Unconventional Candour
Page 18
There was also the fact that, for all my admiration of Pierre Trudeau, I never learned to speak French fluently. It is my number-one regret, and at times a point of insecurity. In a province with a million French-speakers and following in the footsteps of a bilingual premier (McGuinty), it was more than a nagging concern of mine as I considered my future.
Finally, there was a personal issue. My relationship with Christopher was under strain. Don’t get me wrong; our reunification in 2005 and our wedding in 2007 made these among the happiest and most fulfilling days of my life. But the pressures of government put a strain on all families of politicians. In our case, Christopher had to fight his way against the established routines of a committed politician who was a long-time bachelor to boot. And I found it difficult for my ministerial staff to adapt to my married reality as they had come to know me when virtually no times on the calendar were off limits. Communication with Christopher, especially about my schedule and the events we were to attend together, was constantly mishandled. That left me treading too often on Christopher’s legendary goodwill. During that period, I was also running a large government department. That kept me on the road two or three nights a week. While Christopher never complained about that and always deferred to my political career, we both felt our relationship would be better served by a job that kept me closer to home. Even though the mayoralty is also an all-consuming job, at least you get to spend most nights sleeping in your own bed. We called the strategy “up or out.”
Tackling a well-entrenched incumbent like David Miller was a daunting challenge. Of greatest concern was whether I would be the only serious challenger or others would crowd the field and split the anti-Miller vote. Specifically, would John Tory — a former provincial Conservative leader, a prior candidate for mayor, and an oft-rumoured mayoral candidate in seemingly every election cycle — get into the race? He had the same concerns about me.
While Tory was no longer in the Legislature, he and I had stayed in touch, encouraged in part by veteran Toronto PC activist Justin Van Dette, a mutual friend. Tory tagged along on a couple of my community cleanups during the garbage strike. We competed vigorously, sweeping up as many cigarette butts and assorted bits of debris as we possibly could. And we chatted, in a wary sort of way. At my invitation, the two of us got together for a cup of coffee at a café on Church Street. Contrary to media reports at the time, no formal agreement emerged from this meeting, but there was a clear understanding that, if one of us ran, the other would stay out of the race. “Well, John, at least we know we both can’t run,” I said as we got up from our meeting.
In effect, this understanding put the two of us in a race against each other to get to the starting line first. This was in the back of my mind when, during a press scrum at Queen’s Park on September 9, 2009, I was asked if I was thinking of running for mayor. The safe response would have been to duck the question by saying I was focused on my current duties in the provincial government (as I most certainly was). But I did not choose the safe route. “The status quo is not getting the job done [at city hall],” I said. “And it’s counterproductive to have a race [for mayor] that doesn’t have clear choices available to people.” This was an unmistakable signal to the public (and to John Tory) that I was seriously considering running for mayor. It also immediately labelled me as the leading potential challenger to David Miller. (In this respect, Tory got the last laugh on me. Not only did I end up sacrificing my political career to Rob Ford, but also Tory got to watch and even contribute to my self-immolation over eHealth.)
There were other serious negative consequences for me from my premature announcement. At that time, I was in the midst of steering implementation of the Green Energy Act through cabinet. This was something to which I had devoted a lot of my political life and credibility, at the behest of the premier and in the face of uncertain economic times (the 2008–9 recession). And it became much more difficult to see it through to conclusion once my cabinet colleagues realized I had my eye on leaving. I had become a wounded, if not lame, duck. And that made everyone at Queen’s Park much less deferential to me. Most of my colleagues were reluctant to raise the subject directly with me (although I do recall Greg Sorbara asking me, rhetorically: “Are you out of your mind?”). But I could tell that some were excited about my departure, and the actions of a few “colleagues” in consort forced my hand and hastened my exit. They were trying to pull the rug out from under me by interfering with my stakeholders. Later, one of them directly apologized for his conduct.
* * *
Then, on September 25, the political landscape changed dramatically with Mayor Miller’s surprise announcement that he would not seek re-election in 2010. Suddenly the mayoral race was wide open. And even though neither of us had formally declared our intentions to run, John Tory and I were immediately deemed the front-runners to replace Miller. Ford was not on anyone’s radar screen.
A few days after Miller’s announcement, I was asked again at Queen’s Park about my intentions during a joint press scrum with McGuinty on the way into the weekly cabinet meeting. I was more circumspect in my response this time. While acknowledging that I was “thinking about” running for mayor, I stressed “my obligation to show that I’m focused on my [provincial] job day-to-day.” The premier was more to the point. He said some flattering things about me and then added: “George is not going anywhere. You heard it here first.” Afterward, as we both walked into cabinet, Dalton said to me: “I meant all of those things.”
It was the last face-to-face conversation we would have on this topic before I handed in my resignation six weeks later. While I was still sitting beside Dalton in the Legislature and we continued to work together on provincial matters, we did not discuss my future. That may seem strange, but there is no particular guidebook for how one goes about these things. We just sort of muddled through it. At this point in our relationship, Dalton McGuinty had already said through his actions how he valued my service.
I wanted to wait until Christmas to leave the government, but my diminished status left me hopelessly undermined at the cabinet table, with a few of my “colleagues” working directly against me. This was new to me. Rather than risk humiliation, I penned my letter of resignation and arranged to meet Dalton at his mid-Toronto home on November 8, a Sunday. Afterward, the premier issued a statement praising me for my stewardship in both the health and energy portfolios and adding: “As an MPP, George has consistently stood up for the underdog, championed the rights and the needs of his constituents and used his considerable gifts and talents serving the people of his community.” Oddly, I have no clear recollection of that day. My dear friend Erika Mozes, who saw me immediately after I met McGuinty, said I looked shell-shocked.
With all pretenses gone, I could now be completely frank with the media about seeking the mayoralty. I told reporters that my campaign would encompass people from all parties and I would be “a candidate of the broad centre,” with an emphasis on fiscal reality. “It’s time for post-ideological solutions,” I said.
* * *
I kept my seat in the Legislature while I was getting my campaign up and running. But rather than risk being a distraction for my soon-to-be former colleagues, I stayed away from the Queen’s Park precinct. And lest I be accused of using provincial resources to subsidize my municipal campaign, I never once set foot in my “new” office in the Legislative Building, although my name was emblazoned on the door. On December 10, the last day before the Christmas recess, I delivered my farewell speech on the floor of the Legislature after a decade as the MPP for Toronto Centre. “When I first arrived in this place ten years ago,” I said, “I set out on a mission to serve this diverse riding with passion and dedication. Much progress has been made, and thanks especially to the confidence of my leader Dalton McGuinty, I have been provided with an extraordinary opportunity to serve my province, and in so doing, I have had my life deeply enriched by the people I have met and the remarkable places I have visited. Each of us
privileged to serve in this place benefits from the companionship of members on all sides. My experience has not been any different. As much as I am enthusiastic about the new pursuit I am to undertake in the new year, I’m saddened that the relationships I have made here will be renewed somewhat less frequently. Yet I have noted that the mayor of Toronto does frequently attend here, sometimes even without cap in hand.”
Then it was the turn of the opposition to speak about me. First up was Elizabeth Witmer, a Conservative MPP who, like me, had been minister of health. “I just want to extend to the honourable member, on behalf of our caucus, our sincere appreciation for his dedication and commitment,” she said. “I don’t think there was any time that I wasn’t well aware of the fact that he personally had a sincere commitment to the people of this province and of his riding, and I want to thank him very much.” Michael Prue, a New Democrat MPP and former East York mayor himself, addressed my future plans. “I wish him the best of luck going into municipal politics,” he said. “Many of us have come from that sphere. I know he was involved with Barbara Hall in the past, but not as an elected politician. I think he will find, over time, that it’s a very difficult job to which he aspires. All I can say is that the lessons you have learned here and the passion you have shown here will stand the people of Toronto in good stead, should they decide upon your candidacy.”
* * *
With these words still ringing in my ears, the following day (December 11) I delivered an informal campaign kick-off speech to the Toronto Board of Trade. I said job creation and fiscal responsibility would be my top priorities as mayor. And I indicated I was open to the idea of selling city-owned assets to make ends meet and invest in other areas, such as transit. “It is our obligation to be open to some solutions that perhaps so far haven’t been adopted by city council,” I said. “The city should be strategic about what it owns.”
It was a small-C conservative message that may have jarred people who saw me as a progressive politician. A question from the audience regarding funding for the arts produced a response on my part that had some thinking I was a little hawkish fiscally. It should have been an early message for me that constituencies were going to be taking a what-have-you-done-for-me-lately approach to my campaign. I only ever had this Barbara Hall construct in mind because I was so frustrated that city hall operated on some perceived left-right axis where those in the middle were somehow called mushy. As Barbara had, I wanted to run a “big tent” campaign that attracted people from across our political spectrum — Liberals, Conservatives, and New Democrats. For the New Democrats, I thought my progressive bona fides would speak for themselves. And for the Conservatives, particularly the Red Tories, I thought that there were aspects of my record in managing hospital budgets and reining in spending on prescription drugs that would attract them. I even did an event at the Albany Club, a Conservative bastion, with John Baird, a former member of Mike Harris’s cabinet who by then was federal minister of transport in Stephen Harper’s government. I told the Albany Club audience I was unabashedly progressive but not a spendthrift. I supported the narrative that David Miller had been a terrible manager who had contributed to Scarborough’s sense of alienation.
But I discovered that what worked for Barbara Hall didn’t really work for me, because my style and partisan identification were stronger than hers. While I was downplaying my deep Liberal credentials and abandoning red signs, Rocco Rossi quit his job as national director of the federal Liberal Party to steal the Liberal Party flag from my hands unexpectedly. And Michael Ignatieff (then the federal Liberal leader) and his crew — Pat Sorbara and Peter Donolo — stayed neutral. These were my friends, or so I thought. Donolo’s father-in-law, the late and wonderful Joe Cruden, was the first candidate I ever worked for, back in 1980 when I was a sixteen-year-old. And Pat Sorbara was my first boss in politics in the office of Premier David Peterson in 1986. Pat was also one of the first people I came out to a few years later. Rossi was never really a threat to win the mayoralty. His name recognition was too low for that. But he nonetheless changed the dynamic of the race. Using contacts he had enhanced during his very brief time as a federal Liberal functionary, he managed to raise $1 million. He spent most of that money attacking me, especially over eHealth. The media took him seriously and gave him equal air time and ink in their stories. A couple of newspapers were even poised to endorse him until he pulled out of the race at the last moment. Today, when people ask me about Rossi, I tell them to be wary of anyone who claims multiple epiphanies (which he does). I was delighted when Mike Colle beat him to a pulp when he showed his true colours by running as a Conservative in Toronto.
As for my former Liberal colleagues at Queen’s Park, I didn’t garner as much support from them as I had hoped, perhaps because my exit had been hasty and haphazard and because I hadn’t adorned my campaign with Liberal contemporaries. I certainly reached out to many of them for their support, but the response was mixed at best. In retrospect I may have taken for granted that years in the trenches would have generated more enthusiasm for my candidacy. I was able to call in some IOUs, of course, because I had been beating the bushes around the province on behalf of various Liberal candidates for years. I almost never refused a request to attend a fundraiser for a fellow Liberal. But let me just say that, in a campaign where you put your political life on the line, you learn who your friends are. For example, Brad Duguid, a contemporary of mine since the 1980s, has always shown greater enthusiasm campaigning for John Tory than for me, a fellow Liberal.
Then there was Kathleen Wynne, minister of transportation in the McGuinty government at that time. One might expect that Kathleen, a fellow urban progressive and member of the LGBTQ community, would back me wholeheartedly. But she was initially very reserved in her response to my candidacy, mostly due to what she regarded as my stylistic deficiencies. She told me that she saw me as a member of the “old boys club” at Queen’s Park, the McGuinty government’s mostly male inner core from which she felt excluded. While Kathleen did come ’round and lend support to me both in her riding and at a fundraiser in the LGBTQ community, she was seemingly unable to influence others in her circle, such as Councillor Shelley Carroll, who indicated a preference for NDPer Joe Pantalone despite regularly touting her Liberal credentials. A few years later, when Kathleen ran for party leader, I returned the favour by backing Gerard Kennedy, whom I had long admired as a highly principled person.
* * *
As 2009 drew to a close, the field for the mayoral race was taking shape. Along with me and Rossi, the expectation was that at least one NDP councillor (Adam Giambrone or Pantalone) would enter. And there was heavy speculation that John Tory would run as the right-of-centre candidate. Rob Ford still was not in the picture. Then right after New Year’s, Tory surprised everyone and declared he would not be a candidate, apparently after consulting with Bill Davis.
An aside: Talk of a Tory candidacy never really went away during the campaign, and Tory himself did not exactly stay on the sidelines. On his radio show, he really went after me on eHealth. He knew what he was doing. He had been opposition leader at Queen’s Park. Today, he is a mostly well-regarded mayor. I am much more wary of John than many of my Liberal friends. You could see John’s weak side at play when he got on board for a billion-dollar Rail Deck Park scheme without any apparent funding model. More telling yet was his reliance on Nick Kouvalis in his mayoral campaigns. (Kouvalis worked for Ford in 2010.)
I formally registered as a mayoral candidate in the first week of January, 2010. Ideally, I would have waited to register at least two months longer, but the ridiculous provincial law that governs the mayoral race in Toronto does not allow you to make any expenditure until registered. And I played by the rules. Meanwhile, the Fords ignored them, including the one that is designed to prevent businesses from floating campaigns. But Ford was not in the race in early January. And with Tory out, I was clearly the front-runner. An Angus Reid–Toronto Star poll showed that I had the suppor
t of 44 percent of decided voters, way ahead of Giambrone at 17 percent, Rossi at 15 percent, and Pantalone at 5 percent. But 58 percent of the voters were undecided.
Notwithstanding the undecideds, the political landscape looked very favourable for me. David Miller and John Tory were on the sidelines. Giambrone soon pulled himself out before his campaign really got started, after the Star published an interview with a young woman who said she had an ongoing affair with him while he was living with another woman. (I had insights into Giambrone’s lifestyle and was not surprised by this.) So, besides myself, the mayoral field was effectively reduced to Joe Pantalone, a New Democrat and veteran city councillor who saw himself as Miller’s rightful heir; Giorgio Mammoliti, another veteran councillor, whose platform called for creation of a red-light district; Sarah Thomson, publisher of a local monthly newspaper and a flake; and Rocco Rossi. None of them had much of a public profile, certainly not compared to mine. This was not entirely a blessing, however. The problem is that, once you are seen as the front-runner, the media look at you differently. They press you harder on the issues. And if you respond cautiously, they accuse you of ducking for cover or lacking any vision. Worse still, with Miller out of the race I was also viewed as the de facto incumbent, because I possessed the patina of government from my Queen’s Park days. Unfortunately, I inherited none of the benefits of incumbency and all of the negatives. It raised the level of expectation around communication and policy for my campaign, especially because I had decided to look “mayoral.”