bout de papier, Vol. 29, No. 1 (2015), pp. 32–33
Editor’s Note: The following is adapted fro February 20, 2015.
Michael Chesson, as most of us will know, had a very varied and distinguished career: joining the Dept. of External Affairs in 1967, he quickly gained a sought-after position on the Canadian Delegation to the 22nd Session of the UN General Assembly; and — interspersed with five assignments in Ottawa — three special assignments abroad in Kampala (Uganda), Madrid, and Kigali (Rwanda), and five foreign postings: to Lisbon, Brasilia, London, Amman, and Tunis (covering Libya). He was also seconded to the Department of National Defence from 1991 to 1994. Michael was known for his excellent use of English; his great proficiency in, and love, of French; his excellence, later, in Portuguese.
I, too, joined External Affairs in 1967, became a friend of Michael and remained so even through times when we had little contact. Some from that period who were friends and had not seen him for perhaps 40 years, at once now recall him as friendly, sharp, analytical, amusing, a good mimic; and also as an aspiring tennis player. On reconnait toujours des qualités exceptionnelles, une facilité d’invoquer des arguments tres persuasifs, un sens de humour restreint, profond.
My working connection with Michael really began toward the end of his posting to Amman (he was there 1986—91).
In the last few years, it was always a happy treat to meet Michael for coffee outside the Department, perhaps once a month if his work permitted, sessions often extended as one site closed and another could be progressed to, for a prolonged period of continued talk on never-ending topics. He and I discussed “language” a great deal, the lack, as we perceived it of instruction on its conventional usage, on the correct meanings of words, and on the traditional way that Canadians generally spoke vis-à-vis that of most Americans.
We both would reflect on the growing Americanization of pronunciation, often seemingly accelerated by the CBC with its nooze reports about our canstitooshun, or which rowt people were using to get to work from Barrhaven… Just between “he and 1”, as they so often say on the CBC and anywhere, we agreed that Jane Austen’s English would presently, indeed soon, be “worse” or as alien than that of the tiresome Shakespeare, not even to mention useless old Chaucer — and who on earth ever heard of that prehistoric creature called Beowulf! We both were ready to admit that the French language here was, more often than English, likely to be well-spoken and a bastion against the current vogue of speech based on Tweets. No wonder Michael was well-known over the years for the clarity and economy of his memoranda and personal notes…
He and I discussed “/anguage”
a great deal, the lack, as we
perceived it of instruction on its conventional usage, on the correct
meanings of words, and on the traditional way that Canadians generally spoke vis-a-vis that of most Americans.
One of Michael’s bugbears, bétes noires, was the use of the words “proud” and “proudly”, a source of particular derision from him, whether seen in endless advertisements for absolutely anything — or in, as it seemed, practically every News Release issued by a certain Government, even slipped into media lines for apolitical Civil Servants to use — to the disdain of the latter. There was also rarely a day without its references to “the hard-working people of Canada”, which soon took on the status of a hackneyed cliché and a piece of filling. When we met, Michael always had new examples to hand.
A vignette — Michael was more than once amused by the way that people would stop him on the street proclaiming “You must be Norman Fetterley, we’ve enjoyed seeing you for years on CTV!” As Fetterley was reputed as a journalist with a good sense of Canadian history and culture, and a spare writing style — and perhaps a passing resemblance to Michael — it was not a mistake for either side to be ashamed of!
Politics was always a sphere of Michael’s interested insight, and this came to the fore when it seemed that no technical device in an office building was likely to be picking up his words (a new source of potential paranoia!), let alone people at the next table. In fact we readily fell into a “Politically Incorrect” mode. The talk was often hilarious, each trying to out-do the other’s bold, unforgivable and outrageous utterings, Michael always out-scoring mine, coupled with his wonderful ability to mime and take on the shocked faces and gestures of quite different characters. In cafés on Beechwood or Dalhousie people must have wondered how those two greying men at a nearby table could seriously appear to shock one another one minute and laugh out loud the next. We certainly hoped they hadn’t heard why…
Perhaps related to this scenario, one of our former co-workers, when she overheard us talk in that light-hearted mode, once likened us to the two elderly squabbling men in the theatre balcony in TV’s Sesame Street — a minor insult, but really a source of humour which left Michael very much amused.
In 2010 for some months, Michael and I faced a challenge in our redaction work: we were barred from looking at certain relevant files stored in secteur-Hull, files full of messages that Michael himself had drafted
5, 10, or more years earlier. I’m afraid l’Il have to leave his proud (sorry, redact that word!) solution to this défi to your imagination! During that period, Michael began to assume the redacting mantle held for years by the late Peter Bakewell. Michael, as others have noted, had a huge memory for dates, of writers, musicians, battles, social movements, over the centuries, in a range of countries; was a stickler for historical accuracy, for the correct recollection of words from voluminous, often leaden, Government Reports that he had had to read months or more earlier. In talking with him, if he agreed with my point of view, I liked to feel that I might have said something at least slightly profound. If Michael disagreed with my approach, I knew that he was profound and that I had been only treading in the shallows.
I hope that you will not have found any of my comments flippant.
I think that, in this Chapel, it is not out of place to refer to religious faith, a serious subject, in the lives of many, that Michael and I discussed from time to time. He liked to attend Service at the large Roman Catholic Church on Cumberland near Ottawa University’s Tabaret Hall, and sometimes talk of why he found this important.
Privately I happily retain quantities of valuable memories of Michael and my years knowing him. Their presence will remain in my thoughts — des souvenirs que l’on peut toucher; ce qui n’est pas parti avec lui.
I have lost someone whose comments on international develonments.
sought out for years. I greatly miss this very good and respected friend and guide.
I understand the very deep loss to his family. His immediate family, I know, paid inspiring attention to Michael’s care and well-being during this last difficult year —une famille toujours tres attentive aux souhaits et besoins de leur proche. They could not have helped, or shown their love for Michael, more — for which we can all be grateful.
Rodney Moore entered External Affairs in 1967 (the same year as Michael Chesson). His assignments included, inter alia, work in the SSEA, the East Block Office; disarmament work in Geneva; speechwriting at Government House; Buckingham Palace in HM’s Household, before a posting to Jeddah. After an interval, he pursued years of media work including a posting to Washington, then assignments to the 2010 G10 and G20 Summits. He worked closely from 2010 with Michael Chesson on redaction work in what later hecame the Litigation rristers & Solicitors
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 29, No. 1 (2015), pp. 32–33. Read the rest of this issue →
