Free Crazy Town: The Rob Ford Story by Robyn Doolittle

“comfortable maintenance.”
    Doug Ford Sr.’s funeral was held at Westway United Church in Etobicoke on a Friday afternoon.
    A tearful Rob gave a tribute to his father, his “best buddy.”
    “I affectionately called him Scout, because Scout ran the ship,” Rob said. “Sometimes the ship went to the right and sometimes the ship went to the left, but he always seemed to steer it back on course.”
    Doug Sr.’s niece Sherri Walker called her uncle “the General.”
    “Doug was never a soldier, but forever a warrior; a warrior in the true sense of the word in all he did,” she said. “At the heart of this very complex man was an inner core of absolute, solid rock. The solid foundations he stuck by his entire life: family, integrity, kindness, honour, respect, humility, humour, tenacity and perseverance.”
    The funeral ended with mourners being asked to sing Doug Sr.’s favourite hymn, the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
    Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
    He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
    He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
    His truth is marching on.
    He was buried at Riverside Cemetery. Etched on his tombstone: “Of Those Who Are Called Few Are Chosen.”

FOUR
    COUNCILLOR FORD
    TO SPEAK
    R ob Ford was twenty-six years old when he decided he wasn’t interested in selling labels for a living. He wanted to be a politician. At the time, his father was a member of provincial parliament under the Progressive Conservative banner. The year was 1997, and PC premier Mike Harris was a year and a half into his Common Sense Revolution. It was a period of painful transition in the province. The Harris government was making aggressive changes to the way Ontario operated. Among other things, it had laid off more than ten thousand civil servants; changed labour laws to discourage workers from unionizing; passed “workfare” legislation, forcing welfare recipients to work for their cheques; and fought for environmental deregulation.
    Harris had been upfront about his intentions during the 1995 election. During that campaign, the provincial deficit was around ten billion dollars. In his platform booklet, Harris had said, “If we are to fix the problems in this province then government has to be prepared to make some tough decisions. I’m not talking about tinkering, about incremental changes, or about short term solutions.… It’s time to ask ourselves howgovernment spending can double in the last ten years, while we seem to be getting less and less value for our tax money.”
    Part of that mission involved shrinking the size of government. Harris looked at Ontario’s capital city and its surrounding suburbs and saw wasted money. There were too many politicians there, too many bureaucrats doing the same thing for a small geographic area. The premier decided to merge the seven local governments: Toronto, Etobicoke, North York, York, East York, Scarborough, and the regional municipality. His proposal was wildly unpopular. A March 1997 referendum showed that residents in each jurisdiction were overwhelmingly against the move, with opposition ranging from 65 to 81 percent. When the Conservatives passed it anyway, five of the six municipalities took the province to court. They lost. Toronto and its surrounding suburbs were set to join together on January 1, 1998. Toronto would become the fifth-largest city in North America.
    The megacity’s first council would be decided in the 1997 municipal election. Among the seven governments, there were 106 politicians. Ward boundaries were going to be redrawn, and the number of spots would be cut nearly in half to fifty-seven, including the mayor. To ease the transition, voters would be permitted to elect two representatives in each ward.
    Ford decided to try his luck against Gloria Lindsay Luby and Mario Giansante—both sitting councillors—as well as the former mayor of Etobicoke, Dennis