HUMBOLDT — The time: early afternoon, Thursday, July 17, [1969]; the place: the parking lot of the National Store on the outskirts of Humboldt where a sign at the entrance said, “Farmers Meet Here.”
What was happening? Approximately 35 late model cars and trucks were scattered like toys in a sandbox over the lot bearing stickers proclaiming "NFU Founding Convention, Winnipeg July 30-31" and a wide assortment of SFU and Farmers Union stickers.
Small groups of farmers were discussing the visit of Prime Minister [Pierre] Trudeau to Humboldt later in the afternoon. There was a picnic attitude about the meeting; many cars were filled with an assortment of picnic coolers and jugs.
“The government will be forced by big business to do something about our situation,” said one farmer who was doing all the talking for his particular group.
“The big businesses are running the country, not the government; they will have to find a solution or else go bankrupt, what with us stopping all those big trucks on the highways,” he said.
Another spoke up with a snicker and said: “I met a fellow the other day who said it took him nine hours to go from Yorkton to Tisdale; we're tying them up in knots.”
An elderly weather-beaten gentlemen came over and asked: “When we all going' to demonstrate again against that Trudy fella?”
“We don't know, but we're to get instructions from Vic on what to do,” the reply was.
Shortly after 2.30 pm, cars started raising dust as they sped out of the lot on their way to an unknown destination to many of those that were just arriving at the meeting site.
A disgruntled farmer came out of the National Store with a Coke in his hand. wiped his sweating brow and muttered: “This is an unholy mess. one big disorganized rabble: they don't know where they're going or why.”
The air was hot and humid as the farmers pulled up in a disorderly row to the east of the Wigwam. Placards were brought out bearing such slogans as: "Hello Hon. P. E. Trudeau, We're on the go, Looking for your just society”; “Why not a two price system"; "Hustle grain, not women"; "We want money, Pierre honey”
To one side of the Wigwam an olive-coloured Canadian Armed Forces truck waited. Curious spectators tried to peer in the back, but Private Ken Hicks of Canadian Forces Base Moose Jaw, who had driven the truck up earlier in the day, refused anyone admittance in the back of it.
He had excellent reasons; over 500 gallons of high octane aviation fuel was loaded in it. He expressed the fear that perhaps someone might toss in a lighted cigarette.
“If that ever happened,” he commented, “the town would be minus the Wigwam, curling rink and a small percentage of its population.”
The sun beat down unmercifully and the sands of time slowly started to run out. Around 4 pm, a crowd of about 2,000 interested and disenchanted people began to form to see the arrival of the Prime Minister. A sound filled the sky, heads were turned and anxious eyes scanned the sky. Then off to the north-west, a giant Canadian Armed Forces helicopter was seen chopping its way lazily through the sky.
Cries of “Here comes the Prime Minister” were interup-ted by an RCMP officer's loud-hailer, asking everyone to stand well back until the blades of the helicopter came to a full stop. The constable's words went unheeded. As soon as the helicopter touched ground. everyone was off and running to get a glimpse of the Prime Minister.
Their running was all in vain for the helicopter carried members of the press. The disappointed crowd was told that another helicopter would be coming shortly. Good-naturedly, the majority of the crowd slowly walked to try and find some shade.
The farmers were left holding the bag, all set to demonstrate. they looked rather self-conscious, with their placards waving only at members of the press and not at their planned target, the Prime Minister.
Then something struck the crowd's eye's: on the roof of the Humboldt Public School the word BOO! was spelled out in five foot high letters of grayish-white roofing tiles.
Then at long last, the helicopter bearing the Prime Minister chopped its way onto the scene. It slowly circled while the RCMP cautioned everyone to stand a good 200 to 300 feet back. The helicopter whirled and circled, the blades raised clouds of dust and then it settled.
The crowd surged forward, over-running RCMP officers: a tiny plaintive cry of, “Here comes Trudeau” was heard from a small child who was just as excited as everyone else. Autograph-hunters and well-wishers surrounded him; scene was indescribable. There was noise and confusion; small children were getting stepped on; security guards were muscling their way ahead of the Prime Minister in an attempt to clear a path for him; small children were being picked up by the RCMP and the security guards; the press with their cameras, tape recorders and note pads were shouting: “Press, let us through, please”. It was Trudeaumania.
Demonstrating farmers were waving placards and shouting insults but they were drowned out by the cries and cheers of the crowd who had come to give the Prime Minister a welcome to Humboldt.
Cars had been brought to the field for the Prime Minister to ride is to the Town Hall, but instead Mr. Trudeau joined the common people and walked the distance with the crowd, shaking hands and signing autographs.
When the Prime Minister entered the Town Hall for his meeting, members of the United Steelworkers of America took up picket signs protesting in support of the farmers saying that industry and agriculture must stand together.
The crowd settled down on the freshly-cut lawn to await the Prime Minister after his meeting. Within an hour and a half, the Prime Minister opened the front door of the Town Hall and was confronted by a sea of friendly faces. Smiling broadly and shaking hands he waded through the crowd to an unmarked RCMP car.
At the field, about 1,500 were on hand to see him off. Only half a dozen farmers could be seen, the others having left when he began his meeting. Autographs and handshakes were observed once again and then with a shrug of his shoulders he faced the crowd and said: “I guess it's time to go, goodbye.”
Simple words but at the same time they implied more than what he said. It was as if a kinship had developed between him and the crowd.
The waving well-wishers saw Mr. Trudeau enter the cockpit of the giant helicopter, strap himself in and get ready to fly it out. The dust flew and slowly the helicopter carrying the press rose, followed by the craft carrying RCMP security officers and then the Prime Minister lifted and flew off to the distant sunset, leaving behind memories for the hundreds who shook his hand, got his autograph and saw him.
