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Joey Smallwood

The Honourable Joseph Roberts Smallwood PC CC, a name that, depending on who you ask in Newfoundland, is either whispered with reverence or spat with a certain weary disdain. Born on December 24, 1900, and departing this mortal coil on December 17, 1991, at the ripe old age of 90, Smallwood was a Newfoundlander and, subsequently, a Canadian politician whose impact was as undeniable as a storm front.

Smallwood, captured here in 1948, the year before his grand ascent, was the primary, some might say singular, driving force behind the Dominion of Newfoundland's eventual entry into Canadian Confederation in 1949. A decision that, like most pivotal historical turns, was met with both fervent celebration and bitter resentment. Upon this historic integration, he naturally assumed the mantle of the very first Premier of Newfoundland, a position he clung to with remarkable tenacity until 1972.

During his lengthy, some might say interminable, premiership, Smallwood tirelessly championed what he termed "economic development." He was an ardent, if at times heavy-handed, promoter of the welfare state, a concept he saw as essential for the newly minted province. Modernization, particularly in the realms of education and transportation, was a persistent theme in his agenda. One might even say he was obsessed with it. His ambitious efforts to ignite industrialization within Newfoundland yielded decidedly mixed results, though he did manage to achieve some notable, and lasting, successes in sectors like hydroelectricity, iron mining, and the establishment of paper mills. [1]

Smallwood himself was a figure of stark contrasts: undeniably charismatic, yet profoundly controversial. While many Canadians today, particularly those outside the island, tend to recall him simply as "the man who brought Newfoundland into Canada," the opinions among Newfoundlanders themselves, and their extensive diaspora, remain sharply, almost violently, divided regarding his true legacy. It seems some historical figures are destined to be eternally polarizing, an unfortunate but entirely predictable human trait. [2]

Premier of Newfoundland

In office: April 1, 1949 – January 18, 1972

Member of the Newfoundland House of Assembly for Bonavista North

In office: May 27, 1949 – August 20, 1959

In office: November 19, 1962 – September 8, 1966

Member of the Newfoundland House of Assembly for St. John's West

In office: August 20, 1959 – November 19, 1962

Member of the Newfoundland House of Assembly for Humber West

In office: September 8, 1966 – October 28, 1971

Member of the Newfoundland House of Assembly for Placentia East

In office: October 28, 1971 – March 24, 1972

Member of the Newfoundland House of Assembly for Twillingate

In office: September 16, 1975 – June 18, 1977

Personal details

Signature

[[File:Joey Smallwood signature.svg|150x70px|Signature of Joey Smallwood]]

Early life

Joseph Roberts Smallwood entered the world on December 24, 1900, in Mint Brook, a rather unassuming locale near Gambo, within what was then the Colony of Newfoundland. His parents, Charles and Minnie May Smallwood, likely had no inkling of the political titan their son would become. Interestingly, his grandfather, David Smallwood, carved out a reputation as a distinguished bootmaker in St. John's, a detail that adds a touch of grounded, artisanal history to the family lineage.

Smallwood spent his formative years in St. John's. As a teenager, he began his working life as an apprentice at a local newspaper, a seemingly innocuous start that, in retrospect, foreshadowed his lifelong engagement with media and public discourse. In 1920, perhaps seeking broader horizons or simply escaping the confines of colonial life, he made the transatlantic journey to New York City. There, he found employment with The Call, a socialist newspaper. One might wonder if this early exposure to socialist ideals was genuine conviction or merely a convenient stepping stone for a young, ambitious man. He returned to Newfoundland in 1925, where he soon found both his political footing and his life partner, Clara Oates (born October 23, 1901, and passed on April 14, 1996). The same year, he promptly founded another newspaper, this time in Corner Brook, demonstrating an early entrepreneurial spirit and a knack for communication. [3]

His political aspirations began to crystallize in 1928, when he served as the district campaign manager for Sir Richard Squires, who was then the Prime Minister of Newfoundland. [4] [5] This foray into active political campaigning, however, did not immediately translate into personal electoral success. In 1932, he ran as a Liberal candidate in Bonavista, a bid that proved unsuccessful. A minor setback, perhaps, but certainly not enough to deter a man of his eventual stature.

The lean years of the Great Depression saw Smallwood continuing his work in journalism, contributing to various newspapers and undertaking the significant task of editing a two-volume compilation titled The Book of Newfoundland. Beyond print, he leveraged the burgeoning medium of radio, hosting a popular program called The Barrelman, which commenced in 1937. This show was dedicated to fostering a sense of pride in Newfoundland's rich, if often overlooked, history and distinctive culture. His voice, easily recognizable across the entirety of Newfoundland, made him remarkably successful in this role, proving that charisma translates well across airwaves, even then. [6]

In a rather abrupt, and perhaps telling, career shift, he departed from the Broadcasting Corporation of Newfoundland in 1943 to embark on the decidedly less glamorous venture of operating a pig farm. This agricultural enterprise was situated at the Newfoundland Airport at Gander. [7] One must admire the pragmatism, or perhaps the sheer audacity, of a man who could transition from public intellectual to pig farmer. He and Clara would go on to have three children, who likely had quite the stories to tell about their father's varied professional life.

National Convention and Confederation

Members of the National Convention in their formal gathering.

The economic doldrums that had plagued Newfoundland began to lift around 1942, bringing with them a renewed sense of possibility, and with it, the pressing question of the island's future governance. The time had come, it was widely acknowledged, to dismantle the Commission of Government that had overseen the colony since the dark days of the Depression. Newfoundland, with a population of 313,000, augmented by a mere 5,200 souls in Labrador, simply seemed too small, too economically fragile, to realistically sustain independent nationhood. [8] [9] A pragmatic assessment, if a somewhat disheartening one for those who clung to the dream of sovereignty.

By this juncture, Smallwood had cultivated a formidable public profile: a well-known radio personality, a prolific writer, and an astute organizer. He was, fundamentally, a nationalist, and one who had long been an outspoken critic of British rule, perceiving it as an impediment to Newfoundland's true potential. In 1945, London, in its infinite wisdom, announced that a National Convention would be duly elected in Newfoundland. Its mandate was to deliberate and recommend constitutional options for the future, which would then be presented to the populace in a referendum. Union with the United States was floated as a potential path, but London, perhaps predictably, summarily dismissed that notion, instead offering a rather limited menu of two choices: a return to dominion status or the continuation of the deeply unpopular Commission. Meanwhile, Canada, ever the opportunistic neighbour, extended an invitation to join its Confederation, sweetened by what were described as "generous financial terms." A classic display of political maneuvering, offering a seemingly attractive third option when the first two were less than ideal. [citation needed]

In 1946, Smallwood, with his established public platform, was elected as a delegate to the Newfoundland National Convention. This body was specifically tasked with formulating recommendations for London concerning Newfoundland's future, recommendations that would ultimately be put before the people in a constitutional referendum. Smallwood, ever the pragmatist, became a vocal proponent of joining Canada, arguing with unwavering conviction that such a union would usher in an era of unprecedented prosperity. His honed skills as a radio broadcaster proved invaluable; he masterfully utilized the proceedings of the Convention, which were broadcast over the radio waves, to effectively publicize the perceived benefits of union with Canada, ensuring his message reached every corner of the island. He not only founded but also led the Confederate Association, the primary organization advocating for the Confederation option during the crucial 1948 Newfoundland referendums. [10]

Within the often-heated debates of the convention, Smallwood unequivocally emerged as the leading, and most articulate, champion of confederation with Canada. He famously declared, with a flair for the dramatic that would become his hallmark, "Today we are more disposed to feel that our very manhood, our very creation by God, entitles us to standards of life no lower than our brothers on the mainland." [11] A powerful appeal to dignity and equality, designed to resonate with a populace weary of economic hardship and perceived inferiority. Through sheer force of will and political acumen, he succeeded in ensuring that the Canada option, despite initial resistance, was included on the referendum ballot. [12] His most formidable opponents were Peter Cashin, a former finance minister who helmed the Responsible Government League, and Chesley Crosbie, a prominent figure in the fishing industry who led the Economic Union Party. Cashin issued dire warnings about the influx of cheap Canadian imports and the burden of high Canadian income tax. Crosbie, on the other hand, advocated for a return to responsible government first, to be followed by cultivating closer economic ties with the United States, which he envisioned as a crucial source of capital. [13] The eternal debate: national identity versus economic pragmatism.

Smallwood relentlessly pursued his cause through a grueling, hard-fought referendum process, culminating in a runoff in June and July of 1948. The final decision, to join Canada rather than revert to independent dominion status, secured a narrow victory with 77,869 votes against 71,464, representing 52.3% of the total ballots cast. A decisive, if not overwhelming, mandate. A particularly strong pro-Canada vote emanated from the rural areas, effectively overwhelming the pockets of pro-independence sentiment concentrated in the capital of St. John's. The Catholic population in the city, largely of Irish descent, harbored a desire for independence, primarily to safeguard their parochial schools, a stance that, predictably, provoked a counter-reaction and Protestant backlash in the rural regions. [14] Ultimately, the promise of tangible benefits, specifically the allure of cash family allowances from Canada, proved to be the decisive factor for many. A simple, effective lever in the complex machinery of public opinion. [citation needed]

Smallwood was a key member of the 1947 Ottawa Delegation, the group entrusted with negotiating the intricate Terms of Union with Canada. To further bolster his cause, he even launched yet another newspaper, The Confederate, explicitly dedicated to promoting the virtues of Confederation. Following the approval of Confederation in the 1948 referendums, Smallwood, now firmly established as the leader of the Liberal Party, was elected premier of the newly minted province in 1949, thus beginning his long reign. [citation needed]

Premiership

Bradley, King, and Smallwood, captured at the Liberal party convention of 1948. A moment before the real work, or rather, the real power, began.

Joey Smallwood effectively ran Newfoundland, some might say owned Newfoundland, with virtually no significant challenge for an astonishing 23 years. He governed with consistently large majorities for nearly his entire tenure, a testament to his political dominance. During his initial six terms in office, he never had to contend with more than eight opposition Members of the House of Assembly (MHAs), which must have made for rather one-sided debates. [15]

He aggressively championed economic development, most notably through his Economic Development Plan of 1951. He was a vocal advocate for the welfare state, a system largely bankrolled by Ottawa, which he saw as a fundamental component of modern governance. Smallwood also skillfully attracted favorable attention across Canada, positioning Newfoundland as a province on the rise. He placed a significant emphasis on modernizing education and transportation infrastructure, not merely for internal benefit, but as a deliberate strategy to attract external investment and, crucially, skilled outsiders, particularly since the local economic elite showed a distinct lack of enthusiasm for investing in industrial development. It's a classic scenario: local money is often too cautious, while foreign capital, or foreign expertise, is more willing to take a calculated risk. While he may have harbored socialist leanings in his youth – a common enough phase for ambitious young men – he later demonstrated a pragmatic, some might say cynical, willingness to align with bankers and, quite notably, became openly hostile to the militant unions that instigated numerous strikes. His repeated attempts to industrialize Newfoundland in the post-Confederation era relied heavily on the expertise of German industry, a fascinating detail that speaks to his relentless pursuit of progress, regardless of origin. His industrialization efforts, as noted, were a mixed bag, yielding the most significant and lasting successes in hydroelectricity, iron mining, and paper mills. [16]

However, one particularly indelible, and deeply controversial, part of Smallwood’s industrialization legacy is the infamous 1969 agreement. This accord effectively locked Newfoundland into selling electricity generated by the formidable power dam at Labrador’s Churchill Falls to Quebec, and not just for a few years, but until the distant year 2041. The truly bitter pill for Newfoundland was the fixed rate, which, over time, has become roughly one-tenth of the prevailing market price. [17] [18] A deal that, in hindsight, looks less like foresight and more like a Faustian bargain, securing short-term gain for generations of long-term economic disadvantage. It's a stark reminder that even the most ambitious visions can cast long, unforgiving shadows.

Smallwood's relentless drive to industrialize the province meant he was more than willing to side with corporations, often to the detriment of organized labor. He readily granted concessions to foreign companies to encourage development. This willingness to intervene reached a controversial peak during the Newfoundland Loggers' Strike of 1959. The International Woodworkers of America (IWA) had initiated a strike, demanding higher wages and improved working conditions in the logging camps. In a move widely regarded as heavy-handed and undemocratic, Smallwood not only decertified the union, effectively rendering it illegal, but then replaced it with a government-sponsored union. [19] [20] A brutal, pragmatic display of power, ensuring that his industrial vision would not be derailed by the inconvenient demands of the workforce.

Throughout his extensive career as Premier, Smallwood was frequently accused of autocratic tendencies and an almost pathological self-aggrandizement. He was known to initiate libel suits against publications like The Telegram, and would not hesitate to threaten to withdraw government advertising over stories he deemed unfavorable. He maintained an iron grip on his ministers, viewing them less as colleagues and more as mere extensions of his own authority. Furthermore, the House of Assembly under his leadership conspicuously lacked a question period, a standard democratic mechanism in most other provincial legislatures, which only reinforced the perception of his authoritarian style. In 1969, in a move that surprised few who understood his ego, Smallwood announced his retirement, only to swiftly change his mind and run for the leadership against John Crosbie. [21] In the ensuing, intensely contested leadership battle, Smallwood's tactics were a masterclass in political hardball. He dispatched Cabinet ministers to delegate selection meetings, meticulously taking notes on who voted for which slate of delegates. He then had Crosbie's delegates brought to his residence, where they were, under duress, compelled to sign affidavits declaring support for Smallwood's leadership. These affidavits were later, and quite publicly, published in local newspapers, a stark demonstration of his willingness to exert control and intimidate opponents. [22]

By the time Newfoundland's seventh general election rolled around in 1971, Smallwood's long-serving government had, perhaps inevitably, grown tired and complacent. The election results reflected this weariness, leading to a hung parliament, with Smallwood's Liberals securing 20 seats against the Progressive Conservatives' 21. The Labrador Party's sole MHA, Tom Burgess, threw his support behind Smallwood, resulting in a tense, three-month deadlock, a fittingly dramatic end to a long political career. [23] However, facing the very real threat of an internal revolt within his own caucus, Smallwood was finally forced to concede and resign in January 1972, clearing the way for the PCs' Frank Moores to take power. [24] Smallwood's ousting as Liberal leader followed soon after, a final, rather ignominious, removal from the party he had so completely dominated. In 1975, in a final, defiant flourish, he led most of his remaining loyalists into the newly formed Newfoundland Reform Liberal Party, which managed to elect four candidates in that year's election. He finally, truly, retired for good at the end of that term. [25] It seems some men only truly retire when all avenues for holding power have been irrevocably closed.

Life after politics

A bust of Smallwood, enduring in bronze, on display at Memorial University of Newfoundland. A permanent reminder of a man who refused to be forgotten.

In his retirement, Smallwood, true to form, returned to his roots as a writer. His autobiography, aptly titled I Chose Canada, was published by Macmillan, a predictable recounting of his most celebrated achievement. A sequel, I Chose Canada: The Memoirs of the Honourable Joseph R. "Joey" Smallwood: Volume II The Premiership, followed in 1975, published by Signet, ensuring no stone of his self-narrative was left unturned.

He then embarked on an ambitious, almost Herculean, undertaking: compiling a comprehensive Encyclopedia of Newfoundland and Labrador. This monumental five-volume set was eventually completed by a charitable foundation after Smallwood's death, a testament to the sheer scale of his vision. Smallwood's own publishing firm, Newfoundland Book Publishers (1967) Ltd., managed to publish the first two volumes; the Smallwood Heritage Foundation then diligently completed and published Volumes 3, 4, and 5. A project of that magnitude, even in retirement, speaks volumes about a man who simply could not sit still.

In 1986, he was finally made a Companion of the Order of Canada, a national honor. However, characteristically, he initially hesitated to accept it. His reasoning? He felt he deserved a higher recognition for his pivotal role in bringing Newfoundland and Labrador into Canada, and he would have preferred to have "The Right Honourable" appended to his name, along with a knighthood. [26] One must appreciate the unwavering, almost childlike, certainty of his own immense self-worth.

In 1989, a new Marine Atlantic ferry, fittingly named MV Joseph and Clara Smallwood, was commissioned and placed into service, a rather substantial, floating tribute. She remained in operation until she was paid off in 2011, sailing the waters she helped define. [27]

Death

On December 17, 1991, just a week shy of his 91st birthday, Joseph Roberts Smallwood finally succumbed to the inevitable. He was laid to rest at Mount Pleasant Cemetery in St. John's, Newfoundland. His wife, Clara, who passed away in 1996, is buried beside him, ensuring that even in death, the two remain united, just as they were through the tumultuous years of his political ascent. [28]

Notable quotes

"I don't need you. I've been elected. But you need me. I'm sitting on top of the public chest, and not one red cent will come out of it for Ferryland unless Greg Power is elected [to Ottawa]. Unless you vote for my man, you'll be out in the cold for the next five years ... Those settlements which vote against Greg Power will get nothing – absolutely nothing." [29]

A concise, brutal, and utterly transparent statement of power. It's not a threat; it's a simple declaration of reality from a man who understood how to wield authority without pretense. Perhaps a touch crude, but undeniably effective.

In popular culture

Smallwood's larger-than-life persona naturally translated into appearances in popular culture, cementing his place in the Canadian consciousness. He was notably featured in two National Film Board of Canada documentaries. In 1970, he became the subject of Julian Biggs's documentary film, A Little Fellow from Gambo. [30] Unusually for a politician, he actually received a Canadian Film Award for Best Actor in a Non-Feature at the 22nd Canadian Film Awards, a testament to his captivating on-screen presence, or perhaps the sheer audacity of the award committee. [31]

Later, in 1974, he was featured alongside Newfoundland media mogul Geoff Stirling and director Michael Rubbo in Rubbo's film, Waiting for Fidel. [32] [33] A title that, in retrospect, seems to perfectly encapsulate the slightly surreal nature of some of Smallwood's later interactions. In 1998, Wayne Johnston's acclaimed novel, The Colony of Unrequited Dreams, presented a richly fictionalized portrayal of Smallwood, further embedding his legend into the literary landscape. [34]

CJON-DT, the television station owned by the aforementioned Geoff Stirling, conducted numerous interviews with Smallwood, particularly during the years following his political retirement. Many of these were extended, free-ranging dialogues with Stirling himself, delving into various esoteric topics, which must have been a unique viewing experience. A significant number of Smallwood's interviews, along with several solo films and speeches he delivered, are periodically rebroadcast during the "Captain Atlantis" block of freeform telecasts that CJON carries in the very early hours of Saturday mornings. Because, of course, a man like Smallwood deserves to be seen and heard, even at an hour when most sensible people are asleep.