Victory in Europe

7 May 1945

For over a week, it was apparent that a German surrender to Allied forces was imminent. On Friday, 27 April, 1945, newspapers reported that the American and Soviet armies had linked up at the Elbe River, cutting Nazi Germany in two. On Tuesday, 1 May, the electrifying news that Hitler was dead came over the wire. Finally, on Monday, 7 May, The Evening Citizen’s headline screamed “It’s All Over In Europe!”

The instrument of surrender was signed by Generaloberst Alfred Jodl on behalf of Germany at 2.41 am French time (8.41pm, 6 May, Ottawa time) at Reims in the little school house used by General Dwight Eisenhower as the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF). General Walter Bedell Smith, Eisenhower’s chief of staff, signed on behalf of the Allies. France’s General François Sevez and Russian General Ivan Susloparov witnessed the document. Owing to an Allied news blackout, it took more than twelve hours for word to reach Ottawa. Unofficial reports of the surrender from German sources actually reached the capital ahead of the official Allied announcement. On that Monday morning, Mayor Stanley Lewis received telephone calls from neighbouring municipalities asking why Ottawa hadn’t started to celebrate. The Mayor replied that he took orders from the Canadian government, not German sources.

An Associated Press report of the surrender broke the Allied news embargo when its Paris reporter telephoned the AP London office with the story. After verification, the report was relayed across the Atlantic, and posted on the news wires at 9.34am EDT. The news flash, picked up by The Canadian Press, was immediately posted on the window of the Ottawa Citizen office on Sparks Street. It tersely read: “Allies Officially Announce Germany Has Surrendered Unconditionally.” A young boy yelled out to passersby “It’s all over!” Seconds later, a fashion store across the street replaced the goods in its front window with pictures of Churchill, Truman, and Stalin, with the words “May we remain strong and united to ensure a lasting peace” posted underneath. A nearby electrical supply shop brought a radio out onto the pavement so that everybody could hear the news broadcasts.

Ottawa V-E Day Celebration

Sparks Street Celebration in from the Bank of Commerce building, 7 May 1945

Even anticipated, it took an hour or so for the momentous news to sink in. It was hard to process that after five years, eight months, and six days of hostilities the war in Europe was finally over. The party started slowly, but as the news spread, the celebrations began in earnest. First out of the blocks were the schoolkids from Lisgar Collegiate, Glebe Collegiate, and the Ottawa Technical High School. They poured into the streets at around 11am, having been let out early by their principals. Hundreds paraded down Sparks Street on bicycles, hooting and hollering. By lunchtime, it was pandemonium on Ottawa’s main thoroughfares as tens of thousands of typically reserved civil servants and service people took to the streets. As if by magic, the flags of Allied nations and bunting appeared on every office building and private home in the city as a wave of patriotic fervour and excitement swept the city.

From upstairs office windows along Sparks, Wellington, and Rideau Streets, office workers threw confetti and torn-up government forms that fluttered down to the pavement in a multi-coloured snow storm. Tickertape and rolls of adding machine paper were launched as ready-made streamers. At the Daly building, home of the Department of Veteran Affairs, at the corner of Rideau Street and Sussex Drive, girl clerks leaned out of windows, and shouted the news to the crowds below while contributing their wastepaper and government forms to the swirling blizzard of paper. At Parliament Hill, more than ten thousand students, cadets, soldiers, and civilians, all shouting and cheering, converged in front of the Peace Tower. Added to the cacophony was the skirl of bagpipes, firecrackers, and the sound of thousands of tin horns, whistles, and other noisemakers purchased from nearby department stores. Overhead, an RCAF airplane dropped paper over the city. Church bells rang out in celebration of the glad tidings.

The Ottawa Citizen reported that “WRENs, Quacks and WDs,” [Women’s Royal Navy Service (WRNs), Women’s Canadian Army Corps (CWACs), and Women’s Division of the Royal Canadian Air Force] walked arm-in-arm down Sparks Street kissing uniformed men. Cars were commandeered to form an impromptu parade, with young people perched on their hoods, or clinging to the running boards. Amidst the crowd, a colourful Victory Loan float slowly made its way along Sparks Street to Confederation Square. When it arrived, the crowd gave a spontaneous rendition of “Hail, Hail, The Gang’s All Here.” At the Rideau Canal, fireworks went off, sending dozens of Allied flags high in the sky which subsequently fell to earth under little parachutes to be picked up by school kids on Laurier Bridge. At 324 McLaren Street, an effigy of Hitler was burnt on the front lawn to the cheers of the crowd that chanted “We want Tojo,” the Japanese prime minister.

The partying went on well into the night; people didn’t want the celebration to end. Bars, taverns and liquor stores did a booming business. Men, women, boys, and girls continued to stroll down the middle of Sparks Street, or sat on the curb eating ice cream or drinking pop. For the first time since the beginning of the war, Parliament Hill was lit up, the official blackout lifted. With Prime Minister Mackenzie King and many of his cabinet ministers in San Francisco for the international meeting that was to launch the United Nations, it was up to Acting Prime Minister James Ilsley to make the official announcement that the next day, Tuesday, 8 May, 1945, had been designated Victory-In-Europe Day, and would be a public holiday. He also announced that the following Sunday, 13 May, would be a national day of prayer, thanksgiving, and remembrance. Virtually simultaneously, there was an official announcement from Labour Minister Humphrey Mitchell that compulsory military service had ended, and that recruitment would begin for volunteers for the Pacific War against Japan. Munitions and Supply Minister Clarence Howe appealed to munitions workers to appear for work promptly on Wednesday, as their job “would not be completed until the last gun has been fired in the Pacific.”

The official programme for the V-E ceremonies began the following afternoon. Following an address by George VI speaking from London to the British Commonwealth and the world, Prime Minister Mackenzie King spoke to the nation via radio link from San Francisco. In his fifteen minutes speech carried live over CBC radio, he thanked God for victory over Nazi Germany, and paid tribute to those who had sacrificed their lives, as well as to those wounded or maimed during the war, and those who had suffered in prison camps. He also underscored his hopes for the future, saying that “out of the fires of war, the San Francisco conference has begun to forge and fashion a might instrument for world security.” His speech was repeated in French by Justice Minister Louis St-Laurent.

At 5pm, the official ceremonies began on Parliament Hill. A massive crowd of 40,000 people watched service men and women and cadets march in the Victory parade, and listen to music played by massed military bands. After the singing O Canada, Mayor Lewis, Acting Prime Minister Ilsley, and representatives of the Roman Catholic, Protestant and Jewish faiths gave thanks for the victory at a special Thanksgiving service in front of Peace Tower. Ilsley also read out a statement sent by British Prime Minister Churchill expressing “the heartfelt thanks of the people of the United Kingdom to the government and the people of Canada for the Dominion’s magnificent contribution to our common victory.” To the sound of the Parliamentary carillon, the Canadian Red Ensign, the flag under which tens of thousands of Canadian service men had fought, flew for the first time from atop of the Peace Tower.

In the streets of Ottawa, the partying continued. As reported by the Citizen, “residents of the Capital tore aside what remained of the cloak of staidness and gave full vent to their feelings.” Impromptu dances were held throughout Ottawa and Hull. People jitterbugged and square danced at the intersection of Rochester and Arlington Streets to music provided by two violins and a guitar. The Ottawa Fire Department responded to a number of street bonfires where the “Beast of Berchtesgaden” was burnt in effigy. On Sparks Street, firemen extinguished a fire in front of the Laura Secord candy store, and another at the intersection of Sparks and Bank Streets. The latter was sufficiently serious to ignite the road’s asphalt. A third fire was put out on the Elgin street side of the Toronto General Trust building, located on the corner of Sparks Street.

With a public holiday declared, most of the city’s restaurants closed for the day so that staff could join in the festivities. There was one problem, however. Thousands of service people and civilians who lived in rooming houses depended on them for their meals. Where to eat was a big problem on V-E Day.

V-E Day Cartoon

V-E Day Cartoon, The Evening Citizen, 7 May 1945, author unknown

Amidst the jubilant music, there were discordant notes. The war in the Pacific was yet to be won. Those who had lost loved ones contemplated the high cost of victory. As well, the end of the fighting did not mean a return to normal living. Shortages of staples continued. The same day victory in Europe was announced, the individual sugar ration for the coming six-month period was reduced by more than a third to nine pounds. Gasoline rationing would also continue “for some time.”

As a postscript to history, watching the victory festivities from his suite at the Château Laurier Hotel was General Fulgencio Batista, the president of Cuba from 1940-44. The general and his brother, Mario Batista, were touring Canada. Seven years later, General Batista was to lead a military coup in Cuba and seize back power. His larcenous, corrupt, and repressive regime was toppled in 1961 by Fidel Castro.

Sources:

The Evening Citizen, 1945. “It’s All Over In Europe! Nazi Surrender Complete,” 7 May.

————————, 1945. “Ottawa Warms Up Slowly To Victory But Breaks Out Flags and Bunting,” 7 May.

————————, 1945. “Citizen Bulletin Gives Sparks St. News Of Surrender,” 7 May.

———————–, 1945. “Enemy Asks Mercy As Terms Signed,” 7 May

———————–, 1945. “Ilsley Reads Churchill Message To Thousands On Parliament Hill,” 9 May.

———————–, 1945. “More Abundant Life For Everyone Urged By Mr. King As A Memorial,” 9 May.

———————–, 1945. “V-E Day Winds Up As Crowds Enjoy Street Dancing,” 9 May.

———————-, 1945. “Gen. Batista Enjoys Ottawa Celebrations,” 9 May.

The Ottawa Citizen, 1945. “Joyous Bells Of Victory Ringing Around World As Germany’s Downfall Proclaimed,” 8 May.

———————–, 1945, “Ottawa Continues V-Celebrations Till Late At Night,” 8 May.

———————–, 1945. “Scenes Of Jubilation In Streets As Ottawa Celebrates Victory In Europe.” 8 May.

———————–, 1945. “Red Ensign To Fly Over Peace Tower,” 8 May.

———————–, 1945. “Proclamations For Public Holiday And For A Day Of Prayer, Thanksgiving,” 8 May.

Images: 2015, Ottawa Street Celebration, Library and Archives Canada a114617, Warner, Glenn, “Victory In Europe 3 – The Home Front,” Maple Leaf Up, http://www.mapleleafup.ca/ve3.html.

Editorial Cartoon, The Evening Citizen, 7 May 1945, author unknown.

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Operation “Fish”

2 July 1940

When Sidney Perkins left his house on Euclid Avenue in Ottawa South to go to work on the morning of 2 July 1940, he had no notion that he was about to become part of one of the most secretive and daring operations of the Second World War. An operation that, had it failed, would have meant Britain’s almost certain defeat. Perkins worked for the Foreign Exchange Control Board which had been set up by the Bank of Canada at the outset of the war the previous year to husband Canada’s foreign currency resources. Shortly before noon, Perkins was summoned to the office of David Mansur, the Assistant Chairman of the Board and told that he was to make immediate arrangements to fly to Halifax and meet an important shipment. With the only flight to Halifax leaving in thirty minutes via Montreal, Perkins had no time even to pick up his toothbrush, and had to borrow $100 from two colleagues. After touching down in Montreal, Perkins received an urgent call from Bank headquarters, telling him that plans had changed. Bank staff in Halifax had met the shipment, and that he should wait in Montreal for Mansur who was joining him by car. Mansur arrived in time for the two men to meet a mystery train from Halifax. At Bonaventure Station, a team of five tired Bank of England men led by Alexander Craig disembarked. Craig apologized to Perkins and Mansour for their unexpected visit and said they had brought a “load of fish.”

Roughly two weeks earlier, Craig and his colleagues had received a similar summons from Governor Montagu Norman of the Bank of England who enquired if they were willing to embark on a top secret mission. Agreeing, the men were informed that their task was to shepherd the wealth of Britain to safety in Canada. The mission, code name “Operation Fish,” was a bold, but desperate, gamble by the British Government to protect the gold stored at the Bank of England as well as British-owned, marketable, foreign securities from a threatened Nazi invasion, ensuring that the country had the financial resources to prosecute the war from across the Atlantic, if necessary.

Invasion was a very real possibility that mid-June 1940. German armed forces were on the Channel coast, after having brushed aside the British Expeditionary Force in Europe and crushed the French Army. Although more than 300,000 British and French troops had just been heroically and miraculously evacuated from Dunkirk, they had abandoned enough armaments to equip an army of ten divisions. The British Army was virtually powerless to stop an invasion.  Britain’s European Allies were also faltering. Netherland and Belgium had already fallen to the Nazis, while France was on the point of capitulation, the German army having entered Paris on 14 June. To make matters worse, Italy had just entered the war on Germany’s side.

It was not an easy decision to send all of Britain’s foreign assets to Canada. The only way to transport the tons of gold and securities was by ship across the U-boat infested, North Atlantic where 100 Allied and neutral merchant ships had been sunk in May 1940 alone. History was also not reassuring. During World War I, the SS Laurentic, carrying 43 tons of gold from Liverpool to Halifax, had been sunk in 1917 by a German U-boat off of Ireland. The loss of even one treasure ship would have major negative consequences. To buy weapons and other war materiel that it sorely needed from neutral United States, Britain has to pay in gold or U.S. dollars; no credit was permitted under the strict Neutrality Act in effect in the United States at that time.

When storm clouds started to gather in 1938, the Bank of England decided to increase its gold reserves held at the Bank of Canada in Ottawa. In May 1939, fifty tons of gold bars, then worth £14 million (roughly US$2 billion at 2014 prices), was brought over on HMS Southampton and HMS Glasgow. The two cruisers had escorted King George VI and his wife, Queen Elizabeth, across the Atlantic on their Royal Tour of Canada and the United States.  A few months later after the outbreak of hostilities, a convoy of five ships, led by HMS Emerald captained by Augustus Agar, VC, DSO, each carrying £2 million in bullion, safely made its way to Canada. The Emerald made another “bullion run” in November 1939, as did other ships over the course of the next several months without incident.

HMS Emerald

HMS Emerald, circa 1940

With the Emerald and others having successfully tested the waters, and the war situation in Europe turning grave, Prime Minister Winston Churchill gave the green light to “Operation Fish.” With speed of an essence, limits on the amount that could be sent on individual ships were discarded. The battleship HMS Revenge, accompanied by two converted liners, together shipped £60 million in gold to Halifax in early June. But the real “show” had yet to get underway. On 24 June, the Emerald, now under the command of Captain Francis Flynn, was sent to Halifax, packed to the gunnels with £30 million in gold bullion and £200 million in negotiable securities. The gold was stored in ammunition lockers, while boxes of securities were stashed in every conceivable nook and cranny of the ship, including covering the floor of the Captain’s day cabin on which Alexander Craig, the leader of the Bank of England team, had to make his bed. The Emerald crossed the Atlantic in a full gale. So bad were the weather conditions that its two accompanying destroyers were forced to return to Britain while the Emerald raced at full speed for Halifax. It arrived battered but safe on the morning of 1 July. It was met by the Halifax Agent of the Bank of Canada, a CN train, and a large armed guard. During the ship’s unloading, the perimeter of the dock was tightly sealed to prevent anyone getting a peek at its cargo. That night, the heavily-guarded train, stuffed with gold and securities, set off for Montreal where it was met by Sidney Perkins and David Mansur late the next day.

In Montreal, the train was split in two, with the portion carrying the gold headed for Union Station in Ottawa to be meet by Bank of Canada personnel and armed guards for the short journey to the Bank’s headquarters on Wellington Street. The portion carrying the negotiable securities was unloaded at a secluded siding. In the wee hours of morning, with the streets closed to traffic, the precious cargo was delivered by truck to the Sun Life Assurance Company in Montreal. The Sun Life building, chosen earlier by Mansur to house the “United Kingdom Security Deposit,” was the only building with a large enough secure space to store the securities. A special, custom-built vault was subsequently built in its basement. To assist the Bank of England officials in checking, filing, and managing the securities, Mansur hired 130 retired bankers, brokers and secretaries and swore them to total secrecy. Although the UKSD remained in operation throughout the war, the 5,000 member staff of the Sun Life never knew what was going, or what was stored in the vault beneath their feet.

Bank of Canada

The Bank of Canada, Wellington Street, circa 1940

A week after Emerald’s arrival, a convoy left Britain also bound for Halifax, under the command of Admiral Sir Ernest Archer. It consisted of the battleship HMS Revenge, the cruiser HMS Bonaventure, and three converted former passenger liners, the Monarch of Bermuda, the SS Sobieski and the SS Batory. On board these ships was a treasure trove of gold and securities, conservatively valued at £450 million, of which £192 million was in gold ($27 billion at 2014 prices). Again, the trip across the North Atlantic was difficult. The Batory developed engine trouble, forcing it for a time to come to a dead stop while repairs were made. In thick fog, it safely diverted to St John’s under the protection of the Bonaventure while the rest of the convoy raced to Halifax to be met by Sydney Perkins and other Bank of Canada officials. On board the Monarch of Bermuda was another precious cargo—refugee families evacuated to Canada for safety.

Following the routine used previously, the gold and securities were unloaded, weighed and checked before being placed on a special CN train protected by more than 300 police and security guards. This was not an easy task as many of the bullion boxes and bags of gold coins had been damaged in shipment. Perkins later commented that “Seeing those tens of millions in gold piled up gave me a cold chill.” To speed up unloading and minimize the risk of detection, Perkins improvised a metal chute made from scrap metal sheeting to slide crates of gold from the ships’ deck to the quay. Once the train was loaded, and Perkins had officially taken delivery, it set off to deliver the securities to Montreal, and the gold to Ottawa. Again, the shipments were made without anybody outside the operation being the wiser; nothing was reported in the nation’s press. At the Wellington Street head office, bullion boxes came in so fast that Bank staff had difficulty finding places to store them. Crates waiting to be processed piled up in basement corridors and in the incinerator room, used for burning old paper money. Men laboured in twelve-hour shifts to unpack the gold bars and bags of coins and store them in the Bank’s 60 by 100 foot vault. Everything had to be meticulously recorded and accounted for. By the end of it, the Bank of Canada was the home to more gold than anywhere in the world outside of Fort Knox in the United States.

The remainder of Britain’s wealth trickled in over subsequent months, with the redoubtable Emerald making yet another crossing in August 1940. In total, more than £470 million in gold was shipped from the Bank of England in London across the Atlantic to the Bank of Canada in Ottawa. (It value today would be about US$67 billion.) The value of the securities stored in the basement of the Sun Life building in Montreal was then estimated at £1,250 million, their value today, incalculable. Against all the odds, of the dozens of ships used to transport Britain’s wealth to Canada, only one, the merchant ship Niagara carrying £2.5 million in gold from New Zealand, was sunk. Its bullion was subsequently recovered. Despite thousands being involved in the mission, Operation Fish remained a secret until after the war.

Sources:

Bank of England, 194?. Unpublished War History, Chapter V, Gold, Bank of England Archives, http://www.bankofengland.co.uk.

Draper, A., 1979. Operation Fish: The Race to Save Europe’s Wealth 1939-1945, Cassell, London.

McDowall, M., 1997. Due Diligence: A Report on the Bank of Canada’s Handling of Foreign Gold During World War II, Bank of Canada, http://www.bankofcanada.ca/publications/books-and-monographs/due-diligence/.

Naval-History.Net, 1998. Campaign Summaries of World War 2, German U-Boats at War, Part 1 of 6, 1939-40, http://www.naval-history.net/WW2CampaignsUboats.htm.

Stowe, L., 1963. How Britain’s Wealth Went West, http://www.defence.gov.au/sydneyii/SUBM/SUBM.001.0323.pdf.

Images, HMS Emerald, Imperial War Museum.

Image, Bank of Canada, Associated Screen News, Bank of Canada Archives, PC 300-5-61.

A Beautiful Friendship

16 May 1953

Heralding the arrival of spring after a long, arduous winter, the Canadian Tulip Festival is one of most anticipated events in Ottawa’s social calendar. Each May, the festival celebrates the enduring friendship between Canada and the Netherlands, a bond that was forged during the dark days of World War II. It all began when Crown Princess Juliana of the Netherlands, and her two tiny daughters, Princesses Beatrix and Irene, were evacuated to Canada in May 1940 ahead of the advancing German army, while her mother, Queen Wilhelmina, headed the Dutch government-in-exile in London, and her husband, Prince Bernhard, joined the RAF. The small family settled down in Rockcliffe Park for the duration. In January 1943, Princess Juliana gave birth to Princess Margriet in Ottawa’s Civic Hospital, the first and to date only princess born in North America.

After enduring five years of brutal occupation and deprivation, the Netherlands were liberated by the Allies in the spring of 1945. The First Canadian Army, numbering some 200,000 men, featured prominently in the liberation, fighting canal by canal, dike by dike, and house by house. More than 7,000 Canadian servicemen lost their lives in the battle. The Royal Canadian Air Force air-dropped food to starving Dutch citizens whose official rations had been cut to only 320 calories per day, one eighth of an adult’s daily requirements, during the cruel winter of 1944-45. On 2 May 1945, Queen Wilhelmina and Princess Juliana returned to liberated Holland. Three days later, the remaining German forces in the Netherlands surrendered.

To commemorate and honour the role played by Canada’s armed forces in the liberation of Holland, and to mark the years Princess Juliana spent in Ottawa where she gave birth to Princess Margriet, the Dutch government sent 100,000 tulip bulbs to Ottawa in October 1945 as a token of gratitude. This was a remarkable gift from a war-ravaged country whose people had been reduced to eating tulip bulbs just a few months earlier. It was also a gift that almost never happened. Letters addressed to Ottawa’s mayor, J.E. Stanley Lewis, offering the city the bulbs went unanswered until H.R. Cram, the Secretary of the Federal District Commission (the forerunner of the National Capital Commission), got wind of the offer and questioned the mayor. Lewis hastened to accept the generous gift, and apologized for the inadvertent delay in getting back to the Dutch authorities. He blamed a low-level bureaucrat who, in the mayor’s absence, did not appreciate the importance of the message.

The FDC planted the bulbs in the gardens in front of the Peace Tower on Parliament Hill. This was done against the wishes of Prime Minister Mackenzie King who thought the tulips’ bright colours might clash with the Gothic architecture of the Parliament buildings. Hastily planted while King was out of town, the beautiful blooms proved to be a big hit with the general public the following spring. Even the prime minister was pleased with the outcome.

In 1946, Princess Juliana, later Queen Juliana, sent 20,500 additional bulbs—“gentle ambassadors of goodwill”—to the Federal District Commission with a request that some be planted in the gardens of the Civic Hospital in the name of Princess Margriet. She promised to send a further 20,000 tulip bulbs each year to thank Ottawa for the hospitality she and her daughters received while they lived in the city. The Associated Bulb Growers of Holland gave an additional 100,000 bulbs to the city to express their own gratitude. The FDC’s landscape architect, Mr. E. I. Wood, planted many of the bulbs on banked grounds along the Driveway at Dow’s Lake to permit both pedestrians and “autoists” a good viewing when they bloomed in May 1947.

Although the FDC planted tulip bulbs annually for the next several years, Ottawa’s Tulip Festival was not officially launched until May 1953. It was the brainchild of Malak Karsh, the famous Canadian photographer of Armenian descent, and brother of the equally renowned portrait photographer, Yousuf Karsh. Malak, who was the North-American representative of the Associated Bulb Growers of Holland, came up with the idea while he was sick in bed in 1951. He approached the Ottawa Board of Trade who ran with the idea. Malak was to remain closely associated with the Tulip Festival for the rest of his life, and was its honorary president when he died in 2001.

Tulip Festival, May 2014

Tulip Festival, Commissioners’ Park, May 2014

At 2.00pm on Saturday, 16 May 1953, the first Canadian Tulip Festival was officially opened on Parliament Hill. For the event, the FDC planted some 750,000 bulbs in 29 beds in the Ottawa area. Officiating at the opening was Senator Cairine Wilson, who was described as “one of the most ardent tulip growers in the capital.” She was introduced by Col. George Cavey, president of the Ottawa Board of Trade. Acting Mayor Daniel McCann expressed his appreciation to the FDC for its co-operation in making the festival possible. A bouquet of tulips was presented to Senator Wilson by Miss K. Willsher, the Ottawa Recreation Association’s “Queen.” Bouquets were also sent by Trans-Canada Airlines to Queen Elizabeth, and to each of Canada’s ten provincial premiers. Music for the festivities was provided by Lyres Club of Glebe Collegiate who performed a rendition of Tip Toe Through The Tulips, as well as O Canada and God Save the Queen. The ceremony concluded with the Dominion carilloneur playing a special arrangement of The Flowers That Bloom In The Spring by Sullivan and Spring Day by Mendelssohn. On Sunday, 17 May, Ottawa churches named the day “Tulip Sunday.” The first annual Tulip Festival ran until 24 May.

The Tulip Festival, proved to be an instant hit with both Ottawa residents and tourists alike. In the space of three years, Ottawa vaulted from fifth to second place behind Niagara Falls as the most popular tourist destination in Ontario, owing to the Festival’s popularity. Today, it’s reputed to be the world’s largest tulip festival with more than 1 million bulbs of 50 different varieties planted annually throughout the National Capital Region. 300,000 bulbs are located in Commissioners’ Park at Dow’s Lake, the premier site to view the flowers. The May event attracts more than 600,000 visitors annually, many from across North America, Europe and Asia, with an economic impact on area merchants and hotels estimated at more than $50 million each year.

After its relatively low-key inauguration in 1953, the Festival has attracted many celebrity guests, including Queen Juliana herself in 1967, Canada’s centennial year. Princess Margriet was the guest of honour at the 50th anniversary Festival in 2002. She officially unveiled the statue The Man with Two Hats by the Dutch sculptor Henk Visch at Dow’s Lake. The statue commemorates the welcome received by Canadian soldiers when they liberated the Netherlands in 1945. An identical sculpture stands in Apeldoorn, the Netherlands, signifying the continuing bond between our two countries.

After some rocky years, especially in the mid-2000s due to poor weather which lowered the attendance at related music events and left Festival organizers with significant financial losses, the Festival is now managed by a non-profit organization, The Canadian Tulip Festival Inc. Among its many government and corporate sponsors is, naturally, The Kingdom of the Netherlands. In 2014, the Festival ran from 9 May to 19 May, a week earlier than in 1953 owing to global climate change which has hastened the arrival of spring to Ottawa.

 

Sources:

Canadian Tulip Festival. 2014, http://tulipfestival.ca/.

Dow, L.S., 2003. “Malak Karsh: Canada’s Immortal Tulip King,” I Can Garden, http://www.icangarden.com/document.cfm?task=viewdetail&itemid=4484.

Government of Canada, Veterans Affairs, 2014. “The Liberation of the Netherlands,” http://www.veterans.gc.ca/eng/remembrance/history/second-world-war/historical-sheets/netherlands.

Pacquet, L.B., 1999. “A Capital in Bloom,” Legion Magazine, http://legionmagazine.com/en/1999/05/a-capital-in-bloom/.

The Canadian Tulip Festival Inc. 2008. http://www.ottawacharities.com/tupic-festival.php.

The Evening Citizen, 1945. “Gift of Bulbs to Commemorate Great Friendship,” 3 October.

————————-, 1946. “Canada’s Largest Garden,” 9 November.

————————-, 1953. “Bouquet of Canadian Tulips Being Flown to the Queen,” 15 May.

 The Montreal  Gazette, 1956. “Bulb-Planting Big Project in Capital,” 25 October.

The Ottawa Citizen, 1953, “The Tulips in Bloom, Tra-La,” 16 May.

———————–, 1957. “Colorful Tulip Festival Tourist Attraction,” 9 May.

The Windmill, 1995. “The Crown princess Juliana in 1945 said thanks with loads of tulips, http://www.godutch.com/newspaper/index.php?id=166.

VanderMay, Andrew, 1992. When Canada was Home: The Story of Dutch Princess Margriet, Vanderheide Publishing Co. Ltd, Surray, B.C.

Image: Tulip Festival, Commissioners’ Park, May 2014 by Nicolle Powell

 

 

 

 

 

A “Canadian” Princess

19 January 1943

If there ever was a time for an emotional pick-me-up, you couldn’t have found a better moment than mid-January 1943.  It was brutally cold, and Canada was in its fourth year of war with the Axis Powers with no end in sight. Hundreds of thousands of Canada’s young men and women had left their homes, families and jobs to serve in the armed forces, or in the merchant marine bringing much needed food and other supplies to embattled Britain. Coupon rationing for gasoline and tires had been introduced the previous spring and had been extended through 1942 to cover many food staples, including sugar, tea, coffee and butter. And it was only to get worse. On 19 January 1943, Ottawa’s Evening Citizen reported that meat rationing was about to be introduced. “Bacon, ham and even pork sausage [was] unable to be had for love or money in many places.” The butter ration was also about to be reduced by a third to 5 1/3 ounces per week per person. But there was one piece of news that bleak mid-winter that raised spirits and boosted the morale of a war-weary population. At 7pm on that snowy January day, a princess was born at Ottawa’s Civic Hospital, the third daughter of Princess Juliana of the Netherlands.

Three years earlier in May 1940, the Dutch Royal Family had fled to Britain from the Netherlands, one step ahead of the invading German army. While Queen Wilhelmina and the Dutch Government established a government-in-exile in London, her daughter, Crown Princess Juliana, and her two young daughters, Princess Beatrix, aged 2 ½ years and Princess Irene, 9 months, were evacuated to Canada. Her German-born husband, Prince Bernhard, now a Dutch subject, was stationed in London becoming an active RAF spitfire pilot.

Princess Juliana and her two daughters arrived in Halifax on 11 June 1940 on a Dutch cruiser. She had been offered asylum by Canada’s new governor general, the Earl of Athlone. His wife, Princess Alice, was an aunt of Princess Juliana. After staying temporarily at Rideau Hall, the Governor General’s residence, the young family settled in Ottawa at 120 Landsdowne Road in Rockcliffe Park. They dubbed their home “Nooit Gedacht,” meaning “Never Imagined.” Princess Juliana later leased Stornaway at 541 Acacia Drive, now the official residence of the Leader of the Opposition.

In September 1942, Prince Bernard announced over Radio Orange that Princess Juliana was pregnant with their baby due sometime in late January the following year. In anticipation of the royal birth, the Canadian Government declared in December the hospital room in the Civic Hospital where the birth was to occur “extraterritorial” to ensure that the child would not be born a Canadian citizen and British subject; an important consideration should the child be a boy and hence heir to the Dutch throne.

Four rooms were set aside for Princess Juliana on the third floor of the Civic Hospital—one room for Princess Juliana, one room for the baby, another for her nurse, and a fourth for a security guard. Fittingly, the rooms overlooked Holland Avenue. The corridor outside of the rooms was also decorated with the Dutch flag.

Suffering from mumps and with the birth due anytime, Princess Juliana was admitted to hospital by her physician, Dr. Puddicombe, on Monday, 18 January 1943. Princess Margriet Francisca, the first and only North American-born princess, was born the following day. She was named after the marguerite, a daisy-like flower and symbol of Dutch resistance. Prince Bernhard who flew to Ottawa for the birth reported the glad tidings by telephone via Montreal and New York to Queen Wilhelmina in London. The news was then sent to reporters waiting at the Château Laurier Hotel, and broadcasted around the world.

At 7.45pm, the Civic Hospital released its first press statement saying that both mother and daughter were doing well, with the new princess weighing in at seven pounds, five ounces. The next day, the Peace Tower carillon on Parliament Hill played the Dutch National Anthem and other Dutch songs, while the Dutch tricolour flew overhead; the first time a foreign flag had flown from the Tower. In keeping with Dutch tradition, the baby’s birth was celebrated by eating beschuit met muisjes—a rusk topped with sugar and anise seed sprinkles. Typically coloured white and pink, the sprinkles were coloured orange in honour of the Dutch Royal House of Orange-Nassau. The rusks were wrapped in orange paper and tied with a red, white and blue ribbon. A journalist described one as “hard as a chunk of the city’s ice encrusted pavement” but “with rationing what it is” it tasted “pretty good.”

News of the princess’s birth, was a major morale boost for oppressed Dutch citizens living in occupied Netherlands. The underground Dutch newspaper De Oranjerkrant wrote: “Little Margriet, you will be our princess of peace. We long to have you in our midst…Come soon Margriet. We are awaiting you with open arms.”

Princess Margriet

Princesses Irene and Beatrix with Princess Margriet,
Ottawa, 1943

Princess Margriet was christened in St Andrew’s Presbyterian Church on Wellington St on 29 June 1943 at 1:00pm. It was a bright, sunny afternoon. Among the dignitaries in attendance for the occasion were her father, Prince Bernhard, her grandmother, Queen Wilhelmina who was making her second trip to Ottawa, the Governor General and his wife, and Prime Minister Mackenzie King. The packed service was conducted in Dutch by Rev. Dr Winfield Burggraaff, a Dutch naval chaplain and a minister of the Reformed Church on Staten Island, NY. Also presiding were Rev. A. Ian Burnett, minister of St. Andrew’s and Rev. Robert Good, former moderator of St. Andrew’s. Godparents for the little princess included U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt, Queen Mary, the widow of King George V, the Governor General, and the entire Dutch merchant marine who were represented at the church by seven of its members. Martine Roell, who had accompanied Princess Juliana into exile in Canada, was also made a godmother, though she was identified only as a widow of a Dutch martyr who gave his life for his country in order to protect her family still in Holland from reprisals. The christening service was broadcasted by short-wave radio live to London via New York and was rebroadcasted to the occupied Netherlands. Prince Bernhard advised his countrymen not to celebrate too openly for fear of German retaliation. Following the ceremony, hundreds of Ottawa citizens welcomed the little princess with loud applause as the Royal Family emerged from the church.

The Dutch Royal Family stayed in Ottawa for the remainder of the war, returning to the Netherlands in early May 1945 after its liberation for the most part by Canadian troops. Before leaving, Princess Juliana gave an oak lectern to St Andrew’s Church that bore carvings of the royal coat of arms, marguerites, and the four evangelists. The birth of Princess Margriet helped cement a lasting bond between the peoples of Canada and the Netherlands. Princess Juliana is reported to have said “My baby will always be a link with Canada not only for my own family but for the Netherlands.” As way of thanks for her family’s treatment in Canada, Princess Juliana sent 100,000 tulips to Ottawa in the fall of 1945. It was the start of a beautiful friendship that has lasted to the present day.

Sources:

CBC Digital Archives, 1943: Netherlands’ Princess Margriet Born in Ottawa, http://www.cbc.ca/archives/categories/war-conflict/second-world-war/netherlands-princess-margriet-born-in-ottawa.html.

Het Koninklijk Huis, Princess Margriet, http://www.koninklijkhuis.nl/globale-paginas/taalrubrieken/english/members-of-the-royal-house/princess-margriet/.

The Evening Citizen, 1940. “Crown Princess of Netherlands Reaches Canada,” 11 June.

——————–, 1943. “Wider Powers for Economy Controller, Meat Rationing to Include Pork, Lamb and Veal,” 19 January.

———————, 1943. “News of Birth of New Princess Flashed to Royal Grandmother,” 20 January.

———————, 1943. “Third Daughter Born to Princess Juliana Early Tuesday Evening,” 20 January.

———————, 1943. “Butter Ration for Next Six Weeks Cut by Third,” 20 January.

———————, 1945. “Gift of Bulbs to Commemorate Great Friendship,” 3 October.

VanderMay, Andrew, 1992. When Canada was Home: The Story of Dutch Princess Margriet, Vanderheide Publishing Co. Ltd, Surray, B.C.

Image: http://www.ottawalife.com/2011/04/and-there-are-tulips-there-too/.

 

The Red Menace

5 September 1945

On Wednesday evening, 5 September 1945, Igor Gouzenko, a cipher clerk from the Soviet Embassy in Ottawa, defected, or at least tried to defect as it took him almost two days to convince anybody that he was serious. He first showed up at the office of the Ottawa Journal with secret documents that he had smuggled out of the embassy. But the city editor was busy and told Gouzenko to come back the following day. He then tried the office of Louis St. Laurent, then the Minister of Justice. But the minister and his staff had long gone home for the night. Again, Gouzenko was told to return in the morning.  After going back to the Journal for another fruitless attempt to attract somebody’s attention, Gouzenko returned to his Somerset St apartment building. Terrified that he was being followed by Soviet operatives, Gouzenko, his wife and young child, took shelter with a neighbour. This was a wise decision as later that night members of the Soviet Embassy broke down the front door of their apartment looking for them.

Fortunately, the break-in brought Gouzenko to the attention of the Ottawa police who asked for guidance from the RCMP. The Mounties called Norman Robertson, the Undersecretary of State for External Affairs, who in turn conferred with Sir William Stephenson, the diminutive, Canadian-born, British spy chief, code-named “Intrepid.” Gouzenko and his family were finally “brought in from the cold” on Friday, 7 September and whisked away to a secret location outside of Oshawa for debriefing. The documents he brought with him were breathtaking. They provided details of a Soviet spy ring in Canada. Its objective was to obtain intelligence about the U.S. atomic bomb which the Americans had just dropped on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

 

Gouzenko

Igor Gouzenko, circa 1946

Ottawa was an ideal locale for spies. Its National Research Council was a major weapons research centre during the war. Its scientists, along with their British and U.S. counterparts, worked on “the bomb” in secret laboratories at the University of Montreal.  Canada was also the source of the uranium fuel for the weapon, and had built a top-secret nuclear reactor at Chalk River, a tiny community 180 kilometres northwest of Ottawa.

The reasons for Gouzenko’s defection were straightforward. He had been a committed Stalinist when he had arrived in Canada via Siberia in 1943. Although living conditions in the Soviet Union were difficult, he had been told that conditions were worse in the capitalist countries. However, he was shocked to discover Canadian stores stocked with goods that Soviet citizens could only dream of. Ordinary Canadian workers lived in their own houses and drove cars, unthinkable in Soviet Russia. He was also dumbstruck that people freely spoke their minds about their government without fear of arrest. After two years in Ottawa, he could not face returning to the Soviet Union.

The Canadian government’s initial response to Gouzenko’s defection was lukewarm owing to fears about upsetting the Soviets, key wartime allies. Prime Minister Mackenzie King did, however, personally inform U.S. President Truman and British Prime Minister  Attlee of Gouzenko’s defection and the contents of the documents that he had brought with him. But the news was kept under wraps for months.

Rumours of a Soviet spy ring operating in Canada began to circulate in the United States on 4 February 1946. With the news about to break, King briefed his Cabinet the following day and established a Royal Commission headed by two Supreme Court Justices, Roy Kellock and Robert Taschereau, to examine the evidence and allegations made by Gouzenko. The Commission immediately began secret hearings. On 15 February, the RCMP arrested thirteen men and women named in the Soviet documents. More arrests were to follow. Later that day, the government made an official announcement to the public. Still protective of Soviet feelings, it did not mention the Soviet Union by name, saying only that secret and confidential information had been disclosed to “some members on the staff of a foreign mission in Ottawa.”

The news burst like a bombshell. The Globe and Mail’s headline the next day screamed “Atom Secret Leaks to Soviet, Canadians Suspected.” Canadian public opinion which had been very favourable towards the Soviet Union because of its role in defeating Hitler swung sharply negative. On the basis of documents and testimony gathered by the Royal Commission, twenty-three persons who mostly worked for the military, government, or Crown agencies were arrested. Eleven were subsequently found guilty of spying, including Fred Rose, the communist Member of Parliament for the Montreal riding of Cartier. He was expelled from Parliament in 1947 and sentenced to six years in prison. Alan Nunn May, a British physicist working on the bomb project in Montreal, was tried in the United Kingdom and received a sentence of ten years hard labour. Several others also received prison terms. However, courts later dismissed charges against more than half of those publicly accused by the Commission. Several had only been members of study groups, a popular activity in wartime Ottawa, which had discussed Marxism and other left-wing subjects.

The King Government’s handling of Gouzenko’s defection marked a low point for Canadian civil liberties. Suspected spies were arrested on the basis of a secret order-in-council. Their basic right of habeas corpus were suspended. Suspects were held indefinitely without legal council and without a court able to challenge their detention. Justices Kellock and Taschereau were harsh with witnesses. At times, they seemed to forget that their mission was to collect the facts and not to be judge and jury. The accusations they publicly levelled against many who were later exonerated ruined reputations and destroyed careers.

The Gouzenko affair marked the beginning of the Cold War between the Soviet Union and the Western democracies that was to last until the fall of the Berlin War in 1989. News of Soviet spies in North America fuelled growing U.S. anxieties about Soviet activities at a time when the Russians were consolidating their grip on Eastern Europe. On 5 March 1946, three weeks after the Gouzenko affair became public, Winston Churchill famously said that “an iron curtain has descended across the Continent.” Also that year, Joe McCarthy was elected junior senator for Wisconsin. In 1950, he catapulted to infamy with his unsubstantiated claim of hundreds of communists working in the U.S. federal bureaucracy. The communist witch-hunts subsequently orchestrated by the U.S. House Committee on Un-American Activities blighted countless lives. We now have a word for this—McCarthyism. And it all began that warm September evening in Ottawa.

 

Sources:

Bothwell, R. & Granastein, J.L., 1981. The Gouzenko Transcripts: The “Evidence Presented to the Kellock-Taschereau Royal Commission of 1946,” Deneau Publishers & Company, Ottawa.

Edmonton Journal, 1948. “Gouzenko Tells His Own Story,” 8 May.

The Globe and Mail, 1946. “Atom Secret Leaks to Soviet, Canadians Suspected,” 16 February, 1946.

Clément, Dominque, 2014. “The Gouzenko Affair,” Canada Civil Rights History, http://www.historyofrights.com/gouzenko2.html.

——————, 2004. “It is Not the Beliefs but the Crime that Matters: Post-War Civil Liberties Debates in Canada and Australia,” Australian Society for the Study of Labour History, No. 86, May, http://www.historyofrights.com/PDF/article_LabourHistory.pdf.

Image: Library and Archives Canada, creator unknown.

 

 

“Rib”

4 August 1914

On the night of 4 August 1914, a slender, athletic, 21-year old man know as “Rib” took the night train from Ottawa to New York, never to return. That afternoon, he had been playing tennis with three friends at the Rideau Club when he received word that Great Britain had declared war on Germany which meant that Canada was also at war. Being a German national, Rib, along with other citizens of hostile countries including the Austrian chef at the Château Laurier, had four days to settle their affairs and leave the country, or be interned. Rib made a few hurried telephone calls, packed his bag, and dined with friends at the Chateau Laurier before catching his train. So quick was his departure that he had to borrow $10 from James Sherwood, the son of Col. Sir Arthur Percy Sherwood, Commissioner of the Dominion Police Force. Rib was sorry to leave. More than thirty years later, shortly before his death, he commented that if the war hadn’t come along, he might have never had left Ottawa. There, he had been “indescribably happy.”

Young Rib

Young “Rib,” circa 1913

Rib first arrived in Canada with his big brother Lothar in 1910. In an age before passports and visas, Rib, just 17 years old, quickly found employment. He worked for a time at a Molson’s Bank branch as a clerk in Montreal, before being employed by an engineering firm rebuilding the Quebec Bridge that had tragically collapsed in 1907. This was followed by a stint on a railway as a car checker, and a job as a logger in British Columbia. After briefly returning to Germany to convalesce after a bout of tuberculosis, Rib came back to North America. Arriving in New York, friends suggested that he go to Ottawa, where he turned up in late 1913, that halcyon time before the outbreak of World War I.

What he did in Ottawa for a living during the next year is not entirely clear. Using a small legacy left to him by his mother, Rib began importing German wines and champagne, helping to supply Ottawa’s wealthy lumber barons, politicians and lobbyists with their favourite tipple. But his earnings could not have amounted to much. Other reports suggested that he was briefly a civil servant, or that he worked as a clerk, again at Molson’s Bank. But there is no solid evidence to support either contention. Others claimed that he was a German spy. While Rib might have been a bit of a snoop, this allegation is barely credible either. There was very little to spy on in pre-World War I Canada. Moreover, the German government was unlikely to employ a secret agent who was barely out of his teens. One thing certain, however, is that Rib made a huge splash on Ottawa’s small social scene.

Fluent in English and French as well as German, the tall, elegant, blue-eyed Teuton presented a dashing figure, and was an immediate hit among Ottawa society debutantes. A champion schmoozer, he became a fixture at the best parties. Being an expert violinist, Rib also joined an amateur Ottawa orchestra deemed the best in Canada. This too facilitated his access to the cream of society who was starved for good entertainment. His first known appearance at a society event was at a Christmas charity function for needy children put on in December 1913 by the May Court Club. Rib helped Father Christmas hand out presents.

In May 1914, Rib appeared in Ottawa’s premier “Kermiss,” a charity theatrical event held at the Russell Theatre on behalf of the Victorian Order of Nurses. The production drew rave reviews. The Evening Citizen enthused that “not for many years has the capital seen a spectacle so surpassing in brilliance, so bewildering in its riot of color, yet so wholly enjoyable.” Powdered and bewigged, Rib performed a stately “Royal Minuet” with other young men and women of Ottawa’s high society.

The centre of the social whirl in Ottawa during those pre-war years was Rideau Hall, the residence of Canada’s Governor General, the Duke of Connaught. The German-speaking Duke was the third son of Queen Victoria. His wife was Princess Louise Margaret of Prussia. Rib was introduced to the vice-regal couple, by Arthur Fitzpatrick, the son of Canada’s Chief Justice, Sir Charles Fitzpatrick. The suave and debonair German was invited to Rideau Hall for dinner on at least two occasions, where he conversed with the Duchess in her first language.

Rib was also popular with the young men of the city. At his rooms at the Sherbrooke boarding house located at the corner of O’Connor and Slater Streets, Rib installed parallel bars, a flying swing, and a vaulting horse. There, he entertained his friends with gymnastic feats. In the evenings, he dined regularly with other residents of the house, which included a reporter for the Ottawa Free Press, an employee at the Parliamentary Library, an Ashbury College teacher, and a public servant. Never the retiring type, Rib told his friends that “a great future was in store for him.” Rib had few vices. Despite being a wine seller, he was a teetotaller. While he enjoyed a game of poker, he never played for large stakes. On weekends, he went for walks in Rockcliffe, or played tennis at the Rideau Club. Considered one of the Club’s best players, you could count on Rib to turn out nattily attired in court whites, completed with a black bow tie.  In the winter of 1913-14, Rib also joined the Minto Skating Club, and accompanied its skating team to a competition that February for the “Ellis Memorial Trophy” in Boston.

This charmed existence came to an end with Rib’s hurried departure for New York on that fateful August day. He left without paying a number of bills. Sometime after Rib had left the country, his doctor received a letter requesting that his medical bill be sent to an address in Switzerland. The $156 bill, a large sum in those days, was paid in full. Rib neglected, however, to pay his druggist, Harry Skinner of Wellington Street, to whom he owed $1.38. And he never repaid the $10 he borrowed from James Sherwood.

Reichsaussenminister Joachim von Ribbentrop in 1938

Reichsaussenminister
Joachim von Ribbentrop in 1938

The “Ottawa lad” known as “Rib” to his friends was indeed destined to go far…and to fall even farther. Better known to the world as Joachim von Ribbentrop, he became Germany’s Minister for Foreign Affairs in 1938, the architect of the Russian-German non-aggression pact that immediately preceded the start of World War II. The pleasant young man that had charmed Ottawa high society a quarter century earlier had morphed into an ardent Nazi, fanatically loyal to Adolph Hitler. Following his trial by the Allies in Nuremburg after the war, he was hanged on 16 October, 1946 for war crimes, including his participation in Nazi efforts to exterminate Europe’s Jews.

Sources:

Bloch, Michael, 1992. Ribbentrop, A Biography, Crown Publishers, Inc.

Gwyn, Sandra, 1992. Tapestry of War, Harper Collins, Toronto.

Lawson, Robert, 2007. “Joachim von Ribbentrop in Canada, 1910-1914, A Note,” The International History Review, Vol. 29, No. 4.

von Ribbentrop, Joachim 1954. The Ribbentrop Memoirs, Weidenfeld and Nicolson, London, 1954.

Schwartz, Paul, 1943. This Man Ribbentrop: His Life and Times, Julian Messner Inc. New York.

Boston Evening Transcript, “Boston Skaters Winners,” 24 February 1914.

Hamilton Spectator, “Ribbentrop Sold His Wines in Ottawa,” 15 December 1945.

Ottawa Journal, “Ottawa’s Premier Kermiss Was a Feast of Song and Dance for Charity,” 6 May 1914.

—————–, “In Ottawa, Von Rib Foresaw Great Future, 15 June 1945.

——————, “Von Rib’s Days in Ottawa, Nazi Gangster Has C.S. Post, Paid Up Physician in Full,” 16 June 1945.

The Evening Citizen, “The Kermiss,” 6 May 1914.

Toronto Daily Star, “Ribbentrop a Cad Owed Ottawa Bill,” 16 June 1945.

Image: “Rib,” 1913, unknown, http://karkataracts.tumblr.com/post/60015944807/springtime-in-heaven-joachim-von-ribbentrop.

Image: Reichsaussenminister, 1938, unknown, http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bundesarchiv_Bild_102-18083,_Joachim_von_Ribbentrop.jpg.