On One William Lyon Mackenzie King

Some of you may recall that I had previously mentioned, in passing, that I was writing a poem about William Lyon Mackenzie King. For those of you not in the know (and I would go so far as to scold you here, especially if you are Canadian), Mackenzie King was arguably the best Prime Minister that Canada has ever seen. Being a history major, I devoted a lot of my time (and research) into learning more about this fascinating man. I was shocked to discover that a) so few know about him and that b) the little that is known is in bad taste. Anyways, I've written a few papers on the troubles faced by King, and have generally come to love and revere the man. He was a wonderful Prime Minister, and perhaps one of the most interesting people we've ever had in power, Pierre Trudeau aside.

Now, you may be wondering why I would chose to write a poem about Mackenzie King. I would like to dispel any thoughts you may be entertaining about me being an obsessed kook. In all fairness, I would never have undertaken such a initiative, if it hadn't been requested of me. I should admit, I wasn't specifically asked to compose a poem. Rather, for my history education course, it was required that we take 40 hours to put together a unique independent study project. My professor made a list of rather interesting ideas, including writing a song, painting a picture, drawing up an idea for an historical video game etc., etc. At first, I was really put off by the idea. I'm not overly talented, when it comes to being creative. I can draw slightly better than the average person (see my artwork on this page, for proof of that), but it's not something that I would brag about, nor is it a talent I wish to pursue in an historical vein. I think the only thing I've got, in terms of creative talent, is my ability with words. I'm not trying to say I'm a great wordsmith; on the contrary, my writing is hackneyed and stereotypical. However, I do think that I can, if put to it, write slightly better than the average person. I can have a way with words, if the mood strikes me. All the reading I have done in my life has to amount to SOMETHING! Anyways, prose is one thing. I know I can tackle prose. What I have always struggled with is poetry. I hate reading it, and I hate teaching it (with a passion). However, as Winston Churchill once said, "It's not enough to do our best, sometimes we must do what is required". As such, I undertook the idea of writing a brief (though at 13 pages in Word, I doubt many would call it brief) historical poem about William Lyon Mackenzie King.

I debated whether or not to put it up here, since I don't particularly want someone stealing it and claiming it as their own. However, I'm not confident enough in my poetic ability to actually think someone would WANT to steal it and claim it as their own, and as such I am going to post it here. Feel free to read through it, and let me know what you think...

Ahem....

The Life of One William Lyon Mackenzie King
By Me, January 2008

It’s safe to say
That most people have
A rather loose view of
A rather great man.
Some could probably recite to you
A standard few
Lines of a poem, long writ
Of a Mackenzie King who,
Oft missing his Mum (and
Let’s not forget his doggy too),
Would consult the spirits anew.
The noble Frank Scott, who himself flip-flopped a lot
In terms of his own career,
(He was classified as a lawyer, activist, and poet to boot)
Once wrote a small satirical poem
Stating that King “skillfully avoided what was wrong/
Without saying what was right”,
But of course I will argue against such a thought,
Since I’d likely say the same
About any politician that has ever filed
Down the stony corridors of Parliament.

While Scott wrote mostly in jest, there is worse out there yet
Written about poor W.L.M.K.
It was said that he led a
Very Double Life by a man called C.P. Stacey.
Renowned for his military prowess, and rarely selling a book on the Best
Sellers list,
Stacey did what few historians ever achieve,
In writing a book
That was a complete left hook
To the general memory of poor Willy King.
Seedy and dark,
Was the tale Stacey wove,
Of a man who was troubled down deep.
He used what is probably the best source imaginable to historians,
Yet twisted it in ways quite bizarre.

You see, King was one of those true nostalgic souls,
Who wanted to document life.
Perhaps it was because he had no one to talk to,
Least of all a loving and doting wife,
Or perhaps old habits die hard,
Because instead of just venting (as if often the case with people today)
To some close confidant,
Who would likely have spread the tellings like jam,
King took up his pen,
In his fat little hands,
And wrote down his day to day doings.

In depth were these rantings,
Quite a relish to read,
By anyone who has a historical vein.
In fact, the diary is so juicy,
That despite King’s strong warning to have the entire thing tossed,
His literary executors made sure
That for many years to come
People would have this rare glimpse at the ready.
Made available online, anyone can peruse
The thoughts of this once great, fine man.
Although I should warn you, if you’re at all superstitious,
Like the King that Stacey would have us believe,
Then I’d gloss over with care,
The facts that King lay bare,
About his life, in this contentious diary.
For if his feelings on spirits are true,
Then my advice to you,
Is to avoid the diary like a plague,
Because if hauntings are true,
Then King just might haunt you
For reading something he intended to have destroyed for good.

Now, it seems I’m off track,
For I believe I was about to expose
The horrendous tale that was wove
By the one and only C.P. Stacey.
You see, Stacey read with delight
Passages of carnal and spiritual plight
That rocked the very core of a rather confused King.
He took what was there
And he laid it all bare, with not a care for respect of the dead.
He said that King was just a pervert,
And perhaps a bit crazy as well,
For he was said to have dreams
About many strange things
That he chalked up to being great “visions”
Of people long lost to the earth.
Stacey painted a picture of a young King,
During his college years,
Oft described to be walking,
Doing quite more than talking,
With the seediest women in Toronto.
Throughout his adult life, wrote Stacey with glee,
King would also keep the company of women
Who were married and kept,
By other men of respect,
And hinted at ideas of affairs and intrigue.

Now, as any good historian will note
It is hardly reliable to quote
A fact that isn’t quite clear.
As such, one could argue, that Stacey was hardly
In a position to make such a slander.
Regardless of intentions of malice or not,
The book served to show the Canadian public
That Prime Ministers are people too,
And that above all else, despite whatever ideas one would entertain
About the grandeur of people in power,
It all comes down to a simple known fact that even the powerful
Are human too.
We all yearn to be loved,
And perhaps talk with those up above,
In the absence of people to trust.
But the key idea to remember
Is that when push came to shove
King didn’t make decisions based on advice from the dead.
As superstitious as he was, and despite grabbling with ideas of sin and love,
The man remained morally sound
When it came to decisions
That were of great consequence to the average Canadian.

So here lies the truth,
As I will briefly introduce,
A quick rundown of what his life entailed.
Of conflict and war,
And shuffling galore;
The Life of one
William Lyon Mackenzie King.

Most will admit, through teeth that they grit
That King was a mighty political man.
He had skills that were unrivaled
By any in his day (and perhaps to this day as well).
Perhaps it’s best stated, by a man rather dated
(The historian Frank Underhill),
That King was truly “the leader who divided us least”.
While this praise is sparse in admiration,
It’s hard to say that anyone before or after King’s reign
Could be said to have done the same.

Highly educated was he, in his day and still now,
Renowned as the most educated of all the P.M.’s.
King had a fine start, born down in the heart
Of Southwestern Ontario.
Berlin, it was called, though soon changed by the cause
Of the great battle known as World War One,
To the fair town of Kitchener.
Now his grandfather, it should be known,
Was a rebel of his own great accord,
The much talked about William Lyon Mackenzie,
Leader of the Upper Canada Rebellion of 1837.
Born to a gentle family, not well off by any means,
But surely not lacking the comforts of life,
King was eventually sent off to the University of Toronto to pursue a Degree.
Graduating, with honours, in 1895, after studying
(the rather fine topics of) history, political science, economics, and law.
Such flair did he show, in the area of law,
That he did obtain a separate degree in that noble subject,
Going so far as to obtain his Masters, to boot.
While Toronto grew strong,
King decided to move along,
And took up a fellowship at the University of Chicago, and then
Off to the great American institution that is
Harvard.

To London he traveled, after having lived in the States,
But the call of Canada still rang.
For soon he returned, during the year 1900 to be exact,
To take up a civil servant job.
His abilities shone,
And he was soon moved along,
And promoted to Deputy Minister of Labour.
Here he wowed those in power, and cause quite a stir,
With the rumblings of greatness that his actions deserved.
A great diplomat he became, traveling the whole world over,
Rubbing elbows with the likes of Teddy Roosevelt, too.
Never one to slow down, he was soon given a new “crown”
Of a Ph.D, which he obtained from Harvard.
Such a title, it is known, is the first to be owned,
By any Canadian Prime Minister, then and since.

Now an academic man,
King dabbled with the idea
Of becoming a professor, who would soon
Shape the minds, of able young Americans at Harvard.
However, advice from his friend (one whom you’re sure to know, too)
Sir Wilfred Laurier, cautioned him against such a move.
For according to Laurier (and quite rightfully so),
Such a mind as Kings would be wasted as a professor.
For as grand as such a job may be,
It wasn’t grand enough to see,
What could be accomplished if King were allowed to rise higher.
To sweeten the deal, and make his opinion heard more,
Laurier offered King a seat he could never refuse;
That of the first Minister of Labour.
So in the year 1909, leaving thoughts of professorship behind,
King became a part of that great Cabinet,
Under the wing of Willy Laurier.

In 1917, with Laurier at the helm, he joined in the parliamentary debates,
For the First World War was raging,
And stances were being taken
On the contentious issue that is conscription.
Following Laurier’s lead, King firmly held ground,
For he knew what admission would mean;
Since conscription meant caging
Quebec into a war they weren’t keen on,
The Liberals began to oppose,
And were hotly denied, by Ontario’s pride,
The spot at the top of the heap.
Then, when Laurier died
(And what a sad day that was)
A leader was needed to fill those big shoes,
And who do you suppose the Liberals would chose?
The contest was close,
With W.S. Fielding throwing in his hat too,
But when push came to shove,
The Liberals knew
That the man meant to succeed Laurier was
None other than our man,
Willy King.

Now one thing I think it is imperative to know,
Is that King was a man who wished to avoid
Conflict, more than anything in the world.
He thought not in terms of his own personal gain,
But rather for the classes
And the struggles they faced.
A man of the people, he truly was that,
Not caring for big business, like his grandfather before,
He often worked to advance the young working man’s craft,
And put forth a noble effort in that.
In fact, if we’re honest
And examine the bare-bones
It could be argued, and won,
That King was the first and fore-most Prime Minister to ever espouse,
The ideals of social-welfare responsibilities
To be owned by the state.
His role of conciliator, in the years of his youth,
Was a benefit to him, now that he was king of the roost.
He ruled the bargaining table,
Like none that’d come before,
And resolved conflicts left and right, with his own personal touch
Of conciliation, healing, soothing, and restoring
Bonds of unity and harmony.

Modeling himself off the example provided
By his mentor, Wilfred Laurier,
King strove to fix the rift that existed between
The French and the English, which had resulted from
Conscription and War.
He sparred with his opponent, the hardened Arthur Meighen,
In the debates in the House,
And by ducking and dodging,
Fighting hard back and forth,
He was able to win the political war.
So he wooed the Progressives,
A sly act to be sure,
For he was able to make it
So that nothing was lost of himself.
A minority he had, in his first term in office,
And he solidly kept his composure,
To rule for four years, before taking the leap
And winning yet another election.
Majority this time, as you will easily find,
Since Quebec would always have his back,
For they would hardly entertain
Ideas that were insane,
Of backing Meighen his conscription implementing party.

His first tough decision as Prime Minister came
In the autumn of 1922,
When he was asked by reporters what Canada would do
Now that Britain had called for troops to pursue
A showdown with Turkey over the city of Chanak.
King’s feathers were ruffled by this blatant disregard
by Britain of Canada’s sovereignty.
For it seemed much to him like the Brits were beginning
To expect participation from him.
While Meighen was quick to proclaim “Ready, aye, ready”
King was much more reluctant to follow suit.
And since he was the one in a position of power,
He staunchly refused to provide Canadian support.
Now, King was no dummy, and with his finger on the pulse of the nation
He knew
That Canadians were pleased with his move.
For ever since the Great War
Canadians increasingly had no desire to become involved in a war not their own.
Thus, King took a stance that was now widely viewed
That Canada be less British than before,
And hence deserved of a little respect.

As such one could argue
That King was quite concerned
With the well-being of Canadians first.
And that in such a role,
He turned his eyes not outward,
But to national unity first.
Keeping the country united was his number one goal,
And one that he never lost sight of,
For even in times of hard bickering and fighting
He would always strive to remain true
To his one and only commitment to the people of Canada,
Of keeping the country truly strong and free
Together.

All was not easy though,
As you probably know,
For storm clouds were gathering over Europe just when
King had finally thought he’d got peace.
One slip-up King made,
And it was a large one at that,
Was to remain hopeful when faced with a choice.
For he once met the man
Who would soon lead the world
Into a smouldering, chaotic mess.
On first meeting the dreaded Hitler
King made a remarkable mistake,
In claiming that he was “a great man”
Who would one day “rank...with Joan of Arc” in leading his people to greatness.
Now, before you raise the alarm,
Let me first interject
That not everyone is perfect,
And I’d largely suspect,
That if faced with the scenario of peace versus war,
You’d likely want to expect the best
Of any that you met in the events that led up
To what could be talks of peace,
Before the final descent.

At the outbreak of war
King was smart not to commit in advance,
For he remained well aware
Of the wounds that laid bare
From the issue of conscription once passed.
But when push came to shove
It was always believed
That Canada would come to the aid of her mother.
No regrets did he have,
When decision time came,
To pledge the support of the Nation.
So in 1939, when the chips were all laid,
And the battle of Britain was to begin,
Canada took her place alongside Britain
And pledged support against the Nazis.

Now it should be well known, the role Canada played
In the Second of the Greatest of Wars.
For we fought, and we lost,
And we banded together
And lost more wealth and more blood than most nations involved did,
If you factored in our small size.
For we’re a tough sort of people,
And aren’t easily swayed,
To allow horrible things to be done
To the innocent people of the world.
So we fought bravely alongside
The most noble of men, from all walks of life and country alike.
And when things got real bad,
As we all know they did,
We pushed onwards, our guns at the ready.
When the American’s joined, we pushed harder yet still.
In the hopes that the war would soon end.
But our Generals were wary
Of a shortage of men,
And sent home a call to our ol’ Willy King,
For a Total War Effort.

King knew what this meant,
And was uneasy to allow
Such a great divide to be opened again.
For conscription was at the heart of this request,
And he remembered with horror the mess
That he had been left to repair,
When he first took the chair
Of Prime Minister, those many years ago.
In fact he had promised, when this Second War started,
That he would never allow conscription a chance,
And to break such a promise would be political suicide,
Something King did not relish with glee.
As pressure mounted from both sides of the conscription debate,
King struggled with what to do next.
Should he push conscription through, to keep the English-speaking happy,
And risk losing the love of Quebec?
Or perhaps it would be better to keep Quebec happy first,
And deal with the onslaught of hate from English-Canada later.

He waxed and he wanned,
And he puzzled for days
As to how to handle the crisis that he knew he’d soon face.
When suddenly, to his fear and delight,
He was pushed to the fore
By a call in Ontario for an election to renew
The mandate that he’d won before.
So King seized this great chance, as a way for the people to decide for him
What should be done.
He campaigned on the need for national unity,
And won a great victory indeed,
For when the dust settled he was left with not only a majority in his favour, but
Of 245 seats his fair Liberals held a strong
One Hundred and Eighty Four.

As such it appeared,
And it was greatly feared,
That with such support King could do as he pleased.
However, never the man to abuse such a power,
He remained strong in his belief that the people were the source
Of this wonderful, strong majority.
As such he maintained that he’d say true to his promises,
And avoid conscription at all costs.
But as time quickly passed,
It was quite plain to see
That such a stance could not be held for long.
So faced with the same problem that he’d though previously beat,
He sat down to work out a solution to it.
The idea soon came, to ask the people straight away,
For their opinion on the grave matter.
And so a national plebiscite was held in the year 1942,
To see if the people favoured releasing the government from it’s promise.
King knew the result, before the vote even came in,
And resigned himself to his new fate;
For conscription would be forced, whether he liked it or not,
And he really had no control over that.
Nationally they agreed
That the government should be freed
From their previous promises made.
And so King had to admit
That conscription was it,
And deal with French-Canadian anger at a later date.

However, always the cunning man,
King worked the problem round,
Till he came upon a healthy compromise;
For you see, it was he who most craftily said
“not necessarily conscription, but conscription if necessary”.
Some said this was the biggest evasion of all,
And the phrase has gone down in history,
As the greatest waffle that ever existed.
But if you look at it truly
For what it was intended to be,
It was merely a great act by a great man
To appease all the sides,
And create as little friction as possible.
For in uttering this phrase, King was able to do
Something few Prime Ministers can claim,
For he divided Canada the least
When he could have divided it the most,
By pursuing the path readily.

Two years after this policy was enacted,
Of not necessarily implementing conscription,
J.L Ralston, who was Minister of National Defense,
Came to King and declared
That the time had been met
For conscription to fall into place.
Such a demand was not met by King with much happiness
And private talks would soon end sourly,
For King called his Cabinet
And informed them, full of false regret,
That he accepted the resignation of Ralston.
In forcing Ralston’s hand
King hoped to install a new Minister of National Defense,
One A.G.L. McNaughton, who he hoped would see
The situation in a much more appealing light.
A plea was soon issued to the nation
For volunteers to come and sign up
For deployment to Europe, to fight.
However, with the death toll still mounting,
And Canadians counting those who did not return home,
The initiative failed, and soon McNaughton bailed
On his mission to avoid conscription wholly.

King was feign to admit
That the time had now come,
For him to bite the figurative bullet.
Conscription was now necessary, as far as he could see,
And so he conceded to let a limited measure begin.
Despite the differences of opinion that conscription brought to light,
Kings government managed to retain power,
Winning support of the House, and in 1945 the people,
including even Quebec, to a point.
No doubt the French were aware
Of the struggle King had put forth
To avoid such a thing as conscription.
He had resisted for as long as he could,
And gave in only when things appeared bleak.
And if you looked at the numbers, in hindsight,
The consequences of conscription were quite small
In terms of men actually sent over,
And in terms of those who did fall.

While the Second World War did still sever
The ties between English and French,
It certainly could have been worse
Had King not been the man that he was.
While bitterness over the issue flared up,
And a legacy of distrust is still felt,
It certainly could have ended much worse
Had he lead the country into conscription,
Instead of being dragged into it as reluctantly as he was.
As such, King arguably divided Canada the least,
At a time when it could have been quite horrendous.
For twenty-nine years King was able to keep
His position atop Parliament Hill.
By being impeccably polite, quite a gentleman indeed,
and thoughtful to almost a fault,
He was able to remain a great man-about-town
In the hearts of Canadians.
When he retired in 1948,
It wasn’t a grand ol’ affair,
But rather a stately speech in the House,
Met with overwhelming applause, not despair.
And following his ride off into the sunset,
The only thing that King had to lament
Was the lack of a family of his own
To share the great ending of these events.

In light of this history,
It seems frivolous to subscribe to the ideas
Posited by ol’ C.P. Stacey.
For who cares if a man loved his a dog(s) Pat so much,
That he tried to see him (them) after death.
And perhaps, in his youth,
He was known to sow his oats
With the seediest women around.
If your mother were half as “embracing” as Kings,
And turned a sharply critical eye to all those you brought home,
Then perhaps you too would turn to the streets,
In an attempt to cool your fires, so to speak.
What one does on their own,
In back rooms all alone,
Or perhaps with a few choice characters,
Is not fit to be spread
In the public like butter on bread.

What matters the most,
And should be held near and dear,
Are the grand things King did for this land.
In times of great crisis,
While Bombs blasted overhead of young soldiers
Making the ultimate sacrifice for freedom, and
Women were toiling in the factories to keep up to demand,
King rose to the top.
He kept the country together,
Which is no small feat considering the tensions that rose
During his time in the office of P.M.
I’d argue that no such Prime Minister to date
Could handle the situation with such poise, and such grace
As did the wonderful W.L.M.K.

So here lies the truth,
As I have briefly introduced,
A quick rundown of what his life entailed.
Of conflict and war,
And shuffling galore;
The Life of one
William Lyon Mackenzie King.