bout de papier, Vol. 15, No. 4 (1998-1999) — Winter 1998/99 // Hiver 1998/99, p. 26
Born in Aylmer, Quebec on November 30, 1920, Keith grew up in Notre-Dame-de-Grâce, Montreal. He left McGill without a degree to join the Royal Montreal Regiment in 1942, and in 1944-45 served in Britain’s famous “1st Special Air Service Regiment” (SAS), where he took part in daring operations far behind the German lines, including freeing Bergen-Belsen from its SS guards, and racing to the Baltic to head off the advancing Russians. In 1946, while based in Antwerp, he married Marie Antoinette, daughter of Count Adelin de Grelle, and after his discharge as a Lieutenant, went on to New College, Oxford for his BA. After a brief spell with Imperial Oil, he joined External Affairs in 1952 as one of the last World War II veterans to do so.
Keith’s departmental career was both distinguished and diverse. Postings to Berne, Los Angeles, Rome, London, Brussels and Vientiane (where he was ICSC Commissioner), were interspersed with the usual Personnel-decreed potpourri of Ottawa jobs, and followed by assignments as Ambassador to Pakistan (1974-77), Yugoslavia (1977-79) and Jordan (1982- 85). He was a professional in the best sense, working with dedicated competence and skill in the face of all the weird and wonderful tasks that the Foreign Service throws at its practitioners, but ever ready to puncture with his gentle humour the pompousness that can affect people in this as in other métiers.
Regardless of possible personal and career consequences, he ran valiantly, if unsuccessfully, as a Conservative candidate in two Montreal ridings, in 1979 and 1988, knowing in advance that the odds were heavily against him, but believing it was his duty to put himself on the line for the Canada he believed in. After his retirement from External, he devoted much time and effort to the St. Andrew’s Societies of Montreal and Ottawa, and to broadening awareness of the important Scottish contribution to Quebec. The sad skirl of the Cameron Highlanders’ bagpipes at his funeral in Aylmer provided an eloquent reminder of this, as did the gentle words of the “Gaelic Blessing” which concluded the ceremony.
Keith was a deeply modest man, who could rarely be persuaded to talk about his own wartime exploits. He did claim
Foreign Service heroism, however, when
26 bout de papier Vol. he challenged an Indian ICSC delegate in Laos to a contest in drinking hot sauces, and won — probably his closest brush with death in External, he would say. Old-fashioned, in the best sense, in his courtesy and consideration for others, he was surprisingly modern in other, unexpected ways: in his early days, he rode around on an Indian motorcycle, a la Trudeau; he loved Pogo; he saw to it that his new Embassy in Amman was one of the first Canadian missions to be computer-equipped, despite a predictable lack of helpful guidance and expertise from Ottawa. And he was always warmly hospitable — even to worrying about getting a drink (Scotch, of course) for visitors during his last difficult days in hospital, where he died on September 29. His widow, his mother, his four children and his nine grandchildren survive him.
Keith’s colleagues and friends are happy to have had the privilege of knowing him. He leaves us with the memory of a truly kind, upright, intelligent character, indeed a man, one might say, of quiet nobility.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 15, No. 4 (1998-1999) — Winter 1998/99 // Hiver 1998/99, p. 26. Read the rest of this issue →
