Behind Closed Doors — Life at City Hall: Chapter 2
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS — LIFE AT CITY HALL
Chapter 2 — ‘Damn the Torpedoes, Full Speed Ahead’
“We’ve got to make it easier for people to go about their lives and businesses in Kamloops — we’ve got to clearly define red-tape problems and then do something about them.”
— Guest editorial, radio CHNL, October 1999There’s a big difference between thinking about something, even planning for it, and actually committing to it. While I’d thought about running for mayor for a long time, until I asked Barb Duggan early in 1999 to be my campaign manager, it was a “what if” proposition with no risk to it. But when she said yes, I was basically past the point of no return. Barb never believed in going halfway on anything that was worth doing. When she submitted her report to the Thompson-Nicola Regional District on the issue of setting up a film commission, she entitled it, “Damn the Torpedoes, Full Speed Ahead.” That was her approach with the campaign from the day we agreed to work together on it. But before I would be ready to make any announcements, or even put a team together, there was a lot of work to be done. For one thing, I’d have to relinquish my duties at The Daily News. I was prepared to resign, though the prospect of being without work, especially if I lost the election, was not attractive. I was blown away when my boss, publisher Dale Brinn, offered up a leave of absence. It would work like this: I’d start a leave as soon as I publicly announced I was running. If I lost the election, I could come back to The Daily News right away. If I won, the leave would extend to the end of my first term. To this day, I’m grateful for that gesture of generosity and community spirit. Giving somebody a three-year leave of absence to go off and get involved in politics is no small thing for a company, but Dale believed what I wanted to do was important. It took a huge weight off my shoulders, I can tell you. There was another potential hurdle that eventually worked out but that caused me quite a headache for awhile. Back in 1998, Syd and I had applied to the City for a boundary extension to take in our property on Barnhartvale Road.
The reason was entirely practical: located one lot outside City boundaries, we had no fire protection. If we could get our home inside City limits, we’d have that protection. At the least, the cut in fire insurance premiums would negate any tax increase, and B.C. Assessment assured us the change wouldn’t affect our property assessment. (The latter turned out to be oh so wrong, but that’s another story.)
Now that I was working toward a run at the mayor’s chair, the boundary issue became doubly important. In B.C., you don’t have to be a resident of a city to run for office there. It might seem odd, but it actually makes perfect sense in rural areas, especially in the north, where communities are small and spread far apart. Limiting public office to municipal residents would severely limit the candidacy gene pool.
Nevertheless, as a matter of principle, if I was going to ask people to vote for me as mayor, I wanted to assure them I’d be a resident.
The boundary extension required approval by City council, and it took staff months to process our application and get it in front of council for a vote. When it finally got there for initial approval, the vote was 6-3 in favour, with Shirley Culver, Sharon Frissell and Russ Gerard against.
By the time it came up for final approval, it was almost election time. This time, the vote was 8-1 in favour — Coun. Sharon Frissell was the only one against it.
She insisted it might cost the City money despite the fact we’d agreed to put covenants on the property against receiving City services.
While council’s approval was a relief, our application now had to receive an OK from the provincial government, and the issue was destined to drag on for another eight months. Talk about bureaucratic red tape. The next day, in response to an editorial from Jim Harrison, I read the guest editorial excerpted at the top of this chapter.
Frissell’s strident opposition to our request may have been a harbinger of things to come in our relationship on council. In the six years we were on council together, I was never quite sure which Sharon Frissell I was going to be dealing with, the wise-cracking charmer or the one that could leave you bruised and bleeding and wondering what just happened.
On one occasion, Sharon initiated a particularly nasty, mean-spirited and baseless attempt to defame me that deeply hurt me and my family. I’ll explain that one later.
She and Coun. Pat Wallace were close friends and Frissell tended to follow Pat’s lead on issues. But she was no Pat Wallace, who has always had a gift for sensing which side to take on issues.
Pat is not only a savvy politician, but a genuinely kind and thoughtful person. When Jacob was born, she bought him a big teddy bear. When our boundary application came in front of council, she raised the question of water, ensuring we would not be excluded from future water service because, she said, everyone has a right to have a good water supply.
You don’t forget things like that. While Pat and I clashed several times, sometimes pretty strongly, neither of us has held grudges, and there were times she was the best ally I could have wished for. If she has a fault, it’s that she has difficulty telling you when she thinks you’ve done something less than stellar. When it comes back to you third-hand, it can be unsettling.
We figured June — specifically, June 16 — would be a good time to announce my candidacy. For one thing, it would get me out in front of the pack and give me the summer to campaign in advance of the traditional starting time of September. For another, I had enough owed vacation built up that it would take me through to election day.
NEXT: “Let’s Unlock the Doors to City Hall”
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