This is another in the series of anecdotes taken verbatim from Les Cook’s unpublished book “Birthpangs of CANDU”, a copy of which is in the documents held by the Society for the Preservation of Canada’s Nuclear Heritage Inc. (Les Cook was the Director of the Chemistry and Metallurgy Division of CRNL from 1945 to 1956.)
The Chalk River Nuclear Laboratories (CRNL, now Chalk River Laboratories, CRL) were constructed in World War II under the National Research Council (NRC). CRNL was Canada’s contribution to the Manhattan Project, the US program to develop nuclear weapons. The Manhattan Project was directed by General Leslie Groves, who had a reputation as a “doer, a driver, and a stickler for duty”. Just after the war, General Groves made his one and only visit to Chalk River.
“And now this mystical power-figure, General Groves, about to be deposed in two weeks, was actually going to visit this isolated outpost – effectively controlled as part of his empire – when it did not matter any more.
As a matter of formality – and curiosity – he would be as well received as possible – all anonymous, of course. Even though the war was over, there was yet no relaxation of the security blanket, at least as far as the Canadian public, Canadian MPs or in fact the regular government were concerned. After all, NRX was not yet finished yet, and no one could foretell whether it would be a big success or a big failure. Expenditure was already 10 times the original estimate. The reliance on the UK for key staff, and on the US for everything else (except money) could be embarrassing. Groves’ visit was to be kept very low-key and not a word of it was to reach the media or anyone else.
Where was Groves to be entertained at dinner after seeing his one not yet successful baby for the first and last time? There were no guest facilities in or within 100 miles of Chalk River other than Crawley and McCracken’s lumber camp cafeteria in the staff dormitory dining room. And Byways!
Byways was a house converted into a northern Ontario version of a pub – the only beer joint for the local trade for a dozen miles in either direction – several miles up the near empty highway toward North Bay. It was all there was; it would have to do.
A small party gathered there in the living room, turned into a dining room for perhaps 15 people for the occasion. As drinks were served at a help-yourself bar, my host appeared, unaccustomedly dressed up in his best suit with an old-fashioned stiff collar, and proceeded to circulate among the usual guests. He did not know who the guest of honour was, but sensed it was his moment of glory – until Andy Cipriani, Director of Medical and Biological Research, fisherman, owner of a personally maintained Model T for backwoods driving, and well known to my host as a not infrequent customer, took the former aside and suggested it would be more appropriate if he retired through the open door to the kitchen and helped his wife fry the T-bone steaks.
We all tried to look as nonchalant as possible – as if this dinner was one hand a perfectly regular ordinary thing, while conveying on the other hand some notion that we were not totally country yokels. How we got so far at Chalk River without putting in anything with even the privacy and cuisine of a general’s field kitchen was indeed a little embarrassing.
At any rate, we finally all sat down at the extended table, and my host and his wife brought in the T-bones. Conversation between Groves and Cockcroft seemed a little forced, and the rest of us tried to create an air of Gastfrendlichkeit, without any visible effect.
Then Cockcroft, in a few words, welcomed our guest and invited him to speak.
Groves hoisted his huge frame to his feet and with a flickering half-smile delivered a 20-minute oration. Of all the fascinating happenings of the last four years which he could have discussed and about which we hoped to hear – not a word. I think we all hoped to go home with a feeling that all the stories we had heard were washed away in the frankness and honesty of a personal encounter, but it didn’t happen.
His topic from beginning to end was his dislike of England and of Englishmen.
He began with his service in France as a young officer in WW I, when he had a choice of 10 days’ leave in Paris or 14 days if he spent a minimum of 24 hours in London. He arranged to arrive in London as late as possible one evening, and left as early as possible the second morning, thereby getting three extra days in Paris. It went on from there for the full twenty minutes.
His audience was pin-drop quiet, it was so embarrassing. Cockcroft listened stone-faced. Bob Spence – already appointed head of chemistry at Harwell, and in charge of a group of chemists in our laboratories perfecting a large-scale plutonium extraction process for the British Windscale plant – was clearly furious. His black eyes narrowed and beetled as I had never known them to do. Several other UK senior staff obviously regarded it as being in the worst possible taste and incredibly designed to alienate everyone, when he could have left with 15 friends.
Then it was over. Cockcroft mumbled a few courteous words, and our guest was gone in his car back to his four-engined general’s plane at Ottawa airport.”
The Society would be very pleased to receive further anecdotes about the early days of the nuclear industry. Anecdotes can be sent to info@nuclearheritage.ca or directly to J. Ungrin at ungrinjr@gmail.com .
