Hon. Fabian Manning rose pursuant to notice of March 7, 2023:

That he will call the attention of the Senate to the life of Gordon Pinsent.

He said: Honourable senators, I note that this item is at day 15, and I am not ready to speak at this time. Therefore, I move the adjournment of the debate in my name for the balance of my time.

(On motion of Senator Manning, debate adjourned.)

(At 3:53 p.m., the Senate was continued until tomorrow at 2 p.m.)

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, today I am pleased to present Chapter 79 of “Telling Our Story.”

For generations, the history and culture of Newfoundland and Labrador has been passed down through both story and song. Many of those are of a serious and profound nature, detailing a way of life our people have endured for centuries on that beautiful rock in the Atlantic Ocean. Then there are those songs and stories that are more lighthearted, such as the one I am going to tell you today.

One of our province’s most successful recording artists was a man by the name of Dick Nolan. In due course, I will be pleased to expand on Mr. Nolan’s long and distinguished music career, but today I want to tell you about one of his most popular and, indeed, signature songs titled, “Aunt Martha’s Sheep.” Written by Terrance White and Arthur Butt of Perry’s Cove and later rewritten by Ellis Coles, Nolan released the song in 1972 and the album went platinum, selling more than 100,000 copies. With our province’s population hovering around 500,000 people at the time, you can easily understand why the song became a fan favourite for many years and still is today.

The song tells the tale of boys from the picturesque town of Carmanville, Newfoundland, who decided they were going to steal a calf from Aunt Martha’s barn and cook up a scoff. Now, for those of you who do not know what a scoff is, it is a big, hearty meal.

Later on that evening, the boys crept up over Joe Tulk’s hill and headed into the barn, but they ran into a problem. The old cow got angry when they woke her from sleep, so they had no other choice: they had to steal the sheep. As you would expect, when Aunt Martha discovered what had taken place, she became pretty angry herself. The very next morning, she sent a telegram off to the RCMP telling them about her loss and asking the police to catch the robbers no matter what the cost.

In the meantime, it was getting up around midnight and the boys were up at the cabin and “had the sheep a’cooking” and everyone was feeling pretty tight. “The smell of mutton and onions no man could ask for more,” when lo and behold, the “. . . Mountie walked in the door.” He said:

 . . . sorry, boys, your party I really don’t mean to wreck.

I smelled the meat a’cooking and I had to come in and check.

Now, the boys were not too worried about the arrival of the RCMP, so they welcomed the officer, and said, “. . . come right in and join us, sir, we’re having a piece of moose.” So he came right in and sat right down, and the boys gave him a piece of the sheep. After the officer had a taste, he said to the lads, “This is the finest piece of moose I knows I’ll ever eat.”

They had a grand old evening, and at about two o’clock in the morning, the officer bid farewell, with a promise from the lads that if they got any clues on the stolen sheep, they would phone him right away. He then looked at them and said that if everyone was as good as the boys, he was sure Aunt Martha wouldn’t have lost her sheep.

After the officer left, the boys finished off the piece of mutton they had in the oven to roast, because, friends, the boys may have stolen Aunt Martha’s sheep — “. . . but the Mountie ate the most.”

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, today I am pleased to present Chapter 78 of “Telling Our Story.”

Celebrating the unique heritage and culture of the people of Newfoundland and Labrador is something the people of our province take great pride in. We have been blessed with sons and daughters who have devoted their entire lives to this passion. Many of these people have been and continue to be involved in the Newfoundland and Labrador Folk Arts Society, whose mandate is the promotion and preservation of the traditional folk arts of the province. Active since 1966, the organization presents educational and cultural events that provide artists with the opportunity to showcase their work, and the society creates opportunities to engage our youth and the general public in the transmission of our intangible cultural heritage.

The society is responsible for the longest continually running live music event in the city of St. John’s, known as Folk Night at the Ship Pub, which began in 1974. What a wonderful way to spend a Wednesday evening in the oldest city in North America, listening to some of our traditional musicians and our many up‑and-coming artists.

Another popular event the society brings to us on an annual basis is Young Folk at the Hall, where support is amplified for young artists between the ages of 7 and 18. This event, held at the infamous LSPU Hall, has been the birthplace of some of our province’s greatest artists and performers.

The Folk Arts Society’s signature event is the annual Newfoundland and Labrador Folk Festival, which this summer will celebrate its forty-seventh year of production. This year’s folk festival will be held on the weekend of July 7-9. From the start of the festival at the Ship Pub on Duckworth Street in the City of Legends, it will then move to the beautiful Bannerman Park, where the best of our province’s music, arts and crafts will be showcased. Mix all that with our sweet summer air, open jam sessions, traditional dances, a warm and welcoming atmosphere, and you have all the ingredients for the creation of a precious memory that will last a lifetime.

Folk festivals of the past have seen performances by some of our best, including Ron Hynes, Anita Best, Shirley Montague, Jim Payne and Fergus O’Byrne, just to name a few. And who could forget the Cape Shore’s own John Joe English, Gerald Campbell and Patsy and Bride Judge? Great times and wonderful memories.

This year’s festival will continue the tradition of bringing back home some of our favourite traditions from the past and introduce new ones to celebrate our ever-changing and welcoming province. The festival will also showcase performers and artists from outside our province, including Quebec, Acadia and beyond. The Réseau Culturel Francophone de Terre-Neuve-et-Labrador will present to us as well. From traditional Newfoundland and Labrador folk music to many new and different genres of music, there is something here for everyone. From the Traditional Stage all the way to the Main Stage, attendees will have the opportunity to hear and see it all. If you enjoy music, dance, recitation, storytelling and learning about a proud and historic past coupled with the acceptance of a changing and diverse future, the St. John’s annual folk festival is where you need to be.

May I offer a little tidbit of advice, though. If you are approached and asked if you would like to have a “scoff,” that means you are invited for something to eat, but if you are invited for a “scuff,” that means you are invited to dance or, as we say in Newfoundland and Labrador, you are being invited to “step ‘er out.” Either way, the best thing to do is say yes.

This year, the very talented and popular folk group Rum Ragged will take to the Main Stage and close out the festival on Sunday night. I am being somewhat biased but I am confident it will be a great time. Then we will all gather together and sing the “Ode to Newfoundland” because:

As loved our fathers, so we love

Where once they stood we stand

Their prayer we raise to heav’n above

God guard thee Newfoundland

Thank you.

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, today I am pleased to present Chapter 77 of “Telling Our Story.”

The territorial limit between Quebec and the Labrador portion of our province is the longest interprovincial boundary in Canada at over 3,500 kilometres long. A dispute over that boundary and who rightfully owned Labrador, Quebec or Newfoundland began in 1902, when the Newfoundland government granted a lumber company a licence to harvest trees on both sides of the Hamilton River, now called the Churchill River.

The Quebec government considered the southern part of the river to be part of Quebec and complained to Canada’s Secretary of State. Newfoundland refused to cancel the licence.

Two years later, Quebec asked Ottawa to submit the controversy to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in London. This reference to an outside impartial body was appropriate, since Canada and Newfoundland were separate members of the British Empire, and neither could have settled the issue through its own courts.

In March of 1927, the Privy Council settled the boundary in its present location and ruled in Newfoundland’s favour.

In the course of our history, Newfoundland has made at least four separate attempts to sell Labrador to Canada. The only reason that there was no deal was that Canada would not pay the price that Newfoundland was asking.

The first offer was made in 1922, during Sir Richard Squires’ first term as prime minister. A year later, in 1923, William Warren, the newly elected prime minister of Newfoundland, made another approach to Canada.

On December 27, 1923, The Daily News reported that the selling price of Labrador was rumoured to be around $60 million.

Another prime minister, Walter S. Monroe, saw little potential in Labrador. He told the House of Assembly, “This country will never be able to develop it.”

Sir Richard Squires became prime minister of Newfoundland again in 1928. Newfoundland’s financial situation was deteriorating rapidly. Squires and his colleagues, once again, turned to Ottawa in the fall of 1931. Newfoundland’s finance minister at the time, Peter Cashin, met with Canada’s then-prime minister, The Right Honourable R.B. Bennett, and made him a formal offer to sell Labrador for $110 million.

While interested and sympathetic to Newfoundland’s plight, Prime Minister Bennett advised the Newfoundland government in a letter later that week that due to financial problems brought on by the Great Depression, it was impossible for Canada to do a deal at that time.

When Newfoundland joined Confederation in 1949, its boundary in Labrador was confirmed in the Terms of Union — now the Newfoundland Act — enshrined in the Constitution Act, 1982.

It is not difficult to imagine the consequences if Canada had accepted any of the offers from Newfoundland and had bought Labrador.

The immense natural resources of Labrador, including the hydroelectric energy at Churchill Falls and on the lower Churchill River, the vast mineral deposits in western Labrador and the enormous nickel, copper and cobalt discovery at Voisey’s Bay would all have become the property of Canada and the Province of Quebec. Some may consider the idea unthinkable, but the historical truth is that this nearly happened.

Canada’s refusal to pay Newfoundland’s asking price on at least four different attempts is the reason that, today, I — along with my colleagues Senators Marshall, Petten, Rivalia and Wells — can proudly say that we are from Newfoundland and Labrador. We want to say a sincere “thank you” to Canada for that.

Hon. Fabian Manning: Today, I am pleased to present Chapter 76 of “Telling Our Story.”

Colleagues, through previous Chapters 42 and 43, I informed you of some unique facts of my province of Newfoundland and Labrador. Today, I want to add a few more to that list.

I am sure that many of us here in this chamber and throughout the globe, for that matter, would wonder how we could live and work without wireless communication. It has changed our world drastically, and we can debate at some other time the pros and cons of that change. But for today, I want you to know that on December 12, 1901, Guglielmo Marconi raised a 150-meter-long antenna, which was attached to a kite, over Signal Hill in St. John’s, Newfoundland. This antenna received the world’s first transatlantic signals ever sent via radio waves.

Another fundamental change in the past century is how we travel around the world. Once again, our province played a pivotal role in the origin of aviation.

At 1:45 p.m. on June 14, 1919, John Alcock and Arthur Whitten Brown lifted off Lester’s Field in St. John’s aboard their modified Vickers Vimy airplane. It was not an easy flight. They battled heavy fog and only barely missed the top of the trees during takeoff. They lost radio contact after a short time in the air, and with a failed generator, they soon lost their heating source and the ability to communicate through their intercom system. They ran into a major snowstorm, and it is said that Brown had to climb onto the wings and clear the engines. I guess the action of de-icing had its beginning here also.

Through it all, the pilots persevered and beat the odds. At 8:40 a.m. on June 15, 1919, after less than 16 hours’ flying time, they made landfall in County Galway, Ireland, making their endeavour the first non-stop transatlantic flight. A small amount of mail was also carried on the flight, making it the very first transatlantic airmail flight as well. It all began on that rock we know and love as the island portion of Newfoundland and Labrador.

The Royal St. John’s Regatta is the oldest annual sporting event in North America, with documented proof of boat races taking place in 1816. It is known as the largest garden party in the world, drawing crowds of up to 50,000 people to the shores of Quidi Vidi Lake each year. Regatta Day is also the only civic holiday in North America that is determined by the weather, more specifically which way the wind blows and how much of it blows. Safety is paramount.

Then we have the biggest little street in North America known far and wide as George Street in downtown St. John’s. People from all over the world have made their way to these two city blocks that hold the most pubs per square feet in Canada. You will not need to have Google Maps on your phone to go enjoy a night of bar-hopping on George. There is a great variety of music and restaurants, and the place is rich with some of the best entertainers our province has to offer. If you are musically inclined and want to join in the festive mood, you may end up on a stage singing along with one of our local musicians. If memory serves me correctly, my good friend Senator Gold is fully aware of the opportunity to take the stage on George Street — the locals are still talking about his performance there a few years ago.

Around the year 0, the Beothuk people migrated from Labrador to the island of Newfoundland, becoming our first inhabitants. Their extinction is a sad part of our history that I will tell you about at a later date.

In 1907, Newfoundland was given dominion status by the United Kingdom, thus making Newfoundland its own independent country. It remained a dominion until the rest of Canada decided to join us in 1949. The details of that story I will leave for another day also: stay tuned. Thank you.

Hon. Fabian Manning moved the adoption of the report.

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, today I am pleased to present Chapter 75 of “Telling Our Story.”

As you are all aware, 75 is a very significant number in this place, and selecting that number for this particular chapter is not a coincidence.

In the past, I have spoken in this chamber about the productive and successful lives of many of my fellow Newfoundlanders and Labradorians — those who have chosen to live and work in the province, and those who have journeyed beyond the rock to make their mark in the world. Today, I am adding another person to that list.

George J. Furey was born on May 12, 1948.

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, today I am pleased to present Chapter 74 of “Telling our Story.”

When one speaks of Newfoundland and Labrador, the word “fish” often comes to mind. Well, today I am going to tell you about a group of men known as “The Fish Gang” who, over a hundred years ago, left the small fishing outports of our province and headed to the streets of New York City to help build that city’s incredible skyline. American construction companies recruited Newfoundland fishermen who were used to climbing the high rigging on fishing schooners and, therefore, were not afraid of working on high steel. The risk was high but so was the pay.

Legend has it that the first Newfoundland ironworker was a man named Frank Treahy from Conception Harbour, who quickly sent word back home to the “bys” that there was steady work and good wages to be had erecting skyscrapers in New York. Other Newfoundlanders heeded his call, and by the 1930s, Newfoundlanders represented about a quarter of the membership of Iron Workers Local 40, which covers Manhattan, the Bronx, Staten Island and Westchester County. Some rose to prominent positions in the union. In 1939, Newfoundland native Jim Cole was elected president and served until 1950. The next union president was Ray Corbett, whose family hailed from Harbour Main. He was then followed by Ray Mullett, the son of an ironworker from the now resettled community of Oderin in Placentia Bay. He, in turn, gave way in the early 1990s to another native Newfoundlander, Jack Doyle. You could say they took the place over.

The Newfoundland men were known to swim in schools or stick together and watch out for each other on and off the job. They soon became known as “The Fish Gang,” and when their sons took up ironwork, they were called “The Fish Offspring.”

The men from Newfoundland were also well known and respected for their strong work ethic, their wonderful personalities and their fearlessness. New York journalist Jim Rasenberger, in his 2004 book High Steel: The Daring Men Who Built the World’s Greatest Skyline, said:

The Newfoundlander would have been a natural for the work.... He would have possessed the sea legs and the rigging skills that were so important to the job.

He went on to say that the Newfoundlander “. . . would also have been accustomed to working hard under risky circumstances and not fretting too much about it.”

Rasenberger added:

Compared to hauling seal carcasses across a shifting icefield in Labrador, or climbing a ship’s mast on a stormy sea, the feat of balancing on a steel beam several hundred feet above the streets of New York was a cakewalk.

I am sure many of you have seen one of the world’s most famous photographs, which was taken by Charles Ebbets on September 29, 1932, and has been referred to at different times by the titles Eating over Manhattan and Lunch Atop a Skyscraper. It shows 11 men having their lunch while sitting on a steel beam on the sixty-ninth floor of the Rockefeller Plaza building in New York City. That would be about 850 feet about the city street. The photo has become an icon of 20th-century American photography. While some of the men in the photo remain unidentified, it is said that the third man from the left is Austin Lawlor of King’s Cove in Newfoundland, and the fifth man is Claude Stagg from the fishing community of Catalina.

Knowing that the boys from home always hung out together, I’m confident that there are a few more Newfoundlanders sitting there, dangling their feet.

In 1986, Hana Gartner with “The Fifth Estate” produced a great documentary on “The Fish Gang” called Ironworkers from Newfoundland: Walking Iron. It is easily accessible on the CBC website, and I encourage you to have a look. They built buildings like the Sears Tower, the World Trade Center and, yes, the Twin Towers. The hands of Newfoundlanders helped build one of the most fascinating cities in the world.

Years ago, long before safety protocols were put in place, a Newfoundlander was asked during an interview about the dangers associated with the job, and his answer was, “You only fall once.”

It is said that wherever you go in the world, you will find a Newfoundlander and Labradorian. They have left our shores and made their marks throughout the world. It was no different with the lads who went to New York so many years ago. Today, I am pleased to pay tribute to the “The Fish Gang.”

Thank you.

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, I give notice that, two days hence:

I will call the attention of the Senate to the life of Gordon Pinsent.

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, today, I am pleased to present Chapter 73 of “Telling Our Story.”

I am confident that when most of you hear me tell the stories of Newfoundland and Labrador, the French are not who you would expect me to talk about. However, it is a fact that the French played an important role in the early exploration and settlement of our province. Although not always obvious at first glance, the French roots in Newfoundland and Labrador run very deep.

The abundant cod fishery was the major factor in attracting French settlers to Newfoundland and Labrador, and they were among the earliest Europeans with the first documented fishing trip taking place in 1504.

Up until 1713 and the signing of the Treaty of Utrecht, the French were able to use any part of the colony they wished to, and they established several communities on the island, the most prominent of which was Plaisance, now known as Placentia. In the early 1660s, France established a garrison and colony at Plaisance to provide shelter and protection for the fishermen while they stayed in Newfoundland. Plaisance developed into the largest and most prosperous French settlement on the island and became the site of the ancient French capital of Newfoundland and Labrador.

Placentia has many features that make it a popular tourist attraction in our province. It has a unique lift bridge named the Sir Ambrose Shea Bridge. There are many archaeological sites that reflect the deep history of the area. You can step back in time to the 18th century with a visit to the Castle Hill National Historic Site and imagine cannons and muskets blazing as the British and French forces battled on the shores of Newfoundland, vying for control of the lucrative fishery. There, you will explore a chapter of our history that determined the fate of a continent.

Then there is the story of the will of a Basque region seaman that was discovered in an archive in Spain in which Domingo de Luza asks in 1563:

. . . that my body be buried in this port of Placentia, in the place where those who die here are buried.

It is believed to be the oldest original civil document written in Canada.

While at Castle Hill, take in a performance by the Placentia Area Theatre d’Heritage troupe who, through their very popular shows, depict the lives of early inhabitants of Placentia under the leadership of Governor de Broullion.

In 1893, Harry Verran, a mining engineer from Cornwall, England, built a historic house that now operates as a bed and breakfast called Rosedale Manor, a must-see for any visitor.

In 2009, the Placentia Bay Cultural Arts Centre was opened, and I am proud to say that I played a part in securing the funding for that beautiful state-of-the-art facility. It is a place that hosts presentations and performances of some of our most gifted musicians, actors, playwrights and a host of other performers.

O’Reilly House Museum, the boardwalk and St. Luke’s Cultural Heritage Centre are just some of the other many unique attractions you can explore in the town of Placentia. As well, one of the two Marine Atlantic ferry links from Nova Scotia to Newfoundland is just minutes from Placentia, located in Argentia.

While you might be more than bienvenu in Placentia, it will be difficult to say au revoir.

Thank you.

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, as a young boy growing up under the careful eye of my dear mother, I was the recipient of her sage advice many times. One tidbit of advice she gave me was, “Fabian, stay on the high road, there is way too much traffic on the low road.” Another offering was one I am sure many of you have heard before, and that was, “In a world where you can be anything you want to be, be kind.”

With those thoughts in mind, I am pleased to present Chapter 72 of “Telling Our Story.” If you find my stories interesting, thank you, and if for some reason or other you do not, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.

Friends, many people who visit Newfoundland and Labrador are struck by the rugged beauty of our land, the scent of the salt water that surrounds us and the warmth and hospitality of the people who live there.

Many remark about the colourful houses, especially those located on the hills surrounding the harbour in St. John’s. They are a popular background used by many photographers, movie directors and wedding parties — the list is endless. We fondly refer to them as “Jellybean Row.” They are a major tourism attraction with their vibrant colours of red, blue, yellow, green, orange and all the many beautiful and bright colours of the rainbow.

In 1863, a hardware store called Templeton’s opened in downtown St. John’s, and about 50 years later the then-owner John Templeton and his brother David came across a set of old paint chips in the basement of their store. They knew right away that they had to do something with their discovery, so they contacted the Heritage Foundation of Newfoundland and Labrador.

That somewhat surprising collaboration marked the birth of the Heritage Paint Colours of Newfoundland and Labrador. The plan was straightforward — these paint chips needed a name befitting of the place we call home. Lara Maynard of the Heritage Foundation was tasked with the job, and said she wanted to select names that would best celebrate not only the landscape but our language as well. With names like Little Heart’s Ease, Charmer, Mussels in the Corner and Bristol’s Hope, she captured our history, culture and unique way of life very well.

Another piece of folklore tells a different story of the creation of “Jellybean Row” — a more romantic version, I do believe. Legend has it that in the early days, fishermen flocked to our shores to reap the bounty of the ocean, which John Cabot said was teeming with fish. That was before the crowd here in Ottawa took control of the fishery, but that’s a story for another day.

As you would understand, the fishermen would have to spend long, hard days out at sea, and upon their return home they would often be met with a heavy veil of fog hanging over the harbour, which was not necessarily the best condition in order to see their houses up on the hill. Therefore, the fishermen would paint their homes in these bright and vibrant colours to make them more visible. The houses then would pop out and shine against the cool grey backdrop of the fog. I like that story best.

Whatever reason for the creation of “Jellybean Row” you choose to believe, I will leave that up to you to decide, but I do encourage you to come and see it for yourself. The fact is many people love to visit there, see and experience this visual phenomenon and enjoy its unique character. I guarantee you that a walk along the streets of these bold and unusually matched coloured houses will lift your spirits on even the dullest of days, and we could all benefit from that.

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, today I’m pleased to present Chapter 71 of “Telling Our Story.”

Newfoundlanders and Labradorians are well known for their friendly and warm hospitality. We are always willing to share the stories and songs that continue to tell of our wonderful part of the world. We equally will share our hearths, homes and a bite to eat with anyone who drops by for a visit.

In days gone by, the only heating source in many Newfoundland homes was the old wood stove located in the kitchen. For many Newfoundlanders, the kitchen became the centre of the home. It was the place where good times were had and treasured memories were created. From these gatherings, a special tradition, fittingly called “the kitchen party,” was created. The kitchen party has grown in immense popularity with people throughout the years, whether one is homegrown or a come from away.

Everyone is always welcome to join in, because in Newfoundland you will not find any strangers — only friends you haven’t yet met. An elderly fisherman from my hometown once said, “If you haven’t experienced a Newfoundland kitchen party, you really haven’t lived a full life.” I would have to agree with him, because there is nothing quite like it.

Most kitchen parties are not planned. People drop by for a visit and maybe a fresh feed of cod tongues with scruncheons, along with a slice of homemade bread, and there’s always a variety of beverages to help wash it all down. A few musicians are always close by, especially one or two with an accordion; and before you realize what is happening, people are singing, dancing and telling stories and the kitchen party is well under way. This is a unique part of our Irish-Newfoundland heritage.

There are very few rules, and no one is looking at the clock. The only requirement is that if you can’t stand the heat in the kitchen, go out in the backyard and cool off for a little while, or go to the fridge where you are bound to find a cool bottle of some remedy to help cure whatever ails you. Guests are always encouraged to share their talents as well. That’s when things can get very interesting.

In 2017, while returning from a golf trip to Florida, Newfoundlanders Sean Sullivan and Sheldon Thornhill, along with a few buddies, had some time to spare while waiting for their delayed flight at Toronto’s international airport. Sheldon decided to take out his accordion and started playing a song, and Sean quickly joined in with his guitar. Within a short time, the crowd around them kept getting larger and all hands were joining in what quickly became a Newfoundland kitchen party, albeit without the cod tongues and the wood stove. The video went viral, and the story was carried on all our national news networks with extensive coverage on social media. I encourage all of you to search for “Newfoundland kitchen party in Toronto airport” on YouTube — and please do so quickly before Bill C-11 passes because the crowd at the CRTC may not consider it Canadian content.

In the meantime, Sean Sullivan has turned the success of the Toronto airport video into a top-quality tourism product called “Sullivan’s Songhouse,” located in the town of Calvert on the Southern Shore. You can easily find out all about the song house on the internet as well, and I extend an invitation today for you to pay a visit and participate in your own old-fashioned kitchen party. To avoid any disappointment, though, I would advise you to book early — it’s a busy place.

While we in Newfoundland and Labrador continue to look to the future, we never forget our past, and, while life brings many challenges, coming together at a Newfoundland kitchen party, surrounded by music and friends, will turn any grey, foggy day into a ray of sunshine and a wonderful and treasured memory.

Thank you.

Hon. Fabian Manning: Therefore, honourable senators, in amendment, I move:

That Bill C-11, as amended, be not now read a third time, but that it be further amended in clause 4 (as amended by the decision of the Senate on December 14, 2022), on page 10, by adding the following after line 32:

[Translation]

Hon. Fabian Manning: Now, on to Chapter 70 of “Telling Our Story.”

There are many Christmas traditions that are unique to Newfoundland and Labrador, such as “mummering” and leaving Purity syrup for Santa instead of milk. Another tradition is known as “Tibb’s Eve.”

Although the term itself is quite old, according to Dr. Phil Hiscock of the Memorial University’s Department of Folklore, the idea of Tibb’s Eve as a particular day on the calendar — one day before Christmas Eve — is specific to Newfoundland and Labrador. He explained that some time around the Second World War, people along the south coast of Newfoundland began to associate December 23 with the phrase “Tibb’s Eve” and deemed it to be the first occasion that it would be acceptable to have a few Christmas drinks. In many of our outport communities, it became a day where the men would visit each other’s homes for a taste.

Because Christmas Eve was still part of the Advent, and that observance was almost as sober as the Lenten season, Dr. Hiscock indicated that most traditional Christians would never consider taking a nip before Christmas Day prior to World War II. Tibb’s Eve became a lighthearted means to extend the season, much like workers in the 19th century would lengthen their weekends by taking Saint Monday off from work.

Tibb’s Eve is sometimes known by several different names, depending on what community one comes from. In some places it is called “Tipp’s Eve” or “Tipsy’s Eve.” As Dr. Hiscock said, “For someone who thinks of it as a day to get tipsy, then Tipsy Eve is perfect.”

He said:

. . . it’s all based in the kind of humour that people have had for hundred of years. So, there’s no reason why people should not make humorous adjustments to it in the present.

Several hundred years ago in England, “tib” was slang for a woman who — shall we say — was loose on her morals. Historians believe that may be the reason there is not a “St. Tibb’s Day,” similar to a St. Patrick’s Day or St. Brigid’s Day. There were many English plays throughout the 1600s that would feature roles with the name “Tibb.”

A very popular drink on Tibb’s Eve in Newfoundland is known as “slush.” It is a mixture of vodka, Purity syrup, club soda or sparkling wine, with a splash of freshly squeezed lime juice served over a full glass of crushed ice. Once again, the ingredients vary in different communities of the province, but wherever it is poured, it is a great way to kick off the Christmas season.

That explains how Tibb’s Eve became associated with December 23 along the south coast of Newfoundland, but the phrase itself holds the key to its Christmastime connection. Dr. Hiscock also said that Tibb’s Eve became an old-fashioned way to say “never,” as in “the day that does not exist.” Because it did not exist, Tibb’s Eve was a non-time, similar to several other silly phrases in the English language, such as “the twelfth of never” or “when two Sundays fall together,” just to name a couple.

So, friends, during the holiday season, when someone asks me, “Would there ever be a time when you would leave Newfoundland to live somewhere else?” my reply will always be, “On Tibb’s Eve.”

Merry Christmas.

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, today I am pleased to present Chapter 69 of “Telling Our Story.”

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, may I please present Chapter 68 of “Telling Our Story.”

In today’s modern world full of every type of technology one can think of, where nearly everyone owns a smartphone with built-in Google Maps support combined with a GPS in their vehicle, it is difficult to imagine how someone would become totally lost and have no idea where they are at any given moment.

With that said, it is nearly downright impossible for us to imagine what it must be like to be adrift on the Atlantic Ocean for 48 days with no way of communicating with your family and friends. Well, this is a story of exactly that, which took place in 1929.

Job Barbour was born in the fishing community of Newtown in 1898. He began sailing as a boy, and at the very young age of 21, he became master of a vessel for the first time. For many years, he sailed the treacherous waters off Newfoundland’s northeast coast, carrying provisions from St. John’s to many isolated outports dotting our rugged coastline.

In the late fall of 1929, aboard his three-masted schooner, the Neptune II, Captain Barbour and his crew delivered a load of salt cod and cod oil to the city of St. John’s. On November 29, they began their return journey with a load of cargo that included apples, oranges and raisins for the general store in Newtown, Bonavista Bay. Captain Barbour was very familiar with the 100‑mile route, which under normal circumstances would usually take just a couple of days, but Mother Nature had other plans. By early the next morning on November 30, the winds had reached hurricane strength and the Neptune II, her crew and passengers were driven off course — way off course. They were about to cross the Atlantic Ocean.

In a 1979 CBC interview, at the age of 81, Captain Barbour said:

Like living demons hungry for our lives the seas rushed over our bulwarks and swept the deck fore and aft. They fascinated you almost as they approached. The water seemed to be all colours of the rainbow when coming on in its mad and crested cumulus. I never thought till then that seas could run so high. They looked like huge icebergs that had suddenly been liquefied and driven by some demon of the sea to rush on and crush us to death.

And he went on to say:

. . . I could see the look of anguish that covered Mrs. Humphries’ face. No doubt she thought that it would be her last moment of life.

During the voyage, the high winds and rough seas battered the schooner and left, among other things, crew members injured and passenger Mrs. Humphries incredibly ill to the point that conversations were had of what would be done if she passed away at sea. Water casks were tainted with salt water, leaving it unfit for drinking. The wheelhouse was washed overboard, and the binnacle was smashed to pieces. With the rough seas, the crew was unable to reach the supplies that were lashed down in the hull of the schooner. To add to all that, the compass light went out. These were just some of the issues that the captain and crew had to deal with, but as Captain Barbour once said:

Newfoundland seamen are noted for their ingenuity and when the real thing is gone or won’t work they try to make something that will do.

It was this ingenuity, coupled with their resilience and bravery, that allowed the Neptune II to remain afloat. On January 16, 1930, 48 days after departing the harbour in St. John’s, Newfoundland, the battered vessel was spotted off the coast of Scotland. A steamer, the Hesperus, attached a tow line and brought the schooner and her crew to safety.

Back home, the families had begun to accept the fact that they may never see their loved ones again, so it must have been quite the sense of relief when Captain Barbour’s mother received a telegram which read, “Arrived safely Tobermory, Scotland. All well. Job K. Barbour.”

Captain Job Barbour committed his story to paper in 1932 when Forty-Eight Days Adrift was published in London, England. Newfoundland’s own Breakwater Books revived the story and published it in 1981 and again in 1983, with a reprinting in 2001. It remains a very popular book, which continues to tell the incredible story of Newfoundlanders’ courage, resilience and humanity and their ability to beat the odds.

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, today I am pleased to present chapter 67 of “Telling Our Story.”

Newfoundland and Labrador is no stranger to maritime disaster with pervasive threats of ocean ice, raging storms and jagged reefs jeopardizing sailors who brave the seas when conditions are poor. From these come some stories of fantastic heroism and others of terrible tragedy.

One such tragedy occurred on a windy February night in 1918 on a luxury steamer bound for Halifax and New York. The SS Florizel, under Captain William Martin, was a vessel of some history. Commissioned in 1909, the Florizel was among the first ships specifically designed to navigate the icy waters around Newfoundland and Labrador. She had participated in the rescue of sealers stranded on the ice during the great Sealing Disaster of 1914 and was the vessel to carry to Europe the first 500 volunteers of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment in World War I — the Blue Puttees. But on that fateful winter’s night, she would not be celebrated.

The Florizel left port at St. John’s around 8:30 p.m. on Saturday, February 23, with orders from Captain Martin to proceed at full speed. Unbeknownst to Martin, however, the ship’s chief engineer, J.V. Reader, had only put her at partial speed in order to delay her arrival in Halifax and force an overnight stay at the port so that Reader could visit his family. This action, however intended, had fatal consequences, as Captain Martin judged the ship as having travelled much farther than she actually had, turning her westward long before she’d passed the Avalon Peninsula.

Just after 4:30 a.m., the Florizel crashed head-on into a reef off Cappahayden, going full speed. Dozens of crew and passengers died in the initial impact, with many more drowning or freezing as the ship was torn to pieces by the perilous waves. An SOS signal was sent out, but due to the previous navigation error, the rescuers were directed to the wrong area. Thankfully, the people of Cappahayden could see the wreck from the beach and corrected this error. They attempted to launch a small boat to rescue survivors, but it was immediately overturned by the storm.

Meanwhile, on the Florizel, power had been lost, and most remaining survivors were weathering the storm in the small radio room. As it was wartime in the dead of winter, it was particularly difficult to mount a rescue. The day after the crash, a handful of rescue vessels incorrectly reported that there were no survivors on the wreck, halting rescue progress until the reports were rectified. To make matters worse, the large rescue ships couldn’t go near the wreck due to the reef, and the small rescue ships couldn’t launch due to the storm.

Twenty-seven hours after the crash, a rescue successfully took place, saving 44 passengers and crew. However, an even greater number were lost — 93 people lost their lives, including three-year-old Betty Munn, who was sailing with her father. She was torn from his arms in the disaster. In memory of her death, there is a statue of Peter Pan, the fairy tale she loved, in Bowring Park in St. John’s.

The task of preaching and bringing comfort to the families of those who had suffered the loss of loved ones fell to Archbishop Edward Patrick Roche of St. John’s, who in a sermon at the memorial for the victims said:

With the exception perhaps of the great Sealing Disaster of a few years ago [the SS Newfoundland, 1914] never has there been in our history — strewn as that history is with marine tragedies great and small — an ocean horror that has come home to us with such appalling force as the great disaster of the ‘Florizel’ which now throws its shadow over our city and our Island.

Thank you.

Hon. Fabian Manning rose pursuant to notice of June 8, 2022:

That he will call the attention of the Senate to the life of Larry Dohey.

He said: Honourable senators, “Life brings tears, smiles and memories. The tears dry, the smiles fade, but the memories last forever.”

With this thought in mind, I welcome the opportunity today, here in the Senate of Canada, to pay tribute to the life and contribution of Larry Dohey, who, through his work as an archivist, historian and volunteer, became a true patriot of Newfoundland and Labrador.

On August 26, 2019, Larry was doing what he loved most — giving an address in the town of Placentia to a group of visitors from Ireland. Together with more than a hundred local people, the visitors had come together to celebrate the Newfoundland-Irish connection. Halfway through his speech, Larry suddenly fell ill. Two days later, on August 28, Larry passed away, leaving an incredible void within his family and, indeed, every region of our province.

I would like to take this opportunity to welcome several members of Larry’s family who have joined us here today, including Larry’s husband and best friend, Ian Martin. I sincerely appreciate all of you taking the time to travel to Ottawa to be a part of my tribute to Larry.

On October 23, 1959, Larry Dohey was born in the small fishing community of St. Bride’s in the province of Newfoundland and Labrador, one of thirteen children born to Clem and Loretta Dohey. He grew up in a region of our province known as the Cape Shore, which consisted of a large Irish Catholic population, where he was surrounded by those who told of our history and culture through songs and stories. Through these early experiences, Larry inherited a rich oral culture that on his life’s journey would propel him to be one of the most sought‑after historians in our province.

Following his high school graduation from Fatima Academy in St. Bride’s, Larry attended university in St. John’s, where he earned a BA in Religious Studies and Philosophy. He followed that with a Master of Divinity from the University of Toronto and St. Augustine’s Seminary. As well, he received a pontifical degree from Rome when studying at Saint Paul University here in Ottawa.

In the early 1980s, Larry began working for the Monitor, a newspaper published by the Roman Catholic Church of Newfoundland and Labrador that ran from 1934 to 2003. He contributed to the paper as a writer, handled distribution and publishing and later became the paper’s editor.

Beginning in 1994, as he was working at the archdiocese, Larry took archives courses and worked part-time as an archivist for the large archdiocesan collection. He would eventually go on to become director of the Basilica Museum — Mullock Library. It was here that Larry started a daily pattern of arranging and describing collections, seeking out facts in the numerous documents and writings.

In 2004, with a list of select email addresses, and in 2006, with articles he wrote for the Downhome magazine, Larry set out to increase provincial interest in archives. With an array of email addresses he had collected throughout the years, he began sending out interesting stories of our province to his list of contacts. Soon, Larry was receiving numerous calls to his office on a weekly basis from people asking to be added to these group emails. Through Larry’s passion for our province and his determination to inform us of our rich and storied past, he was quickly becoming a household name for his expertise on all things Newfoundland and Labrador.

With this solid job experience and boundless energy, Larry was soon recognized by another employer. In October of 2010, Larry moved across the street from the Basilica Museum to The Rooms Provincial Archives Division as Manager of Collections and Special Projects. It was in this domain that Larry’s audience continued to expand, and he became known not as a gatekeeper but as a very knowledgeable person who was more than willing to share information about the contents of our archives with fellow archivists, librarians, all types of researchers and any individual who reached out seeking answers to our province’s history or that of their own family roots.

In 2011, Larry’s extensive email list grew to become an online blog called “Archival Moments” which was a reflection of his interest in the colourful and rich archival history of Newfoundland and Labrador. Larry dug deep into the annals of the archives, and relayed his findings in an interesting and informative way. People from all around the world were contacting and visiting Larry, seeking information and knowing full well that they would be treated with the utmost respect, professionalism and, always, a nice cup of Tetley tea.

The year 2016 was vital to Larry’s development and growth. Larry’s knowledge of the provincial archives collection, his skill in bringing the stories of the past to life and his warm and welcoming personality led to his appointment at The Rooms as director of programming and public engagement. This was a position of increased responsibility. With this opportunity, Larry had found his station in life, and we would all be the beneficiaries of his total commitment to the task at hand. Larry would dedicate the remainder of his life to preserving the history and heritage of Newfoundland and Labrador. In 2016, a highlight for him was a visit to The Rooms by Princess Anne, as well as his own colour commentary on Canadian television about the July 1 commemorations and the exhibits that Princess Anne visited that day.

In 2016, it also marked the one-hundredth anniversary of a dark chapter of our province’s history, the Battle of Beaumont‑Hamel, where, on the morning of July 1, 1916, the courageous and brave men of the Royal Newfoundland Regiment crossed the battlefield in France — and, of over 800 soldiers, more than 700 were killed, wounded or missing. Only 68 of them answered the roll call the next day. Larry conducted extensive research on the battle itself, on those who lost their lives and the many human interest stories that came from it. Larry was called upon numerous times by local and national media to talk about this historic event in our province’s history. His knowledge of the details of that tragedy, and the way he relayed the stories of that fateful day, enriched our understanding of that very sad event in the history of our province. Many people began to refer to Larry as a walking encyclopedia of all things Newfoundland and Labrador.

In the fall of 2016, Larry took his “Archival Moments” to our local VOCM radio station. With Larry as host, interacting with producer Brian O’Connell, the wonderful stories of our past were brought forward in a way that seemed to be in the present. Larry took our historical facts that, for all intents and purposes, were lost in time, and he brought them to the present day. He had a very unique and special way of telling our stories. When Larry spoke, everyone listened. He engaged the community like no other. He was a superb storyteller, and he had the ability to make one feel that they were part of the story he was telling at the time, even if it was about an event that had happened decades before. He brought the past to the present, and taught us so much about ourselves. He was one of a kind.

Upon Larry’s passing, Brian O’Connell said Larry Dohey:

. . . was a good friend and a great promoter of all things Newfoundland and Labrador. It was an honour to have produced the Archival Moments program for VOCM with Larry. He put faces and names to our shared history. I will miss him.

Brian went on to say, “He was a real patriot, a real Newfoundlander.”

Larry and Ian loved to travel, and while going through customs, the customs officers would often ask, “What do you work at?” Larry would answer that he was an archivist. Regardless of the country they would be travelling in at the time, most customs officers would follow up with the question, “What is that?” Larry would respond, “I am the keeper of the records.”

Larry had an incredible desire to increase the understanding of what the archives were and what archivists actually did. To Larry, the archives were not just a collection of old documents, photographs and finding aids. To Larry, the archives were a letter a six-year-old boy wrote when he donated the dollar prize he won at school to help build the National War Memorial in St. John’s 100 years ago. It was the story of a teenage soldier whose son found his father’s records and regained his dad. It’s the diaries, letters and notes that gave context to the artifacts and paintings displayed at The Rooms where Larry combined the traditional duties of archivist with something like that of a concert promoter. Even though his official job description at The Rooms was director of programming and public engagement, many still called him “the archivist,” and he never did correct them. It was a title that he loved.

Larry left the province he loved all that much richer from the stories he celebrated online, on-air and in person. His name can be found in the acknowledgements of scores of books, articles, films, documentaries, plays and theses. Along with his work, Larry gave freely of his time and knowledge as he volunteered at countless national, provincial and local boards, organizations and causes, especially those that were promoting and preserving our history and culture. He served on both the national and provincial archives associations, serving in the position of president of the Association of Newfoundland and Labrador Archives from 1995 to 1999, and again from 2003 to 2006. He was a member of both the board of directors of Destination St. John’s and the Irish Newfoundland Association. He was also a member of the Bannerman Park and Victoria Park revitalization committees. At one time, he served as vice-president of the Newfoundland & Labrador Historical Society, the oldest historical group in Newfoundland and Labrador.

Larry played a pivotal role in the research for the development of the Home from The Sea Sealers Memorial located in the town of Elliston, Newfoundland. As a show of appreciation and thanks for generously giving so much of his time and knowledge to this world-class project, the group responsible for the memorial have placed a memory board at the site in honour of Larry’s contribution. Part of it reads as follows:

Without Larry, the Sealers Memorial would have been incomplete and inaccurate. Larry’s meticulous research uncovered misidentifications and inaccuracies based on ships’ rolls, uncovering stories that without him would have been irrevocably lost. We lost Larry far too early, but we will never forget his contribution.

Larry was well-known for bringing enthusiasm, and a bundle of energy, to everything he became involved in. He approached 8 a.m. Monday morning and 5 p.m. Friday evening with equal amounts of joy. He believed in the love of family, hard work, the importance of fun and the power of “yes.” Even though he went about his work each day in his quiet and unassuming manner, he was a force to be reckoned with. He was a true living example of the pen being mightier than the sword.

Larry was a very humble human being, and was not a person for self-promotion at any level. When word of his passing began to spread across our province, there was a huge outpouring of emotion, which was expressed in online blogs, local radio and television coverage, national news coverage and all social media platforms. I would like to share some of those comments with you to show you the lasting impact that Larry has had.

Anne Chafe, interim CEO at The Rooms at the time, said, “We’re profoundly saddened this morning by the loss of our dear colleague and friend . . . .”

She continued:

He spread the word of The Rooms far and wide and he was just an outstanding ambassador for the work that we do.

Jack Harris, former member of Parliament for St. John’s East, said Larry’s death was:

. . . a big loss to our community and province. Larry was a delightful friend and consummate warehouse of stories and knowledge of our history and culture.

Rick Mercer said:

What a huge loss. Could anyone love the province and its history more? Archival Moments on VOCM was a treasure. RIP Mr. Dohey.

Terry Sutton, who worked at the basilica archives with Larry and who helped him with the launch of “Archival Moments”, had this to say:

Larry was a humble and enthusiastic servant to the past and to the people who wanted to learn about it. He leaves behind a hole no one can fill, a sadness we’ll always endure and a joy we’ll always feel.

Mark Critch said:

I’m gutted at the loss of @LarryDohey. He was gentle, funny and, above all, that rare thing these days — kind. Larry not only knew more than anyone about our history, Larry could make anyone want to learn more about it. He was one of our best.

Mark also went on to say:

Larry Dohey will meet St Peter. St Peter will say come in. And Larry will say, “before I do — would you like to hear an interesting story about that gate?”

Last, but by no means least, because there were hundreds of beautiful personal tributes to Larry, Joan Ritcey, former president of the board of the Newfoundland & Labrador Historical Society, had this to say about Larry:

Through his media work, he made Newfoundland and Labrador history more widely interesting to the general public; through his job as a trained archivist, he uncovered long buried information and went out of his way to facilitate other people’s research; through his professional development work for his peers, he was a builder of archival standards; and through his broad outreach, he was a builder of community heritage memorials. His work has been an inspiration and it will carry dividends for the country into the future.

That pretty well sums up Larry’s incredible and lasting legacy.

Very fittingly, Larry’s funeral mass was held at the Basilica of St. John the Baptist in St. John’s on September 2, 2019, where it was estimated that some 3,000 people were in attendance. Interest was so great that close to 300 people were left standing.

Larry’s brother, Father Wayne Dohey, presided over the mass that day, and during his beautiful homily, he spoke of Larry as a great advocate of our history and culture, a great champion of our province and in the words of our First Nations, he was “the bearer of knowledge.” He spoke of the great gift Larry was to our family, our province and our country. He said that we should be the things we love the most about the people who are gone:

Be kind, be bright, be a friend and be yourself and the world will love you for it. There is no doubt that Larry Dohey was himself. He loved the church, but he walked his own path.

When Larry passed, it was a tremendous loss to everyone, especially to his family — one which we still feel in our hearts today, and will do so forevermore. Larry was a teacher in so many ways — teaching us all the importance of accepting people for who they really are, always being proud of where you come from and that, above all else, in a world where you can be anything you want to be, be kind to each other. He taught us that true love never comes to an end. Larry lives on in the wonderful and treasured memories we all have of his journey here on this earth. We know now how blessed we have been to have shared that journey with Larry.

In Newfoundland and Labrador, there is a special little flower called the forget-me-not, which is often worn as a sign of respect for fallen soldiers. The flower has become a true sign of admiration and respect for others and is available to the public in a wide range of ways, such as lapel pins, which all the family members are wearing today in memory of Larry.

I am honoured today to be wearing Larry’s forget-me-not tie. It was a gift given to me by Ian. I had difficulty in finding the words to express my sincere gratitude at the time Ian presented it to me. It is with immense pride today that I wear Larry’s tie for the first time. I will treasure it for as long as I live. Thank you, Ian.

Larry won many awards and accolades for his tremendous work during his lifetime, including the Newfoundland and Labrador Historical Society Heritage Fellowship Award. He was also the recipient of what was once known as the Advocacy and Outreach Award, presented annually by the Association of Canadian Archivists. In future, this award will be known as the Larry Dohey Award. What a great way to keep Larry’s memory alive.

I do believe that Larry’s greatest gift was that of his husband and best friend, Ian. Together for 27 years, they travelled and explored the world around us, never missed a family event, and it was always a joy to have them in our company. Larry’s mom, Loretta, would often say, “Thank God for Ian. He keeps Larry on the straight and narrow.”

In closing, I want to say that we are blessed with a library full of wonderful memories of Larry. A kind, gentle and wonderful human being who has left a remarkable legacy that we can all be so proud of.

I will conclude with words from Ian, who without a doubt is the person who knew Larry best. At the time of Larry’s passing, Ian said:

Everything he did, including his work and all his volunteer work, was a way to celebrate Newfoundland and Labrador. He thought every Newfoundlander was an ambassador to the province. He wanted everyone to know what a wonderful place this is.

He went on to say:

He never believed in saying no to people. . . . He gave fully of his time. . . . He was just so kind to everyone. . . .

Indeed, he was. May he rest in peace. Thank you.

Hon. Fabian Manning moved second reading of Bill S-249, An Act respecting the development of a national strategy for the prevention of intimate partner violence.

He said: Honourable senators, I welcome the opportunity this afternoon to say a few words to begin the second reading of Bill S-249, an act respecting the development of a national strategy for the prevention of intimate partner violence.

For those senators who may not be aware, this is my second attempt, albeit with some minor adjustments, to have this piece of legislation become the law of the land. I first introduced a similar bill to this chamber on April 24, 2018. Yes, I did say 2018, so I am hoping for the chamber’s support to see this version of Bill S-249 cross the finish line in a reasonable time frame.

With that in mind, I once again want to begin my remarks today with a quote from Kofi Annan, the former UN Secretary-General:

Violence against women is perhaps the most shameful human rights violation. And, it is perhaps the most pervasive. It knows no boundaries of geography, culture or wealth. As long as it continues, we cannot claim to be making real progress towards equality, development and peace.

It is with mixed emotions that I stand before you today to talk about and seek your support for this piece of legislation. I will use my time to explain the origin and purpose of this bill, but even more importantly, I want to use my allotted time to put forward some of the reasons I truly believe this national strategy is needed more today than ever before — needed even more today, my fellow senators, than in 2018 when I first brought it forward.

On one hand, I am proud to be the sponsor of this bill, though at the same time I am extremely sad and disappointed that we still live in a world where this serious issue is continuing on its ugly path. The cloak of secrecy around intimate partner violence has created a travesty of justice that has prevailed because of fear, stigma and the absence of a law to protect the most vulnerable in our society. It is time for all of us to come together to lift that cloak of secrecy, and to create solutions that will give so many of our fellow Canadians an opportunity to have a choice, where neither one exists today. We are long overdue on seriously addressing this issue, and the fact that we live in the greatest country on earth does not mean that all our citizens live without fear. Many continue to be abused physically, mentally, emotionally, sexually, financially and in many other ways. We have much work to do in addressing the concerns and issues of intimate partner violence. I hope this piece of legislation is a solid building block to doing just that.

My work on this legislation began with a phone call I received in early 2017 from a woman who had summoned the courage to try to make a difference and who has become a very strong advocate for this cause. Through her efforts, she has given a voice to all those abused women who were and still are unable to speak for themselves.

With her permission, I am going to tell you her life story. Hopefully, you will then understand the origin of this bill and why I feel it is so important that we join forces to give a voice to those who have been battered and abused, and to provide them with an avenue where they feel they will have somewhere to turn when the need arises.

This is the story of a brave and courageous woman by the name of Georgina McGrath from the small town of Branch in St. Mary’s Bay, Newfoundland. While at the present time Georgina is experiencing a very peaceful solitude on her life’s journey, it has not always been that way.

Georgina grew up in Labrador City, and today, at the age of 53, she can honestly say that she is a survivor of intimate partner violence and a survivor of a suicide attempt. She has shared her story in the hope that she can help others who find themselves on the receiving end of a fist and the verbal abuse that often comes with it.

Georgina is a daughter, a sister, a niece, an aunt, a mother-in-law and a friend. Most importantly, she is the mother of two amazing adult children — her 33-year-old son Nathan and her 32-year-old daughter Kelty — and, today, she is the very happy and proud grandmother of 3-year-old Thomas. Georgina is the first to say that she will always be a victim of intimate partner violence, but she quickly follows up with this proud statement: She refuses to ever allow that period of her life define who she really and truly is. I have sat and talked with Georgina on many occasions. I admire her strength, her determination, her passion and her resolve to expose the abusers and have them pay for their crimes, as well as make this country a place where abused persons will have someone to reach out to in times of need.

Georgina had a life that most people would dream about. She owned her own company in Labrador City for eight years and had more independence than most people could ever wish for. At times, she employed up to 30 people, and her financial situation and future looked very bright indeed. She won national and international awards for her work, and she was enjoying life as a contributing member of our society.

That all changed when she met a man who would become her first abuser. From that relationship, she received constant emotional, mental and physical abuse, and, in the end, it was a gun to her head that was the last straw.

Following that relationship, Georgina was diagnosed with PTSD and fibromyalgia. She picked up the pieces of her life and, with the help of friends and family, continued to work at building her company. She had to provide for her two children, and the rewards of motherhood are what gave her the energy and determination to keep going.

She soon became good friends with a man from Ireland who had come to live in Labrador. He spoke in a nice manner, treated her well at the beginning and seemed to be genuinely concerned about the well-being of Georgina and her children. Their friendship grew into a relationship, and eventually they became a couple. She felt comfortable and happy again, let go of her insecurities and was willing to spend the rest of her life with this man. She wanted the relationship to work because failure was not something that she wanted to accept for her private life. They were working away, enjoying life and having fun — and Georgina felt that she had made the right decision this time, and was on track to a lifetime of happiness and security.

About a year later, in September 2013, Georgina and her partner travelled to Las Vegas for a holiday. Sadly, and unfortunately, that is the place where she received her first punch from this man who then became her second abuser. This time, however, she did strike back. The next morning, he looked at her and said, “You know, the best thing about you, GMac?” — that was the nickname he had given her — “You can get up and just forget that anything happened.” At that particular time in her life, that is exactly what she did, because she had become a pro at hiding what was happening to her.

She hoped things would get better, but, sadly, that was not to be. Her abuser continued his reign of terror over the next few months by giving her a black eye, cracking off a tooth and head‑butting her so hard that it resulted in a goose egg on her forehead. The increased physical abuse came with a torrent of emotional and mental abuse as well. Georgina strongly believes that all types of abuse go hand in hand.

On August 9, 2014, the night before her forty-fifth birthday, they were both out with some friends when her partner became verbally abusive with her. When they returned home later that evening, he went to the garage, drank a beer and then threw the beer bottle at Georgina’s head. Thank God, he missed. The next day, he sent her flowers and a note expressing his love for her — he signed the card “Yours truly.” Georgina told me it was incredible how good he was at manipulating her, and showing the rest of the world that he was this great and charming guy. In Newfoundland and Labrador, we refer to these types of individuals as “street angels and house devils.” Later that night, he told her that if he really wanted to hit her in the head with the beer bottle, he could have easily done so. It was all about his continuing efforts to have her in his total control.

September 25, 2014, could have been Georgina’s last day on earth, but somehow, through it all, she survived. The night started out with a movie and a glass of wine but quickly turned into a night of horror. A verbal argument was followed by a punch that quickly turned into a life-threatening beating. He pushed her to the floor, got on top of her and began to choke her. As she lay there on the floor, she could feel the life slowly draining from her body. When he pushed his face close to hers, she instinctively took the opportunity and bit him on the nose. He immediately released his grip and ran into the washroom to inspect the damage Georgina had inflicted on him. She somehow managed to get up from the floor, and then she ran and locked herself in the bedroom, but, in a blinding rage, he put his fist through the door, reached in and unlocked it. He pushed her to the floor again and started to repeatedly hit her on the side of the head. She managed to push him off, but he was stronger and pinned her to the floor once again and started hitting her on the other side of the head.

Unable to fight back any longer, Georgina lay there, waiting for that one punch that would end her life. He then turned her over and continued hitting her. He told her she was fat, ugly and wrinkly — and that nobody would ever want her. He then got up, went downstairs, grabbed a knife and went into the bathroom. Georgina, once again, somehow managed to get to her feet and, with her mind racing, put her body up against the door while he pushed and pushed. Eventually, he just gave up and, thank God, for some reason or other, he gave the knife to Georgina.

Georgina went downstairs and called her sister while he kept shouting obscenities at her, continuing to call her fat, ugly and wrinkly. During her time on the phone with her sister, Georgina just wanted all the abuse to stop, so she attempted to take her own life by overdosing on prescription medication. She swallowed six times the legal dose. Her sister could clearly hear the desperation in her voice. When she hung up the phone, she lay down on the couch to die. Georgina felt she could not continue any longer. Fortunately, her sister had the fortitude to call 911.

The next thing Georgina remembers is waking up in the hospital and seeing her two beautiful children at the foot of the bed. The abuser came to the hospital and told her that he did not understand why he did what he did to her. He did not acknowledge the fresh bruises on her face and body from the beating she had received from him just hours before. He just wanted her to come back home.

When her children asked the abuser several times what happened, he said it was in self-defence. Georgina’s daughter — who works in the field of child, youth and family services — told him that no one uses self-defence on someone else’s head. The only mark on him was where Georgina had bitten his nose. Georgina had severe trauma, including two ruptured eardrums, damage to both her temples, nerve damage to her face and bruises that took seven weeks to finally fade away. The mental and emotional trauma was unmeasurable.

On that September night in 2014, there was no one to protect Georgina. Basically, across this country of ours, there is no mandatory reporting of intimate partner violence. No person has the legal obligation to notify the proper authorities — not doctors, nurses, counsellors and not even employees of women’s shelters. The police did not investigate Georgina’s case because it was ruled a medical call — not intimate partner violence. There was no investigation into the fact that this man tried to take Georgina’s life before she tried to take her own.

After leaving the hospital and living with the fear of future abuse, Georgina finally took control of her life. It was not easy to take the giant step that would change her life forever. As a matter of fact, it took several weeks for Georgina — with the encouragement, once again, of family and friends — to find the courage to go to the police and press charges. By the time an arrest warrant was issued, the man was on a plane back to Ireland. The coward skipped the country before he could be brought to justice. Today, there is a Canada-wide arrest warrant for him if he ever sets foot on Canadian soil again. I highly doubt that will ever happen.

If you have never experienced the type of abuse that Georgina and many others, especially women, have endured, it may be easy to say, “Why doesn’t someone in that position just get up and leave?” There are many reasons why a woman does not get up and leave. In most cases, finances may not be available to do so, or perhaps there is nowhere to go, or no one to turn to for support and protection. Perhaps those who have been abused believe that, in some strange way, it is their fault. They are led to believe that they may have provoked the abuse, and that the stigma related to the abuse may be too much for some people to deal with on their own. There is always the fear that it could happen again, that the law does not protect the innocent and that the next time may be the last time.

Judith Lewis Herman, author of Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence — From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror, explains the situation quite well:

The guarantee of safety in a battering relationship can never be based upon a promise from the perpetrator, no matter how heartfelt. Rather, it must be based upon the self‑protective capability of the victim. Until the victim has developed a detailed and realistic contingency plan and has demonstrated her ability to carry it out, she remains in danger of repeated abuse.

My fellow senators, that is the story of the abuse that Georgina McGrath endured and lived to tell us about. The sad reality, though, is that there are many others who were not so fortunate. Georgina told me several times that she cannot change what happened to her, but if her efforts to address this very serious issue can help another abused person, it will have been worth all the time and effort she has given to this cause. Georgina truly believes there is a reason she survived, and it is to change how we deal with the issue of intimate partner violence — to change the laws or to create new ones so that women, children, men and all abused people in our country will know they do have somewhere to turn to when it seems like the world has turned against them.

Since I began this legislative journey in the Senate, I have met with a large number of victims of intimate partner violence, families of those who have lost a loved one to intimate partner violence, police services, advocates seeking justice for victims, representatives of women’s groups and shelters and several community leaders throughout my home province of Newfoundland and Labrador. I have also talked with several health care professionals, especially those in emergency rooms, who have told me repeatedly of the frustrations they feel about being constrained by privacy laws when they have to deal with the victims of what they know is intimate partner violence. I have held several round tables where the opportunity has been provided for those who want to share their story.

Through it all, I have discovered a very sad reality. Many of the women I have spoken to want to do so privately, and after hearing their stories, I fully understand why. I have witnessed first-hand the fear in their eyes as they continue to look over their shoulders as they talk to me in whispers. I have respected their wishes for privacy whenever and wherever possible, and I want to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of these women for trusting me with their life stories. It has an incredible experience and has truly opened my eyes to the suffering and loneliness so many have had to endure. It has given me the resolve to ensure we adopt this piece of legislation so that we can begin the process of finding avenues to address this blight on our society.

I will not stand here today, fellow senators, and in any way pretend to have all the answers to deal with this sad reality that surrounds us, but I truly believe that by working together, we can and will make a difference. Colleagues, there is no other choice.

With the onset of COVID-19, my plans to travel, meet and talk with other concerned individuals and organizations throughout Canada were derailed. I am looking forward to doing just that when time permits me to do so. In my discussions throughout the past several years, I have become much more aware and indeed much more alarmed at what is happening in our country when it comes to the treatment of the victims and the families of the victims of intimate partner violence. I strongly believe that many of our citizens are not familiar with the overwhelming statistics that are available regarding this scourge here in our country. Allow me to bring some of those statistics forward while, at the same time, keeping in mind that there is much more information available, and I encourage my fellow senators and others to take the time to familiarize yourselves with the data that is easily accessible.

In this free and democratic country, on any given night, 4,600 women and their 3,600 children are forced to sleep in emergency shelters as a result of violence. On a single day, 379 women and 215 children are turned away from shelters in Canada, usually because the shelters are full to capacity.

Intimate partner violence has been identified as a widespread public health issue. In 2021, police in Canada reported that 114,132 people were victimized by an intimate partner. That is 344 victims per 100,000 population. It marked the seventh consecutive year of gradual increases for this type of violence, during which 8 in 10 — 79% — of the victims of such violence were women and girls. Specifically in 2021, there was a large increase in the rate of level one sexual assault, which is sexual assault violating the sexual integrity of the victim. In 2021, it was 22% higher compared with 2020. Level two sexual assault in intimate partner relationships, which is committed with a weapon or causes bodily harm, also increased by 6% compared with 2020. Intimate partner violence reported to police most often involved a current partner — 36% of cases — or, in 29% of cases, a spouse, followed by former partners at 21% and ex‑spouses at 12%. And 79% of the victims of intimate partner violence were women.

In 2021, 90 homicide victims in our country were killed by an intimate partner. Three quarters — 76% — of these victims were women and girls. The number of victims of intimate partner homicide in 2021 was higher than that of 2020, when there were 84 victims, and higher again than that of 2019, when there were 77 victims.

Since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, increased attention has been focused on the issue of family violence and intimate partner violence. With many individuals having to spend more time at home with household members, often living, working and studying in isolation during those uncertain and stressful times, there was and, in many cases, remains ongoing concern about the safety of individuals living in abusive relationships. This issue has been at the forefront of victim services such as shelters for victims of abuse for quite some time. Some recent reports allude to major increases throughout Canada as it relates to intimate partner violence during the COVID-19 shutdown. Statistics are still being compiled for that period on many different fronts. I am looking forward to receiving that information soon, which I do believe will assist my efforts in having Bill S-249 become law.

Protection orders and peace bonds have proven time and again to fail to protect victims from someone enraged and intent on inflicting harm on them. Along with others, this is one of the main reasons that many incidents of intimate partner violence are never reported to the police. Statistics tell us that only about 10% of intimate partner violence abuse is reported. That is very unfortunate, and we need to create a way for that to change and to see an increase in that number.

While physical assault leads the way, victims are subjected to abuse in so many other ways such as criminal harassment — also referred to as stalking — sexual violence, emotional and psychological abuse, financial and spiritual abuse, reproductive coercion and coercive control. As well, more prevalent than ever before, today we have technology-facilitated violence, also referred to as cyberviolence.

The damage inflicted on the victims of intimate partner violence is best summed up by a woman I met with earlier this summer who told me:

There are many acts of abuse I have endured that have never left a mark on my body but indeed have left scars on me that I can never erase.

Approximately 50% of women over the age of 16 in Newfoundland and Labrador will experience at least one incident of sexual or physical violence throughout their lifetime. This information is found on the website for the Western Regional Coalition to End Violence, an organization based in Corner Brook, Newfoundland. Their website also states:

This epidemic of gender-based violence is fostered by a society rooted in an oppressive discourse of patriarchal domination, authority and control. Gender inequality is both reflected in and reinforced by our social, economic, and political institutions as well as our ideologies and the culture of silence that surrounds violence against women and girls. . . .

We recognize that to address gender-based violence, it is essential to highlight the voices of women who have been silenced by marginalization. It is through their experiences of oppression and violence that we can recognize and comprehend the need for improvements and reform of legal, medical and other supportive service delivery for victims of gender-based violence.

Senators, there are three very important statistics that I want to reiterate to you today and ask you to please remember. The first is that in Canada, one in four women will be assaulted in their lifetime. The second is that only about 10% of sexual assaults are ever reported to the police. Third, very tragically, intimate partner violence costs lives: In Canada, a woman is killed by an intimate partner approximately every six days. The reality of these numbers is staggering and should be of grave concern to everyone listening today.

Findings from the 2019 General Social Survey – Canadians’ Safety (Victimization) show that there were approximately 432,000 women and 279,000 men in Canada who experienced spousal violence in the five years preceding the survey.

Due to the complexities of intimate relationships, spousal violence is particularly susceptible to under-reporting to police. As a result, self-reporting experiences of violence are an important complement to police-reported data.

Intimate partner violence tends to happen repeatedly for some victims; about 3 in 10 women victims of intimate partner violence report experiencing at least one type of violence —

Hon. Fabian Manning: Honourable senators, today I am pleased to present Chapter 66 of “Telling Our Story.”

Dr. Cluny Macpherson was born in St. John’s, Newfoundland, on March 18, 1879. He received his early education at Methodist College and at McGill University Faculty of Medicine, from 1897 to 1901, where he earned his degree in medicine. He began his medical career at the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh.

In 1902, he returned to Newfoundland, where he joined the Labrador Grenfell Mission, begun by Dr. Wilfred Grenfell, and ran the hospital in Battle Harbour, Labrador. Macpherson later became a director of the Newfoundland and International Grenfell Associations. He helped develop the Seaman’s Institute — later called the King George V Institute — another Grenfell project.

Returning to St. John’s a few years later, Dr. Macpherson opened a private practice, and eventually became the leading practitioner in Newfoundland. Macpherson started the first St. John Ambulance brigade in Newfoundland after working with the St. John Ambulance Society. When World War I broke out, members enlisted in the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, and he organized the volunteers into an ambulance unit which served throughout the war.

At the start of the war in August 1914, Macpherson was commissioned as the Captain and Principal Medical Officer of the newly formed Newfoundland Regiment. He saw active duty in Belgium and France, at Salonika and later at Gallipoli, as well as in Egypt.

The German army used poisonous gas for the first time against allied troops at the Second Battle of Ypres, in Belgium, on April 22, 1915. In response to the actions of the Germans, Macpherson began researching methods of protection against the poisonous gas. Before that, a soldier’s only protection was to breathe through a handkerchief or small piece of fabric soaked in urine.

Using a helmet, taken from a captured German prisoner, Macpherson added a canvas hood with eyepieces and a breathing tube. The helmet was treated with chemicals that would absorb the chlorine used in the gas attacks. It is said it is thanks to his medical training, knowledge of basic chemistry and some clear imagination that Macpherson invented what was at first called the Hypo Helmet and later known worldwide as the gas mask. In June 1915, Macpherson’s helmet was the first general issue gas countermeasure to be used by the British Army.

His invention was the most important protective device of the First World War, protecting countless soldiers from blindness, disfigurement or injury to their throats and lungs. For his services, Captain Macpherson was made a companion of the Order of St Michael and St George in 1918.

During World War II, Dr. Macpherson served in ship convoys in the North Atlantic. During his lifetime, he received many awards for his duty and service. To name a few, in 1913, he was appointed a Knight of the British Order of St. John of Jerusalem; in 1955, he was appointed a Knight of Justice; and in 1964, he most deservingly received the Canadian Forces’ Decoration.

In 1902, Dr. Macpherson married Eleanora Barbara Macleod Thompson, of Northumberland County in Ontario, and they had two children. Their family home at 65 Rennie’s Mill Road in St. John’s, where he served as secretary, treasurer and registrar for the Newfoundland Medical Society, now has historic designation.

Dr. Cluny Macpherson, another proud Newfoundlander and Labradorian who proved to us all that, yes, one person can make a difference and change the world.