bout de papier, Vol. 18, No. 4 (2001-2002) — Winter 2001/2002, pp. 18–19
The following tributes were given by Gordon Robertson and Jake Warren at the funeral service for Ed Ritchie.
A Tribute to Albert Edgar Ritchie
I first met Ed Ritchie in September 1938 as we, and the rest of that year’s crop of Canadian Rhodes Scholars, gathered in Montreal at a “sailing dinner”. We were to board the “Empress of Britain” at Quebec the next day. It was not a propitious time to be sailing to Europe. Hitler and his Nazi regime were wielding the threat of war if enormous concessions were not made by Britain and France at the cost of Czechoslovakia and the balance of power in Europe.
The circumstances of our meeting — during the last breath of the League of Nations and the beginning of the slide into World War II — coloured Ed’s and my relations in all the years that followed.
During the last year of peace, the Oxford ice hockey team — until then one of the best teams in Europe — found that the Europeans had, unfortunately, learned how to skate. Ed and I were an inadequate defence before a wobbly substitute goal keeper. Oxford’s reputation never recovered but our friendship was forged in the fires of our humiliating defeats.
The friendship became still firmer the following summer on a motor cycle trip around the Baltic Sea, completed just weeks before Hitler launched the German attack on Poland — using the roads we had followed but in the opposite direction. At Oxford we were in different colleges taking different courses — Ed in Economics and I in Law — but we shared noisy nights of relaxation in the pubs of the town. Each of us became the other’s best friend.
I did not know it at the time, but there could not have been a person better suited than Ed to participate in the critical events that have dominated the world in the nearly seventy years since. Ed had the intelligence, the courage, the strength and the hard realism to make him an immensely valuable public servant, one of our outstanding deputy ministers and a shrewd operator in the problems of our foreign policy, international trade and relations with the United States in general.
As Canadian Ambassador to the United States from 1966 to 1969, Ed was a pervasive presence in the embassy. His staff were continuously stimulated by his leadership. His ability to inspire loyalty in Washington and in his other busy posts, had no equal. He was the right person to become head of the Department of External Affairs in 1970.
Ed’s qualities shone in Canada’s first real experience of terrorism — the kidnapping of the British Trade Commissioner in Montreal in October 1970. The operations centre for the coordination of government policy and action during the two months of crisis that followed, with the War Measures Act in effect, was established in the East Block and reported directly — and constantly — to Ed. With him at the centre, the links went out to the Prime Minister, Pierre Trudeau, the Minister, Mitchell Sharp, and the Cabinet.
It was that crisis that best demonstrated Ed’s qualities of leadership. He inspired confidence, he was totally engaged, he was constantly aware of the differing roles of politicians and public servants — and he was unsparing of his own energy. It was that last generous quality that, perhaps, let to the heart attack that felled him in 1974.
Ed Ritchie was one of the leaders in a remarkable group of public servants that has served Canada in the critically important period since the Second World War. He was rightly honoured as a Companion of the Order of Canada.
Ed Ritchie came to Canada House at the end of 1948 and led the economic team there under the wise and thoughtful guidance of High Commissioner Norman Robertson. Ed was my mentor over the next three years — for me, a rare and special privilege. We became fast friends — a friendship which matured and deepened over the fifty-plus years that were to follow.
The years together in London were full of interest and excitement, both professionally and otherwise! Problems of European reconstruction still filled economic horizons; dollar restrictions remained; sterling balances were a problem; the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) was just getting off the ground; the Colombo Plan was at its inception.
Ed and I were responsible for a fortnightly Economic Report to Ottawa. Norman Robertson in his dry and quiet way suggested that the quality of our analysis and of the drafting should, as a minimum, be of the standard of The Economist!
The breadth of Ed’s intellectual interest and his innate curiosity about ideas, people, history and things made for a rich and varied agenda which took us to favourite restaurants and pubs, to the old booksellers of Soho and Bloomsbury, anonymously to political meetings in the dark of night, as well as to the pomp and circumstance of the great State and City ceremonies of diplomatic life in London.
Both families cherish a photograph of our first attendance at a royal garden party at Buckingham Place. We had been in part kitted out — frock coat and all — by Moss Bros., London’s famous lender of formal garb to those who could not afford their own! Perhaps that day there was a run on the market, but in any event, there were no grey top hats available that could encompass Ed’s great head (8¾”)! I will say nothing about Gwen’s flowered party hat except that its brim was wide enough to shelter the multitudes!
Our thirst for history was directed in part to early prints and manuscripts of the Trafalgar Square area, and the not least beautiful Canada House which was, originally, the home of the Union Club. We also discovered together the musty “Museum Book Shop”, where for many years the owner had squirrelled away rare and valuable Canadiana. He was waiting patiently for the Dominion Archives to be established and for funding which would permit acquisitions to go to safe haven in Canada rather than to interested American and international dealers.
Later on, following the death of the proprietor, we found that the stock of books and manuscripts was being liquidated. We were able to make some interesting purchases, but sadly, neither of us had the means nor imagination nor business acumen to buy the whole inventory, as we should have done.
I should add that, many years later, at Ed’s initiative, we gave most of our collection of early prints to Canada House. I believe they still hang on the stairwell leading to the High Commissioner’s office in Macdonald House.
One would have wished that Ed could have been well enough to attend the reopening ceremonies of the splendidly refurbished Canada House in 1999, marked by the presence of Her Majesty the Queen, and of Canadian and British High Commissioners, past and present.
Some of you may have noticed, when paying respects to Ed yesterday, an inscribed English pewter beer mug standing alongside his Order of Canada. It carries the signature of the Canada House officers of 1951, of whom, with Ed’s passing, only Ernest Côté and I are still around. The mug bears the Shakespearean inscription, “We Few, We Happy Few, We Band of Brothers”.
The years between 1952 and 1970, when Ed became Head of the Department of External Affairs, were divided between Ottawa and Washington with, as they say, “positions of ever-increasing responsibility”. In Washington, having previously served as Minister and Chargé d’affaires, he was in 1966 named Ambassador for a three-year period. Thereafter he resumed his deservedly rapid career rise at Headquarters in Ottawa.
Over that time, Ed was continually involved in the management of Canada/US relations and earned the respect and admiration of his colleagues in Ottawa, both interdepartmentally and, by his fine leadership, within the Ministry itself. In Washington he was well known to the key figures of the U.S Administrations, many of whom were already, or became, his good friends.
Even a partial listing of the policy areas which engaged his attention provides insight into his involvement, and accomplishments, and an indication of the strains and stresses he carried so gallantly and well.
There were the Nixon/Johnson years — America was at war in Vietnam, the cold War continued. Ed had his hands on the Canadian wheel during the Cuban missile crisis and previously had helped to develop a Canadian policy with respect to Cuba which was quite different from that of the United States.
He was a key negotiator, with the late Davie Fulton, of the unique and historic Columbia River Waters Treaty. He was involved, with Simon Reisman, in the shaping and final negotiations with the Americans of the famous Automotive Pact.
His interest in trade policy was a constant in his life, going back to postwar days in the States when he worked for a time with the Economic Affairs Department of the United Nations, particularly on the preparations for a World Trade Organisation (the Havana Conference 1947-1948). As that proved a non-starter, he worked in the U.N. Secretariat on the Interim Trade Arrangements, which became known in due course as the GATT (Geneva).
As an ex-naval officer, I still shiver when I think of the Ritchies’ return to North America by flying boat. Their flight didn’t have enough fuel to reach our Eastern shore and made a forced landing over weathership “Charlie” in Atlantic gale force winds. That passengers (including Gwen and young Gordon), were rescued from the sea in those conditions and that the cockleshell flying boat, with Ed and other male passengers still on board, stayed afloat through the night, is surely a miracle for which we should all be grateful. Canada would otherwise have lost one of its public servants of highest potential. Likewise, we must regret the loss of his leadership in the long years of his illness.
Gordon Robertson has already spoken of Ed’s critical role in the October crisis of 1970 and of the fine personal qualities then displayed. Those qualities marked his participation also in many other times of tension and crises in our external relations. I remember also his powers of conciliation and his capacity to take the broader view of the public good, rather than the defensive/ protectionist positions which so often have marked turf wars in the public sector.
Ed’s work was marked by balance, a practical turn of mind, and a desire to find – sensible solutions to problems. Whether the question was international, interdepartmental, or otherwise, the players were confident that their points of view would be given careful consideration and that Ed Ritchie would defend Canada’s position, once determined, with strength and skill; he would never let the side down.
There were, of course, many highlights and moments of joy and satisfaction in Ed’s rich career — not least those coming from a close family life. Examples — his appointment as a Companion of the Order of Canada — the wonder and happiness, despite his disabilities, of his posting to Ireland as Canadian Ambassador — the constancy of the love between him and Gwen over the sixty years of their marriage and, recently, the fact that both of them were around to welcome their first two great grandchildren.
As for high excitement, Ed has lived and relived through the years, his moments with President Brezhnev, in the VIP Gondola at the Luznikhi Sports Arena in 1972 when, in the last seconds of a tied game between the USSR and Canada, Henderson came through with the winning goal.
Another warm Canadian memory is of the joint Ritchie, Halstead and Warren Rockcliffe sleigh rides organized out of 112 Lisgar Road. By the grace of God there was always plenty of hot buttered rum, red and white wine and bottles of beer at the ready. One still remembers the squeak of the sleigh runners against the cold snow, the reckless laughter and the push and shove of the riders and the melody of sleigh bells in the night air. Parties to remember.
And among cherished moments and events, Ed I believe would probably list his visit to China with Pierre Trudeau and his presence at Hyannisport, when Mr. Pearson and President Kennedy met there in 1963.
As a New Brunswicker, Ed, of course, had a more than passing interest in the gentle art of fly fishing, especially for trout. He only had one crack at the Labrador salmon before his stroke robbed him of his left side capacity. He, however, continued this interest through his fine collection of antique books on fishing in Great Britain and North America — many of which he passed on to me. They are especially prized volumes in the Warren library and will for ever remind me of Ed, his enthusiasm and his generosity.
I shall always be inspired by the maintenance of Ed’s interest and spirit over nearly thirty years of disability and no doubt frustration. Would that there were more of his calibre, with his fierce determination not to give in.
I think of him as an ancient and mighty oak which for so many years stood firm against all that the elements could offer — in Ed’s case the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Finally, not laid low by gale or ice storm, that great tree succumbed to the multiple strokes of a fatal condition that in the end broke both heart and body.
“Hearts of Oak” could indeed have been Ed’s theme song.
I close with a few lines about his service as Ambassador in Washington, written by Bruce Hutchinson. They could as well have addressed the wholeness of Ed’s career and his contribution to Canadian public life.
“No man who represented Canada in my time was mentally bigger, more efficient at his job, or more fully equipped with common sense than Edgar Ritchie. In Ed, a giant of physique, and in his darling, blunt speaking wife, Gwen, I found all the finest qualities of the Canadian breed. For me they were Canada exactly personified. No other land could have produced this pair and no luxury, privilege or pomp could spoil them…. Ed’s performance in Washington and Ottawa was never surpassed by any of Canada’s servants but he seemed to get things done without the least strain or flourish until his labours broke his health at the peak of his magnificent career. That cruel mischance brought equal sorrow to both capitals”.
…and speaking of the group of post-war Canadian Ambassadors to the United States up to and including Marcel Cadieux, Hutchinson wrote:
“All understood — usually better than their bosses in Ottawa — the wise uses and definite limits of Canadian power in the continent of elephant and mouse. All could easily have made themselves millionaires in private business, all served their nation for small reward none was corrupted by rank or temporary affluence. This record, I thought, said something pretty important about Canada”.
Edgar Ritchie. A great man, indeed. Indeed, a great man.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 18, No. 4 (2001-2002) — Winter 2001/2002, pp. 18–19. Read the rest of this issue →
