In 1985, with a provincial election looming, the MPP for my riding of Wellington South, Harry Worton, announced he was retiring and would not seek re-election. I had learned from him that taking care of your constituents came ahead of all else you could do in politics. Harry had won every election handily during his thirty-year career, despite the Conservative dynasty that had lasted through those same decades.
I decided to seek the Liberal nomination. I don’t think I was motivated by much more than the opportunity to follow in the footsteps of an MPP I had long admired. But I also thought it was time a woman took a run. It was going to be a tough election for the Liberals, and I knew I was not the strongest option. By that point, I had overcome many hurdles as a twenty-nine-year-old woman looking to make her mark in politics. This would be one more. Local Liberals rallied around my campaign and I had help from friends with whom I worked in the party and at Queen’s Park. But a last-minute entry by Guelph alderman Rick Ferraro changed the dynamic.
I lost key supporters who felt they needed to go with Rick because of his higher profile, due to his success as an elected official at the municipal level. Most damaging was losing the support of Anne Dmetriuc, who was the most influential Liberal in town and Rick’s cousin. As they left, people told me they felt badly but had to support the person they felt could win the riding. I understood that sentiment. In fact, I have held that sentiment as an organizer and someone charged with recruiting candidates best positioned to win their ridings.
I placed third despite a strong presence at the nomination meeting, cheered on by supportive family, friends and local members. My parents and sisters had gone all out garnering the support of our entire extended family, even the ones who were Conservative voters. Knowing I was on the ropes, my dad urged me to deliver a persuasive and dynamic speech. I came off the stage into my dad’s embrace. Tears in his eyes, he said, “That was a hell of barnburner. Well done.” Of course, the speech meant nothing to the outcome, but it is the memory of my dad I hold close.
During the nomination, my dad gave me a defining moment as a woman in politics. Just before declaring my intention to run, I had a distressing conversation with my then-husband, Jim, who was also a city alderman (I’d helped get him elected). We were separated at the time, moving toward a divorce. When he heard of my intention to seek the nomination, he asked to meet and threw me curveball. He put it to me that, as an alderman, he was better positioned to win the riding. As such he should be the one to run and I should run his campaign. I was shocked but said I’d think about it. Then came the conversation with Dad, and his reaction had a big impact on me.
Dad had been deeply disappointed by my decision to leave my marriage but, faced with the suggestion I should step back and let Jim run, he responded as a protective father would. He leaped to my defence. With some agitation, he said something like, “Why should he be the one to run and not you? You are much more qualified, and you’ve worked for it.” And with this in mind, Dad understood the only reason I’d step aside was because Jim was a man and I was not. Not on his watch. From that point forward, Dad gave it all he had. I am pretty sure he even managed to sign up some of those union guys who had helped me as the NDP candidate in the mock student election some seventeen years earlier.
My attempt to win that nomination was a lesson in life and in politics. I learned what it was like to be on the very front line, what it took to ask people for their support, to let others organize for you. I learned that humility has two sides to it: being told yes and being told no. And no matter the answer, it is important to be grateful to have even been considered.
The experience of working with a team and fighting for an outcome is a big part of any political battle. After that defeat, I returned to my role at Queen’s Park and threw myself into the general election. After we won, I realized that had I won the nomination, I would have been an MPP—but that it wasn’t meant to be. I never again sought a nomination, acknowledging that my passion was in the backroom.
Lesson: In politics, you don’t have to start at the top. Manage your expectations and look for opportunities to move forward, whether in opposition or government.
As VP Organization for the party, I had spent a lot of time travelling around the province working to build up local Liberal organizations. To this day people are surprised to learn I’ve been to virtually every little, off-the-beaten-path town they can name. After the Liberals triumphed in 1985, a lot of people wanted to be Liberal candidates. It was healthy for the party, as the membership levels increased exponentially and money poured in. Some of the local races were intense. Given my ability to control a crowd and enforce rules, I was assigned to chair many of the larger, more competitive nomination fights.
I remember a particularly tough one in the riding of Dufferin Peel, ultimately won by former cabinet minister Mavis Wilson. It was a long-held Tory riding but a good example of where we Liberals suddenly found ourselves competitive. The crowd who gathered in Orangeville was large and unruly. Many of my procedural decisions were loudly and angrily challenged, and it was taking its toll. At one point I stepped into the hallway and had a good cry. I pulled myself together and walked back into the auditorium as the vote got underway.
I noticed an elderly man moving slowly toward me. He wore an army jacket and cap and his medals were on full display. As he reached me, he said, “Young woman, I have a question for you.” I braced myself for a blast. When I asked what it was, he responded, “Have you ever considered a career in the army?” I burst out laughing as he listed all of the reasons I’d be highly successful in a pressurized environment dominated by discipline and rules.
It was in those years I learned to be “bossy” in order to communicate that I was in charge. I learned that real action is on the front line. I learned that defeat and winning were two sides of the same coin when it came to campaigns. But it was always more fun, and more meaningful, to win. It was on that solid basis that I began my career in government.
My journey between ages twelve and twenty-nine grounded me in the way I would approach politics. I wound my way through its many layers and soaked in all I could from those I met along the way. There are many ways to get into politics and make an impact. I’d been a campaign worker, a riding president, a regional organizer and a campaign manager. I’d run for a Liberal nomination and lost. I’d worked federally, provincially and municipally. I’d spent four years in a constituency office learning how government works. When I finally found my way into the Centre, I was ready to make my mark.
Chapter 2 You Define Your Own Worth
“I was always looking outside myself for strength and confidence, but it comes from within. It is there all the time.”
– Anna Freud
In 1985, we found ourselves unexpectedly in government after forty-two years in the “wilderness” of opposition. Ontario Liberals had long waited for this moment and much of it had to do with the announcement made on October 8, 1984, by the boring but popular premier Bill Davis. We began the day believing Premier Davis would be calling an election. Liberal staff lined the hallways at Queen’s Park in an effort to demonstrate to media we were ready fight a campaign on behalf of our leader, David Peterson. We ended that day full of hope that the Liberals might have a shot, given that we would not be running against the formidable Davis, who instead announced his resignation.
After the general election the following spring, the Ontario Liberals formed government based on a Liberal–NDP Accord. We were beyond excited that the long drought had ended. I’ve never forgotten the feeling that washed over me as I stood on the front lawn of Queen’s Park on June 26, 1985, watching the swearing-in ceremony on a hot, sunny day. I shared with others a sense of accomplishment, awe and hope. I basked in our success, thrilled I had played even a role in this moment in history.
Lesson: Understand the structure of the political environment and where you think you’d best fit in.
Every few years, voters decide who they believe best represents their interests in government. The outcome of