Opinions
Originally Printed in the Ottawa Citizen
September 26th, 1995

Canada's Flag was created in a Flap

During one of the raucous parliamentary debates in history, an obscure federal government agency came up with the final design

Background: Many stories have been told about the birth of the Maple Leaf flag. Here's what really happened, according to the man who headed the Canadian Govern­ment Exhibition Commission, an obscure agency that came up with the final design for our flag. This article is excerpted from a memoir by Patrick Reid, Wild Colonial Boy, published by Douglas & Mclntyre ($29.95). The book is scheduled to reach stores lo­cally by mid-October.

By Patrick Reid

Special to the Citizen

Late in October 1964 I received a telephone call from an assistant to prime minister Lester Pear­son. The PM wanted to know if I could undertake responsibility, quietly, to get the proposal for the new Canadian flag into some sort of order and come up with a final design. The special com­mittee of the House of Commons he appointed on Sept. 10 for this purpose had, it seemed, run out of steam after reaching the conclusion that the flag should have a single maple leaf rather than the three the prime minister had wanted. The issue was, as I would sure­ly know, under hot debate in the House of Commons and had to be resolved within days.

"The PM needs professional help, he wants it very quietly from people he can trust within the civil service. Obvi­ously we have alternatives, but the PM wants to hear from you first. John Matheson, who has the political lead on this, can be in your office later today to brief you."

I said I was sure the exhibition com­mission co be of help, but A would be useful to understand the problem more precisely. We were, after all, talk­ing about the supreme emblem of the nation, and a hell of a lot of controver­sy. And could I advise my deputy min­ister of what was going on? "No, not yet!"

MP Matheson was to arrive at 6 p.m. I dug out all the history and press clip­pings I could find at the commission, and all the recent designs of national emblems, including maple leaves, we had used at Canadian pavilions and trade fair exhibits abroad.

The story of Canada 's flag was a murky one, replete with imperial echoes and local tribalism. Not that the Fathers of Confederation spent much time on such trappings as they wres­tled with the practicalities of building a new nation. They retained the British Union Flag in 1867 without fuss, and their successors confirmed the Union Jack as a national symbol in 1904. By 1892, however, the Red Ensign of the British merchant navy, with a Canadian emblem on the fly, was in use on ocean shipping. By 1922 that em­blem was a formally-authorized coat-­of-arms, and two years later the new Canadian Red Ensign was being flown on official buildings abroad. By 1945 it was in use everywhere, even as politi­cians were wrestling, for the umpteenth time, with the notion that Canada should have a flag free of all colonial symbolism.

The non-colonial symbols of Canada are few. Apart from animals, the maple leaf is the only emblem that found spontaneous favor among generations of settlers in Upper and Lower Cana­da . The common maple found along the St. Lawrence, with its beautiful fall coloring, was a local symbol as early as 1700. It is an occasional embarrass­ment to the modern membership of the St. Jean Baptiste Society that the maple leaf was its chosen emblem when the organization was founded in 1834. The leaf was incorporated in one fashion or another into the badges of hundreds of thousands of Canadian soldiers, and treasured from Vimy

Ridge to the Hitler Line. In a sprig of three ii ap coat-of arms of both Quebec and Ontario around the time of Confederation, as well as other provinces and the Dominion it­self later on.

It would have been very hard to pass up the maple leaf when searching for the ultimate national symbol, even if the tree grows in only part of the coun­try Red and white were declared the of­ficial colors of Canada in 1921, so it was not unreasonable for the prime minister to react positively to three red maple leaves on a white background as the centerpiece of a new flag. He also liked the proposal of Alan Beddoe, who flitted in and out of the drama like a gadfly, to have blue vertical borders to emphasize the sea-to-sea vastness of the nation.

He put this concoction to Parliament in June 1994, and was rewarded with such an outcry that he was forced on Sept. 10 to strike a special all-party committee to achieve a solution, any solution. Insofar as a committee can design anything, they did a creditable job. John Matheson had much to do with this as did the New Democratic Party, which wanted a single maple leaf rather than three.

Another player who influenced Matheson at the time was Dr. George Stanley, then Dean of Arts at the Royal Military College , Kingston , and much enamored of the flag of the college, which had three vertical bars of equal width, red, white and red, with a mailed fist holding the traditional twist of three maple leaves in the mid­dle. Stanley, a distinguished Rhodes Scholar who would go on to be Lieu­tenant Governor of New Brunswick, was, like his friend John Matheson, an heraldic expert. Both were comfort­able with a red and white flag. It was al­so certain that the Progressive Conser­vatives would never vote for what had become known as the Pearson Pen­nant, so blue disappeared and red and white became the colors of the month. A bit of procedural maneuvering and some luck produced a committee rec­ommendation advocating a red flag with a white bar in the centre contain­ing a single maple leaf.

Matheson, a disabled war veteran, entered Parliament in 1961 and became the chosen executor of Lester Pear­son's plan to have a new Canadian flag by 1965. He was totally and courageous­ly committed to a symbolic renewal that he hoped would ease the divisions that were all too apparent as Canada

approached its Centennial in 1967. He arrived at the- exhibition commission with a portfolio of proposals and lay­outs, including one of the now-infa­mous Pearson Pennant, which he gave me as a reminder of what might have been. I showed him the array of maple leaf designs that had been created by our graphic artists over the previous 20 years. He was, I think, amazed both by the variety and the fact that they were invariably of a single leaf, and mostly stylized.

"Frankly, I wish I had known all this weeks ago. It could have made life a lot easier. The problem is a simple one. We need a design for the single maple leaf. The red bars are set. We need the proportions and specifica­tions finalized, once the design is set­tled."

I told him that the p r oblem was not simple, but it could be solved. I asked what basic criteria had been followed in approaching the design of the flag and after several minutes realized that there weren't any.

atheson said he was "really most concerned that we follow the model of the sugar maple leaf. It has 23 points and great vitality." He shuffled through some layouts and produced the sketch of a beautiful maple leaf in all its natural detail. This was the emblem that was to be the centerpiece. I decided that I needed some time to gather my thoughts and troops, and asked him if he could return the following evening for a working ses­sion.

I went home and jotted down some criteria. My wife Alison added some and argued others. We agreed a few ele­mentary stipulations, such as the flag should be identical on both sides, it should be starkly simple and memo­rable, a child should be able to draw it, people should want to fly it, and love it. The last might take time, but the first eliminated a natural leaf entirely. I telephoned the PMO, asked if a very simple, stylized design would meet with approval. If so it would not be nec­essary to bother the prime minister personally, and I would be happy to work through John Matheson. Half an hour later I got a cryptic message. We were to get on with it!

I talked to Tom Wood, our chief de­signer, who was away working on the design of the Canadian Pavilion at Ex­po 67. He suggested Jacques Saint-Cyr for the job. Jacques was a meticulous artist who liked to choose his assign­ments. I asked him to come in and ex plained the likely task and the urgency of it all. I think he was both non-_ plussed and amused to be selected. But he agreed to work on a formal design, the simplest he could conceive; and have a sketch available that evening, when we would meet Matheson.

Jacques produced a 13-point leaf, not dissimilar to one that he had designed for a recent Canadian exhibit in Eu­rope . Matheson appeared to be warm­ing to that particular version. We agreed to meet again on Nov. 6, after Jacques had had a chance to work up some variants. We would have a silk­screen crew standing by in our work­shops, to print an experimental flag. For want of a better alternative at the time, we would use bedsheets and spare bunting for the silk-screening.

Matheson phoned to say that he had to have a flag at the prime minister's residence on the morning of Nov. 7. It would be flown there for the PM's in­spection when he got up. The exhibi­tion commission was well used to last minute turmoil of unchangeable dead­lines. We were, however, missing a per­son who could sew the edges and eye­lets on the completed flag. Ken Dono­van, a purchasing agent at the commis­sion, volunteered his daughter, Joan O'Malley, and Joan agreed to stand by.

Matheson was in a wheel-chair that evening and we used the length of one of the halls of our building to show off the final 13-point design from a dis­tance. We would scurry up and down, exchanging, sketches and comments. There was something not quite right, and I could not put my finger on the problem precisely, except that it was around the stem of the leaf. I sensed an unease in Jacques also.

"Do you think maybe its too busy at the base?" I asked the designer. "What would happen, for example, if you took away two of the four points?" Jacques was sure it would be an improvement. I told Matheson what was proposed. He had no objection except that time was running out. Jacques was already on a redesign, and an hour later we had a precise, 11-point, maple leaf.

It was then about 10 p.m. Matheson appeared content, and exhausted. It was the end of months, even years, of excitement and tribulation and he des­perately wanted to see a real flag. We all went out to the silk-screen shop with production manager Jack Rach­lis. Plant foremen John Williams and Jean Desrosiers did the detailed work. There were three prototype flags made that night, after some experimentation with the color. One was taken away by Matheson. One disappeared and I am pretty certain I know who purloined it. The third was placed in the expert hands of Joan O'Malley, who had just arrived. She sewed superbly, added a halyard toggle and eyelets strong enough to withstand the winter weath­er outside. We persuaded John to go home because Joan had to do the whole operation, which was entirely new to her, by hand. About 2 a.m. the flag was ready and Ken Donovan set off for Sus­sex Drive . He was to phone when he had made the delivery.

Ken was almost incoherent when he telephoned to say that the RCMP secu­rity guard at the gate had taken one look at his beaten-up old car and re­fused him admission. He was persuad­ed to go back and give the flag to the guard. We would telephone and make sure it was picked up.

Jacques Saint-Cyr still had worries about the two points at the base of the leaf. They were not strong enough, and he quietly refined the design as the first version was being silk-screened.

The final design was sent to Mathe­son on Nov. 9. We had been able to demonstrate that the natural maple leaf became a blob as it receded, while

our design maintained its outline and identity. I emphasized again that there were many national emblems that had happily survived the transition from their natural state to stylized symbol­ism, from the Austrian eagle to the shamrock. Just to be sure, I sent a copy of the letter and recommended design to the Prime Minister's Office. I need n't have worried. Lester Pearson was, apparently, a happy convert. And that was how Canadians got their new flag. I was astonished to learn, when the 25th anniversary of the new flag was commemorated, that success had, once again, extended its parentage. The de­signer was apparently none other than George Stanley, the mentor and friend of John Matheson.

hatever influence Dr. Stanley might have wielded in the events, he most certainly was not the designer. The designer was Jacques Saint-Cyr. The prime minister himself wrote me a letter of thanks on Feb. 261965:

"I am aware of the assistance the commission gave in refining the de­sign and preparing technical drawings of the new Canadian flag approved by Parliament. I think the final version is a magnificent tribute to your efforts, and I hope you will express my appreci­ation to Mr. Saint Cyr and those who worked with him. In no small way, you have contributed to an important step in the history of Canada which I am sure will have a special place in the hearts of Canadians for generations to come."

It might have been more precise for the )rime minister to have identified the process as refining the concept, since the only limitations placed on us were two red bars and a maple leaf of some sort in between. Red bars and maple leaves in between had been around for decades.

The British Admiralty color code for red was accepted, one number for ny­lon, another for bunting. I gave the numbers over the telephone to a flag supplier for a trial run. A few days lat­er I looked out my window to see the new flag flying bravely, bright orange. The trial was promptly aborted, with great embarrassment all round, much recrimination and checking of files and codes. The next batch came out more or less the proper color, but there was clearly a problem with the Admi­ralty code, because flags kept fading to orange. It took many months, and great goings on at the National Re­search Council, to get a code that kept the red in the flag!

Patrick Reid, a career diplomat, was director­general of the Canadian Government Exhibi­tion Commission in the 1960s. He lives in Vancouver and is the current governor of the Vancouver Stock Exchange and a director of several Canadian corporations.