Advertisement

News

Pissed-off in Fordland

There’s plenty of yelling and screaming at Rob Ford’s victory party Monday night in the barren International Centre, set in a sea of giant parking lots in Etobicoke.

[rssbreak]

Some of the screams are enthusiastic, some are nasty and some are directed at me.

I don’t check in as media but chose to experience the (Rich) Man of the People’s night like A People. As I try to head through the doors into the over-lit hall, someone I mistake as a greeter jams a piece of paper in my face and demands, “You’ve got to sign this first.”

The white fill-in-the-blank sheet is called “A Declaration of Support For Rob Ford,” and I’m firmly told I won’t get in if I don’t sign. This is no journalist sign-in, but what any of this proto-populist’s supporters have to do to qualify for admission.

“I’m not signing that,” I say, trying to be somewhat pleasant but definitely shocked and confused.

“Yes, you are,” barks the now icy-eyed woman as she stands between the door and me, aided by a barrier of banquet tables.

“Why would I?” I ask, truly stunned.

And now she’s yelling, “You sign this or you’re not getting in,” swinging her stack of papers like a stick, with body language that says she wants to shove me.

I eventually take a sheet, write “Michael Hater” under the space for name and select “churchgoer” from a list of possible activities. I fill in fake numbers and an address and hand it over. I’m rewarded with a parting of the way and a drink ticket as a Rob Ford sticker is slapped on my shirt by another Fordista, where it very briefly remains.

Sadly, unsurprisingly, when the old-school party music is briefly turned down, the hopped-up crowd mutters and shouts crude comments and giggles as George Smitherman is shown on giant TV screens declaring his love for his child and husband. Joe Pantalone is cursed by some in obscene Italian when he appears on screens.

But what is surprising is the diversity in the room and the regular-folks feel in this group of brown, black and white faces. Some appear angry and eager for vengeance, but many just look delighted to have a sense of powerlessness purged. There are lots of working-class people who’ve felt negated and neglected and think the big man with little ideas might finally get them into the mainstream of Toronto life and to the top of the city’s agenda.

I’ve been to plenty of parties for political parties and recognize here the delighted faces of the newly politicized, those who’ve probably just fought in their first election and, what the hell, their guy won.

It would be a mistake to dismiss the Ford base. He didn’t steal this election he won it by tapping into alienation fuelled by a recession, neglect and incendiary media attacks on what is good about the city by the dailies and especially on lowbrow right-wing AM radio.

It’s no surprise to hear the red- faced Ford, his bulging neck lassoed by a ludicrous-looking lei, give thanks early in his victory speech to radio 640 loudmouth John Oakley, who gave his fellow-traveller a regular pulpit on his highly rated show.

Many in the crowd look like they would be thrilled to get newly privatized jobs hauling garbage or maintaining buildings for half the wages currently paid to city workers. Some look like they can use any job and an easy and inexpensive way to get to one, the young families at their side making the need all the more pressing.

You can even see why, in this area so badly served by transit, the $60 car fee is so despised: it can feel like access to a car is an essential way to get to a low-paying job.

And as the crowd awaits Ford’s arrival, I hear murmurs of “Well, now he has to do it,” and when others, oblivious to the political infamy it recalls, start chanting “Four More Years,” those beside me are quick to mutter, “Not so fast, let’s see what he does first.”

With a new council still populated by progressives along with a Ford hardcore and a mushy middle, the mayor-elect will have trouble getting his crazy cost-cutting agenda through. Ford will inevitably fail to deliver. His supporters will be looking for gravy train stains on him soon enough. You simply can’t dramatically slash taxes without taking services down with them, and then today’s hero becomes tomorrow’s villain.

Progressives in this city have to look at how the last seven years have not been sufficiently sold to the people they were intended to serve. And if the progressive councillors had come behind a single champion earlier and with conviction, there could have been a “strategic candidate” instead of talk of strategic voting.

Ford has already proven that even in the top city job, he is more than able to be as embarrassing and ineffectual as he was as a councillor. When CBC’s As It Happens tries to get a traditional, day-after interview Tuesday with the winner, Ford first refuses, then gives a disjointed and distracted conversation that features him shouting at people off-mic. Then he abruptly ends it. Listen to it here.

There will be many opportunities for the fumbling first-timer to alienate those who have embraced him. Let’s hope progressives learn from this election and get as adept as the Big Man at making it clear to people like those at this victory party that progressive councillors in fact are listening to and working for them.

Maybe those councillors will have enough discipline to strong-arm colleagues when they get nutty ideas like throwing themselves big bashes or covering legal bills with taxpayers’ money. It’s not enough to say certain spending is a drop in the bucket. Optics matter, and progressive councillors need to stop each other from making amateur mistakes. Kyle Rae’s farewell fiasco is one of the first can’t-miss complaints tossed to the clamouring crowd by the new mayor this night.

As Ford appears to run out of words, ideas, energy and focus and his victory speech trails off and his sweat-streaming face grows disturbingly red, his big brother Doug is hurried to the podium. As the-almost-as-big-bodied brother addresses the crowd with surprising entitlement, I wonder how comfortable Toronto will be at the sight of two family members divvying up a democracy.

The shared facial features, frame and agenda feel more familiar in a dictatorship dynasty, and the barking bros will likely prove at least as bad optics as a councillor’s canapé-crammed cocktail party.

As I slip out of the festivities to catch more of election night and steer my car through the crowded parking lot, a distracted pedestrian walks directly in front of me in the middle of the road. I trail behind patiently heading, thwarted, in the same direction. Eventually he turns with a start and snaps around and faces my car.

“Damn hybrids,” he says, “can’t hear the goddamned things,” and steps to the side.

Yes, in pissed-off Fordland, with not a locked-up bicycle anywhere in sight, the auto-loving can even be at war with certain cars.

Photos by Michael Watier & Michael Hollett

michaelh@nowtoronto.com

Advertisement

Exclusive content and events straight to your inbox

Subscribe to our Newsletter

This field is for validation purposes and should be left unchanged.

By signing up, I agree to receive emails from Now Toronto and to the Privacy Policy and Terms & Conditions.

Recently Posted