John Diefenbaker - Arthur Slade Quest Biography

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brief military career over, John could now pursue his goal of becoming a lawyer. The University of Saskatchewan, like other Canadian universities, gave credit for war service, so Diefenbaker was able to graduate. In the spring of 1919 he wrote and passed his finals and received his law degree.

      “Gentlemen of the Jury, have you reached your verdict?” The Clerk of the Court asked.

      “We have.”

      “How say you? Is the prisoner guilty or not guilty?”

      “Not guilty.”

      With those two words in the fall of 1919 the career of John Diefenbaker, lawyer for the defence, was launched. It was his first victory, and news that the boy with the piercing blue eyes was a dynamite lawyer spread like wildfire through Wakaw and the surrounding area.

      Diefenbaker had defended John Chernyski, a farmer who had stepped out of his house at twilight, seen his dogs wrestling with what looked like a fox or a coyote and had let go with both barrels of his shotgun. The animal yelped and then called out, “help!”

      The victim was actually a neighbor boy who’d been crossing the field on his bike. He was wounded. Chernyski scrambled to take the boy to hospital.

      Chernyski ended up in court charged with intent to cause grievous bodily harm. His wife convinced Diefenbaker to defend Chernyski – for a fee of six hundred dollars. Diefenbaker argued that the farmer had made a simple mistake: he’d gone from a brightly lit home to twilight without waiting for his eyes to adjust before pulling the trigger. There was no intention to cause another human being harm. The jury convened and decided John’s argument had been compelling enough to render a verdict of “Not guilty.” In his memoirs, John wrote that the jury was being kind to him because it was his birthday. If that truly was what motivated their decision then it was perhaps the best birthday present Diefenbaker had in his lifetime.

      The small town of Wakaw, Saskatchewan, where Diefenbaker’s law office was located, had a population of six hundred. John had chosen the town after examining court records that showed Wakaw was, in his words, “particularly litigious, in court at a moment’s notice.” What better place for a lawyer to be! It was also close to Saskatoon, which made visiting his parents easy. There was another lawyer in town, but winning the Chernyski case helped John gain a good reputation.

      He had sixty-two trials in his first year of practice and won half of them. He would sometimes travel between villages on an old railway handcar, but by the summer of 1920 he paid off a few of his debts, moved into a larger office and bought a Maxwell touring car at a price of $1764.00.

      “It was a thing of beauty,” John later said, “if not a joy forever.” Sadly, tires in those days were not all that dependable. “The only good thing about it was its name… I lost all count of the flat tires. But I loved to tour.” The boy who used to taunt the wealthy in their newfangled automobiles now had a car of his own.

      It wasn’t all about money, touring around, and winning court cases, for John there was a real stake in defending the innocent and the downtrodden: “When I accepted a case where I thought someone’s rights were being violated, often the person couldn’t pay me, or did so only after many years. From the beginning of my practice, I never charged a Métis or an Indian who came to me for advice. I was distressed by their conditions, the unbelievable poverty and the injustice done them.”

      He lived frugally and threw himself into his work, though he did take the time to drive to Vancouver in 1921 and Los Angeles in 1923, long trips over unpaved roads, and he also bought a summer cottage at Wakaw Lake, where he could fish and hunt.

      Diefenbaker wasn’t as lucky in love as he was in court; he remained ill at ease with young women. He blamed this shyness on his childhood: “I am sorry, particularly sorry that Elmer and I were to grow up without sisters. Given our later isolation on the homestead, our separation from other boys and girls, it became natural to think of women as a species apart, an experience destined to leave a permanent mark on one’s attitude toward them.” In those days an acquaintance described John this way: “He was tall, slim, quiet, aloof, not aggressive, a very poor mixer.” The lawyer who was known for his powerful performance in court was not so powerful on the dance floor.

      John became infatuated with Olive Freeman, the young daughter of the minister at First Baptist Church in Saskatoon. He gathered up all his courage and asked her for a date, but she moved with her family to Brandon in 1921 before he could pursue a relationship. Diefenbaker later became engaged to a woman named Beth Newell, but she was diagnosed with tuberculosis and died in 1924.

      John himself still suffered from his own physical weaknesses. After several minor hospital stays he travelled to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota and had surgery for a gastric ulcer, which led to some improvement in his health. He didn’t stop working though, and he soon felt it was time to perform on a bigger stage: Prince Albert.

      Prince Albert in 1924 was a raucous frontier city booming with money, politics, and law cases. Once it had dreamed of being the capital of the North-West Territories, and now it was a gateway to the riches of northern Saskatchewan. The law office door on the second floor of the red brick Bank d’Hochelaga building on Second Avenue read: John G. Diefenbaker Law Office – Walk In. Inside were two used bookcases, a gooseneck lamp, and an oversized desk. Looming behind that desk was John Diefenbaker, now a seasoned veteran of the daily battles in court.

      He took on any case that came his way: bad debts, estates, minor thefts, assault, insurance claims, and slander. Not all as exciting as defending someone against a charge of murder, but he was in a city now. Residents of Prince Albert soon grew accustomed to seeing a confident young lawyer in a three-piece suit striding up and down the streets, or driving his 1927 Chrysler Sedan.

      He did make enemies. T.C. Davis, who was a Liberal, the attorney general of the province, and the owner of the Prince Albert Herald, didn’t much like Diefenbaker, especially because of Diefenbaker’s support of the Conservative party. In fact, when Diefenbaker’s court cases were written up in the Herald, Diefenbaker discovered the reporters wouldn’t mention his name; they just called him “a lawyer from Prince Albert.” Clients came to him anyway, despite the lack of press.

      A slight, pretty young schoolteacher stood on a train platform in Saskatoon. Red hair. A fashionable dress. A light laugh. It was enough to make a young man fall in love.

      That’s exactly what happened to John. John was introduced to Edna May Brower through his brother. Edna was a “flapper,” a term used at the time to describe a woman who was free-willed and unconventional. She wore the latest fashions and loved social events, and though she was engaged to a Langham farmer, she soon only had eyes for John. As one friend explained it, Edna’s photograph album, which was filled with pictures of Edna with other men, eventually only had pictures of her and John, swimming, laughing, and picnicking together.

      Not everyone saw why these two opposites were attracted to each other. A teaching colleague, Molly Connell, recalled: “His eyes, they just bored right through you. They were like steel; hard eyes. There was never any tenderness or warmth about John Diefenbaker. I felt it then, but one does not say that to a good friend who may be in love with him.”

      There were others who also didn’t understand, but the couple grew closer and closer together.

      On a still summer night, John and Edna are alone in the moonlight. They sit with hands entwined. Here is a

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