Wallace McCain eulogy

1

WALLACE MCCAIN EULOGY

By: Frank McKenna

May 20, 2011

This is a day that we hoped would never come.

Because today we are saying good-bye to Wallace McCain, an extraordinary man who will be irreplaceable in

our lives.

Let me start at the beginning.

Wallace McCain was born and raised in Florenceville, New Brunswick. He was raised in a modest, clean living,

God fearing Baptist family in rural Carleton County about as far into the country as you can get. But there

must have been something magical in the air.

All the Harvard case studies and management books ever written cannot define that extra something. That

chromosome or gene or special elixir, whatever, that allows ordinary families and ordinary communities to

produce such genius for doing business.

His business accomplishments alone are the stuff of legends. In a poll conducted by Roy Nat in 2007, Wallace

and Harrison McCain were voted Canada’s Greatest Entrepreneurs of all times.

Just a little over 50 years ago, McCain Foods was started in Florenceville, New Brunswick, a village so small it

would fit in any high-rise in Toronto with room left over for Centreville, Bristol, Bath and Juniper.

Now – a producer of appetizers, orange juice, frozen pizza and the biggest producer of commercial french fries

in the world.

It employs over 20,000 people. 53 plants. Six continents. Imagine, just imagine, one third of all the french

fries in the world.

In 1995, a second world class food business was started. Maple Leaf Foods with over 21,000 people across the

United States, Asia, Mexico and Europe. Household brands and world class plants.

I guess you could say Wallace McCain was a meat and potatoes kind of guy.

He lived his brand. He loved french fries and ate bacon and eggs every day of his life.

2

The only thing missing – he should have owned a liquor business. Wallace McCain loved to drink. He was

raised a Baptist but must have missed Sunday school.

Don’t get me wrong, Wallace McCain didn’t drink to excess. But he sure did love his evening cocktail and a

glass of wine with supper.

He’d have what he called “a dresser” when he was getting ready for dinner and “a rammer” just before supper

was served.

When he was asked by his friends during the last several weeks whether he was still having a drink every night,

he replied “I guess I am. I’m not dead yet”.

Being Premier of the Province of New Brunswick gave me a bird’s eye view of the McCain Empire. I was told

when I was elected Premier that McCains ran a third of New Brunswick, Irvings ran a third and my job was not

to screw up the third that I was supposed to run. Nobody told me there was no agreement on which third we

were all supposed to have.

Speaking of New Brunswick, let me speak directly to a Province where many flags are flying at half mast and

people are consumed with grief.

As we begin this final journey, Toronto may claim his body but New Brunswick will always have his heart.

He was born on the banks of the St. John River, and the hard work and austere lifestyle of that New Brunswick

farm country helped shape the values that he lived all his life.

He may have been welcome in the palaces of royalty and the towers of Bay Street, but he was most at home in

the potato fields, the factory floor and backwoods of New Brunswick.

How he loved his community, how he loved the potato farmers, how he loved his Carleton County friends who

he vacationed with every year. Wallace liked to fly with his flock – and his flock were fellow Maritimers.

He never forgot who he was or where he came from. He liked plain talk, plain food and plain people.

I know that New Brunswick is working hard to try and find a successful economic development policy. Look no

further.

The Wallace McCains of the world are the oil wells of our future. With the sweat of his brow and the courage

in his heart, he and his family single handedly transformed a large part of New Brunswick.

He proved that there’s nothing as indomitable as the human spirit. And there are other lessons as well.

Failure is not preordained. Self pity is not a strategy. Large cities and wealthy countries do not have a

monopoly on a strong work ethic or entrepreneurial drive.

A few more Wallace McCains and we’d be sending equalization payments back to Alberta.

Wallace would not want me to be so serious. So let me tell you a bit about the other side of Wallace McCain –

Wallace McCain, the character.

3

Wallace McCain had his own lexicon.

If somebody was a nice guy, Wallace would say “they were as friendly as a Labrador Pup”.

If you asked him if so and so were close, he’d say, “they were as tight as three in a bed”.

When a rather abstemious friend of his died, he said “he had a rather dull life. He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke,

didn’t chew”.

I once called him in Jamaica and asked him about the weather. Wallace’s response “it’s as hot as piss on a

plate”.

Even when he was gravely ill, he never lost his ability to add colour. When I asked him in recent months how

he was feeling he said “I’m feeling fine but I’m taking more pills than Dick Tracy took bullets”.

Another time, I asked the same question. He said, “I’m alright Frank. I’ve got three meals a day and a roll of

toilet paper. I’ve got all I need.”

Not only did he have his own lexicon, but he also had a second language. Now that’s not unusual in New

Brunswick which is officially bilingual, except Wallace’s second language was profanity.

Now Wallace was a man of culture and taste. He was always impeccably groomed. I think you would agree

that he never took a bad picture. He looked like he came off the cover of GQ Magazine. But he had the mouth

of a drunken sailor.

Oh how he loved to swear – not to be malicious or crude or even disrespectful but simply to add colour and

emphasis to the point he was trying to make.

Being in a church somewhat limits me to give full expression to this side of Wallace’s character.

Just a couple of weeks ago after listening to one of his profanity-laced tirades, Julie said “Wallace, you should

have been a preacher”. Without even pausing for breath, he replied “I should have, I know all the words”.

A number of you have heard before my story about Wallace McCain, Purdy Crawford and I meeting Tony

Comper, the CEO of the Bank of Montreal, when we were raising money for the National Ballet School.

Wallace opened the conversation by saying “Now Tony, we’re here raising money for the bleepin Ballet. I

don’t even like the bleepin Ballet but Margaret does. So do you have any bleepin money for us.” Tony

Comper replied that he personally rather liked the Ballet. Wallace, as quick as a flash, retorted “well then

you’ll have a lot of bleepin money for us won’t you Tony”.

Wallace never lost his boyish enthusiasm. I remember just a few years ago we were on a boat trip off Sardinia.

We were moored off shore in close proximity to the home of Italian Prime Minister Sylvio Bersculoni.

The paparazzi had been swarming around his house trying to get a picture of the Prime Minister frolicking with

some of the nubile young women he was reputed to consort with. While the rest of us were sitting around

enjoying the sunshine, Wallace took off on one of the jet skis to do some exploration.

4

Obviously, he got too close.

A few minutes later he came flying across the water with the Italian police in hot pursuit and this 79 year old

business icon was smiling from ear to ear. And at that moment, he was transformed into a mischevious

schoolboy pulling the girls’ pigtails back in Florenceville, New Brunswick.

No, he never lost his boyish enthusiasm and he never gained pretension. He never forgot where he came

from. I can recall many times at meetings of the Board of Directors of Brookfield Asset Management where

he’d start a question off by saying “help me here please, I’m just a simple potato farmer from New Brunswick.

I don’t understand this high finance”. What would follow was usually a penetrating question that got to the

heart of the matter, a question that the rest of us all wished that we had asked.

Loyalty was another one of his defining characteristics. He was an intensely loyal friend who would stand by

you through thick or thin. Having Wallace by your side was like being guarded by a big German shepherd.

I remember the day he received his diagnosis that he was terminally ill. I said “Wallace, what’s the news?

What did the doctor say?”. He replied “Frank, you’ve still got that God damned cold. You’ve got to do

something about it”. I said “Wallace, what did the doctor say?” “Frank, you’ve had that cold for two weeks

and you need to do something about it. Shouldn’t have a cold for two weeks. I can get you in to see a doctor”.

“Wallace, what did the doctor say?” “Oh, me! The doctor said I’ve had the biscuit.”

And by the way, speaking of loyalty, before I go any further, I want to talk about Harrison and Wallace McCain.

Like Wallace, Harrison McCain was an extraordinary man. He was highly charismatic, his smile would light up a

room and he had an aura about him that was crackling with electricity.

Yes, it’s true, Harrison and Wallace McCain had a business dispute. Business and blood don’t always mix.

What is more important, however, is that these two brothers never stopped loving each other as only brothers

can.

Much has been written about their business differences, but I believe their reconciliation is the most important

part of the story. It was a triumph of uncompromising love between two great warriors.

Before Harrison’s death he and Wallace talked or visited each other almost every day. In fact, Harrison spent a

few weeks in Toronto the winter before his death so that he could be closer to his children and to Wallace.

He spent a week convalescing at Wallace’s home in Jamaica. And just days before his death, Harrison told

Wallace “I’m lonely, why don’t you answer your bleepin phone. I can’t get you when I want you”. They were

reconciled in life and now they’re united in death.

A tribute to Wallace McCain would not be complete without talking about his generosity.

He would often say “I thought making money was a lot of fun. Giving it away is even better.” He and Margaret

have donated tens of millions of dollars with little fuss and little credit. No cause was too big or small;

hospitals, universities, art galleries, ballet schools – Wallace would give the shirt off his back.

5

But, as you might expect, the causes that most intrigued them were those of the most afflicted: transition

homes, mental health and addiction, single parent families, food banks. Wallace was a friend to them all.

And nowhere but nowhere was his loyalty to New Brunswick more pronounced than in charitable giving. I

don’t think there was a church, a hospital or a graveyard in Carleton County that wasn’t generously supported

by Wallace McCain. He recognized the stark reality that when it comes to giving, New Brunswick might be a

thousand miles from Toronto, but Toronto is five thousand miles from New Brunswick.

Let me digress for a moment to acknowledge the presence of so many important political leaders who are

here. Wallace would have been very touched by your presence. He loved politics. I think he loved politics

even more than he loved business.

And he didn’t mind getting into the arena.

Wallace McCain was a Carleton County Liberal. These are the most ferociously loyal, hardworking and partisan

of Liberals anywhere across the land. The only problem was that Carleton County Tories were equally

ferocious and loyal and there were always more of them. But that never stopped Wallace.

Wallace was passionate about his politics and he was passionate about his country.

He was the quintessential Canadian. The Wallace McCains of the world are what makes our country different

from all others.

He was a steely eyed capitalist, competing and winning against the biggest and the best in the world.

On the other hand, he was also a deeply patriotic Canadian committed to a caring and sharing society.

He believed that government has an important role. He believed in public health care. He believed in early

childhood development, he believed in progressive social policies. He believed that we truly are our brother’s

keeper.

He once remarked to me “I pay a lot of taxes. I don’t mind paying taxes. Everybody’s got to pay their taxes.

We get a lot for our tax money in this country”.

Let me close by talking about the personal side of Wallace McCain.

Wallace McCain loved good wine. He loved good restaurants. He loved well-aged single malt scotch. And he

loved good looking women.

Oh how he loved beautiful women. He loved to be with them, he loved to talk to them, he loved to fuss over

them. Yes, he loved beautiful women but he had eyes for only one – Margaret.

During the last several weeks I noticed a picture by his bedside of a young and very attractive woman. I asked

Wallace who it was. “That’s Margaret” he said, “isn’t she beautiful”? Not – wasn’t she beautiful but – isn’t

she beautiful.

6

Theirs was a love for the ages. A true partnership – a merger of equals – two extraordinarily talented,

generous people morphed into one. Margaret and Wallace, Wallace and Margaret, the two were

interchangeable. The whole being greater than the sum of the parts.

Over 50 years of unconditional love, uncompromising loyalty, total devotion, inseparable until his last breath.

And like all good Maritimers …. family was at the very centre of his existence.

Sir Christopher Wren was the architect of St. Paul’s Cathedral. There is an inscription in that church that reads

“If you seek my monument, look around you”. And so it is with Wallace McCain. His monument is his family.

Scott and Michael and Eleanor and Martha.

How he loved his children, how he revelled in their accomplishments, how he glowed in their presence. And

they loved him back. Their tenderness and concern for him in the last weeks of his life was a wonderous thing

to see. He was surrounded by love.

And his grandchildren, how he loved to be with them. How he loved to hear of their exploits, how proud he

was of their accomplishments, how grateful he was for their love.

The Rankin Family is one of our favourite performers in the Maritimes. They have a song called “Rise Again”.

“As sure as the sunrise, as sure as the sea, as sure as the wind in the trees, we rise again in the faces of our

children, in the faces of our children we rise again”.

And having been a witness to this family for a long time I can say with certainty that the greatness of Wallace

McCain will rise again in the faces of his children and his grandchildren and successors for generations to

come.

He might have been the great Wallace McCain to the rest of us, but to his children, he was just Dad. Forbes

Magazine called him wealthy. His grandchildren called him “Grampy”.

Don’t feel sorry for Wallace McCain. He did not feel sorry for himself. He had no self-pity, right to the end.

“I’ve had a good life” he would always say when somebody lamented about his sickness. “Don’t feel sorry for

me”.

And all of us who watched him would attest to that. He lived his life to the fullest. He was never cheated.

And so, Wallace, you begin your final journey. You’ve lived your life to the fullest. You leave with the

adoration of your family, the praise and gratitude of a supportive community, a grieving Province and a

respectful and admiring nation.

Thank you for enriching our lives.

Thank you for making the world a better place.