True and Fascinating Canadian History
Vet of the Month: April 2012
Reg.#20576, Sergeant William Joseph MacLellan
RCMP Vets. Ottawa, ON
This is a memorable story which has stuck in my mind -- an incident which involved the RCMP catching me 'in the act' and under suspicious circumstances in my home town of St. Stephen, NB. But mainly, it is the story of the RCMP member -- he was the ideal story book kind of constable - generous with his time, generous with his discretion, generous with friendships and faithful to the rules of the police profession -- that is, a police officer knowledgeable and respectful of democratic systems.
The constable had options but after he caught me, he overlooked my offence and, very unexpectedly, we became close friends over a two year period while I was in senior high school. He was my mentor, guide and role model. This story is dedicated to him. His name was Constable Bill MacLellan.
Life can be measured by the funny or odd things people have been known to do. Take for example, the sensitive topic which I am now about to discuss. From the time of the first little red school house, kids had certain needs -- let's say urges. You cannot blame me if I'm a bit shy to disclose my sordid past, and today I remain somewhat embarrassed by the whole affair. I realized that sooner or later, my nieces and nephews living in New Brunswick would learn the truth about me.
It's never been approved. It has never been encouraged. Even today, the police chaplain would discourage it. Yet, I can bet that nearly every college kid from Tatamagouche to Tsawwassen has done it. Most parents have done it if only they admitted to the truth. Teachers would probably never fess up, but I have proof that they have done it. Alot of police officers have done it more than once. And, down through time, I’ve known about half of the Commissioners of the Force and I can assure the reader that they have done it to. Commissioner R. W. Paulson included.
I'm talking about skipping school. As an adolescent, skipping school is an act of growing up. In one grade or another or perhaps at university, most kids have tried it. And I can be blamed for doing it once myself. Little did I know at the time that skipping school would lead me into the RCMP -- by a memorable encounter with a constable who became a close friend and a mentor.
It was a hot, muggy May 1963 spring day in St. Stephen, NB. My pal Fred and I had gone though school together. We were pals, chums at hockey, Army Cadets, forest exploration, cowboys and attending social activities together. We hatched a plan to skip afternoon classes.
In school, after two classes of Chemistry and Biology in the morning, we faced an afternoon of Trigonometry with Mr. Burton. At lunch break, we surmised how much better it could be on a hot afternoon if we could be swimming? After all, we were in Grade XI and throughout our school days, we had been good kids. But, what real high school boy wants that kind of reputation?
Our plan was put into action. We decided that it was too dangerous to hitchhike together, so Fred went ahead first and it was not long before he got a ride. We had decided to meet at the Causeway swimming hole located on the Trans Canada just a short distance east of St. Stephen, NB.
It was now my turn to stand on the Trans Canada and stick out my thumb. Surprise! My first thought was that the RCMP must have overheard Fred and I discussing the timing of our misdeed, because within an instant an RCMP cruiser approached me. The member stopped his Studebaker and asked me to hop in which I did. The constable introduced himself and our conversation immediately turned to school. Actually, my thoughts turned to the hoosegow. There was no doubt that he knew that I was up to some sort of trickery.
The RCMP constable was friendly from the outset. He was in ‘summer dress’; Stetson, high browns, breeches and side arm. We began our conversation about school and I can recall that he asked about my career intentions after I completed high school. From the time I was five years old, I had considered the Mounties as the only possibility, but the reality of my future had not set in because I was in Grade XI and graduation day seemed a long distance away.
The constable drove me to the swimming hole and let me join Fred at the beach. It was a quiet, lazy afternoon and we enjoyed our prank without books or giving much thought to the consequences. We expected it to be very, very hot in class the following morning because we were unable to produce a legitimate excuse from our parents. My father might have laughed at our gig, but I would suffer unknown pain under the glare of my mother. As luck would have it, Fred and I were not penalized -- our home room teacher called the two of us up to the front of the class and pronounced to us: 'Don't try it again boys, now go sit down'!
St. Stephen sits on the American border – it’s a small town in south-western NB. The town was policed by the Municipal Police and the district was policed by the RCMP. In the early 1960’s there were about four members on the Detachment and two members on Highway Patrol. I got to know them all.
After the constable and I first met, the summer months approached and school came to an end for another year. Summer break for me meant that I would spend a few weeks in Cadet training at Camp Aldershot, Nova Scotia followed by a vacation with family and cousins in New York.
In September 1963, I noticed that an RCMP cruiser was often parked at a house near our family home. I had no idea that the constable whom I had met earlier had gotten married – he was forced out of single quarters at the Detachment. He and his bride rented a home near ours. Due to the proximity of our two homes, my friendship with the constable rekindled and he sometimes picked me up in the cruiser and drove me to school since it was on his way to the Detachment. We talked about school activities and occasionally he would ask about my future plans. The seed was well planted and I began to think more seriously about the real possibility of joining the Force.
By this time, I had been involved in Army Cadets at school for many years. In the fall of 1963, I was selected by our school principal as the Cadet Corps leader. The appointment to Cadet Lieutenant-Colonel came as a shock and a total surprise but I was very appreciative to Mr. McGeachy for this opportunity.
As the months passed, the Cadet Corps began to seriously prepare for the Final Parade. In addition to our teachers, dignitaries usually arrived from Saint John and Fredericton for the day’s event. It finally dawned on me that I didn’t own a Sam Browne to wear with my Cadet uniform, but I thought of my constable friend and I thought of approaching him for a loan of equipment. Constable MacLellan was happy to help me in this pinch but he also had to help me into the leather harness and to become familiar with the way in which it is properly worn. Our Cadet Final Parade was spectacular and our Cadet Corps was given well deserved praise. I appreciated too that the constable had trusted me for the day with a piece of his RCMP equipment.
Later in the spring, my constable friend asked if I was interested in going on a weekend patrol to Campobello, NB. The RCMP have always maintained a Detachment on Campobello, but the Island can only be approached from the State of Maine. I recall entering the States in the constable’s marked cruiser through US Customs and we were waved along. The US authorities obviously knew the reason for the RCMP to enter the States and there was no resistance of our presence in spite that the constable was armed in a foreign and friendly country. The drive through the State of Maine to Campobello was a couple hours. As it turned out, crime was at its height when the constable and I landed on Campobello Island. For some reason, the constable was suspicious when he saw the first car on the Island. He stopped the driver to discover that the young boy did not have a driver's licence. I was a witness to a full investigation which lasted several minutes. The young boy was given a stern warning and his parents were called to fetch the car. Concluded Here.
Campobello is a very small Island. It’s well known within RCMP circles that the folks on Campobello phone each other whenever the RCMP are on the Island. True to fact, the remainder of the weekend for the constable and I was crime free and when we left the Island on Sunday afternoon, we assured ourselves that everyone was law abiding New Brunswickers. As an aside, I once read how Campobello spelled nothing but trouble for the Commanding Officer of 'J' Division -- it seemed that every constable posted to the Island got married and the CO blamed the Campobello girls for a dip in law enforcement statistics!
My constable friend was popular in St. Stephen especially among the high school girls. In spite of knowing that he was married, the girls whistled and waved whenever he drove by. They shouted to each other: ‘That’s him, that’s him!
By the end of 1963, the constable and I had thoroughly discussed the RCMP as a career. I didn’t need any further convincing, and the constable set a date in February 1964 for me to write the preliminary RCMP exams. I arrived at the Detachment early on Saturday morning and the constable sat me at a desk in the middle of the main office. As he placed the exam on my desk, he cautioned that he was not allowed to speak to me during the entire session – a commitment that he truly kept.
Early in the fall semester, my school held a Career Day. My constable friend was invited as a guest speaker along with another constable. The pair arrived in Red Serge and the classroom was packed. My constable friend was very, very impressive. He told some funny stories about the RCMP in his hometown in Nova Scotia but I felt a wee sad that other speakers failed to get the same interest as our RCMP guests.
The RCMP constables gave an overview of 'Depot' training with the horses and they answered all our questions. At the end, they left us with two firm ideas to think about; the dangers of drinking at graduation time and the fact that women would never, never be allowed into the RCMP! The girls groaned andthe boys grinned. I could read my friend's mind: 'What will girls think of next?'
About women in the Force, the two constables essentially concluded: '...the training is too tough as well as the job'! Well, Commissioner Busson, I beg, 'At the time, who was I to argue with the RCMP'?
Prior to class dismissal, our gym teacher asked me to express our appreciation to the two constables which I did.
Not many weeks later, I was informed that the Personnel Officer would arrive from Fredericton to conduct the formal interview. It lasted an entire afternoon and I can recall that every aspect of my life was thoroughly discussed and reviewed. I was successful in the exam stage as well as the formal interview and upon high school graduation, I was accepted into the Force. Prior to leaving for 'Depot', I spent considerable time with my constable friend who encouraged me and gave me valuable tips about people, policing and the RCMP.
I admit that it was difficult to keep in touch with family and friends at the time. Long distance telephone calls had to be limited due to cost. After training at ‘Depot’ in 1964/1965, I was posted to three Detachments on the Lower Mainland of ‘E’ Division (BC). In 1970, while posted to Maple Ridge Detachment, I was selected among nine others to be transferred to the East Coast. Constable Sid Slade and I were fortunate to be posted to ‘L’ Division.
Due to the proximity of NB and PEI, I had more occasions to visit my friend in ‘J’ Div. By this time, he had been promoted to Sergeant. On one occasion, I attended a Highway Patrol Course in Fredericton and my ‘ole' friend and I met for lunch each day. These lunch breaks were memorable as we were both wearing the same uniform. We recalled our friendship going back to 1963 in St. Stephen and the fact that we had met at the height of my high school crime spree – hitchhiking.
I looked back over the years of our friendship and I recalled how kind and encouraging he was to me. By this time, he and his wife Betty had a son and I was again introduced to them. He maintained his fitness and he kept his youth so I imagined that if he had been posted to St. Stephen again, the girls would continue to whistle.
I recalled our traffic enforcement weekend on Campobello and I looked back favourably about the way that he respectfully treated the youth on the Island. He had the ideal personality for an RCMP constable. Sure, law enforcement was part of his job, but he nurtured and encouraged me also. He helpedme to get accepted into the Force and he changed my life. He maintained a sense of humour with my student friends but he turned serious when he recalled traffic accidents in the St. Stephen area which had resulted from careless driving. He had witnessed St Stephen kids die in accidents.
Over the years, I have given considerable thought to the way that a kid's life can be changed for the worse after they had been caught committing an offence. At the same time, I have also witnessed hundreds of RCMP members give kids a break when they were in trouble. My constable friend made me consider the issueof police discretion. About 1967, I caught a university student with a single joint in Maple Ridge, BC. He was polite and he pleaded for me not to charge him because he had been accepted into medical school. He produced his med acceptance papers. I gave him a break as my constable friend would have done in New Brunswick. I knew the motto of the Force to be: 'Maintain le Droit' -- but, I was taught by my friend the words actually meant: 'When possible, give a kid a break'!
Reg.#20576, William 'Bill' Joseph MacLellan joined the Force on June 1, 1958. He retired in 1984 after a long career in 'J' Division and he moved back to Nova Scotia.
I could never repay Constable Bill MacLellan or give him enough credit for being a friend and my guide while I was in high school. I cannot think of another person in the Force who was as fortunate as me. I wanted to be another Constable Bill MacLellan. I was proud to be his friend and he prepared me for an RCMP career which I have never regretted pursuing.
Bill died on St. Patrick's Day, March 2007. He was 69 years of age. Bill was buried in Nova Scotia. Farewell Friend. I miss you.
Reporting from Fort Healy,
J. J. Healy
April 23, 2012
