From the moment we met on a cold winter’s day walking across the parking lot between Vandercook Hall and the Student Center, Peter and I developed a bond which would last a lifetime.
I was envious of Peter. Although he was an ultra-conservative, a person of powerful convictions and the champion of many causes, he was truly a man at peace with himself. He believed he could make a difference … and he did.
The Detes and Lambda Chi Alpha were to become his family, for Peter never married. And, while he provided for his sustenance through work, he lived for the weekends, holidays and his vacation when he could spend time with his family.
Peter was welcomed everywhere. He was Lambda Chi Alpha’s roving Ambassador, and like a traveling minister of the 1800s, he reached out to those along the way with guidance and understanding all wrapped up in his particular style and personality. He was able to breech all generation gaps. Young, middle-aged or getting on in years, you were comfortable in Peter’s presence. He could put you at ease with a few simple words and that wonderful laugh.
And, if Peter thought you were on the wrong track, he was not afraid to reach into your life. Those of you reading my words may wish to take a moment to reflect on the effect he might have had on your life.
Peter roamed the halls of Lambda Chi Chapter houses across the USA and Canada. He never lacked for a bed, a meal or a warm hearth.
Peter would walk into your house and make himself at home. He knew where his bedroom was. From that moment on he was just a part of the family. He was generous, too. He never showed up without a gift.
Peter knew where the liquor cabinet was and he was never shy about making himself a drink. Together we made quite a few drinks … but that’s another story.
Peter never stayed long enough. You were sad when he left, but you knew he would be back. You had just enough time to restock your liquor cabinet.
My favorite Peter Elcombe story is when he decided to enter into Canadian politics. He had been asked to run for the Windsor/Walkerville Riding seat for the Progressive Conservatives. He wanted me to be his campaign manager. I told him that an American in Canadian politics was not going to fly, but he would have none of that. We were off on an adventure. Our first stop was a hotel room in Toronto where, after being visited by the Party’s “bag man,” we found ourselves with $5,000 to run our campaign.
Back in Windsor, we set up our campaign headquarters down along the Detroit River in a rundown building, which had last seen service during Prohibition. But the price was right. FREE!
It was then that I learned that the Progressive Conservatives had not won an election in the Windsor/Walkeville Riding since 1904. Great!
With an election less than 3 months away and not a snowball’s chance in hell of winning, we sat down to map out our campaign strategy.
Well, we didn’t have much money and the Windsor Star hated all conservatives, as was evidenced by the Progressive Conservatives’ record, but Peter was determined he could win. Who was I to tell him “no?”
One week later I told him that while he went around kissing babies, I was going to run another candidate for the Riding … a “write-in” candidate.
You see, Peter’s nickname was “The Bear.” So I ran a bear. I produced a write-in candidate who created quite a stir in Windsor politics, not to mention among the boys in Toronto.
But “The Bear” caught on. “The Bear” was actually a friend of Peter’s (Rolly Cookson), dressed up in a bear outfit that I had rented. I took “The Bear” to Court and registered him to run in the election. Low and behold, the Windsor Star picked up on it and I had free advertising. “The Bear” would show up at Children’s hospitals and play with the kids and schmooze with the staff. He would eat in the local restaurants (always free food) and ride around town on his motorcycle. He would worship in a different church every Sunday, and he would walk around downtown Windsor expressing his political philosophy. You see, “The Bear” could really say what was wrong with the Democrats and get away with it. By the way, our campaign bumper sticker was a square of acrylic carpet.
The months rolled by. “The Bear” was more popular than ever, and Peter turned out to be a pretty good politician. But I was even more convinced that Peter could not win. Since Peter thought I was a marketing genius, it was time for me to do my thing if we were going to have any chance of a good showing.
It was fall, and the election was upon us. So I held a Press Conference for our “Bear” candidate. He made one hell of a speech, and by then we had the attention of not only the Windsor Star, but the Toronto papers … even TV. He took all the “bad guys” to task, laid out his plan to make Windsor a better city, etc. Hell, he should have been running for mayor!
But then he looked at his audience and said it was time for him to leave politics. You see, he had to prepare for his winter hibernation. He wouldn’t be here for the election. And then “The Bear” introduced Peter. He said that Peter Elcombe was the most qualified candidate and the best man for the job. “The Bear” then hopped on his motorcycle and rode off to the North Woods.
Well, to make a long story short, Peter lost the election. But our showing was the highest anyone had gotten since 1904. It was the first time I ever saw Peter cry. He really thought he could win. You know what? He damn near did.
Peter stood up with me when I married Sally, and he was godfather to Elise and known as “Uncle Peter.”
Peter continued to visit his Lambda Chi family for many years, even holding office at the national level. He was most proud.
And then came the day when he was diagnosed with cancer. Sally and I visited him in Toronto, and with each visit we could see the devastating toll this hideous disease had taken. But in person and on the phone he was filled with life. He fought cancer with all the determination of a heavy-weight boxer, but he never lost his spirit or his will to live. He fought it to the end.
I visited with Peter two days before he died. Peter had moved back to Windsor and was placed in a hospice by a government (with socialized medicine) which wouldn’t spend 50 bucks for a PSA test, but would spend thousands to help you die. He hated the hospice. He couldn’t get a drink and the food was lousy.
And then one of the greatest acts of humanity that I have ever witnessed took place. High school friends of Peter took him into their home, gave up their master bedroom and nursed him until his passing.
On my last visit with Peter, I had stopped at COSTCO. Peter’s favorite flower was the rose. I bought him 5 dozen yellow roses and placed them by his bedside. I can still hear Peter saying, “Now, now, Hofer! For Christ’s sake, everybody dies!”
I was privileged to give Peter’s eulogy. It took place in a small Anglican church built by Hiram Walker for his distillery employees. It was filled to capacity. Even “The Bear” showed up.
And for those of you who are wondering what a “Riding” is (as in Windsor/Walkerville Riding), here in the USA we call them congressional districts. You see the Canadian candidates used to ride about doing their politicking business on horseback.