Even more importantly, Bob Lopinski’s uncanny ability to figure out the angles and understand the opposition was paying off. He never again had to work to get my attention, and I’ve been proud to stand with him in many campaigns, such as in 2014 when he chaired the party’s highly successful war room.
After delegate selection weekend, we were well in the game, which surprised many who thought Elston would catapult into the frontrunner status. The reality was that they were late into the race and we’d out-hustled them on the ground. At the same time, we were working hard to lock down ex-officio delegates who automatically earned the right to vote by virtue of their positions at the local riding level or within a provincial wing of the party.
Going into the convention, it was clear it would be a tight race. With six candidates, it was expected to take at least three ballots to get to a winner. For those who have never been to an Ontario Liberal Party leadership convention, it’s a process of elimination. At the end of each ballot, the candidate last on the ballot and any candidate with less than 10 percent of the vote would be knocked out of the race; this happens until a winner emerges. The winner has to reach the 50 percent mark. Delegates are committed to their candidate on the first ballot but are free to vote for anyone on subsequent ballots.
That meant deals were being discussed. While I was privy to some of this, one of the campaign chairs, Bob Richardson, was taking the lead and I was not necessarily kept up to date on developments. To the best of my knowledge, no one had committed to coming our way once they were eliminated or had dropped out of the race. There was just too much uncertainty around who would win, so no one wanted to commit before the first ballot results were known. It would be a game-time decision.
Lesson: Keep the focus on the big picture and the brass ring. And then do what it takes to make it happen.
A few days prior to the convention, I was approached by Bill Murray, who was managing the campaign for Steven Mahoney out of Mississauga. They knew they couldn’t win but wanted to place as well as possible on the first ballot. Bill and I were good friends, having worked together through the Peterson years, so I wasn’t shocked when he contacted me. What was surprising was the very unusual request he asked of us.
Bill’s numbers suggested that if Mahoney could pick up twenty to twenty-five votes on the first ballot, he could push ahead of Charles Beer and place fourth of the six candidates in the race. In return, Mahoney would throw his support to Lyn McLeod when he was forced from the ballot. I held my breath for a minute as the impact of the request sunk in. It was a massive opportunity to ensure momentum at the convention, which was something I knew to be essential if a win was going to be possible. But could such a high-risk strategy be implemented successfully?
I spoke first to Deb Matthews, another campaign chair, about the idea. We agreed it was wild, and it would be incredibly difficult to implement quietly. At the same time, we recognized that support from even one candidate could give us sufficient swing to win in the very competitive scenario we were facing. So, we decided to take it up the chain of command. Together Deb and I approached Bob. I recall one or two others in the room, but I don’t remember who they were. The answer was no—we could not take the risk. It was Bob’s view that we needed all our support with us from the first ballot; otherwise, we could inadvertently miscount and hurt our chances by letting Elston get too far ahead too early on.
I knew in my gut it was the wrong decision. I went back to my data and checked our numbers again, for what felt like the millionth time. I trusted the data and I believed it accurately forecasted what would happen, ballot by ballot. I went back to Deb and said exactly this, and ultimately we decided to go ahead on our own. It was not meant to be disrespectful or deceitful, but we knew there was no choice; we had to do what would give us the best chance to win the leadership. With such a large number of ex-officio delegates, it was easy to identify twenty-five people we could trust to do what was needed without asking a lot of questions.
The Friday evening prior to Saturday’s balloting, Deb and I reached out to the individuals identified and explained the situation one by one. These had to be people with ex-officio status because under the rules, elected delegates were bound on their first vote. Reactions varied. Some were intrigued, some thought we’d lost our minds. (A few said no, they just couldn’t do it.) We finally convinced enough delegates to do as we asked on the basis that it was for one ballot only, and that the reward was well worth the risk. We sealed the deal with Bill. Shockingly, not one word leaked overnight.
It was indeed worth the gamble. However the extra twenty-five votes ended up keeping Mahoney from finishing last, but he was only twenty votes ahead of David Ramsay so he was sitting in fifth rather than fourth. A furious Bill Murray accused me of reneging on the deal. Bill and I had a heated exchange at the back of the balloting area. I gave him a partial list of the individuals we had asked to vote for Steve and urged him to check with them on how they had voted. I also explained as calmly as I could that our numbers always showed Beer solidly in fourth place, and that the votes we loaned to them likely wouldn’t have allowed Mahoney to overtake him.
Our actions actually pushed Ramsay to last place, allowing Mahoney to finish fifth. I further explained to Bill my belief that some of Steve’s ex-officio support had bled to Greg Sorbara, who had entered the race late—something Bill admitted was likely true. He eventually calmed down and the deal remained intact. After the second ballot, Steve Mahoney kept his promise to cross the floor and throw his support to Lyn McLeod. It was a game-changer, as we were able to show momentum and grow our vote. I’ll never forget the look on Murray Elston’s face, watching helplessly as Steve Mahoney turned into our candidate box.
Lesson: The ground game matters. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
When I look back on the 1992 leadership convention, I recall that we ran the day with military discipline and precision: I had fought to get radios for fifty people, despite being told the budget allowed only twenty-five. I said it was not enough to cover the ground. There would be no air war that mattered that day. The outcome would be dictated by tracking each delegate as their candidate dropped from the race. Only brute force would make that possible, which meant literally tracking people for twelve hours across Copps Coliseum and several surrounding hotels and restaurants (today there would likely be an app for it!).
There were probably two hundred people working the delegates, reporting to the fifty people on the radios. It was a manual effort—it was labour intensive and required incredible attention to detail. I had carefully hand-picked each person carrying a radio based on my belief that they would stay focused and not be distracted by the social part of the convention. And if I did not hear from them at least hourly, I went looking for them.
I had been relentless around keeping Lyn focused on talking to delegates. When a candidate freed their delegates, which they all did except Steve Mahoney, we needed Lyn to speak with as many of them as possible. The problem was that what little time was available between ballots was peak time for media. There was a critical moment where I needed Lyn to convince a delegate to vote for her. I found her in a media scrum and was told I’d have to wait. In my mind, that was not an option. No one who mattered to the outcome was watching television. I literally reached in and physically yanked Lyn from the scrum. It was not well-received by the media or our communications team, but I was wholly focused on whatever it took to bring over one more delegate.
One of most extraordinary and intense moments I’ve experienced in politics was after Greg Sorbara left the ballot. If he threw his support, he’d decide who would be leader (the usual reference was “king-maker” but there was a woman in this race). No one knew what he planned to do. As soon as the fourth ballot results were announced, I headed over to Greg’s candidate box. I could see him from the floor but we were warned to stay out while he consulted with his team and made his decision. I headed back to our box and decided to try to phone him from the landline installed there. I had carried around a small, laminated card in my pocket all day and I took it out for the