Great Day in Ottawa

The flags rose in great billows. On the fronts of buildings loomed huge, blown-up photographs: of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, of Prime Minister William Mackenzie King. On the public squares, hammers clattered and wooden stands took shape.

Through the streets milled the crowds of a holiday eve: men & women in khaki and blue, red-coated Mounties. Everywhere bands tested their brass throats; the crowds sang marching songs. Across the Ottawa River, in the little manufacturing city of Hull, the drab factories were decked in bunting. And out at Rideau Hall, where the Governor General of Canada lives, workmen raced their mowing machines across the wide lawns.

Morning came, overcast above, brilliant in the streets. As early as 8 o'clock, Ottawa's people began to move toward the broad sweep of greensward in front of the Parliament Building. At first they came by twos and threes. As noon approached, every street leading to the plaza had become a solid, slow-moving river of humanity. Soon, as far as the eye could see. even the rooftops were crowded.

The Bells Speak. For the first time since the carillonneur had left for the Royal Air Force, the 53 bells in Ottawa's Peace Tower, rising high over the plaza, came to life. Carillonneur Robert Donnell, on special furlough, played America, the Beautiful, then The Maple Leaf Forever. The silver notes shimmered in the cool midday air; the crowd cheered and waved its flags.

The big moment came. The long black limousine bearing Franklin Roosevelt entered by the east gate of the Parliament grounds, moved up the driveway between ranks of dun-clad Canadian Wacs standing at smart attention. A great roar rose from 27,000 throats.

On the flag-draped speaker's stand beneath the Tower of Peace, Franklin Roosevelt stood silent for a full five minutes, watching the faces, staring at the farthest reaches of the crowd a quarter of a mile away. In his lifetime he had received many ovations, and in its history

Ottawa had given many, but none like this. Said Franklin Roosevelt: "I shall never forget this sight."

The sun came out. A distant cannon boomed the hour of noon. From the bell tower fell the slow notes of God Save the King. The crowd stood motionless; until the last echo died there was no movement but the slow swell of the flags.

The Crowd Answers. Canada's Prime Minister spoke, then the President of the U.S. He said:

"Mr. King, my old friend, may I through you thank the people of Canada for their hospitality to all of us. Your course and mine have run so closely and affectionately during these many long years that this meeting adds another link to that chain. I have always felt at home in Canada, and you, I think, have always felt at home in the United States. ..."

The crowd cheered. The President continued:

"Sometimes I wish that that great master of intuition, the Nazi leader, could have been present at the Quebec conference. ... If he and his generals had known our plans they would have realized that discretion is still the greater part of valor and that surrender would pay them better now than later."

Franklin Roosevelt added a little peroration in French (which he speaks bravely but with no attempt to pronounce as a Frenchman would): "Canada is a nation founded on the union of two great races ... an example everywhere in the world. ..." But what he had said was less important than his presence. The crowd, applauding, tossing hats in the air, was cheering the historic moment. Ottawa's Parliament grounds were alive that day with a great good will.

When Franklin Roosevelt finished, Ottawa's Mayor Stanley Lewis stepped forward. Said he: "I hope that I will not be misunderstood when I say that many Canadians affectionately call you 'our President'. . . ." He was not misunderstood.

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