A VICEROY ON VANCOUVER'S EASTSIDE

Worlds Collide on Madam Clarkson's 'Interesting' Tour

VANCOUVER - Try as he might, the street cleaner could not remove the
puddle of vomit that lay in the soon-to-be-trodden path of Her
Excellency the Right Honourable Adrienne Clarkson. The cleaner
conceded defeat and swept up some fresh cigarette butts, instead; the
Governor-General of Canada would have to pick her way past the
unpleasant deposit.

Regardless, Vancouver's crime- and drug-infested Downtown Eastside has
seldom looked as tidy as it did yesterday morning. Some of the drug
addicts, prostitutes and homeless people who prowl what is generally
regarded as Canada's worst, poorest, most crime-riddled neighbourhood
claim it was "sanitized" just before Madam Clarkson's walking tour.
According to the city's Mayor, Larry Campbell, the claim was "just a
pile of crap."

But the regular corner dealers were absent. There were no spent
needles lying about on the ground. Gone, too, were the shattered crack
vials that often litter the sidewalks.

Mme. Clarkson's trip to the city's skid-row district was easily the
most anticipated in her five-day "urban visit" to Vancouver, which
ends today. Events spanning the previous three days had received
little, if any, media coverage.

Yesterday, three dozen activists waited for Mme. Clarkson and her
husband, the author John Ralston Saul, at the couple's first scheduled
stop in the Downtown Eastside. "Her plan is to go into some dental
clinic that none of us use," shouted David Cunningham, leader of one
anti-poverty brigade, "and then she'll go to some s----y art gallery
that doesn't allow any of us inside. How is this helping the homeless?"

More reporters arrived, encouraged, no doubt, by the prospect of a
large demonstration and a possible confrontation with Mme. Clarkson.
But still no Governor-General. We soon learned she was enjoying a long
breakfast with Mr. Campbell.

Mr. Cunningham and about 30 bedraggled supporters filled the time
waving signs, shouting slogans and mocking the dozen police officers
assembled to conduct crowd control.

Finally, the entourage arrived. Mme. Clarkson and her husband looked
like affluent tourists who might have wandered from one of the cruise
ships docked nearby. The Governor-General wore a cozy ensemble of
fleece and corduroy, and bright pink lipstick. His Excellency wore a
sports jacket adorned with an Order of Canada lapel pin.

We immediately surrounded them. What, asked one reporter, did Mme.
Clarkson think of the accusation from the activists, that her walking
tour was a meaningless photo opportunity?

"It's my third time here, and John's fourth," she replied, dryly.
"I've been coming down to these areas in every part of Canada....
It's what we do."

"It's very interesting," smiled Mr. Ralston Saul, his hands clasped
in front of him. "You don't want to just come here once and go. You
have got to take it seriously. You keep coming back, and you get an
idea of the problems."

"You should try living down here for a week," screeched one
woman.

"That would be very interesting," Mr. Ralston Saul
smiled.

They were then ushered into a squeaky clean community-funded dental
clinic, along with Mr. Campbell. Anti-poverty leader Cunningham let
loose a stream of profanity directed at Mayor Campbell and his
municipal political party, the Coalition of Progressive Electors.

Outside, I met a man named Jim Reed. Like Mr. Cunningham, he figured
the Governor-General's appearance would not assist those in the area
looking for affordable shelter.

"So what, if they keep coming back?" he snapped. "What good is
that, if nothing ever gets done? People are dying here, and the
Governor [General] is examining dental clinics? That isn't reality for
the people down here. Death and organized crime is the reality."

We waited. The Governor-General and her entourage had slipped next
door, to a coffee shop. Then they hit the streets again, walking to a
recycling centre.

"It's all very interesting," said Mr. Ralston Saul, his hands
clasped in front of him. "This is my third visit here, and John's
fourth," added Mme. Clarkson.

"Your husband is a horrible author," someone yelled. The couple
looked at each other and laughed.

Mr. Campbell walked a few paces behind. Jim Reed started sniping at
him. "What's your name, anyhow?" barked the Mayor.

"It's Jim Reed."

"Well, Jimmy, you and your partner [activist David] Cunningham, you
add up to zero." The Mayor cackled, and then followed Her Excellency
and His Excellency into the recycling shop.

Scribes were allowed inside, this time. In the back of the shop, far
from the maddening crowd, Mme. Clarkson and her husband spoke in soft
voices.

"We've been to 320 communities since I became Governor-General,"
Mme. Clarkson said.

"We're looking at what people are trying to do," offered Mr. Ralston
Saul. "It's very interesting."

"Yes," said Mme. Clarkson. "It is interesting."

They left the shop and walked to a community art gallery. They spent a
long time inside. Mr. Campbell waited for them on the street, sparring
verbally with more protesters.

At last, the Governor-General and her husband emerged, and began
walking again, this time hand in hand, past the army and navy store,
past a scary-looking pub called Funky Winker Bean, and toward an
abandoned department store that will soon be redeveloped into public
and private housing units.

Outside the store, a young man lay on the sidewalk, face down and
unconscious. He was very drunk, or stoned, or both.

Mme. Clarkson stopped short. She walked over to the man; reporters and
security officers quickly formed a circle around the two of them. The
Governor-General hunched over and peered at the man for 10 seconds
before straightening up.

"What do you think of that?" shouted a reporter.

"It's awful," frowned Mme. Clarkson. She turned and was ushered into
the old department store for a private meeting.

A policewoman rushed over the slumbering man. She woke him up and told
him he had to move.