I have to say that Macdonald, Affleck did in fact give me my “fifteen minutes of fame” to which Andy Warhol purportedly said each of us is entitled or destined. That fame came in the form of an appearance before not only the Federal Court of Appeal, but also the Supreme Court of Canada (Appeal Division). To set the stage, there were twenty-five lawyers, all of whom (except me) wore a silk gown. Mine was a “stuff” gown. The reason at that time that I did not have a silk gown was that only those who had been given the honour of a Queen’s Counsel designation from either the Federal or Provincial Governments were entitled to “take silk”; and, only those who had practised for no less than ten years were even qualified for consideration a Queen’s Counsel appointment. I, on the other hand, was only in my first year of practice.
Allow me the perhaps illegitimate pleasure of dismissing this honour on that basis. Anyway, to return to the Court room, the reason there were so many distinguished lawyers gathered together, many of whom were from the Western provinces, was to determine whether Marshall Crowe, who was then the Chairman of the National Energy Board, was biased in the performance of his duties in light of the fact that he had formerly been deeply involved with the very oil and gas companies which were now appearing before him to obtain approval for the establishment of the McKenzie Valley Pipeline. To illustrate the cleverness of these lawyers, you must understand that it was the very oil and gas companies in whose favour Marshall Crowe would likely have decided, who had initiated the challenge to Mr. Crowe on the basis of bias. They were, as I am sure you understand, attempting to raise the challenge at the outset and have the matter determined before any public interest groups or environmentalists were able to upset the entire process at an advanced stage. Largely the ball was carried by Mr. Hymen Soloway of the Soloway, Wright firm in Ottawa. Mr. Ian Blue of the Energy Board also contributed to a lesser (though very significant) degree. But, apart from them, most of the other twenty-five lawyers, when given the opportunity to address the Court, simply rose elegantly to their feet (with the skirts of their respective silk gowns making that delightfully refined sound while brushing against the red leather seat cushions) and pronounced in a most audible and deliberate manner that they respectfully agreed with and concurred in the submissions of their learned friend and colleague, Mr. Soloway; then bowed to the bench, and returned somewhat less noisily to their seats. Well, I can tell you that I decided early in this process (which of course extended over a rather long period of time) that I was going to have not only nothing to do with this, but in fact a lot more to do with this. Upon my return to the Office, I conducted further research into the jurisdictional issue which was before the Court, since the novelty of this matter demanded some attention to that aspect. The Federal Court had not addressed similar challenges (at least not on all points), and they, like any other court, were always seeking to avoid having to make a decision if they do not have the right to do so. When it came my turn to speak, I found that standing up from one’s chair in such an August environment, with its very high ceilings and judges elevated quite a distance from and above one, was not as easy as it had appeared to me when the other silken solicitors had done it. In fact, I doubt very much that if I had not taken the precaution of writing my own name on the top of my memorandum, I might well have forgotten just how to introduce myself. Reading the rest of the material which I had for presentation meant as little to me as reading the Koran backwards. It was nothing but words! Thankfully, when preparing for this, I had not the arrogance to presume that I would do this “off the cuff”. Within what appeared to be nothing more than seconds, I had completed my duties, and the Chief Justice, practising no doubt that enviable talent to which the judiciary aspire of avoiding any appearance of prejudice upon any point of law or manner of presentation by Counsel, simply thanked me in a comfortable voice, and moved on to the next speaker. The wave of anxiety which followed my presentation prevented me from any awareness whatsoever of what then transpired for the rest of the day, I am sure. The point, however, of my tale is that years later, one miserable and drizzling Saturday morning in the friendly and warmer ambiance of the County Law Library of Lanark County at Perth (our County seat) with Judge Ian Matheson, I discovered that all had not been for naught. Judge Matheson, I and some other young lawyer whose name I cannot recall, had gathered to reorganize the books of our rather unimpressive law library. Among the books I was shifting about was a volume of the Federal Court of Appeal cases, in which I discovered the Marshall Crowe matter. Recited below the headnote was this lengthy list of lawyers appearing in the matter. To my entire delight and immeasurable pride, there was my name “L. G. William Chapman, appearing for West Coast Transmission Co. Ltd.” Considering the historical importance of the case in Canadian history, not to mention the luck of being involved at such a young age with so many distinguished lawyers, I felt that this was really all I ever had to do for the rest of my life to expiate any guilt I might ever have or otherwise rationalize my existence. By the way, the case ended up being referred to the Supreme Court of Appeal, in which I also appeared, and where I had the singular experience of seeing and hearing the Chief Justice of Canada ask (in a rather perturbed tone of voice) no less than the Attorney General for Canada whether he was actually serious when asserting that Marshall Crowe was not biased. The Attorney General was, not surprisingly, on side with the big money, but the Chief Justice would have nothing to do with it, and he said so in the plainest of terms. Actually, he really did little more than reiterate what anyone in the street knows, and that is, “Justice must not only be done, it must be seen to be done”. Case closed.
Allow me the perhaps illegitimate pleasure of dismissing this honour on that basis. Anyway, to return to the Court room, the reason there were so many distinguished lawyers gathered together, many of whom were from the Western provinces, was to determine whether Marshall Crowe, who was then the Chairman of the National Energy Board, was biased in the performance of his duties in light of the fact that he had formerly been deeply involved with the very oil and gas companies which were now appearing before him to obtain approval for the establishment of the McKenzie Valley Pipeline. To illustrate the cleverness of these lawyers, you must understand that it was the very oil and gas companies in whose favour Marshall Crowe would likely have decided, who had initiated the challenge to Mr. Crowe on the basis of bias. They were, as I am sure you understand, attempting to raise the challenge at the outset and have the matter determined before any public interest groups or environmentalists were able to upset the entire process at an advanced stage. Largely the ball was carried by Mr. Hymen Soloway of the Soloway, Wright firm in Ottawa. Mr. Ian Blue of the Energy Board also contributed to a lesser (though very significant) degree. But, apart from them, most of the other twenty-five lawyers, when given the opportunity to address the Court, simply rose elegantly to their feet (with the skirts of their respective silk gowns making that delightfully refined sound while brushing against the red leather seat cushions) and pronounced in a most audible and deliberate manner that they respectfully agreed with and concurred in the submissions of their learned friend and colleague, Mr. Soloway; then bowed to the bench, and returned somewhat less noisily to their seats. Well, I can tell you that I decided early in this process (which of course extended over a rather long period of time) that I was going to have not only nothing to do with this, but in fact a lot more to do with this. Upon my return to the Office, I conducted further research into the jurisdictional issue which was before the Court, since the novelty of this matter demanded some attention to that aspect. The Federal Court had not addressed similar challenges (at least not on all points), and they, like any other court, were always seeking to avoid having to make a decision if they do not have the right to do so. When it came my turn to speak, I found that standing up from one’s chair in such an August environment, with its very high ceilings and judges elevated quite a distance from and above one, was not as easy as it had appeared to me when the other silken solicitors had done it. In fact, I doubt very much that if I had not taken the precaution of writing my own name on the top of my memorandum, I might well have forgotten just how to introduce myself. Reading the rest of the material which I had for presentation meant as little to me as reading the Koran backwards. It was nothing but words! Thankfully, when preparing for this, I had not the arrogance to presume that I would do this “off the cuff”. Within what appeared to be nothing more than seconds, I had completed my duties, and the Chief Justice, practising no doubt that enviable talent to which the judiciary aspire of avoiding any appearance of prejudice upon any point of law or manner of presentation by Counsel, simply thanked me in a comfortable voice, and moved on to the next speaker. The wave of anxiety which followed my presentation prevented me from any awareness whatsoever of what then transpired for the rest of the day, I am sure. The point, however, of my tale is that years later, one miserable and drizzling Saturday morning in the friendly and warmer ambiance of the County Law Library of Lanark County at Perth (our County seat) with Judge Ian Matheson, I discovered that all had not been for naught. Judge Matheson, I and some other young lawyer whose name I cannot recall, had gathered to reorganize the books of our rather unimpressive law library. Among the books I was shifting about was a volume of the Federal Court of Appeal cases, in which I discovered the Marshall Crowe matter. Recited below the headnote was this lengthy list of lawyers appearing in the matter. To my entire delight and immeasurable pride, there was my name “L. G. William Chapman, appearing for West Coast Transmission Co. Ltd.” Considering the historical importance of the case in Canadian history, not to mention the luck of being involved at such a young age with so many distinguished lawyers, I felt that this was really all I ever had to do for the rest of my life to expiate any guilt I might ever have or otherwise rationalize my existence. By the way, the case ended up being referred to the Supreme Court of Appeal, in which I also appeared, and where I had the singular experience of seeing and hearing the Chief Justice of Canada ask (in a rather perturbed tone of voice) no less than the Attorney General for Canada whether he was actually serious when asserting that Marshall Crowe was not biased. The Attorney General was, not surprisingly, on side with the big money, but the Chief Justice would have nothing to do with it, and he said so in the plainest of terms. Actually, he really did little more than reiterate what anyone in the street knows, and that is, “Justice must not only be done, it must be seen to be done”. Case closed.
It seems odd to me, having practised law for over twenty years, how little things really change:
Just got home from the office. It’s 11:00 o’clock at night. During the past few weeks I have done so many new things, all of which frighten me at first. None of the work has been terribly difficult, but it is all new. Tonight I had to work late in order to clear my desk. I don’t want to have to go in to the office this weekend. February 5, 1976.
The “clear desk” syndrome has never left me. In fact, if I occasionally try to rise above it, so to speak, and leave the office without having cleaned up all the loose ends, it is not unusual for me to get out of bed at 2:30 the following morning and return to the office to do it. The alternative to lying awake in bed, tossing and turning, is to get at it and get it over with.
One of my great friends during this period was Grant A. Jameson, whom I met in May of 1975 at one of the local watering holes in Ottawa. I described him then, as I do now after some twenty years, as one of my “really good friends”. Our mutual interest in law helped us along, not to mention our constant interest in the pleasures of the table! In 1976, Grant was still completing the last of his exams at the Bar Admission Course, which by that time was “a bit of a blur” for me: “It was like a dream”. I had taken a small apartment at the Mayfair Apartments on Metcalfe Street in Ottawa. It was the type of building which I liked the moment I saw it, when I had returned from Devonshire House to start work with the firm. I remember quite distinctly that it was a rainy day that I was trudging up Metcalfe Street looking at one building after another, when I saw an “Apartment for Rent” sign outside the Mayfair. I entered into the delightful front entrance foyer and rang the buzzer of the concierge. The voice of a very “British pub” style or Cockney, older female answered the ring, and when I explained that I was responding to the advertisement, she protested that she could not hear me clearly and would have to come to the door. I later learned that this was simply a device to permit her to get a good look at you. Her name was Mrs. Edie Cottrell, and she became one of life’s characters for both me and Grant (who later also moved into the building - in fact he had more than one apartment in the place over the next number of years). After I had passed the scrutiny of Mrs. Cottrell, she made it quite clear to me that “Me tenants is very good to me, yes, ‘specially at Christmas”. It was understood that if you wanted anything done in the building you had to compensate accordingly. Fifty bucks about did it, at least for the likes of me and Grant. But she was worth every penny! Grant and I actually became quite friendly with her, and we were sad to learn of her death years later. She had a wonderful talent for dealing in the most “below stairs” sort of way with the snobbery of many of the sophisticates who lived in the rather elegant apartments, many of which apartments were complete not only with large kitchens and sunrooms, but pantries and back doors as well. I understand that one McNulty (an old Ottawa lawyer) had built the Mayfair, and he lived in one of the sprawling top floor apartments for years. Rumour has it that he died of a heart attack, brought on by having missed a work order which had been registered by the City against a property which he was involved with for a purchaser Client. Apparently, he had conducted the usual work order search at the City and nothing was revealed; but a work order was subsequently registered after his search, but before the purchase transaction had been completed. Frankly, that is not something that one would consider to be positive negligence, but it seems that it devastated him. He was reputed to have been very meticulous.
Just got home from the office. It’s 11:00 o’clock at night. During the past few weeks I have done so many new things, all of which frighten me at first. None of the work has been terribly difficult, but it is all new. Tonight I had to work late in order to clear my desk. I don’t want to have to go in to the office this weekend. February 5, 1976.
The “clear desk” syndrome has never left me. In fact, if I occasionally try to rise above it, so to speak, and leave the office without having cleaned up all the loose ends, it is not unusual for me to get out of bed at 2:30 the following morning and return to the office to do it. The alternative to lying awake in bed, tossing and turning, is to get at it and get it over with.
One of my great friends during this period was Grant A. Jameson, whom I met in May of 1975 at one of the local watering holes in Ottawa. I described him then, as I do now after some twenty years, as one of my “really good friends”. Our mutual interest in law helped us along, not to mention our constant interest in the pleasures of the table! In 1976, Grant was still completing the last of his exams at the Bar Admission Course, which by that time was “a bit of a blur” for me: “It was like a dream”. I had taken a small apartment at the Mayfair Apartments on Metcalfe Street in Ottawa. It was the type of building which I liked the moment I saw it, when I had returned from Devonshire House to start work with the firm. I remember quite distinctly that it was a rainy day that I was trudging up Metcalfe Street looking at one building after another, when I saw an “Apartment for Rent” sign outside the Mayfair. I entered into the delightful front entrance foyer and rang the buzzer of the concierge. The voice of a very “British pub” style or Cockney, older female answered the ring, and when I explained that I was responding to the advertisement, she protested that she could not hear me clearly and would have to come to the door. I later learned that this was simply a device to permit her to get a good look at you. Her name was Mrs. Edie Cottrell, and she became one of life’s characters for both me and Grant (who later also moved into the building - in fact he had more than one apartment in the place over the next number of years). After I had passed the scrutiny of Mrs. Cottrell, she made it quite clear to me that “Me tenants is very good to me, yes, ‘specially at Christmas”. It was understood that if you wanted anything done in the building you had to compensate accordingly. Fifty bucks about did it, at least for the likes of me and Grant. But she was worth every penny! Grant and I actually became quite friendly with her, and we were sad to learn of her death years later. She had a wonderful talent for dealing in the most “below stairs” sort of way with the snobbery of many of the sophisticates who lived in the rather elegant apartments, many of which apartments were complete not only with large kitchens and sunrooms, but pantries and back doors as well. I understand that one McNulty (an old Ottawa lawyer) had built the Mayfair, and he lived in one of the sprawling top floor apartments for years. Rumour has it that he died of a heart attack, brought on by having missed a work order which had been registered by the City against a property which he was involved with for a purchaser Client. Apparently, he had conducted the usual work order search at the City and nothing was revealed; but a work order was subsequently registered after his search, but before the purchase transaction had been completed. Frankly, that is not something that one would consider to be positive negligence, but it seems that it devastated him. He was reputed to have been very meticulous.
Pointedly, my diaries somewhat abruptly ended for quite a period on February 15, 1976:
I have been asserting myself at the office lately. I broach subjects with THE PARTNERS: like about billings, and salaries. At times I think I am just being selfish, but I think it is good for me to develop some understanding of the way things really are at our office. I don’t like just waiting without knowing what I’m waiting for.
What then followed was a rather unpleasant several months, during which I discovered that a new student lawyer (John McAuley) had been hired at $12,500 per annum, when I (with one year’s experience under my belt) was making $12,000 per annum. This offended my sense of fairness and made me wonder why I did not apparently enjoy the approbation of the firm. When I finally directed my enquiry about the matter to Mr. Robert McLachlan (my Principal), he told me that in fact he was unaware of the discrepancy, which may or may not have been the truth. In any event, true to my usual style, I had already made moves to leave the firm, since I felt that my lack of trust in the senior partners could not be a healthy thing. So intense was I about the perceived offense, that I had begun directing my search for employment beyond and outside of Ottawa. Distance, I felt, was necessary to heal the wound. It was through Senator George McIlraith that I came to hear of Mr. Michael J. Galligan of the firm of Galligan and Sheffield in Almonte. Senator McIlraith had formerly been the
I have been asserting myself at the office lately. I broach subjects with THE PARTNERS: like about billings, and salaries. At times I think I am just being selfish, but I think it is good for me to develop some understanding of the way things really are at our office. I don’t like just waiting without knowing what I’m waiting for.
What then followed was a rather unpleasant several months, during which I discovered that a new student lawyer (John McAuley) had been hired at $12,500 per annum, when I (with one year’s experience under my belt) was making $12,000 per annum. This offended my sense of fairness and made me wonder why I did not apparently enjoy the approbation of the firm. When I finally directed my enquiry about the matter to Mr. Robert McLachlan (my Principal), he told me that in fact he was unaware of the discrepancy, which may or may not have been the truth. In any event, true to my usual style, I had already made moves to leave the firm, since I felt that my lack of trust in the senior partners could not be a healthy thing. So intense was I about the perceived offense, that I had begun directing my search for employment beyond and outside of Ottawa. Distance, I felt, was necessary to heal the wound. It was through Senator George McIlraith that I came to hear of Mr. Michael J. Galligan of the firm of Galligan and Sheffield in Almonte. Senator McIlraith had formerly been the
senior partner of McIlraith, McIlraith and McGregor, which had disbanded following the death of the Senator’s brother and partner. The Macdonald, Affleck firm had bought out the McIlraith firm. Both firms were of course intensely Liberal. Senator McIlraith was elderly at the time, and he clearly did not view his transposition of offices as anything more than that. It was he who told me that his son-in-law, Michael J. Galligan (who had once worked for the McIlraith firm I understand), had recently bought out the practice of retiring Raymond A. Jamieson, Q.C. in Almonte, and apparently there was some need to fill the gap of his practice. At that time, Galligan and Sheffield (and the former R. A. Jamieson firm) were the only show in town, C. J. Newton (as he then was before having been appointed to the bench) having taken on the duties of Crown Prosecutor for the County of Lanark. When I initiated contact with Mike Galligan’s firm, I ended up speaking with Mr. Alan D. Sheffield (now Judge Sheffield of the Provincial Court, sworn in at the County Court House of the County of Lanark on Drummond Street at Perth, Ontario at 2:30 p.m. on Wednesday, July 22, 1981; and later appointed the Superior Court of Justice, Family Division, in the Fall of 1999). Alan insisted, after some introductory meetings, that he contact Bob McLachlan of my then current firm to advise him of the negotiations, to which I naturally agreed. Our negotiations were consummated at the Mississippi Golf Club in Appleton along the Mississippi River early one evening, and with that I was off to Almonte. My departure from Macdonald, Affleck was less than exciting. Alastair Macdonald took me to lunch at the Rideau Club (in the days when the old, original building was still standing on Wellington Street). I guess I had a bit of bitterness about the whole affair, though in retrospect I should send them flowers by way of thanks!
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