Geezers fete Honest John I refuse to be fettered by a lobster bib! How undiginified.) BY DAN WALSH FOR ONE NIGHT, CLOSE TO 290 TORIES SET ASIDE THEIR WORRIES ABOUT NOVA SCOTIA’S FISCAL OUTLOOK TO PAY HOMAGE TO FORMER LEADER JOHN BUCHANAN, THE LEGENDARY POLITICIAN WHO SHACKLED FUTURE GENERA- TIONS WITH BILLIONS IN DEBT. For one night, Tories basked in the glow of John and his lovely wife Mavis, who looked radiant, surrounded by friends and hundreds of supporters. It was a happy evening — to celebrate John’s 80th and the 40th anniversary of his winning the Tory leadership — at the St. George’s Greek Church Hall on Purcell’s Cove Road. I didn’t spy Ralph Medjuck anywhere, the developer who profited enormously from Buchanan’s years in office, nor did I see Stu McInnes, George Archibald, Bill Black, or Halifax Mayor Peter Kelly. But Tory dinosaurs were out in full force: Neil LeBlanc, Joe “Bowtie” MacDonald, Walter Thompson, Ken Streatch, Tom McInnes, Rick Grant (the Tory, not the ATV reporter), Bill Sutherland, Lorne Clarke and his son Colin Clarke of Cox & Palmer, Alan Hayman, Helen Gillis, Rob Smith, Dugger MacNeil, Roger O’Neill, along <strong>with</strong> MLAs Chris D’Entremont, Keith Bain, Alfie MacLeod, and N.S. Tory Leader Jamie Baillie, who I’m told man-of-the-hour John more than once referred to as “Bail.” Competition to attend this historic event was fierce. I’m told more than 60 languished on the waiting list for tickets. Even flea market king Bill Mont got turned away at the door, although I hear he managed to slip a note to John before he was rounded up by Tory Robocops and sent packing. Ever the party animal, Bill merely shrugged and returned to twirl a couple ladies around the Northwood dance floor. Gerry Regan’s pre-taped speech not<strong>with</strong>standing, Rollie Thornhill delivered the best tale of the night, although I’m sure half in attendance had already heard it several times before. Rollie told his captive audience he met John back in 1955, when they both were both Dalhousie students working on the waterfront. It was, of course, the coldest night in Rollie’s life, and the poor guy wasn’t dressed for it. At breaktime, he stepped into a nearby boxcar to escape the elements, and there was John Buchanan, sitting like Buddha in the corner. John was more prepared than Rollie. He was better dressed and carried a thermos of tea. Rollie eyed the tea enviously. Ever the sport, John shared his brew, and the two became fast friends, political allies for life and the rest, as they say, is history. As Rollie put it, “That was the most expensive goddamn cup of tea I ever had.” Did I mention this Walk Down John Buchanan Memory Lane Tory Craziness lasted six hours? That’s right, six bloody hours! That’s like watching Gone With The Wind one-and-a-half times! Why, you’d get to see Atlanta sacked twice! If anyone can turn a simple lobster supper into an evening of casual social torture, it’s Honest John. I must confess, I left as soon as the Tory faithful began to don their bibs, as the bustling kitchen staff served up the Sambro 16 FRANK MAGAZINE MAY 24, 2011 Cripes! I haven’t seen Tories wearing bibs since Belinda Stronach unveiled her platform. Tando MacIssac, the fastest Tory this side of the Mississippi, clocked at the hip-breaking pace of 2 km/h. lobsters. I can think of few things I’d rather witness than the sight of Buchanan-era Tories smacking their lips as they suck the white meat out of dead, broken claws. But that’s just me. The highlight, I’m advised, occurred after festivities hit the fivehour mark, when John and Mavis’s fabulous daughter, Rev. Natalie Buchanan, stood up to say a few words. I can’t for the life of me understand why the room cleared after it dawned on some of the remaining diehards that Natalie’s “few words” were going to climax in a group sing-along. I’m told some — no doubt the tone-deaf in attendance — were horrified when Nat suggested everyone break out into a spontaneous rendition of, “If You’re Happy And You Know It, Clap Your Hands.” I’m further advised more folks rushed the exits, after Nat smartly suggested the Tory stragglers follow up that majestic anthem by crooning, “You Are My Sunshine.” No doubt those who stayed until the bitter end emerged from the evening finer people and wiser for the experience. dan@atlanticfrank.ca
One hopes former Chief Justice Lorne Clarke will grant leniency for his son Colin Clarke (left) and Patrick Moriarty’s impending trial for partying too hard. A swish-looking Captain Ted Worthington channels Tucker Carlson. Baillie chief of staff Ted Larsen was among white-haired friends. Jamie Baillie and Helen Gillis do their best impressions of each other. Good grief, bring on the lobster! Baillie’s birthday wishes to John were almost as stirring as Marilyn Monroe’s, but didn’t quite turn as many eyes. Dugger McNeil (left) participates in the biggest-grin party game. MAY 24, 2011 FRANK MAGAZINE 17
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