CHARLOTTETOWN IN THE MID-SEVENTIES

People are happy to talk to visitors about their town. It was no different in Charlottetown. I had a thousand questions and they cheerfully chatted.

I wondered why the Conference Centre, a concrete block building, was built up against the small hundred year old jewel of the Parliament Building. The Liberals told me it had been a bitter controversy and a few more salacious tales besides.

The concrete flower boxes outside the building had at some time split apart and were bolted together with iron bars. The earth they held had not been disturbed for some time. Dandelions were the only thing blooming. There were thousands of delegates from all over Canada at that conference. The Queen was making a visit two or three days after we left.

In my walks to and from the centre, I noticed several piles of unidentifiable material at the side of the roads. Cigarette butts were prominent. It turned out they were the sweepings from the street. The piles were periodically removed.

A hairdresser told me she was looking forward to going to her cottage at the week-end. I asked about city beaches. She said they were unuseable. The ocean was polluted by city sewage.

I noticed many old mansions lining the beautiful wide sweep that was the the main street. Where there should have been lawns and gardens, there was hard-packed dirt and scattered strollers and bicycles. They were being used as multiple rentals.

If there is such a thing among us as National Pride. If towns and cities hold the key, Quebec City, Montreal, Ottawa and Banff are eminent examples of the value we place on our history and heritage. They are magnificent.

Yet Charlottetown, where the Fathers of Confederation met and hammered out the terms of agreement. They walked those streets, stayed at that hotel, vsited and no doubt consulted with the residents of those old mansions and they accomplished something which had been tried and failed repeatedly. They created the nation whiich every one of us is privileged to share. Charlottetown in the mid-seventies, several years after the wonderfully successful national celebration of Canada's Centennial, Charlottetown languished in shabby and shameful neglect.

It was with a mixture of sadness and anger I wrote a subsequent column.

Some Aurora residents expressed surprise that I did not enjoy Prince Edward Island. I had obviously failed to make my point.

I remember nothing of the merits of the conference. But I remember Charlottetown.