed lest he drown in requests for tours, has brought politicos on many an after-hour jaunt around Centre Block to share political yarns and raunchy rumours. Intrepid National Post bureau reporter Marie-Danielle Smith tagged along one September evening. Here are some of the most interesting factoids, fun and serious, with truthiness disclaimers: we’ll say it’s “definitely true” if there’s lots of evidence out there, “probably true” if a story is reasonably well-sourced, according to our guy, and “maybe true” if it’s just a persistent rumour.
THE DEPUTY STREAKER
A deputy Speaker of the House of Commons from sometime in the ‘80s was caught in a compromised position with his assistant in a second-floor office. The intruder, a young female staffer delivering some memos, fled — and he ran after her, buck naked, down the hallway. Meanwhile, his paramour had picked up and left, leaving his office door locked shut on her way out. He had to walk some way along the hallowed halls of Parliament before finding a security guard to let him back in, thus earning him the nickname “deputy streaker.” Probably true.
THE TIME NIXON ALMOST DIED IN OTTAWA
Arthur Bremer, a busboy from Milwaukee, brought a gun to Parliament Hill’s centennial flame in April 1972 when U.S. President Richard Nixon was visiting Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau. A police officer happened to stand in his way, blocking a shot of Nixon. Bremer would go on to shoot Alabama Governor George Wallace just a month later, paralyzing him. For this crime, Bremer served 35 years of a 53-year sentence. He was paroled in 2007. The film “Taxi Driver” was partly inspired by Bremer’s diary. Definitely true.
THE TIME BATS FREAKED OUT THE SPEAKER
Sometime during her tenure in the ‘80s, Speaker Jeanne Sauvé had to deal with a wicked MP’s prank. A couple of bats had been flying around in a Centre Block office; the member of Parliament pocketed them and let them go once he was in the chamber. A kerfuffle ensued. We are unclear on whether Sauvé’s expletivelaced response was recorded as more than an “Oh, oh!” in Hansard. Probably true.
THE PARLIAMENTARY THREESOMES
During Canada’s 100th anniversary fireworks, a then-staffer recounted having run into then-justice minister Pierre Trudeau on Hill grounds. Trudeau was emerging from a bush, buttoning his shirt. A young woman emerged thereafter doing the same. And then, another. Fast forward to the heyday of Brian Mulroney’s government, during which cabinet ministers were drinking beer like water, says our source. A female staffer walked into the cabinet room late at night and witnessed a minister fooling around with twin sisters. Maybe true.
THE DECOY JUSTIN TRUDEAU AUTOGRAPH
Prime Minister Justin Trudeau used to sign the nameplate on his desk. He thought visitors to the chamber might nick it, so they might as well have a nice souvenir. (And this did happen.) As a joke, he also signed the name plate for Fisheries Minister Dominic LeBlanc, writing something like, “Why would you want this guy’s name tag?” Probably true.
THE (POSSIBLE) LOVE CHILDREN OF PRIME MINISTERS PAST
Prime Minister Wilfrid Laurier had either a close friendship or a longstanding affair with his law partner’s wife, Emilié Lavergne. Lavergne’s child, Armand — who later became a member of Parliament — is thought to have been Laurier’s. Her husband, meanwhile, got a judicial appointment. John Diefenbaker was also believed to have had a child outside marriage. George Dryden, who at one point took a Q-tip from Dief’s cousin to prove he was in the same line, was born to the PM’s secretary. It is believed there is at least one other illegitimate Diefenbaby. Probably true.
THE WEIRD STUFF YOU FIND IN THE PARLIAMENT BUILDINGS
Those who visit Centre Block, or even work there, might be missing out on some oddities about the building itself, which was rebuilt after a fire in 1916. If you look closely, a bunch of fossils are in the walls, made of a special limestone. In the Senate foyer, there are two Viking heads carved into the stonework, plus the faces of four Belgian stonemasons who’d worked on the building, one of whom is wearing enormous goggles. Down the hall, some Senate Speakers’ portraits put Rocky Mountains or prairies as a background to the Parliament buildings. Towards the House, prime ministers Jean Chrétien and Paul Martin have portraits next to each other but they’re separated by a column so that the two, not friends by any stretch, don’t have to look at each other. Definitely true.
THE TIME A BATHROOM BLEW UP
As his writing shows, in 1966 Albertan Paul Joseph Chartier was deeply angry at politicians and blamed them for his financial woes. After moving to Toronto that year he entered Parliament packing 10 sticks of dynamite. He intended, apparently, to throw them into the House of Commons chamber — in which John Diefenbaker, Tommy Douglas, Lester Pearson and other Canadian icons were debating at the time. But when Chartier lit the fuse in a bathroom down the hall from the gallery, he blew himself up instead, taking out the bathroom but not hurting anyone else. He’s known as the “mad bomber.”