A politician with no enemies? How Lincoln Alexander became Canada’s Great Consensus Maker

I’ve met a lot of politicians in my day and I can honestly say that Lincoln Alexander was the finest by far.
Among his many qualities, he’s the only one I ever knew who had no enemies. None. He managed to work his way higher in life without stepping on anyone. Alexander’s father, from St. Vincent and the Grenadines, was a CPR sleeping car porter.
His mother, a maid born in Jamaica, insisted her son, born in Toronto, get a good education, telling him, “Go to school, you’re a little black boy.” He graduated from McMaster University, then Osgoode Hall law school, becoming one of a handful of Black lawyers in Ontario in the 1960s.
But even at Osgoode, he suffered the slur of racism. During an event in his final year, a speaker referred to something as being the equivalent of “looking for a n——r in the woodpile.” When questions were invited, Alexander stood up, cited the offensive words, and asked what exactly did the phrase mean? The speaker shook it off by saying that everyone used those words. Alexander told him that as someone in a position of authority, he should be showing leadership, and not be so disrespectful.
Fortunately, voters were more positive. In 1968, Alexander successfully ran for election as a Progressive Conservative in Hamilton, Ont., becoming an MP for twelve years as the first Black member of Parliament and the first Black cabinet minister.
As press secretary to Robert Stanfield in the early 1970s, I attended weekly caucus. At times, debate would get so heated I’d wonder if unity on that topic would ever be possible. And then Alexander, all six-foot-three-inches of him, would rise in his place, and say, “I can sense a consensus emerging here.”
I’d think to myself, “Whaaaat?” Alexander would then take a few strands from this diatribe, a few threads from that tirade, and so on, until he had woven together a garment that everyone could wear. The strength of any political party flows from its ability to reach consensus. Alexander’s leadership qualities could achieve that goal like few others.
I also watched him from the gallery in the House of Commons on that infamous day in February 1971 when Alexander and John Lundrigan, a Progressive Conservative MP from Newfoundland, questioned prime minister Pierre Trudeau about training programs for the unemployed. Exasperated by their rigorous inquisition, Trudeau mouthed the words “F–k off” at them, claiming later that all he said was “Fuddle duddle.” Alexander knew exactly what he said.
In the 1990s, I was involved in organizing an event to honour the philanthropic efforts benefitting Ryerson (now Metropolitan University of Toronto) by Jack Cockwell, president of Brookfield Asset Management. Among my assignments was obtaining a suitable congratulatory message from Alexander. I called him at his Hamilton home, and asked if he would come to Toronto to film a tribute interview in front of the Ontario Legislature where he had served as lieutenant governor for six years.
Just as we were just completing our filming with the pink granite building behind him aglow in the morning sun, two busloads of students arrived, presumably for a tour.
As it turned out, they were from Hamilton. The teachers recognized Alexander and introduced him to the kids who were all about eight or nine years old. The cameraman and I organized everybody into three rows so we could get some additional footage of Alexander surrounded by the children. I then withdrew but even from where I stood about ten metres away, I could hear Alexander saying in such a low voice that it was almost as if he were speaking to himself: “Vote for Alexander, vote for Alexander.”
Filming finished, as he bid goodbye to the students, he said, “When you go home tonight, don’t forget to tell your parents you saw Linc Alexander today.” He was ever the campaigner, even though he hadn’t run for public office in about fifteen years.
Subsequently, I’d see him arriving in a wheelchair to watch the Raptors. We always had an enjoyable chat before the game. On other occasions, when I visited my daughter Alison in Hamilton and we’d pick up a few things at Denninger’s Foods, we’d see Alexander, having his lunch, constantly interrupted by well-wishers.
On Jan. 21, Lincoln Alexander Day across Canada, a bust of Alexander was unveiled at the Ontario Legislature. It’s certainly unusual. Rather than the normal grey, it’s taupe with aspects of green. The glasses are too big and the mouth is open rather than closed as is traditional for a bust.
If Alexander were alive, I can’t imagine he’d be upset. For most politicians, an ego trip is the only journey worth taking. Not Lincoln Alexander. He cared more about walking with others rather than leading any parade.