On May 16, the Rouges win a landslide victory. The Liberals now occupy seventy-four seats at the Legislative Assembly. The Bleus take only ten. That same evening, after hearing confirmation of his defeat, Houde announces that he will contest the election results. The Conservatives are uneasy: who has won? Who are our Members? The city of Trois-Rivières is celebrating. Maurice, the son of Nérée, has won by a hair. His victory rests on a majority of only 126 votes. Maurice Duplessis is carried in triumph along Saint-Pierre Street. It is raining. Despite the downpour, the street is teeming with people gathered to see their new MLA. There are shouts of: “Put Maurice on the hood of Lugder Madore’s car! Speech! Speech!” His supporters are chanting from under their umbrellas: “He’s won his spurs, maluron, malurette!1 Vive Maurice!” The people celebrate and dance until late into the night.
This victory almost compensates for the Conservatives’ defeat across the province. However, questions are soon being raised about the party’s future: is Maurice Duplessis the Bleus’s last hope? Maybe it’s time for poor Arthur Sauvé to step aside for this emerging star?
Maurice hears the siren call that promises him the earth, but he is not in a hurry. First, he wants to familiarize himself with the legislature, to understand how it functions and not make mistakes. He is giving himself time. In 1928, at the opening of the session, a discreet and moderate Duplessis takes the floor to explain his party’s program. The government needs to grant subsidies to the municipalities. Farmland must be protected. The Lord’s Day Act must be respected.
Premier Taschereau listens to him. This young man – he will be thirty-eight next April – is impressive. He is a remarkable orator, his arguments are convincing and incisive. He wears his hair like Rudolf Valentino, is always well dressed, wears fitted jackets. He looks like an Englishman conducting serious business. Little by little, this promising young bachelor is acquiring confidence.
“I would have liked to have him on our side,” muses Taschereau. During a reception at Spencer Wood, the lieutenant-governor’s residence, the premier even goes so far as to introduce Duplessis to his niece. But Maurice has no intention of changing his bachelor status. Love, engagement, marriage – nothing must distract him from politics. He discovers that there is not much difference between a court of law and the Legislative Assembly. As a lawyer, he pleaded a case; as an MLA, he defends ideas. The same strategies, the same vocal effects, the same pleasure trying to charm his rivals. He is in his element. Like a fish in water, he swims in happiness.
“Miss Cloutier, send a telegram congratulating Camillien Houde. He has just been elected mayor of Montreal. Add a few personal words and my best wishes.”
Maurice Duplessis sees the “little guy from Sainte-Marie” as a kind of clown who makes a lot of noise. He finds him disorganized, crafty, someone who likes to play to the gallery. “A man who does not take into account his failures is a bad politician. He exposes himself to blackmail,” confides Maurice to his friends.
Everyone knows that Camillien Houde, Montreal’s new mayor, has his eyes on the leadership of the Conservative Party. Arthur Sauvé can no longer hold onto his position. On the lookout for a good candidate, can the Bleus resign themselves to Houde as their leader? His win in an October by-election confirms his growing popularity. Camillien, who beat Médéric Martin at Montreal’s City Hall, is triumphant. As member for Sainte-Marie, he will be sitting in Quebec City. Maurice wishes him much success and, to avoid any misunderstanding, agrees to take on the sale of tickets for the big banquet in honour of Houde. On December 8, 1929, the Montreal Stadium, recently built for the baseball team, the Royals, can seat four thousand spectators. Maurice arrives by car, followed by some forty supporters, members of the Trois-Rivières delegation. In the bleachers, someone recognizes him and comes over to speak with him.
“Aren’t you somewhat nervous about seeing this clown arrive at the Legislative Assembly?”
“That small fry from Sainte-Marie? No, I think he has taken on too much… Let’s see how it goes,” says Duplessis.
“The Conservative Party will soon be holding a leadership convention. Sauvé can’t hold on. Rumour has it that he is going over to the federal side. Maurice, just think a moment. Camillien will replace Sauvé as the head of the Party, and suddenly he’ll become leader of the Opposition in the House. Can’t you just see Taschereau having fun with this oddball? And with us while he’s at it.”
“Camillien has more than one trick up his sleeve. You’re wrong to look down on him. As for me, I already have too much to do in my riding. My political preoccupations can be summed up in one sentence: Trois-Rivières first, Trois-Rivières always. Since the House only sits for two months of the year, I intend to concentrate the rest of my time in my constituency. In the meantime, my dear friend, let’s go toast the Bleus!”
Maurice receives his many clients and voters at his office on Hart Street. To the former, he is generous with his advice. To the latter, he promises to present their demands to the Legislative Assembly. When a good Conservative is looking for a job, Duplessis promises to find him one. People trust their MLA from Trois-Rivières, who doesn’t count the hours when he’s working to improve the lives of his fellow citizens. One day, Miss Cloutier asks him:
“You are free to answer or not, Mr. Duplessis, but I would like to know why I have to keep collecting all these death notices. These people don’t count anymore!”
“Miss Cloutier, this list is very important, possibly even more so than the list of the living because, at the next election, there will be no more telegrams, no more cheating. My opponent will no longer be able to make the dead people vote. I’ll know their names before he does!”
Duplessis leaves nothing to chance. His past mistakes have served as useful lessons. He has been in politics for almost ten years now. Nowadays, he can sense the slightest nuance. More seasoned than ever, Maurice starts off the year by steering clear of party squabbles. It is 1929. On the radio Albert Marier sings Votre avion va-t-il au paradis? [Is your airplane taking you to heaven?], a popular song by Roméo Beaudry, one of the rare French Canadians whose songs have made the hit parade. Everyone knows the refrain that pays tribute to Charles Lindbergh in a roundabout way. Yes, the Twenties are having a beautiful ending. After the disillusionments of the Great War, the Roaring Twenties have infused everyone with new confidence.
The year 1929 is a carefree year despite the bad news that is going around. Here and there, economists are warning people: keep an eye on the stock market, stocks are fluctuating wildly. The impression of prosperity is only an illusion, be careful. While Herbert Hoover, president of the United States, talks about an era of abundance, in Canada, Mackenzie King is gearing up for the next election, which he might lose to the Conservative R.B. Bennett. In Quebec, Premier Taschereau appears secure. Who could possibly rob him of his crown?
Camillien Houde? After much hesitation, it seems that he will stand as candidate for the leadership of the Conservatives. Yes, Arthur Sauvé has finally yielded. At the upcoming convention to be held at the Château Frontenac, the only pretender to his succession will be the little guy from Sainte-Marie.
Maurice Duplessis chuckles under his breath.
At the beginning of July, 1200 delegates meet in Quebec City. Camillien Houde is seated on the VIP stand and is given an ovation. The member from Trois-Riviéres is greeted just as warmly. Many would like to see Duplessis change his mind and run against the mayor of Montreal. But there is no chance of that. “If my name is put forward, I will turn down the offer,” he informs the campaign organizers. The