Young Trudeau Son Of Quebec, Father Of Canada, 1919-1944

A February afternoon in 1995, we were driving along Highway 20 on our way to Montreal. We had left Quebec City planning to arrive at our destination an hour early. We did not want to take a chance on being late for our meeting with Pierre Trudeau. But, what with the snow-clogged roads, we arrived at the Indian restaurant on Crescent Street barely a few minutes before the appointed time. He, as usual, was punctual. We were quite nervous, and for good reason. We had come to talk about our plan to write his intellectual biography. We had known him, now, for five years. We had told him of our intention, and he had expressed an interest. He wanted to discuss it with us, and that was the reason for our encounter. As we shared a convivial meal, we explained as best we could what we had in mind. Trudeau listened carefully and asked a few questions. It was not his private life that interested us particularly, we told him, but we wanted to focus on his ideas, his political vision, and on how they evolved from his earliest years. To what extent, when he was actually in power, was he able to apply his ideals? He listened with interest. Finally, with some concern in his voice, he asked: "And what do you expect of me?" "Not much, really," we replied. "We might, as the occasion arises, want to ask you a few questions, have access to unpublished documents that you still keep at home, ask you to help us contact some of the people who were close to you . . ." He kept nodding in agreement. "No problem," he said. Then, after a silence, he added: "I presume that you will want to maintain your intellectual autonomy. I understand, and I approve. So here is what I suggest: you will show me each chapter as you go along, I will make my comments, and you do with them whatever you choose." We were stunned. It was all we could do not to jump up for joy. "That suits us perfectly," we said, as calmly as possible. The bill arrived. He wanted us to be his guests. We refused and insisted that we should be paying. "Well, then," Trudeau said, "let's do what I do with my pals. We will share the bill." "That's fine," we said. "But that means that we pay two-thirds." "No," Trudeau said, speaking to Max. "We share fifty-fifty. I take half of Monique." And so it happened. Until his death, he took half of Monique. When we got back home, we were jubilant. We began working out our program and our timetable for the research that we were undertaking until April. Anne-Marie Bourdouxhe, the daughter of Trudeau's long-time associate Gerard Pelletier, resigned as the publisher of the periodicalCite libre. Though we sat on the editorial board, we expressed not the slightest interest in replacing her, and for a simple reason. We had absolutely no experience in actually publishing a magazine. And besides, we had set out on a project that was much closer to our hearts. Weeks went by. For a variety of reasons, the board of directors was unable to agree on any of the available candidates. Beginning in March, the directors began courting us. They increased the pressure. With a referendum on the secession of Quebec just months away, they asked us how we could live with ourselves if we allowed the only French-language magazine that stood strongly against secession to die. We were unsettled. We did not know which way to turn. After many sleepless nights, we met Trudeau in a Chinese restaurant one April evening to lay before him our dilemma: if we agreed to take onCite libre, we must drop our projected biography. He was understanding, he shared oNemni, Max is the author of 'Young Trudeau Son Of Quebec, Father Of Canada, 1919-1944', published 2006 under ISBN 9780771067495 and ISBN 0771067496.