The first division point between Saskatoon and Calgary is Kindersley, in the midst of what used to be the greatest of all buffalo ranges—the buffalo paths ploughed across by farmers are many of them six inches deep, to this day. A magazine article about the beginning of the town preserved, as was seldom done, (for writers with a gift for vividly seeing the possibilities of an apparently common proceeding are not always on the spot), the personalities, scenery, atmosphere and other conditions that belong to the nativity of a busy town. “The First of Kindersley” was illustrated, and its most characteristic picture was a photograph of the town-lot auctioneer’s small table and a suitcase, standing alone on the illimitable plain.
When the later regime of the Canadian National railways began, the cars of the president and the vice-presidents who required such were deprived of their names, and were known to the service by numbers only. Their doors were not even painted “Official,” but announced to the visitor that he was entering a “Business Car.”
A similar adaptation to useful uses applied to the several cars that are used by Cabinet ministers. About the propriety of the Prime Minister traveling in an exclusive car there are surely no two opinions. Some departmental chiefs, too, are in the working class when they are on journeying duty bound. There can be too much of a good thing, of course, and, at times, judging by sundry signs and wonders that have come forth, this possibility has been discerned by the Cabinet as a whole, against the aspirations of a colleague whose ideas of official frugality and personal convenience were not endorsed.
Sir Sam Hughes was an old friend of Sir William Mackenzie, dating back to the time when he defeated Mr. Mackenzie for the Conservative nomination for Victoria county, in 1891. When he became Minister of Militia in 1911, and began an extraordinary career of activity and independence, he felt he needed a car in which the work of the department could be done by a chief who intended to be as nearly ubiquitous as was possible to a Cabinet Minister tied to Parliament for several months in each year.
Colonel Hughes asked me to get him a private car, that was to be serviceable rather than ornamental. I bought a Pullman—they were then being taken off the road rather freely by the Pullman Company on account of the steel car coming into favour—had it fitted up, and turned over at a cost of about seven thousand dollars. The bill was promptly paid, and the Roleen, named after the minister’s daughter, was very freely used.
When the war came the Roleen had little rest. Valcartier Camp was on our line out of Quebec, so that I was a good deal concerned with the early movement of troops, and knew how incessantly on the job Sam Hughes was. Most Friday nights he left Ottawa for Valcartier, and returned Monday mornings. He regarded himself, as everybody knows, as the real lynch pin of Canada’s share in the war. At all costs he would have things done; and often enough they were done at a first cost of traditional Cabinet responsibility. He honoured this as much in the breach as in the observance; and was consequently not exactly beloved of all his colleagues.
His creation of honorary colonels was an exercise that gave him immense pleasure. He could not understand why some of the recipients of his favor were not as delighted to receive as he was to bestow. One, who returned to him the imposing commission signed by the Governor-General—which, by the way contained a mistake in spelling, such as probably appears on many of these treasured parchments—was surprised, after Sir Sam’s death, to receive it from the Militia Department.
Another member of the first Borden Cabinet regarded an exclusively private car as a necessary aid to his departmental efficiency. Soon after being installed he asked us to procure him one, giving his assurance that it would be promptly paid for. This assurance was requested because I knew of another Cabinet Minister who once borrowed a car from the C.P.R. and never returned it, even when he left the Government.
After awhile, and following repeated enquiries from the Minister, reflecting the urgency of delivery, a converted Pullman was ready for him, on receipt of word that the order-in-council authorizing payment had been passed.
The car was kept at Chicago for a fortnight, and was then brought as far as Sarnia and held for several weeks more. The order-in-council was never passed; the car was re-named, and was used for several years by the third vice-president of the Canadian Northern. Many will remember the Toronto.