Ian Mulgrew
Sun
Former Social Credit premier William Vander Zalm cut a figure like a young Fred Astaire.
Without her once-trademark headband, his wife Lillian looked every inch a vivacious Zsa Zsa Gabor in movie-star sunglasses, Hillary Clinton pantsuit and platinum hair.
She grabbed my arm and cooed, “I need two men, d-a-a-r-ling!”
We laughed.
And with that -the Zalm on one arm, I on the other – the three of us headed down the sweeping staircase of the Vancouver Law Courts as if characters in some old-time musical extravaganza.
I looked around half-expecting the eccentric Faye Leung, the Zalm’s long-ago hat-wearing nemesis, to come screeching out of the wings as she used to do.
Surely, her constant sidekick, “Uncle Joe,” would be waddling behind in his bowler hat, swinging an umbrella like the Penguin.
There always has been a Gilbert and Sullivan comic opera air surrounding Vander Zalm.
From his days as a cabinet minister, portrayed by cartoonists pulling the wings off flies, to his days as premier living in a castle in Fantasy Gardens, the charismatic gardener has always been larger than life.
Former Liberal, crusading social services minister, would-be mayor of Vancouver, now champion of the grassroots – age has not dulled his spark, his energy or his drive.
Vander Zalm was luminous last week in B.C. Supreme Court as he continued his fight against the Liberal government and its Big Business allies.
Two decades after he was driven from public office – jeers and catcalls echoing in his ears -the Zalm has returned to the provincial political stage at the front of the anti-HST revolt as if he were the lead in Les Miserables.
He relishes the role.
Memories of the disgrace that followed the controversial sale of his theme park to Taiwanese entrepreneur Tan Yu have been erased.
On Friday, Vander Zalm was triumphant, winner in the high-stakes challenge of his petition to repeal the controversial blended tax.
In the moments between Chief Justice Robert Bauman’s decision and the media frenzy, we reflected on the vagaries of his career, his days of ignominy and the collapse of the party that once governed the province as a fiefdom.
His is an incredible journey. Who could have guessed?
“Never say never in politics,” I told him.
He held my gaze and allowed himself a smile, a self-satisfied smile, not that blazing Cheshire grin he offers the camera.
“Never say ‘never’ in politics,” he repeated with a nod.
From a fifth-floor perch, Vander Zalm stared through the glittering glass of the courthouse at the media satellite trucks and the horde of journalists waiting below.
He was really back.
He looked around for his bride. Lillian was beaming: Her man was back on top. She grabbed my arm.
As we reached the bottom of the stairs, as the glass doors slid open, I gently removed her hand from my arm and whispered: “It’s your moment again in the limelight. Enjoy.”
The Zalm flashed his megawatt incisors and the happy couple veritably danced towards the battery of cameras and microphones.
Who could have guessed? It had taken 20 years. Twenty years!
But the Zalm was back.
And the Liberals should be afraid, very afraid.
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