Crazy Town: The Rob Ford Story by Robyn Doolittle Page A
Authors: Robyn Doolittle
Tags: General, Biography & Autobiography
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to voters, and he used his airtime to slam enemies and promote his work. Ford was controversial, he was shaking things up, and to many that was refreshing.
In a 2004 interview with the Hamilton Spectator ’s Bill Dunphy, Ford reflected on his early years as a councillor. Dunphy did the interview at the Etobicoke Civic Centre, which Ford sometimes used as a free meeting space.
“I was the laughingstock for the first while,” Ford told him. “I got hammered in the papers pretty bad. I got hammered on TV a few times, because of my antics. Did I deserve it? I probably did.… They were out to get me, they got personal. They madefun of my weight, it bothered me, deep down. I sort of flew off the handle a few times, I just lost my temper at council … I just got so mad.” Ford said it was “a lonely time. It still is.”
The article recounted an incident in which Ford, on being ruthlessly heckled by his colleagues on council, had stood up and bellowed, “Mark my words!,” hitting the desk over and over. “Mark my frigging words, I’ll be mayor one day.”
Everyone had laughed.
“They thought that was hilarious,” Ford said. “Anything can happen. In football or politics, upsets happen all the time. You just try your best, let loose with a Hail Mary and you know what? A lot of Hail Mary passes get caught.”
Ford would seriously consider running for mayor in 2006, but the climate wasn’t right. Torontonians were happy with the job David Miller was doing. Miller—a devoted environmentalist who as a councillor had represented a ward in the core of Toronto—had been elected three years earlier with a broom in hand, vowing to sweep out corruption. It was a time when the MFP computer leasing scandal was still fresh in voters’ minds. Miller spent his freshman term as mayor creating accountability safeguards such as the integrity commissioner’s office, working to beautify the city’s waterfront, and investing in public transit. There were still plenty of left–right squabbles at City Hall over issues like spending, garbage collection, and the future of the rapidly deteriorating Gardiner Expressway, one of Toronto’s most important roadways, but for the most part Miller’s first three years lacked the kind of lightning-rod issues that garnered much public attention. Miller was a safe choice. The only person willing to take him on in 2006 was an unknown right-winger from East York, Councillor Jane Pitfield. Late in the mayoralrace, Stephen LeDrew, former president of the Liberal Party of Canada and future CP24 news anchor, added his name to the ballot. For Miller, it was a cakewalk. He finished with 332,969 votes; Pitfield with 188,932; and LeDrew with 8,078.
By 2010, things had changed. Now the recession, not the MFP scandal, was top of mind. People were looking hard at how their tax dollars were being spent, and they didn’t like what they saw. Sole-sourced contracts. Out-of-control expense accounts. Rising taxes. The deathblow for Miller came in the summer of 2009, when he led Toronto into a smelly thirty-nine-day garbage strike. The outdoor workers had walked off the job after the Miller administration went after their union’s expensive practice of banking unused sick leave. City parks were turned into temporary dumps. Torontonians were willing to endure the trash if it meant abolishing this extravagant union perk, but then the city caved, opting for a compromise. The “sick bank” would be phased out over many years. It was a significant concession, but after a summer of living in a garbage dump, residents weren’t in the mood for middle ground. Miller was already on thin ice with voters. Midway through his second term, he had introduced two unpopular new taxes: the vehicle registration tax—a bill that arrived every year on your birthday—and the land transfer tax. There was a feeling that City Hall was out of touch and wasting money. Miller announced he wouldn’t run again.
In January 2010, the
In a 2004 interview with the Hamilton Spectator ’s Bill Dunphy, Ford reflected on his early years as a councillor. Dunphy did the interview at the Etobicoke Civic Centre, which Ford sometimes used as a free meeting space.
“I was the laughingstock for the first while,” Ford told him. “I got hammered in the papers pretty bad. I got hammered on TV a few times, because of my antics. Did I deserve it? I probably did.… They were out to get me, they got personal. They madefun of my weight, it bothered me, deep down. I sort of flew off the handle a few times, I just lost my temper at council … I just got so mad.” Ford said it was “a lonely time. It still is.”
The article recounted an incident in which Ford, on being ruthlessly heckled by his colleagues on council, had stood up and bellowed, “Mark my words!,” hitting the desk over and over. “Mark my frigging words, I’ll be mayor one day.”
Everyone had laughed.
“They thought that was hilarious,” Ford said. “Anything can happen. In football or politics, upsets happen all the time. You just try your best, let loose with a Hail Mary and you know what? A lot of Hail Mary passes get caught.”
Ford would seriously consider running for mayor in 2006, but the climate wasn’t right. Torontonians were happy with the job David Miller was doing. Miller—a devoted environmentalist who as a councillor had represented a ward in the core of Toronto—had been elected three years earlier with a broom in hand, vowing to sweep out corruption. It was a time when the MFP computer leasing scandal was still fresh in voters’ minds. Miller spent his freshman term as mayor creating accountability safeguards such as the integrity commissioner’s office, working to beautify the city’s waterfront, and investing in public transit. There were still plenty of left–right squabbles at City Hall over issues like spending, garbage collection, and the future of the rapidly deteriorating Gardiner Expressway, one of Toronto’s most important roadways, but for the most part Miller’s first three years lacked the kind of lightning-rod issues that garnered much public attention. Miller was a safe choice. The only person willing to take him on in 2006 was an unknown right-winger from East York, Councillor Jane Pitfield. Late in the mayoralrace, Stephen LeDrew, former president of the Liberal Party of Canada and future CP24 news anchor, added his name to the ballot. For Miller, it was a cakewalk. He finished with 332,969 votes; Pitfield with 188,932; and LeDrew with 8,078.
By 2010, things had changed. Now the recession, not the MFP scandal, was top of mind. People were looking hard at how their tax dollars were being spent, and they didn’t like what they saw. Sole-sourced contracts. Out-of-control expense accounts. Rising taxes. The deathblow for Miller came in the summer of 2009, when he led Toronto into a smelly thirty-nine-day garbage strike. The outdoor workers had walked off the job after the Miller administration went after their union’s expensive practice of banking unused sick leave. City parks were turned into temporary dumps. Torontonians were willing to endure the trash if it meant abolishing this extravagant union perk, but then the city caved, opting for a compromise. The “sick bank” would be phased out over many years. It was a significant concession, but after a summer of living in a garbage dump, residents weren’t in the mood for middle ground. Miller was already on thin ice with voters. Midway through his second term, he had introduced two unpopular new taxes: the vehicle registration tax—a bill that arrived every year on your birthday—and the land transfer tax. There was a feeling that City Hall was out of touch and wasting money. Miller announced he wouldn’t run again.
In January 2010, the
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