Law school, a revolution about to happen, and the importance of keeping your apartment clean... jus

Law school. A hot bed of revolution.

That was my second year of law at the Université de Montreal.

The FLQ (Front de la Liberation de Quebec) was dominating the news.

A take over of the Quebec government seemed to be imminent.

And people were scared out of their wits!

Overcome by fear.

What law student could wrap their head around... property law?!

The October Crisis, 1970

Pierre Laporte, Minister of Labour in the Quebec government, kidnapped and assassinated.

His body found in the trunk of a car.

Terror was spreading.

Who else was going to be killed!

Talk was spreading of a provisional government being formed if Bourassa’s Liberal government fell.

And all this had nothing to do with the “Anglais”

It was French against French. The Indépendentistes against the Fedéralistes

Families were split into these two warring factions.

On a Friday afternoon, the students at law school were in the assembly hall being

revved up by the master agitator of all times, Michel Chartrand.

They poured out of the main hall

screaming and yelling,

waving banners.

Practically running to a rally at the Maurice Richard Arena.

Blood was in the air.

Frenzy was in the air

You felt it in your blood.

Nothing could stop it.

History in the making!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And then in one fell swoop, the frenzy suddenly ended.

It was cut dead.

Pierre Elliot Trudeau enacted the War Measures Act.

The Canadian Army poured into the streets.

The revolution was over.

The most memorable comment in all this 'high-noon' drama came from the mother-in-law of one of my "Anglo" law-school friend.

After the Pierre Laporte assassination, the search for members of the FLQ was spread out.

The police, carrying assault weapons, burst into my friend's apartment, nervously waving their guns back and forth.

They had heard that the FLQ were hiding out in one of these apartments.

When my friend's wife told her mother the story of how the police had burst into their apartment,

her mother threw up her arms and exclaimed in horror,

"Darling, I hope your apartment was clean!”