Malcolm Scott Was An Upstanding Muskoka Region Mayor

MALCOLM SCOTT WAS AN UPSTANDING MUSKOKA REGION MAYOR, WHO ALWAYS HAD TIME TO TALK WITH THE PRESS

A QUIET, RESPECTFUL, AND PROUD AMBASSADOR, FOR THE WELL BEING OF THE TOWNSHIP OF LAKE OF BAYS

     It may seem to some readers of this daily blog, that I can write copious testimonials and memorials about all the people I've known and worked with in the past. I have made friends with some great folks in a variety of jobs and projects, who made my tasks easier and more enjoyable. But you'd be surprised how limited this number really is, because I've had a lot of stormy relationships, especially when I was in the news gathering business. I have a long memory, which is good for my profession, in the historical sense, but it does get in the way of forgiving some of my adversaries, who still snarl when we meet at social events. Of course, they haven't forgiven me yet, for basically, doing my job. Writing editorials makes you popular some of the time, but not always.
    I don't know how many editors and reporters get a large volume of Christmas mail, but mine in  the 1980's, was barely a hand-full. When you run stories about impaired drivers, fraud artists being convicted, thieves getting their day in court, and arsonists getting their just desert, you become popular amongst the general readership, for bravely publishing names, yet are loathed by those who are either named, or related to the subject of the articles, and there can be some nasty collateral damage just going to work every day. Believe me, we really appreciated when we found sympathetic folks out there, who weren't interested in causing us bodily harm, suing us, or slamming a door on our fingers. When I credit individuals from those days working in the local media, I do so with the highest personal regard, because they may, in their own way, have influenced me and others, not to quit our jobs.
     When the editor handed me council minutes, for the next meeting of the Township of Muskoka Lakes, on that bitter January day in 1979, I had no idea what kind of wild odyssey lay ahead. I had just graduated with a degree in history, and fancied myself a poet. Gosh, I was about as far from my comfort zone as I could get, short of becoming a pilot, of a large passenger aircraft, without flight training experience. I had a lot of help from my news colleagues at the press table, and co-operative township staff and a few councillors, who felt sorry for me; being a forlorn poet, tossed into the middle of raging debates about resort expansion on the Muskoka Lakes.
     Forgive me these apparent excesses of kind recollections, about the few political types, who were humane and proportionally conscientious, about performing their due diligence; meaning that instead of running from me after meetings, and not returning my phone calls, when I was at deadline, gave me a break. Here is a short memorial tribute to a former mayor who was always a friendly face when I was lost in the quagmire of council minutes, not being able to find my way back home.
     I hate to admit this, but during my years working with the local news media, back in the late 1970's to 1990, I could only name several dozen municipal councillors, from a much large body, I didn't mind dealing with, as a reporter, and who I admired for the performance of their respective council duties.
     Most of the elected officials, in my mind, were ridiculously self absorbed, and did everything possible to avoid a reporter's enquiries, including making a mad dash for their cars, when a council session concluded, but were beaming when it came to being quoted during a meeting, for making a stand, that sometimes, was redundant and of useless intercourse. They fancied themselves as being thought provoking speakers, and leaders among all us common-folk, when, if you had looked at the press gallery, we were trying to cover-up our ear to ear smiles and occasional giggles. These were the same councillors who pushed to the front of a scrum, not to answer questions, but if they thought we were going to take some photographs for the next issue.
    I saw a lot of bad behaviour back then, but the relationship I had with certain members on each of the municipal councils, and at the District level, made up for the shortfalls with the general population, of those elected officials who felt their election victories, had something or other to do with unspecified divine intervention.
    Earlier this year, I wrote about former Muskoka Lakes Councillor, and Bala resident, Edna Templeton, on the occasion of her 100th birthday, here in Gravenhurst. I included a retrospective of what it was like working as a reporter, with someone who had respect for the press, and was actually willing to make sure, those of us with pens in hand, and a newspaper to fill, and eagerness to get a comment, were dealt-with in a respectful, dutiful manner. Edna never once dismissed me as a post-meeting inconvenience, and, as she told me many times in my early years as a reporter, "Ted, I'm just happy you've asked me to clarify what I said at the meeting, so I don't have to read a story full of errors in the next issue." It meant that she was accessible in person, if I didn't mind waiting while she dealt with reporters ahead of me, like Bill Cole of the Gravenhurst News, and Lou Specht, of the Bracebridge Examiner; and if I needed to follow-up by phone, or special meeting, she made herself available. It was that simple. And she was a classy lady, who wouldn't take bull from any of her male colleagues, who thought themselves uber important for reasons unknown to the rest of us. We in the press corp, were always encouraged by the way Edna Templeton made time for us, to clarify aspects of township business, often during some pretty heavy, and controversial debates, in what turned out to be a long, epic battle, affecting the future relationship between the Township of Muskoka Lakes, and the Muskoka Lakes Association. in the early 1980's.
     I was thinking about Edna today, as I was reading the obituary notice in The Banner, this afternoon, for former Township of Muskoka Lakes Mayor, Malcolm Scott, who passed away on November 10th, at the Pines Home For The Aged, in Bracebridge, at the age of 76. Can you believe this? Malcolm was a municipal record holder in these parts (I'm pretty sure there hasn't been anyone with a longer service record), having been mayor of the township for a whopping twenty-seven years. The reason I thought about Edna Templeton, of the former Township of Muskoka Lakes, whose council term paralleled part of Mayor Scott's term of office, two townships to the east in the District configuration, was that both elected officials were known for their kindly demeanours, and for us, a gracious, satisfying, helpful generosity, in business dealings with the local press. By the way, this included our media colleague Gar Lewis of CKCO Television of Kitchener, who also covered the Muskoka beat.
     I got to know Malcolm when he sat with the council of the District of Muskoka, a privilege afforded the mayors of the six member municipalities. He worked closely with my employer, and the owner of Muskoka Publications, Hugh Mackenzie, who was also, at the time the chairman of District Council. Malcolm would drop into our office, at 27 Dominion Street, in Bracebridge, to meet with Hugh, and he'd stop in the newsroom for a chat with Brant Scott and I holding fort, and I have to tell you, he was a most gentle, cooperative soul, who never once, made us feel stupid for asking what may have been considered an obvious question with a simple answer. He'd sit down for a moment, maybe on the corner of a desk, or leaning against a door jam, and talk about all kinds of municipal business, both on and off the record. Like Edna Templeton, he thought it was wiser for local politicians to co-operate with the media, because it was in their best interests, and the interests of readers who were also constituents, to make accuracy a primary mission. But we'd get off track occasionally, and talk about unrelated stuff; and you know, it was always nice to see Malcolm, wherever he turned up, or we happened to intrude upon him. And he was always polite, and considerate of our feelings, if for example, he had to delay talking with us, because he was late for a meeting, or had promised another councillor a short talk before another meeting (of many) commenced. We got blown-off a lot in those days, by politicians who really should have spent some time with us, to clarify their positions; because, being impatient and frustrated with their evasive tactics, we would just let them look bad in the press for not co-operating. We'd make note in the subject article, that "we sought a comment from Councillor so and so, but he declined to meet with us," or "he claimed he had an urgent meeting," which meant it was time for a drink with mates, at the local watering hole. Being frequent water-holes guests, we'd sometimes find these same councillors, holed-up in a corner with other politicians, but it certainly wasn't on account of government business.
     It's been a long time since those days, when I would see Malcolm every other week at the District offices, on Pine Street, in Bracebridge, and talk generally about stuff going on in his township or mine. He was a smart man, and a smarter mayor, if that's even possible, but considering he had the confidence of a majority of township constituents for nearly three decades, others obviously felt the same way I did, about his competence to lead the municipality through some challenging times. He was quiet and measured, and never blurted comments, or showed any noticeable anger, about something being debated, he happened to support, or to the contrary, dislike. When it was his turn to speak to the issue, on the floor at the time, he was deliberate, didn't vacillate, made sensible and logical arguments, and didn't base a single personal opinion solely on emotion, as others employed, or react with impatience, when a stalemate blocked successful passage, or defeat of a motion.
     After I left the print media in the early 1990's, and began a lengthy stint as a columnist with the Muskoka Advance, and The Muskoka Sun, I would still bump into Malcolm Scott at various community events, and meetings, and by golly, he always took a big step forward in his squeaky, nicely shined shoes, to shake my hand; and then ask, with sincerity, what I had been up to since the last time we met. I was just as interested in what he had been investing his time in, and what was new in the Township of Lake of Bays, a region I have written about frequently, such as in the case of local painter, Richard Karon formerly of Baysville. I've always liked this township, and make many trips through every year, with of course a stop in Baysville for a little walk-about.
     History will look fondly upon former Mayor Malcolm Scott's record; a political force to be reckoned with, during his time of office; but a gentleman and good friend always despite political differences he had with his contemporaries. When I think back on those days, reporting on the council business of member municipalities in the District of Muskoka, my memories of the hard grind trying to cover, what at times, was impossibly complicated, and rife with controversy and fall-out, does make me wonder why I remained with the media as long as I did. It was especially rigorous and precarious for the reporter, who happened to make even the slightest error, in a published story, and who would be promptly reprimanded in public, and for the record, with great delight, by those who hated us covering meetings in the first place. The same councillors, as a matter of irony, who refused to speak with us, before the story was published, deciding not to call us back, to clarify comments they had made. Recollections of Edna Templeton and Malcolm Scott, remind me there was a kinder, gentler side, to the public's right to know.
     I would like to extend heartfelt condolences to the members of Malcolm's family, and friends, on his recent passing. He was iconic in a different way than what the reference usually means. He was like the deeply sunk timber, holding fast, the planking of a bridge, against storm and ice, and the burden of passersby crossing above, being steadfast at the task, but not so intrusive as to remind us of his presence at every crossing. He was, in his mind, just doing his job, and he was proud to serve. There's something profoundly noble dedicating your life to the the welfare of your home municipality, but never once looking for recognition in this same regard.