with him from time to time on questions of international trade and world diplomacy. So it was only natural that when he began his drive for the presidency he invite Irving Wolf to become part of the team. After the election, the President selected Wolf, not as a member of the Cabinet but as his special assistant and adviser on a broad range of matters assigned to him. With that recognition, real power came into the hands of Irving Wolf, power which he did not hesitate to use.
When the native people of the Northwest Territories and Yukon had begun, only a few days before, to blow up sections of the Mackenzie pipeline, it was Wolf who had recognized that the President would have to take action immediately to protect American interests in the area. It was Wolf who proposed the ultimatum and who drafted its terms. Despite the President’s reluctance, Wolf had convinced him and the Cabinet at the meeting which had taken place the evening before, and it was Wolf who had secured agreement on the strategy of sanctions which the President could impose to enforce the ultimatum.
Now he sat watching the President, his scythe-like nose pinched between his index fingers, a gesture of contemplation for which he was now famous. He was not worried that the President would reject or alter the draft speech; that seldom happened. Rather he was considering the implications of the economic sanctions he had proposed against Canada, the first of which was to take effect at twelve noon.
As he expected, the President, when he had finished reading, took off his glasses, sat back and put his hands behind his head. After a few moments’ silence he drawled, “That’s fine, Irving. Looks good to me. But I tell you I’m still not happy about threatening to put a bullet between the eyes of the Canadians. It makes me very uneasy. I’m concerned about the ultimatum, and I’m concerned about the sanctions.”
He stood up. “However, we’ve done it, and we’ll stick by it. How much time have we got until I do the broadcast?”
Wolf looked at his watch and said, “Seventeen minutes, Mr. President. The networks have cleared you for 12:30. The TV studio back there is all set.”
“You mean aft, Irving, not back,” the President chuckled. “Don’t forget, you’re on a ship.”
Wolf smiled and shrugged. “The studio aft is all set. They’ve got the Presidental Seal in place and the flag behind the table so that everybody who is watching you will think you’re right in the White House. They’ll get a hell of a shock when they find out you’ve been broadcasting from Air Force One over Canadian territory via the Canadian satellite Anik 3.”
“Why are we using that satellite and not one of our own?”
“Oh, I gather the orbit is a little better for our position and the transmission will be clearer. Some time ago we rented two of the surplus TV channels on Anik 3. We’ll use one of them this morning.”
As the President turned toward the tail of the aircraft, Al Johnston came up behind him and said, “Mr. President, Prime Minister Porter wants to speak with you. His office says it’s very urgent.”
The President checked his watch. “There isn’t much time. It’ll have to be short.” He followed Johnston back to the telephone. Johnston picked it up.
“Senator Thomas, the President will speak with the Prime Minister but it’s got to be short because, as you know, he’s going to address the nation in a very few moments.”
Senator Thomas’ voice came back. “We understand. I’ll get the PM. Hang on, please.”
In a few seconds the Prime Minister came on the line. When he was on, the President took the telephone from his aide and the two exchanged terse greetings.
The President said, “What can I do for you?”
Porter replied, “You gave me an arbitrary deadline of six o’clock tomorrow night. I’ve talked to my people here and I don’t know if we can get Parliament reconvened and all the steps properly taken in such a short time so that I can give you an answer which reflects the view of the people of Canada. The Arctic question is not a new one. We’ve been haggling over it for years, and in the interests of fairness I think you should give us more time, even an additional twenty-four hours.”
The President replied quickly, “I expected you’d be back to me on this point, and I’ve already discussed it thoroughly with my advisers. The answer has got to be No, there can be no extension. I’ve given you an ultimatum, and I’ve given you what I consider to be a reasonable length of time for your decision-making process to function. There’s no way that, having stipulated at nine o’clock in the morning what the United States wants, I’m going to start backing off three hours later. No, Mr. Prime Minister, the terms of the ultimatum stand and the timing with it. Furthermore, just to show you that we mean business, at twelve noon the Secretary of the Treasury was instructed to place an immediate embargo on the movement of any and all U.S. investment or other funds into Canada. At the present rate, that will mean a cut-off of $30-million of capital investment money a day. That’s just for openers.”
The Prime Minister started to protest but the President cut him short, “I’m sorry, Mr. Prime Minister, I’m due on television in just a few minutes, as you know. My staff tell me that you are going to respond as soon as I have finished. All I can say is, Be careful!”
He hung up.
As the President and Wolf entered the communications cabin the five men manning it glanced up, then carried on with their work. Pete Young, the President’s Television Director, was giving final instructions at the main control console, so the President and Wolf waited, looking around at the familiar but still amazing setup.
Against the port wall were banks of telex equipment carrying reports from the State Department, the Pentagon, and the news wires. Two of the crew monitored these messages at all times, and delivered batches of the most significant items to the President’s secretarial staff at half-hour intervals. Ranged against the forward wall were the high-frequency radio transmitters and receivers. To the President’s left, under the arched roof of the cabin, were the computer terminal and control units which were hooked into the master defence computer system at the Pentagon. Through this terminal the President alone could issue the final command codes for missile interception or even nuclear retaliation. To the rear of the cabin, behind a glass panel, the President could see the TV studio, with its three cameras set up facing the desk, complete with Presidential Seal and Flag.
When Peter Young had completed his work at the control console he looked up and nodded.
“All ready to go, Pete?” the President asked.
“All set, Mr. President. We’re locked on to the satellite, we’ve run a transmission check, everything looks good. The networks are standing by. There’ll also be a feed-in to all the Canadian networks.”
“That’s good, Pete. How much time have we got?”
“Two minutes and thirty seconds, Mr. President.”
“I guess I’d better get in there.” The President headed for the studio door. In a few moments he was installed behind the desk with his papers in front of him.
Young flicked a switch on the console. “Are you all set, Mr. President?”
“Yes, Pete.”
“Would you give me your voice level please, sir?”
“O.K. I’ll do it by asking you to give me the countdown as we come up to 12:30.I understand that, as usual, you’ll show the Presidential
