The 1935 Election In Vermilion

Craig Baird

Columnist

We are amid our latest election in Alberta, so throughout the election campaign I will be sharing stories from the past in the area regarding elections.

This time, we are looking at 1935, when the United Farmers of Alberta, who had ruled Alberta since 1921, were completely wiped out in the election. They lost every seat in the province, and were gone from history. Meanwhile, the Social Credit Party began 36 years of power in Alberta.

At the time, Richard Gavin Reid represented the Vermilion district, which he had since 1921. He was also the premier of the province, having taken over from John Brownlee when he resigned due to

In the 1930 election, Reid had won with 75 per cent of the votes. He typically won by a landslide going back to 1921 when he was first elected. He also usually faced only one or two opponents.

In this election, he had many more. He ran against a Communist Party opponent, a Conservative, a Liberal and a Social Credit Party candidate.

Throughout the election, Social Credit promised a $25 scrip to help people pay for the things they needed during The Great Depression. While the logistics of this were not ironed out, and after the election it didn’t really come to fruition, many were happy to support the Social Credit Party to get some support.

Vermilion was optimistic about the scrip, despite its own experiment with something similar in 1933 that was abandoned after only four months.

On Aug. 22, 1935, Reid lost all of his support, winning only 16 per cent of the vote, nearly 60 per cent less than what he had in the previous election. He finished third in the riding.

The riding was won by William A. Fallow, who had 44.81 per cent of the vote. Fallow would represent the riding until 1948 when he died of a stroke.

Upon his loss, Reid stated he would step out of office as quickly as possible to meet the will of the people. He also conceded defeat for the party, as William Aberhart prepared to become the new premier of the province.

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Clandonald

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Helen Row Toews Columnist

My Deepest Apologies

Before our family headed out on a European adventure this past summer, my young daughter worked hard to learn a few civil words in the language of each country we visited. She took great pains to drill me on them too. When I least expected it, she would pop up to pose a pertinent question.

“Mom, do you remember how to say you’re sorry in Spanish?” she’d ask over the broccoli salad. Or, as I was flying out the door to work, “How do you admit guilt in German?” There was no escape even while showering, as she queried through a crack at the door, “Can you properly ask forgiveness in French?”

“Sheesh. What’s with all the apol -

AHS

Submitted

Prairie Wool

ogies?” I asked finally, an edge of irritation in my voice. Turns out she expected me, quite rightly, I suppose, to mess up royally each time I set foot on foreign soil. Presumably, her feelings of shame, as I make a fool of myself locally, were nothing compared to the concerns she had of global embarrassment. This apparent lack of faith eventually got me worried, and I threw myself even harder into online French classes.

However, I must take umbrage with a few of their more unhelpful phrases. The likelihood of a situation arising in which I would feel compelled to reveal, “My mouse does not have a brother,” seems wildly implausible. In fact, it was unlikely I would engage a French citizen in conversation at all, let alone broach the sensitive subject of domesticated mice (particularly my own). And any discussion of their kin, or lack thereof, seems ludicrous in the extreme.

Now this is an all-time favorite. “You have a fat pig.” Oh my, the times I’ve used this line in an effort to win friends and influence people. NEVER. On holidays abroad, the average person rarely spends time touring hog barns, while the idea I might be placed in a position to assess anyone’s weighty swine seems remote at best. In the interest of world peace, it’s probably ill-advised to strut around announcing to Frenchmen their pigs are fat – even if it’s true.

Here’s another good one…“I am going to eat an entire chicken.” When does the average person feel the need to say this, I ask you? Indeed, no restaurants, to my knowledge, serve whole roasted chickens to their patrons. I can only assume, therefore, this line is meant to be inserted into polite conversation. Perhaps while strolling through a market, I might pause near the fresh poultry counter and lean confidingly toward an older man waiting for his duck legs to be bagged.

“Psst, hey bud,” I’d hiss from the corner of my mouth, with a furtive glance down aisles to either side. “Later on – I’m gonna eat a whole chicken.” Now, if the course concluded this lesson by teaching, “How much is bail?” or “These handcuffs are chaffing,” I’d pay closer attention.

Naturally, the prescribed French phrases weren’t all that ridiculous; those were just a few favorites, and despite my daughter’s fears, I managed to muddle through our journey without an ugly international incident. We saw some wonderful sights and met some lovely people. Of course…there was that nasty episode involving a little old lady, several ripe melons, and a dog – I still feel bad about that. Désolé madame!

To contact Helen, or to find out more about her books in both romance and fantasy, go to helentoews.com