Lighter Side Of Social Credit

Southland Times, Issue 23444, 26 February 1938, Page 13

Lighter Side Of Social Credit

Albertan People Have No Dividends But Many Laughs

By

H. R. HARVEY, of Toronto

“1A7 ITHIN a year ” declared W Major Clifford Hugh Douglas, of Fig Tree Court, London, father of Social Credit, “Alberta will be a land flowing with milk and honey.” The major’s prediction -was made on the occasion of the landslide victory of Premier William Aberhart and his Social Credit party in the Alberta general election of August, 1935.

People who like statistics may note that Alberta’s dairy production this year will put 16,000,000 dollars into the pockets of her farmers —a new record—while the honey total is likely to run about 1,500,0001 b. However, the cows and bees, not Social Credit, must be given the credit for this. And while it hasn’t as yet got much in the way of. the promised basic dividends, Alberta has been showing a dividend or two in laughs at the lighter side of social credit. For example, a young man wrote to the Premier’s office asking if he could have his first dividend in advance as he had a “swell chance” to buy a second-hand motor-car for just 22 dollars, which would leave him three dollars to buy petrol. A resident of Coronation, scoffing at Social Credit promises, sold his first four 25-dollar dividend cheques for five dollars cash—Bank of Canada money—and collected in advance, agreeing to turn over the dividends if, as and when paid. After seven or eight months, the unemployed of Edmonton began to get restive about the matter of dividends. One afternoon a large delegation, of jobless people paraded to the legislative buildings to present to Mr Aberhart an eight-foot-long imitation of a fountain pen. A Shrewd Scheme They recalled the Premier’s frequent pre-election assertion. Asked where he would get the money to pay every adult citizen of Alberta 25 dollars a month, he would exclaim: “Why, I will get it out of the end of a fountain pen, the same as the banks do.” An ingenious resident of Edmonton made himself some “dividends” by forming the “Alberta Basic Dividend Association” after Mr Aberhart announced that citizens shortly would be registered preparatory to paying basic dividends. Everybody who joined was assessed one dollar registration fee. Mr Aberhart protested, but the organizer blandly pointed out that he was facilitating the registration and assisting the citizens in collecting what the Premier had promised. Quite a number joined. Social Credit doubtless lost one stout adherent when a man in Edmonton had to push a peanut with a toothpick for two blocks along the main street of Edmonton during Saturday afternoon rush period, displaying a sign on his back: “I bet Aberhart would pay 25 dollars a month basic dividends within 18 months.”

But the hopes of Social Crediters for their basic dividends never were permitted to bog down completely. In the summer of 1936 Social Credit officials were sent on “secret” missions

to various small towns of the province to make inquiries about “suitable buildings for the purposes of the Government.” It was all supposed to be very dark and mysterious, but soon almost everybody, including the loquacious town barber, knew that the inquiries related to “state credit houses,” which the Premier had said would be set up to pay basic dividends. Options were taken in some .cases, and in August 1936, Dr W. W. Cross, Minister of Health, declared at a meeting that basic dividends would be paid ■within two months.”

One “state credit house” really was set up in Bentley. On Hallowe’en last year several festive spirits moved the largest piece of exterior plumbing they could find on to the main street and nailed to it a big sign: “State Credit House.” Prosperity Certificates Like state credit houses, prosperity certificates, as the Alberta issue of stamped scrip was called, had a short life and a merry one. A Chinese laundry man in Medicine Hat accepted one of the prosperity dollars from a taxi driver. It looked all right, but on the back he noted the lined squares, all ready to receive tax stamps—a cent a week. In a moment he was running down the street after his customer. “Hey, hey,” he shouted. “You takee this back. Only dollar on one side.” A store in Rocky Mountain House offered one of the certificates to an Indian customer as change. He spurned it with: “Ugh. No good. Flour sack money.” He thought it was a gift premium certificate found in sacks of flour. However, a very good grade of mucilage appeared to have been used for the tax stamps which became otherwise valueless after the scheme was scrapped. Recently a package mailed from Stettler was discovered sealed with the scrip tax stamps. A horse owner in Flanders, Ontario, hearing about all the work that was going to be possible under Social Credit in Alberta thought this was an opportunity for 70 work horses he had idle. He shipped them out to Alberta with Eric Poole, Social Credit member of Parliament for Red Deer looking after the Alberta end of the project. The move was soon discovered, and the newspapers pounced on the story, claiming there were plenty of farmers, plenty of horses and plenty of teamsters in Alberta to do any work available. A number of efforts were made to move the horses secretly in the dead of the night to parts unannounced. But the outcome was that most of the horses spent a very enjoyable summer in lush Alberta pastures and finally were shipped back east, somewhat heavier than they were. A few of the horses were put to work. "Two Cents for Abie” Annoyance, tempered by a degree of amusement, attended the imposition by the Social Credit Government of a two per cent, tax on retail sales. One man declared that Mr Aberhart had promised to reduce taxes, not impose new ones, and he, for one, would refuse to pay sales tax. Following the purchase of a hat on which, according to his resolution, he declined to pay sales tax of 10 cents, he was summoned by the inspector of sales tax and, in the police court, was fined somewhat more than the cost of the hat.

An embarrassing experience for a girl clerk was reported. According to the story, she told one woman customer, as many clerks were wont to do: “That will be 85 cents and two cents for Abie.” The customer informed that “two cents for Abie” meant “Aberhart’s sales tax, doncherknow,” was revealed as Mrs Aberhart. Some amazement was caused when, in announcing that the sales tax was being lifted, the Provincial Treasurer, Mr Solon Low declared that a tax was a dividend in reverse and that by lifting the tax, the Government was paying the first instalment of the dividend. Sceptics declared that this statement was like telling a man you were going to give him a good time, taking him into a room and beating him over the head and* then saying: “There, now, doesn’t that feel swell when I leave off?” Chuckles echoed through the province when Mr Aberhart made a slip of speech at a recent Social Credit picnic near Calgary. After a large crowd of Social Creditors gathered around the platform on the picnic ground, had passed a resolution expressing complete confidence in their Premier and the Social Credit Government, Mr Aberhart declared with great feeling: “This is the densest crowd I have ever seen.” Noticing the look of surprise and chagrin on the faces of the crowd he quickly corrected himself and added: “I don’t mean it that way. I think the people of Alberta are the most intelligent in the world.” The P.N.A. Act Of late, when the British North America Act has been quoted as an authority for disallowing or reserving Royal assent on radical provincial legislation, Social Crediters have made much of the discovery that there was not a certified copy of the B.N.A. Act in Canada. Mr Aberhart, though, has. discontinued this reference following a question as to whether he could produce a certified copy of the Old Testament which he likes to quote and interpret each Sunday. The Premier himself tells a story, of an experience while he was returning from a holiday at Vancouver recently. A chance woman acquaintance on the train, learning he was from Alberta, volunteered: “I am from Saskatchewan. We had y<?ur Premier Aberhart over in Saskatchewan not long ago. I didn’t go to hear him myself, but they told me he had a lot of crazy ideas.” Mr Aberhart didn’t introduce himself. Apropos of chance train acquaintanceship, we will conclude with this classic: Some time ago a prominent eastern business man was travelling in Alberta. Getting on the train from Calgary to Edmonton he saw a large man getting on ahead of him. “Good day, Judge,” said the conductor. Our business man followed and looking for company asked the conductor who the judge was. The conductor mentioned the name of a well-known Alberta jurist.

The coach was crowded, but Mr X. (our business man) saw the judge seated amid a pile of baggage. Very obligingly the judge made room for Mr X., who sat beside him. The Social Credit banking and press legislation were the topics of the hour. Our eastern business man wanted to

get a local reaction. He launched into a vigorous and at tidies colourful attack on the Social Credit regime and Mr Aberhart in particular. The judge, as was to be expected, was very judicial about it all. Queries from Mr X. were met with a lifted eyebrow, or a “do you think so?” For over an hour the denunciation continued. Finally Mr X. asked: “You know what’s going to happen to this man, don’t you?” “What?” asked the judge, laconically calm. ~ ~ , . “Somebody’s going to pmk him; like Huey Long.” The next day Mr X. walked into the rotunda of Edmonton’s Macdonald Hotel with two business acquaintances, The big man also appeared. “There’s Judge ,” said Mr X.

“What!” exclaimed the acquaintances, jaws dropping. “That’s Mr Aberhart.”