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Richard Hatfield's 1987 train diary reveals wistful ex-premier

On Nov. 6, 1987, a Via Rail train snaked its way west through the forest of southwest New Brunswick, carrying a high-profile passenger determined to maintain a low profile.

"Not speaking to anyone but Porter as instructed," the 56-year-old man wrote that night in the diary he kept of the trip.

It was the start of a six-day cross-Canada journey that would give the newly retired New Brunswicker a chance to reflect on his country. In the end, despite his wish for solitude, he accepted greetings from awestruck passengers who recognized him.

"People love to be friendly on trains," he wrote in the diary, his handwriting shaky from the back-and-forth motion. "It is an island mentality — lifeboat thing. People like to talk about liking to take the train. They like to trade train stories.

"Then there is the game, who you are, where you [are] from," he wrote. "People ask each other most personal questions. 'Well, we are going to be together for the next 4 days; we should have a right to know everything about you.

"I will tell all about me," Richard Hatfield declared.

Hatfield had left the premier's office just 13 days before his journey began. He had governed New Brunswick for 17 years, the longest tenure of any premier in the province's history.

His diary, a slim blue notebook, is part of his papers at the Provincial Archives of New Brunswick.

It reveals a man enchanted by the vastness of the scenery he would see from the train window — and perhaps flattered by the attention and occasional good wishes from fellow passengers.

Several times, he wrote about how people wanted to shake his hand.

Those notes are more poignant because of an incident that would have been fresh in his mind: during his losing election campaign, news cameras caught a Saint John voter refusing to shake his hand.

Train journey followed electoral defeat

Hatfield's Progressive Conservatives lost every seat they had in Frank McKenna's 58-0 Liberal sweep on Oct. 13, 1987. The defeated premier attended McKenna's swearing-in on Oct. 26, and boarded the train 11 days later.

"Train 1 hour late. Seemed crowded. Met by 'Porter' — child memories," he wrote, referring to his train trips to Ottawa to visit his father, Heber, a federal MP. "Memories like a flood."

After passing the McAdam train station and enjoying Salisbury steak in the dining car, Hatfield returned to his seat to read newspaper coverage of the funeral of Rene Levesque, the former Quebec premier he knew from constitutional battles.

"8 people asked to shake my hand," he noted. "One man said 'you are a living legend — I want to shake your hand.'" The man had a "face full of emotion … near tears," Hatfield wrote, because one of the former premier's PC MLAs had helped him get a job.

Another passenger's wife couldn't believe it was him: Richard Hatfield "would never take train," he quotes her saying.

That evening, Hatfield settled into his sleeping car. "Take pills & double J.B. and read to sleep," he wrote. "Train was the right choice. I will not want to get off at TO [Toronto]. I feel like I am really doing something — it is an event."

Unfinished autobiography

First elected premier in 1970, Hatfield was the subject of scandal and criticism in his final term as premier. He was charged with possession of marijuana and acquitted.

There were also allegations he used cocaine with university students and a party revolt against his leadership.

After losing power, Hatfield made plans to write an autobiography. He planned to discuss the scandals: in a one-page typed book proposal in his papers, Hatfield said the memoir would discuss his long career, the marijuana trial and "certain rumours" about him.

Several publishers wanted the book. McGraw Hill offered him a $50,000 advance, a large sum at the time. Alex Colville's son, John, offered to design the cover.

In Toronto for a three-day layover during the train trip, Hatfield met with Doubleday Canada, presumably to discuss the book. "Good talk, great interest," he wrote in the diary.

But he never wrote the book. He died in April, 1991, with many of his secrets still unrevealed. Tapes of his oral history interviews with the Provincial Archives are sealed until 2040, and many of his closest advisors refuse to this day to grant interviews about him.

That makes the diary of his country-spanning train voyage a fascinating snapshot of Hatfield at his most relaxed and reflective, even if it contains no startling revelations.

A compulsion to see the world

"He told me [the cross-Canada train trip] was something he had always wanted to do and, since for the first time in 25 years he had nothing else scheduled, he was going to go," Hatfield's nephew, Fredericton lawyer Bruce Hatfield, told CBC News.

"I believe he was very tired and unsure of what to do next and thought that on the train he would have lots of time to rest and think without being interrupted by people who would want to console him or pitch projects to him."

St. Thomas University journalism professor Michael Camp, whose family was close to Hatfield, said the diary's observations are "very typical of him."

Hatfield had "a compulsion to see as much of the world as he could," Camp said. Despite his headline-grabbing trips as premier to places like Studio 54 in New York, he also enjoyed travelling by bus or train, bumping into strangers, "real people," and chatting with them.

"He liked to travel invisibly sometimes and not be Richard Hatfield, but there were other times where he actually liked to be recognized because that would strike up a conversation," Camp said.

"There was a part of Richard that was always fairly private, and a bit of an enigma. So when I see something like this text, it just reminds me of how noble he was in some ways, but mysterious in others," Camp said.

Wistful scenery, 'superb' pasta

Hatfield was wistful as the train carried him through Eastern Ontario, which he called "the backside of Ontario." He wrote that snow in fields around Kingston was "like in a David McKay painting." Hatfield owned several of the Fredericton painter's works.

Approaching Toronto, the conductor announced the train would skip a stop at the Guildwood station in Scarborough because of an engine problem. "If we stop we will not get up enough speed to make a hill after [Guildwood]. I am glad this is not a plane."

In Toronto, he met with staff at Doubleday, "bought lots of books," saw the movie Less Than Zero — "visually good," he wrote — and visited friends. He declared a dinner of pasta and duck "superb."

On Nov. 10, Hatfield boarded another train leaving Toronto to resume his westward journey. From his seat he peered into backyards of homes along the tracks. "Some are so beautifully clean and organized, some are just a place to hide what you don't want seen," he wrote.

Remembrance Day on the train

The next morning, Remembrance Day, he gazed at Lake Superior as he ate breakfast in the dining car. "Imagine such a large body of water (fresh) in the middle of our country," he wrote. "We are — Canada is — 'a near island.'

"I love it when the train goes around a smooth rock cut — even the ragged rocks," he wrote. "It reminds me of a cat slithering by a chair leg or whatever to stretch its belly."

At 11 a.m., the traditional hour of remembrance, Hatfield went to the train's dome car, "wearing my poppy. … I remembered and felt great gratitude for the freedom that is so much mine now."

Later, after passing through Thunder Bay, Hatfield wrote that "word has spread throughout the train that I am aboard." One man came and sat near him, reading a magazine and watching him for a time before finally asking, "You are Mr. Hatfield, aren't you?"

In Dryden, a couple who he said had "drank their way" from Toronto, disembarked. Greeted by a friend on the platform, the woman "pointed me out in the window. I could read her lips — 'Mr. Hatfield — he used to be the Prem[ier] of NB.' I waved and all three waved back."

Later on Nov. 11, Hatfield wrote, "I can't describe how I feel. … I am really excited. I can hardly do anything — read--write — I am afraid I will miss another new experience."

Rocky Mountains 'too crazy'

Frozen lakes on the way into Kenora looked "like beach tar, and pools of it," he wrote. "The landscape is so stark, so barren, so many white birch — and they are all thin."

After Kenora, Hatfield's diary-writing lapsed. There are no more entries in the bound book, only a few more undated passages on sheets of paper folded and inserted between its pages.

"Recognized in train station by ex N.B.," he wrote on the way out of Calgary.

Later still, he used the back of a farewell message to his staff on his Premier's Office letterhead to jot down his thoughts on passing through the Rocky Mountains. It was the gateway to British Columbia and the last leg of his journey.

"I don't really like them," Hatfield wrote of the Rockies. "They are too big, too crazy, too imposing divisions.

"However it was really an event," he added. "I am glad I did it."

Some punctuation has been added to quotations from the diary for clarity.

Source: Provincial Archives of New Brunswick, Richard Hatfield fonds, MC 1354