Chapter 5
Lester Pearson and the Flag, 1960-1964

His (Pearson's) attitude in trying to push his picayune pen-

nant down the throats of the people indicates he regards him-

self as a kind of Caesar whose edicts must be accepted!

Much of the foreign press had commended the proposed design, particularly

the London Times and the New York Times—the latter calling it

"charming." Even Lubor V. Zink, no friend of Pearson or the Liberals,

writing in the Toronto Telegram of 15 June under the headline "It's

Hard Not to Like It," assessed the flag aesthetically as follows:

It looks much better fluttering in the breeze than stretched in

front of you in miniature on a piece of paper. . . . Unless a

preconceived antagonism blinds your eyes, you'll have to admit

that it's a pretty sight. . . . I am referring, of course, to the

new flag which its opponents call sneeringly "the Pearson Pen-

nant," "a brewery trademark" or, in Gordon Churchill's

phrase, "a piece of bunting.". . . It's hard not to like it once

you see it on the flag pole. . . it sort of grows on you the

longer you look at it.

But the official Conservative line was to damn the flag aesthetically

and every other way. The Ottawa Citizen of 5 June 1964 in a story entitled

"Pearson Accused of Flag `Blackmail' " gives some idea of early

front bench Conservative reaction. The newspaper reported Gordon

Churchill, one of Diefenbaker's strongest supporters, as referring to

Pearson in terms as hackneyed as they were abusive as "a sawdust

Caesar, reminding me of Mussolini, trying to force the country to accept

his personal choice for a flag." Still quoting Churchill, the Citizen stated

that "The maple leaf design was a "monstrosity", and that the prime

minister was trying to "blackmail" Canadians into accepting it. Here the

Government was going to throw into the dust bin the flag that had been

flying in Canada for 100 years," said Churchill—the Citizen used the

word "thundered." "And this deed was being done at the whim of the

Prime Minister who is acting more and more like a dictator."

At the very moment when Churchill was "thundering" these charges,

several members of the Liberal caucus were enjoining Mr. Pearson in

vain to permit mass distribution of a greatly improved version of the proposed

flag design printed in stronger colors. The flag cause was now

being promoted, and perhaps undermined, by many hundreds of

thousands of Canadians who were flying pennants on car aerials, until

they were shredded and unsightly. Many of these pennants had been

hastily manufactured by zealous entrepreneurs in Japan and bore designs

more reminiscent of butterflies than of maple leaves.

Parenthetically it should be stated that Pearson exercised no

sophistication whatever in publicizing his flag. It is interesting to

speculate what might have happened had his design been professionally

produced and widely distributed. But the prime minister would have

none of this.

On 27 August 1964, on the Orders of the Day, Diefenbaker raised the

question as to whether the prime minister had authorized Minister

without Portfolio Yvon Dupuis, to solicit orders for bumper stickers on

which appeared the improved three leaf flag. This had been the subject

of critical comment on television by Geoffrey Scott. Dupuis was an

overly enthusiastic salesman, and although Mr. Pearson showed no emotion

in the House, he was very angry and let Dupuis and the Liberal

caucus know in the most positive terms, that there must be absolutely no

public relations gimmicks respecting the flag. On that day Dupuis fell

from grace.17

In his book Vision and Indecision, Patrick Nicholson, a supporter and

admirer of Diefenbaker, reports his own first reaction to the "Pearson

Pennant":

At a leaky sneak preview at his residence, he showed the

press his pet project: a white flag with three red maple leaves in

the centre and a vertical blue band on each edge. General

opinion was represented by one loud guffaw. Aesthetically it

was a horror. The three leaves cluttered it with too much detail,

the blue seatosea symbolism was corny and, as a national em-

blem, it had all the dignity of a child's doodle. "It looks as if

someone had a nosebleed was how Ottawa's outspoken ex-

mayor Charlotte Whitton contemptuously dismissed it."18

When one examines the amateurish design and the poor proportions

which had been roughed out in haste by Alan Beddoe and then

duplicated in drab colors by the Queen's Printer for examination by a

waiting world, one must perforce agree. Artistically and technically the

first design was dreadful, but the prime minister in his enthusiasm never

comprehended the disastrous effects of a sloppy first effort.

And yet, imperfect as it was as Lubor Zink had said, fluttering in the

breeze it was hard not to like it. It seemed so innocent, so full of life and

hope, rising and falling in the breeze—it seemed to signal the birth of a

nation. Many looked at it with a strange fierce joy in their hearts and

without the will for criticism. To some it was even beautiful.

In retrospect it appears possible that Diefenbaker calamitously misjudged

the degree of national support for the Red Ensign. Too frequently

politicians fall victim to their own propaganda machine and hear

only what they want to hear. In a Canadian Press story of June 16 en-