He wanted me ‘horsewhipped’ when my book on Eaton’s came out. But a chance encounter proved Fred Eaton was a gracious man — even when he didn’t have to be

In the summer of 2019 I was early for lunch with a member of one of Toronto’s downtown clubs. As was the custom, I was guided by a liveried doorman to a genteel sitting area where I would await my host. I chose a newspaper from a table in the centre of the room and then moved toward a chair.
Suddenly, I realized I was only six feet away from Fred Eaton who was already seated. I had not seen Fred since my book, “The Eatons: The Rise and Fall of Canada’s Royal Family,” on the spectacular demise of his family’s department store, was published 20 years earlier.
I could hardly avoid an encounter. “I’m Rod McQueen,” I said, trying not to sound apprehensive. “I know who you are,” he harrumphed. Fred was the only one of the four Eaton brothers — “the boys” as the fourth generation was known — who had agreed to give me an interview for the book. Not pleased with how the family was portrayed, he was quoted in the Star at the time of the book’s publication saying that he planned “to form a committee to horsewhip me.”
I sat down a couple of chairs away from him and we began a stilted conversation that got warmer along the way. We ended up covering a number of topics including the success of our respective sons who knew each other.
Fred did well when he ran Eaton’s in the 1980s due to a strong economy and the leadership of Greg Purchase, an extraordinary retail executive. Toward the end of the decade, Purchase retired, Fred grew bored, and the economy weakened, thereby hurting retail sales.
In 1991, relief arrived when then-prime minister Brian Mulroney named Fred as Canadian High Commissioner to the United Kingdom and Northern Ireland. Fred accepted with enthusiasm and immediately shipped his 1950 Rolls-Royce Silver Dawn to London. At the time, he and the Japanese ambassador were the only members of the diplomatic corps with a Rolls. When his mother, Signy, died in 1992, Fred dispatched his Rolls home and brought over her Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud. That wasn’t his only toy. His 120-foot yacht, Brave Wolfe, was berthed at Portsmouth throughout his time in London, always at the ready for sojourns along the Scottish coast or cruises in the Mediterranean with his wife, Nicky.
Fred did not find the high commissioner’s role very demanding. “I quite enjoyed being ‘your excellency.’ It’s not a hugely difficult job to do,” he told me at the time. “There’s no day-to-day worry in a job like that.”
While Fred was abroad, George, the youngest of the four brothers, took over the running of Eaton’s. The first time I had anything to do with George was several years earlier at a Toronto restaurant. At one point, I realized there was a man lying on the floor near me. A chic woman had knelt down to run her hands two inches away from his body. “I’m feeling his aura,” she explained.
His head was hidden, so I had no idea who he was. I called over the waiter and jokingly said, “If that man’s dead, I’ll give you $5 for his tie.” Two minutes later, a grinning George Eaton was at my elbow, collar undone, a stylish red-and-black striped tie draped over his hand. Well, I thought, why shouldn’t he play haberdasher, he’s an Eaton.
In 1997, during George’s regime, Eaton’s declared insolvency. When I interviewed George for the Financial Post, he was helpful and forthcoming but when he later learned that I planned to write a book about Eaton’s, he told everyone not to talk to me. As for the eldest brother, John Craig Eaton, the closest I ever got was once, in the men’s room at the Toronto Club. He arrived at a urinal beside me and said, “Time to bleed the turkey.” I was at a loss for a response. The fourth Eaton, Thor, was a music producer, and had little to do with the stores.
When Fred returned to Canada from his London posting, Eaton’s “was in a shambles,” he wrote in his 2018 memoir, “Between Stone and Stars.” “The failure of Eaton’s was a tremendous personal blow. I walked in tears through the flagship store on Yonge Street in Toronto.”
Fred died in 2021. As someone who conducted extensive research on the family, I can say that Fred lived a laudable life, lending his name and his money to many causes, particularly health care and the arts. As for our relationship, I don’t claim that Fred ever forgot or forgave me for what I said in my book. But our conversation that day in the club lounge showed me that he was a good and gracious man. Even when there was no need to be.