Mr. Brown Comes to Tea...

I am holding to my resolve NOT to write a political Substack. I will, however, acknowledge the Hands-Off rallies that were held all over the world this past weekend. It was heartening to see millions of people protesting peacefully!

In the wake of those rallies, I decided to share a story I wrote years ago. I look at it as a feel-good story about a courageous man from another dark time in history.

Stock photo from unnamed TV interview early 1960s

Originally published in History Magazine, Toronto, Canada in 2018, here’s an edited, pared-down version of the story:

One afternoon in the autumn of 1965, I arrived home for school in Niagara Falls, Ontario, to find a stranger sitting in a straight-backed chair in my family’s living room. He was a bulky man in a heavy topcoat despite the heat in the apartment. His Fedora was perched on a coffee table next to him. My father introduced me to “Mr. Brown.” I said a polite hello.

Mom was serving tea, but I headed to my bedroom to begin homework – not the slightest bit inquisitive about the visitor. Having been brought up in an old-school British household – children should be seen but not heard – and shy to boot, escaping from the adult world suited me just fine.

My father, Charles Foster, then a writer for a local newspaper, had met and befriended many people of renown during his career. On this occasion, he had somehow charmed one of Canada’s most notorious residents into visiting our home.

Mr. Brown was in fact Igor Gouzenko – infamous Russian defector – or Canadian patriot. Even after our initial meeting in 1965, Mr. Gouzenko would appear on television programs with a hood over his head, slits cut out for his eyes and mouth, in order to protect his true identity.

Igor Gouzenko had been a cipher clerk in the Russian Embassy in Ottawa. In 1945, three days after World War II ended, anticipating that he and his family would be called back to Russia, he defected to Canada. He possessed first-hand knowledge of the KGB and Soviet espionage activity. When he left the Embassy, he took with him hundreds of documents detailing spying activities, cipher codes and other sensitive materials. He also implicated highly placed Canadians in Ottawa of colluding with the Russians.

Getting someone to listen to his story and take him seriously was not easy. After several frustrating attempts to obtain help from the RCMP, Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie-King, and other agencies, a reporter with an Ottawa newspaper came to his aid. Gouzenko was put in contact with a federal government official. Events then moved swiftly. Based on Gouzenko’s intelligence, many local agents and Soviet spies were arrested and prosecuted.

Life became tenuous for the Gouzenko family. They hid in neighbor’s homes while agents from the Soviet Embassy raided and searched their apartment. Eventually, realizing the importance of his contribution, not only to Canada but the free world, the Canadian government gave new identities to the family. They were relocated to a home in Mississauga, Ontario.

Why Mr. Gouzenko was in our living room, in Niagara Falls, that fall day only became known to me after my father passed away, at age 94, in April 2017. I spent many hours sorting through his papers, notes, diary entries, letters and pictures. What was the connection?

A handwritten letter from Mr. Gouzenko to my father answered that question.

My father always seemed to have a knack for being “in the right place at the right time,” evidenced in his own books and stories. He also had a talent for befriending people. A publicist, journalist, editor and writer, he met many people of note.

In October 1965, with Canada’s Centennial and Expo ’67 looming on the horizon, my father wrote to many prominent Canadians seeking their support for the “Maple Leaf Honor Ceremonies Committee.” That committee would not only honor people of merit but would set up scholarships in their names. He sent letters to eminent Canadians – John Diefenbaker, Lester Pearson, Jack Warner, Mary Pickford and Igor Gouzenko included. Responses came back quickly.

In his reply to my father, dated 8 November 1965, Gouzenko wrote:

“It is with a feeling of great humility that I accept your invitation…there is time to discuss details of the scholarship…in the field of modern history or literature would be appropriate.”

He also cited security precautions that might be needed and ended by saying, “There will be no difficulties in this respect providing that part of the celebrations do not require me to go over the Falls in a barrel.”

The burly Russian certainly had a sense of humor despite the still-heightened concerns for his safety. To further illustrate his need for security, Mr. Gouzenko provided a return address for any further communication under the name P. Brown, c/o Mr. John Tracy at the Canadian Press. How did Gouzenko receive the initial letter from my father? That remains a mystery.

I can find no documentation that the award ceremony ever took place. But, ceremony or not, that communication with my father became the catalyst for a lifelong friendship between my parents and the Gouzenkos.

After the first visit to our apartment, we saw “Mr. and Mrs. Brown” frequently. They were never accompanied by their children. Shortly before Christmas 1965, Igor and Anna paid another visit. It was a pleasant and relaxing day. Anna brought along some beautiful, lacy crochet work and sat quietly, hands flying. She loved my mother’s Scottish shortbread (an old family recipe I’ve shared in a previous Substack). Her whole face lit up when she smiled.

The men did most of the talking, but in-between conversation, Igor Gouzenko sketched, silently, using paper and pencils borrowed from my father. As they left to go home, he produced two sketches – one of my mother and one of me – signed, “I.G. Dec. 21, 65” – his Christmas gift to us.

During a later visit, Anna presented my mother with the beautiful, lacy, lilac and silver shawl she had been working on at Christmas. Mom always said it was too delicate to wear.

Anna Gouzenko’s needlework

In 1966, my family moved to Brampton, Ontario where my father took a new writing position. The Gouzenko family now lived a short distance from us but I never saw them again.

My interest in Mr. Gouzenko led me to read his book, The Fall of a Titan, published in 1954. I found a tattered old copy in my father’s huge book collection. It is a raw, fictionalized glimpse into Igor Gouzenko’s early life in Russia under the rule of Joseph Stalin. Not only did the publication of that book provide some financial security for the family as they struggled to create a new life in Canada, but the book won the 1954 Governor-General of Canada’s prize for Literature in the fiction category.

It is speculated that Gouzenko’s defection to Canada helped precipitate the start of the Cold War with the Soviet Union. While that may be debated, Gouzenko did shine a light on the threat the Russians posed to national security in the west.

Gouzenko’s defection was also told in a Hollywood movie, The Iron Curtain, released in 1948 and partially filmed in Canada.

My father wrote his story about my family’s relationship with the Gouzenkos in 2010. It was published in Nova Scotia’s Senior Advocate. That story contained information I had not previously known and led me, finally, to understand the significance of my brief encounters with Igor and Anna.

Reflecting back on my first meeting with him, I wonder now if Gouzenko kept his back to our deck window to protect his face from possible outside surveillance. Or was he keeping an eye on the front door? Or both? Curious – or perhaps I’ve watched too many spy dramas on television?

Igor Sergeyevich Gouzenko died in 1982 at the age of 63. A conservative Member of Parliament in Ontario, Allan Lawrence, commented in a newspaper article at the time, “I think it’s a damn shame…the debt of gratitude owed by Canada to this man has never really been expressed.”

Igor’s wife, Svetlana (Anna) Gouseva Gouzenko, died in 2001. Husband and wife were buried in unmarked plots in Mississauga. A headstone was erected in 2002 by the family.

I still cherish the pencil sketches, and the shawl is safely stored in my cedar chest.

Given today’s political climate, perhaps we in the west should be hoping for another Igor Gouzenko with the courage to speak truth to power at a critical time in history.

I do hope you’ve enjoyed reading this account of a remarkable man.

Please comment and share if you are so inclined. ‘Till next month…rally on!!