Let ’Em Howl. Patricia Sorbara

been on the convention floor since noon. I stood on a chair in order to be seen and yelled to anyone who could hear me to “Get me the fucking number.” A few seconds later I heard Steve Hastings, one of our organizers, yelling my name. I looked over at him and he threw me a roll of masking tape. Exasperated, I yelled that I did not need masking tape. But I managed to catch the roll and something caught my eye. Steve had written the number around the outside of the roll, as he didn’t have any paper. Shaking my head at the absurdity of it all, I dialled the number.

      Isobel Finnerty, Greg’s campaign chair, answered the phone. She and I were not on the best of terms but I had learned a lot from her when we worked together in the Premier’s Office and we respected each other as political operatives. She would not let me speak to Greg as he was about to address his delegates. Then she did something she did not have to do, and it was pretty special.

      She put the phone down but left the line open so I could hear Greg’s speech (with the added benefit of blocking anyone else trying to get through). His speech was emotional and moving. My heart soared as I heard him free his delegates. The minute he finished I signalled to Lyn and our assembled team to rush en masse across the bleachers to Greg’s area. Our system kicked in and with discipline and laser-focus, we reached out to as many delegates as we could before the final vote commenced.

      I caught Greg’s eye but I could tell he did not want to talk with me. It wasn’t the time and he’d done what he believed was best. He and I talked about it many times in the years that followed, and he’d remind me that his decision to release his delegates made it possible for us to win. He was right. Had he thrown his support to Elston, his very committed delegates would have followed him and we would have lost. Many of his delegates left without voting on the final ballot and others spoiled their ballots by writing in Greg’s name.

      In the end, it came down to nine votes. There is no doubt in my mind that our organizational efforts won the day. (The only blip I remember is that damn laminated card.) I believe it is the closest delegated convention in history. And when the convention ran seriously over the scheduled timing, we placed volunteers at the doors to try to prevent delegates from leaving before the final ballot. Many did leave, but we worked to ensure as few of them as possible were Lyn McLeod voters.