We had caucus on Tuesday mornings then, not in the afternoon, and Bill would show up for caucus at the last minute with a bacon sandwich, heaped with bacon. Why ruin a sandwich with lettuce and tomato, right? I’ve been told on good authority that more than once, down in the cafeteria when he thought they weren’t moving fast enough, he went around the counter and made his own bacon sandwich. That was Bill. And do you know what? He would always make sure he got enough bacon on that sandwich. But he always brought a real perspective to the table in caucus—always—and you can rest assured that we learned a lot from Bill. As rural members, we learned something from Bill: that at caucus, you don’t have to be shy. You need to bring that rural perspective.

And then that same day, Tuesday, we sat in the afternoon and Bill would always get the first statement. He would get the first statement, and then he would be out of here like a rocket back to the riding to serve his people—or maybe down to the Bognor swamp to make another case of Billy Beer; I don’t know. But he would get out of here on Tuesdays.

He also had, as you mentioned, what I would consider to be—and I know people say it’s believed to be—the largest hockey jersey collection privately held in Canada. It’s amazing: 700, maybe 800 jerseys. But I know this: If it’s the biggest one in Canada, it’s the biggest one in the world, because there ain’t nobody else out there who loves hockey like we do.

So I got to visit Bill’s farm one time—you’re talking about a farmer. I went to see Bill at his farm, and when he wasn’t out fighting for the little guy and he wasn’t brewing down in the swamp, he loved it on that tractor. I showed up unannounced one day, and there’s Bill in his glory, shirtless. The sun was beating down; it must have been 107 degrees. And he was as happy as you-know-what, sitting on that tractor and cutting hay, because that’s where he wanted to be.

Talking about Bognor, Norm Sterling was telling me that Bill came in one time and apologized. He said, “I know I’m not supposed to do that. I’m not supposed to be going to those people directly, but I went to the liquor board and I said, ‘You’ve got to get a cooler for the beer in the liquor store in Bognor because they need cold beer just like you guys.’ But I apologize”—he actually apologized for doing it. But that was Bill Murdoch. He felt those people down in Bognor needed a cooler? They’re getting a cooler.

You talked about the Tombstones musicians. Bill couldn’t sing, but he was the manager of the band. Not only was it the Tombstones—and they built that music hall of fame, they started it—but they also used a retired hearse as their vehicle for driving around to shows.

I got to sing down in Keady one time. Bill called me down to come and do a fundraiser for him. So we’re down in Keady, and that’s when I first met Susan, his wife. So I got to sing at the fundraiser and I sang with Susan. And after, when we got back to Queen’s Park, I said to Bill, “How in the name of Sam Hill,” as they say, “did you ever land something like Susan?”—a beautiful, charming woman with the voice of a nightingale. I said, “Bill, how did you do it?” He just laughed at me: “Yak, that’s my secret.”

But you’ve got to know that a guy is comfortable in his own skin when, one day, Bill comes into the caucus and says, “Yak, take a look at this.” I say, “What?” He shows me a picture, and I said, “What is that, Bill?” “Well, that’s a picture of my colonoscopy. Don’t you think that it’s in good shape?” He shows me a picture—because that was Bill Murdoch. He was so comfortable in who Bill Murdoch was, he says, “Yak, have a look at this.”

I got a chance to speak to Bill before he died, and nothing had changed. He was still the same Bill Murdoch, the one we shake our heads at, but the one that, deep down, you just got to love. He stuck to his principles: the principles he came here with were the principles he left with, and the principles that he retained until the good Lord called him. Bill believed in his people, he believed in the little guy, and he believed that if you or me or anybody else has a chance to stand up for the little guy, that’s our job.

I want to thank the family—Susan and all of the family joining with us today. I know, Speaker, you listed—did you list everybody’s names? Yes, you did; thank you very much—because I was so enthralled with all of other stuff. I want to thank you all not only for being here today but for sharing this unique and wonderful man, not only with us but with all of the people of Ontario. We miss him dearly. He leaves a legacy that, I dare say, will never be repeated ever again. God bless Bill Murdoch. Rest in peace.

Applause.