Seconds before meeting His Highness, Prince of Wales. (photo from The Monarchist League of Canada)
Chapter Ten: Meeting Prince Charles
There were always good days.
In April 2001, I was invited to the legislature to address a group of Ontario legislative interns who were on a trip through Saskatchewan and were curious about this new aboriginal party they'd heard about in the news. I agreed to speak to them and answer any questions they had about the creation of the party. When I arrived at the legislature all suited up, I wondered whether these curious students might know more about government than I did. After signing in as a visitor, I made my way to a boardroom where a dozen or so interns waited. I was greeted by their spokesperson, Cass, who introduced me to everyone. She explained that I could take my time- they were still waiting for Deputy Premier Clay Serby, who was running late with business.
I began by explaining to them what the requirements are in Saskatchewan to register a political party under the Elections Act. 2,500 signatures from registered voters are required, including at least 100 signatures from ten different constituencies. They asked how long that normally took, and I explained the Saskatchewan Party took a summer, while the New Green Alliance took close to a year to achieve the total. It took me five months, from April to August 2000. I sent petitions to 74 First Nations, but only a handful returned to me with signatures. However, the ones that did accounted for close to 700 of the combined total- almost 400 from Athabasca and over 300 from Cumberland, the two northern constituencies. The remainder of signatures was collected door to door in the cities.
The interns were incredulous to hear that almost two thousand signatures were collected door to door. I told them there were a few of us collecting in the four biggest cities, and it became an almost daily activity for me. The best response, I told them, was from inner city neighbourhoods like Regina Elphinstone and Regina Dewdney, although I canvassed more affluent neighbourhoods, too. Once I mentioned Regina Elphinstone, one of the students pointed out that was where I was running. Actually, that was where I ran, I told them, and only 49 votes materialized from the close to 400 residents who agreed to support the party.
"What happened?" they asked.
"They didn't vote!" I answered.
We discussed voter apathy across the country and among aboriginals and the poor. I said one of the goals of the First Nations Party was to try and motivate people to vote- people who might not otherwise vote, or never have. Of course, I admitted, there were conspiracy theorists who believed we were trying to steal votes from the NDP so the Sask Party would win, but I pointed out that my aim was not to convert NDP or Liberal supporters, but encourage non-voters to support a new party. The interns were captivated by the fact that a completely new party could be created by the will of a handful of people, and they were encouraged by the fact that an individual could really make a difference.
Then they asked about money. Who financed us? The FSIN? Indian bands? Were we involved in the SIGA scandal? Where did we get the money?
Well, actually, there was very little financial support, I told them. We had only raised a little more than four hundred dollars from members of our executive. Financing of both by-election campaigns came out of the candidates' pockets. They marvelled at the fact the FSIN and SIGA wouldn't support the First Nations Party, asking, "Don't they realize they could create their provincial government someday?" I explained the whole "separate nations" concept to them and how sovereign nations had to remain uninvolved in one another's politics.
You know, even a bunch of interns in their early twenties recognized how the federal government continues to intrude upon the politics of First Nations. They argued it should be vise versa considering the history of Canada and First Nations. I pointed out it was a question of honour, although my personal opinion was that as a Canadian citizen, I saw nothing wrong with participating in Crown politics. It could be considered a form of dual citizenship.
Throughout our discussion, Cass was in and out of the room speaking to one of the Deputy Premier's assistants. Mr. Serby was busy dealing with important matters, but he sent a tray of goodies for us, along with some refreshments. We ate and drank and I asked each intern to share what he or she thought of our discussion so far.
One intern was very encouraged that there was so much moral support from those in poverty, and I shared my observation that revolutions throughout history always utilized the poverty-stricken and those suffering from injustice. It might take years to topple a government, but it becomes inevitable when power becomes too elite. It might take the First Nations Party decades to become government, so the sooner we began, the sooner the day would come.
Optimism filled the room while we finished our Cokes. Cass thanked me for my participation and we brought the meeting to a close. I was given an Ontario Legislative Internship Program lapel pin and was asked directions back to their hotel. The young interns were flying back to Ontario in the morning.
Days like that made my depression a little less depressing. The legislature was one of my favorite places to visit, one of my favorite visits being the official swearing-in ceremonies of Premier Lorne Calvert's first cabinet. The place was electric with energy and crowded with people. I arrived a little late and stood behind the assembled crowd because there were no seats left. Even the reporters and cameramen were crowded.
I was becoming familiar with many M. L. A.s from all the parties and I watched the introduction of the new ministers with great pride and joy for them and their families. It was nice to be recognized by these politicians, and I always made it a priority to congratulate them on their successes and meet as many members as possible. Many were happy to meet me. Some responded with a grin and a chuckle upon meeting me.
Months before, when Liberal M. L. A. Jack Hillson announced he was leaving the NDP-Liberal coalition to sit as an independent Liberal, I hastily sent out a press release inviting him to join the First Nations Party and become our first M. L. A. He had once been Minister of Aboriginal Affairs, so his experience would come in handy. Of course, he ignored my silly invitation, and when I would see him in the halls of the Legislature, he would entertain my craziness with a big smile of amusement.
I'm sure the burning of Stockwell Day or my offer to mediate the Burnt Church dispute in New Brunswick also brought bemused smiles to politicians and reporters. (CJME talk show host John Gormley could barely believe it when he learned that I had announced an offer to mediate in Burnt Church. "I'm sure they don't need to enlist the mediation skills of Brendan Cross," he announced one noon-hour on his show.)
I joked with reporters, too. The program for the swearing-in ceremony included a special musical presentation by a group of children but didn't include the name of the song being performed. I penciled in "When you wish upon a star" because I joked with Broadcast News reporter Jay Branch that Premier Calvert reminded me of Jiminy Cricket from Disney's "Pinocchio." I passed the revised program on to Jay Branch and he shook his head and laughed. Who knew the legislature could be such a fun place to hang out?!
I also met both Keith Goulet and Buckley Belanger in the buffet line after the ceremony and received two markedly different responses. Cabinet minister Goulet seemed nervous when we shook hands and quickly disappeared from sight, but cabinet minister Belanger was incredibly charismatic when I met him. I joked to him that I would sneak to the front of the line and grab some food for just us, and he responded, "Oh no, don't tell them you're with me- or you'll never get served!" I liked his style and sense of humour. He would make a great senior statesman in a First Nations Party cabinet.
I also loved arriving at the legislature where I was commonly greeted by Saskatchewan Party M. L. A. Carl Kwiatkowski, who was regularly out on the front steps visiting with friends. Carl was the M. L. A. for Carrot River Valley and was once the youngest mayor in Saskatchewan. He was incredibly enthusiastic and always hollered out my name when he'd spot me coming up the sidewalk. ("Brendan! How’s it going?" he’d exclaim.) I sometimes ponder what kind of cabinet minister Carl would have made if the Sask Party ever became government. Sadly, the day would never come- Carl died tragically within a couple years (and the Sask Party never formed government).
My most memorable experience at the legislature was, of course, just around the corner. On Thursday, April 26th, 2001, Britain's Prince of Wales was scheduled to visit Saskatchewan for the first time, visiting the Legislature and City Hall in Regina before meeting aboriginal leaders at Wanuskewin Park in Saskatoon on his three day visit. Prince Charles would honour and be honoured by Chiefs and Elders at Waneskewan, eventually receiving an Indian name. I viewed the official itinerary released by Saskatchewan Chief of Protocol, Michael Jackson, and was immediately on the phone with my mom and sister making plans to witness the historic visit.
Our plan was to be present in front of the legislature for the Prince's official arrival. The excitement grew as the day approached. The visit attracted national, even international media coverage, as all royal visits do. Commercials on CBC reminded us daily that the visit was days away and would be carried live across Canada. I brushed up on Royal Protocol, learning that I must greet the Prince as "Your Royal Highness," even reminding my sister and my wife just in case we happened to meet him.
When the morning approached, it was a beautiful spring day with the temperature hovering in the mid-twenties. My wife and I popped a videotape into the VCR to record CBC's live coverage while we were out. We packed both kids into the car and headed down to the legislature just before noon. We met my sister and her baby daughter after parking at the end of the lot where former cabinet minister Colin Thatcher's wife was killed.
The crowd was already quite substantial, so we decided to position ourselves beside the media scaffold where CBC and CJME commentators were set up. I argued we should relocate to the driveway in front of the legislature where the Prince would be arriving by carriage, but my sister claimed she overheard reporters say Prince Charles would be engaging in a "walkabout" beside the media scaffold. We waited anxiously, and I decided to run over to the driveway with my son to watch his arrival and return for his anticipated walkabout.
The sun was shining and many people were dressed for summer, myself wearing shorts, a white t-shirt, and white business shirt on top of that. I carried my two-year-old son on my shoulders and packed into the crowd waiting along the driveway. It was a long wait, as the Prince's arrival was running late. My son fell asleep on my shoulders, resting his head on top of mine- a sight caught on camera by a chuckling cameraman. The crowd continued to swell as we waited for close to twenty minutes. A wave of excitement soon swept across the crowd from Albert Street.
The carriage was coming! The very sight of it was enough to draw cheers and the excitement grew as the clip-clop of horses' hooves drew nearer. In the carriage were The Prince of Wales and Lieutenant Governor Lynda Haverstock with their assistants. As the carriage moved by, cameras clicked and people called out to welcome the Prince. From where we were, my son and I watched as Prince Charles met the Premier on the doorsteps of the Legislature. They then moved into the crescent directly in front to meet with Howard Anderson and some veterans from the National Aboriginal Veterans Association.
At this point, I decided to head over to the media scaffold to regroup with my wife and sister and our children. We had a good view of the activities and were blessed with a soft, grassy area behind us to change our babies' diapers on. As my sister predicted, The Prince of Wales embarked on a walkabout to our left and greeted onlookers amiably as he passed by them, stopping to chat about the weather as excited friends and family took pictures.
Again, a wave of excitement could be almost physically felt as Prince Charles moved in our direction. We were standing behind a rope barrier and my sister turned to me and nervously exclaimed, "He's coming our way! He's coming our way!" Indeed, he was. Within moments, the Prince was standing before my sister, quite interested in her one-year-old daughter. "Is this yours?" he asked, and my sister replied, "Yes." Prince Charles asked how old she was, and my sister told him she had just turned one days before. "They're quite a handful at that age," he stated, and my sister laughed and agreed.
My wife was holding my daughter just behind my sister, and I was beside her. Premier Lorne Calvert was with the Prince and I greeted him. "Good day, Mister Premier," I said and he replied, "Oh, hi Brendan," making it evident he was clearly enjoying being in the company of the Prince of Wales. Premier Calvert was grinning ear to ear and was almost giddy!
After chatting with my sister, Prince Charles turned to leave, and I found myself quite impulsively stepping over the rope barrier, planting myself only feet away from the Prince. My movement caught his attention and he turned to look at my curiously. "I'm the Leader of the First Nations Party of Saskatchewan," I declared. "Oh really," he replied, stepping toward me to shake my hand. "What's your name?" he asked as we shook hands. "Brendan Cross," I told him. "Will I be seeing you later, inside?" he asked, motioning toward the legislature where he would be addressing M. L. A.s and special guests. "No, we haven't elected anyone yet," I told him almost regrettably.
He looked into my eyes intently for a second and replied, "Oh. Well, there's always tomorrow, isn't there?" Our brief meeting was over, and the Prince continued towards the legislature with the Premier.
I couldn't believe I met Prince Charles, the first aboriginal politician to meet him, within an hour of him stepping off the plane. I was excited that our meeting was carried live on CBC television, which I was taping on our VCR at home. As the many dignitaries made their way into the legislature, I wished for a moment that we did have a First Nations Party M. L. A. to represent us in the assembly. However, I felt a great weight lifted off me upon hearing Prince Charles point out that, indeed, there was always tomorrow.
The First Nations Party was young, and we had generations ahead of us to achieve electoral success. I recognized that most politicians were decades older than me and had taken years to get where they were. Tomorrow was perhaps a more appropriate time to envision success for the First Nations Party. Prince Charles was a generation older than I was, and he was comfortable with his title, Prince of Wales. He seemed to be in no hurry to become King. Maybe, when he is King of England, there will be a First Nations Party M. L. A., Opposition, or government in place for his visit.
Over the next 24 hours, Prince Charles honoured volunteers at the Legislature, learned some aboriginal dance steps at Regina's City Hall, had dinner at Government House, visited the Albert-Scott Community Center, toured the NATO Flight Center at CFB Moose Jaw, and was driven to the town of Assiniboia. His next stop was Saskatoon, where he would officially meet the Chiefs of the FSIN at a ceremony at Wanuskewin Park. Although I was satisfied to have met him at the Legislature, my wife and I decided to drive up to Saskatoon to be part of his summit with the FSIN. I knew we would be witnessing an historic event, and I wanted our kids to be exposed to the cultural festivities.
On Saturday, April 28th, my wife and I put the kids in their car seats and drove up to Saskatoon to meet my wife's aunt. We proceeded to Wanuskewin which was overwhelmed with vehicles. We arrived just in time to find parking spots and rush over to the main building where FSIN officials were organizing the grand entrance. A few observers recognized me and I shook a few hands before joining with the crowd outside waiting for Prince Charles. I held the door open for FSIN Vice-Chief Lawrence Joseph, but once again I was ignored.
As we waited, my son got quite irritable in the heat, so my wife's aunt took him for a walk so we could maintain our spots near the front of the crowd. People got their cameras ready as we spotted the bus carrying reporters coming up the drive. A trail of dust followed the media bus, which many people assumed carried somebody royal. However, the bus stopped and media hopped out with cameras and notebooks, ready to chronicle the arrival of the Prince. Everyone rallied for the best positions as almost one hundred chiefs began forming a line from the doors of Wanuskewin Center.
The artistry and pomp of the costumes worn by the chiefs was breathtaking. Every chief looked unique, but each chief looked as noble as another. FSIN Chief Perry Bellegarde looked resplendent in his official headdress and outfit; elegant snow-white gloves completed his costume. I was incredibly proud to be present with both of my children and witness such a significant event. Although I know neither of my children will remember the occasion, I am convinced their spirits benefited from the unity of the experience.
Within moments of the media bus parking, the vehicle transporting the Prince of Wales made its way down the same gravel road, coming to a stop at the beginning of the sidewalk leading to the Center. The door opened and Prince Charles stepped out. As the dust from the vehicles settled, the Prince was greeted with a handshake from Chief Bellegarde and the procession began. With the Prince and Chief Bellegarde leading under an ancient Union Jack, the procession made its way around the gravel cul-de-sac and back up the walkway into the main building. All the while traditional singing and drumming pulsed from the line of chiefs.
One by one, in all their splendor, the chiefs passed by my children. Once inside the building, they would meet with the Prince privately, away from the glare of the media and curious public. While this summit took place, the anxious crowd outside moved their way to the amphitheater beside the building, where the public displays would take place. My son and I took a place in the wild grass beside the bleachers, where we could get a good view of everything.
It was a beautiful, sunny day, and behind the bleachers was a garden hose of running water, providing drink for those who needed it. As I walked over to grab a drink of water with my son, I was greeted by a plain-clothed RCMP officer who recognized me. "You don't remember me, do you?" he asked, and I admitted to him that I didn't. "We had a conversation during the federal election where Stockwell Day was speaking," he told me. I was glad to meet him again, and we chatted briefly.
While my son and I made our way back to our place in the grass, I noticed the RCMP officer was keeping a close eye on me, standing within feet of where we were sitting. I realized that I was being viewed as a potential threat to the Prince of Wales because of my encounter with Stockwell Day, so I assured the officer I would behave myself. "That would make my job a whole lot easier," he said, "But I still have to keep my eye on you, Brendan." I sat and waited with my son while the RCMP kept watch.
As we waited, more and more people took their places in the amphitheater. The festivities were ready to begin. Again, drumming and singing commenced as Prince Charles was ushered in by Chief Bellegarde and others. Opening remarks were made, and Chief Bellegarde welcomed and introduced the guest of honour. Prince Charles thanked everyone and continued with a great speech, carefully prepared and skillfully delivered.
I was impressed by the great respect shown by both sides to each other. Every gesture was symbolic, whether it was the parading of the Union Jack in the procession, or the presentation of a blanket to the Prince of Wales, who draped it around himself. Prince Charles was given an Indian name meaning "he on whom the sun shines favourably." I watched and realized that because of my adoption, there was so much culture I had never experienced. As the dancers danced before us all, I felt like a foreigner myself, not knowing the dances or the languages being spoken. I envied the young people participating in the festivities because they were part of a culture I had yet to discover. Depression overtook me.
My kids became restless, so we walked back to our cars, said goodbye to my wife's aunt, and hopped into the car for a quiet drive home. During the drive, I talked with my wife about how alienated I felt from First Nations culture, and how my disconnection with the Chiefs and Elders left me feeling isolated and depressed. My wife, who was studying psychology, told me many urban aboriginals (even those who weren't adopted) suffered identity crises due to the stark contrasts between aboriginal culture on reserves and North American urban culture. Balancing the two extremes was difficult and confusing to those who only knew one environment.
My wife said she wondered sometimes whether my creation of the First Nations Party was a misguided attempt to find acceptance among aboriginal people and to compensate for being raised in a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant family. The acceptance I was looking for was social, not political- an important distinction I needed to recognize.
I was, however, recognizing that whatever crisis I was experiencing, the effect on my personal life was devastating. My bi-polar depression was taking its toll on those around me, those who had to listen to my paranoid conspiracy theories one day and worry I'd committed suicide the next. When I wasn't preaching my own heroism, I was sleeping away my depression, which confused those who had to witness my Jekyll and Hyde behavior.
Ever since creating the party, my struggle to develop my identity had become public, and my erratic behavior left observers and reporters wondering just what kind of trouble I would create next. I realized my depression was directly linked to my alienation from First Nations, and no quick fix would satisfy my need to be accepted.
On Sunday, April 29th, I discussed my feelings with my wife and our families. They knew that my depression often led to inappropriate behaviors and remarks and were glad to hear I was finally recognizing my need to develop relationships with those on my reserve and elsewhere. At the time my bi-polar was still undiagnosed, and our families were desperate to find anything that would make me happy. However, without medication for my condition, my life would continue to be run by the chaos I created. What I proposed to remedy the situation was supported by everyone I consulted and everybody breathed a sigh of relief at the prospect that I would be making a conscious effort to seek a solution to my problems.
I decided to resign the leadership of the First Nations Party of Saskatchewan once again and deal with my identity crisis outside of the public eye. I wrote up a press release that evening and programmed it to be faxed out overnight. I wrote "a crisis has developed in my life concerning a lack of connection with the culture my party seeks to represent." I would be seeking out "my blood relatives, Elders and chiefs, a task which must proceed outside of the political arena."
I explained that I was adopted at six months and didn't have any contact with my Saulteaux First Nation until I was eighteen. (I remember reading a MacLean's magazine article about aboriginal adoption into non-native homes, often referred to as "the scoop," and I was surprised to read about the very high suicide rate amongst adoptees.) The experience was "slowly paralyzing and perfectly capable of destroying a life if allowed to." I sent the press release out overnight, announcing that I would be visiting the Legislature at 1 P. M. to talk to reporters before heading out to Cyprus Hills Provincial Park for a holiday with my wife and her family.
My press release was dated Monday, April 30th, 2001- I had been leader of the First Nations Party of Saskatchewan for exactly thirteen months. During that period, I had promoted the concept of a First Nations party nation-wide, witnessing two provincial aboriginal parties attain official recognition. I traveled the province, visiting every city except Yorkton and meeting hundreds of people who shared in my dream. I engaged in political dialogue with other parties and proposed a double lane highway speed limit which eventually became law. And most importantly, I communicated the displeasure aboriginal people felt towards Opposition parties some thought were headed towards becoming government.
I said I would create a First Nations Party and I made good on my word. Two by-elections and hundreds of interviews later, I was content to let the dream fly away until tomorrow came. Wearing the blue suit my mom bought me with sandals in the warm weather, I was ready to make my last political appearance at the legislature. At 1 P. M. I walked up the steps, logged in as a visitor, and prepared to take questions from the reporters who surrounded me as I chatted with the security guard at the front desk.
Leader Post columnist Murray Mandryk, CKRM's John Murney, Broadcast News' Jay Branch, and others asked me candidly about the issues I was struggling with, and I answered as honestly as I could. I talked about Prince Charles being welcomed at Wanuskewin: "To be quite honest, I was greatly impressed with everything that was going on,… selfishly I thought: 'I don’t know what the hell is going on!'" I told them. "I don't understand these dances, I don't understand the language, I don't have an Indian name. All of those things, in my heart I really want. And I never realized that."
Reporters were curious to hear about my adoption experience. I told them I understood adopted aboriginals faced a number of issues. "The example for me was very bleak. It centered around social problems – alcoholism, drug abuse, prostitution, jail, suicide. (I thought) initially: 'Those aren't my problems. I'll never face them. Big deal.' But sure enough, over the last year I've been confronted with all of these issues."
When the newspaper article appeared the next day, my sister read that quote and asked incredulously, "Since when was Brendan a prostitute?" Of course, I meant those were all issues I had witnessed in my travels through the inner cities and reserves. I was concerned with the quote, however, and asked my wife's family to read the article in Cyprus Hills and give me their interpretation. We all agreed it could be easily misunderstood, but we were glad I could continue my life without the public scrutiny.
On Friday, May 4th, Dan Le Moal reported my resignation in the Manitoba magazine The Drum. It would be the last political article written about me but not the last time I would be in the news. As my depression worsened and I began to suffer from psychotic paranoia, my rage would be directed at the public, and family members, resulting in criminal charges. In separate incidents, I would be charged with an indecent act, harassing phone calls, and mischief. My guilty pleas resulted in two jail terms, one for three months in 2002, and another for four months in 2004.
My time in jail has given me time to evaluate my life and where it is headed. I suffer from bi-polar depression which means I must maintain my physical health properly to keep myself in good mental health. Suffering is a part of life that we must learn to endure- it reveals what we are made of and is never permanent. Medication can only do so much to help my mood, though- allnighters, binging, and crashing must be replaced by regular sleep, a good diet, and sobriety. The Creator controls all around me, but I can control all within me. I take responsibility for everything I do in this life. That's why I have always entered guilty pleas in court.
Everything is an opportunity for something. My time in jail provided me with the opportunity to write my story. I hope whoever reads it will appreciate my honesty and learn a little about themselves by reading about me. We are all created for a purpose; Whatever is meant to be will be. We must learn from our mistakes and benefit from the Wisdom of others. Everyone has a story- everybody's priorities become abundantly clear in the face of adversity. But remember: Some dreams are worth great sacrifice, and even if success is evasive at first, there's always tomorrow.
copyright 2005
