The Old Days of Covering Muskoka Councils

THE MUNICIPAL BEAT IN MUSKOKA AND HOW WE SURVIVED

REPORTERS I HAD THE PLEASURE OF KNOWING - AND THE ROGUES THEY WERE

MY MENTORS IN THE NEWS BUSINESS, HERE IN MUSKOKA, WERE A MIXTURE OF ROGUES, BIGGER THAN LIFE CHARACTERS, THE UNIQUE, AND THE SURVIVORS. THOSE WHO HAD TRAINED ELSEWHERE, AND WERE EITHER GRADUATES FROM THE SCHOOL OF HARD KNOCKS, OR EXILES, CAST OUT FROM CONVENTIONAL, GENTLE AND LEGAL LIFESTYLES. THERE WERE SOME WELL-TRAVELLED AND AMAZING WRITERS, WHO FOR WHATEVER REASON, FOUND THIS PART OF ONTARIO A GOOD PLACE TO ANCHOR IN THE STORM…….PERSONAL STORMS, NECESSARY RESPITES, HIATUS PERIODS FROM CITY WHEELING AND DEALING, WHO KNOWS. I MET SOME TRULY INTERESTING PEOPLE DURING MY YEARS IMBEDDED IN THE NEWS INDUSTRY HERE IN MUSKOKA, BUT I CAN ONLY PRINT ABOUT A HUNDREDTH OF MY EXPERIENCES, BECAUSE THE REST ARE X-RATED, AND OTHERWISE UNBELIEVABLE. ONE OF THE BIGGEST FIGHTS I EVER HAD, WAS IN OUR NEWSROOM, WHEN ALL THE REPORTERS WERE FIGHTING OVER WHO GOT TO COVER THE MISS NUDE PAGEANT, THAT SUMMER. USUALLY IT WAS A BATTLE THE OTHER WAY AROUND. JUST TRYING TO GET THE WEEKEND EVENTS COVERED. WE ACTUALLY STARTED BITING EACH OTHER, TO GET THE PHOTO-ASSIGNMENT. I DIDN'T GET IT. THIS WAS ONE OF MANY DISAPPOINTMENTS, WHEN HAVING TO DRAW NEWSROOM STRAWS FOR THE LUXURY GIGS. I SHOULD HAVE PULLED RANK, BUT SUZANNE DIDN'T WANT ME TO GO ANYWAY. A YOUNG SINGLE GUY GOT THE CALL. OF COURSE, WE HAD TO EDIT THE PHOTOS PRETTY HEAVILY, TO MAKE THE FRONT PAGE.

I WAS A WRITER FIRST. A REPORTER BECAUSE I COULDN'T GET A BETER JOB…..SAY, SITTING AROUND ALL DAY, WRITING POETRY OR SHORT STORIES. SO I HAD TO LEARN HOW TO WRITE ABOUT ALL KINDS OF INTERESTING AND WEIRD STUFF, INCLUDING ACCOUNTS OF MINOR HOCKEY GAMES, DART COMPETITIONS, OBITUARIES, AND EVEN CLASSIFIED ADS, WHEN I HAD TO SELL THEM OVER THE COUNTER…..AND THE PERSON SUBMITTING THE AD NEEDED ME TO PEN THE COPY. I GOT GOOD AT WRITING ALL KINDS OF EDITORIAL COPY, AND IN THE SAME DAY, I MIGHT COMPOSE TWO OR THREE MEMORIALS, A STANDARD OBITUARY, AN OVERVIEW OF A BASEBALL GAME, A CHARITY GOLF EVENT, COUNCIL NEWS, ACCIDENT REPORTS OFF THE POLICE BLOTTER, AND A HUMAN INTEREST STORY OR BUSINESS FEATURE. I WAS A JOURNEYMAN WRITER AFTER MY FIRST TWO YEARS IN THE NEWSPAPER INDUSTRY, BETWEEN PRESS OFFICES BRACEBRIDGE AND MACTIER. AS A PHOTOGRAPHER, AS WELL, I GOT TO STAND FOR HOURS AT ANNIVERSARIES, BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS, GRAND OPENINGS, NEWS EVENTS, SUCH AS ACCIDENTS AND FIRE SCENES, AND OH YES, COVERING MUNICIPAL COUNCIL BUSINESS. FOR THOSE WHO MIGHT QUESTION MY QUALIFICATIONS TO MAKE COMMENTS ABOUT GRAVENHURST TOWN COUNCIL, I'LL OFFER A LITTLE BACKGROUNDER, HOW I GOT MY WINGS COVERING LOCAL COUNCILS FOR THE HERALD-GAZETTE IN BRACEBRIDGE, AND THE MUSKOKA LAKES - GEORGIAN BAY BEACON, IN MACTIER, DATING BACK TO THE LATE 1970'S, ONTO 1990, WHEN I LEFT THE EDITORSHIP OF THE GRAVENHURST BANNER.

MY FIRST MUNICIPAL COUNCIL GIG WAS IN PORT SEVERN, COVERING THE REGULAR MEETINGS OF THE TOWNSHIP OF GEORGIAN BAY, THEN UNDER MAYOR JOE JACQUES, A DECENT, HARD WORKING MAYOR, WHO ON OCCASION, USED TO TURN TO ME, AND ASK WHAT I THOUGHT OF A PARTICULAR MOTION, OR COUNCIL CONUNDRUM. I WAS THE ONLY REPORTER THERE, FOR TWO YEARS, SO WE BECAME GOOD BUDDIES. IT SURE WASN'T THE CASE THEY HID ANYTHING FROM ME. THERE WASN'T ANYTHING TO HIDE. I GOT STORIES EACH TRIP DOWN THERE, WHICH WAS A BEASTLY HIKE FOR ME BECAUSE I WAS STILL LIVING IN BRACEBRIDGE, AT THE TIME. THIS WAS THE ONLY COUNCIL I REALLY FELT, "ACCEPTED" THE PRESS, AND DID EVERYTHING THEY COULD TO MAKE MY WORK EASIER. I ALWAYS GOT A CUP OF COFFEE FOR MY EFFORTS OF DRIVING DOWN THERE ON MONDAY NIGHTS, IF MEMORY SERVES. JOE WAS OF THE LACROSS PLAYING JACQUES FAMILY, OF BRACEBRIDGE, AND ALTHOUGH A QUIET CHAP, WAS ALWAYS OBLIGING TO ANYTHING I NEEDED, INCLUDING INTERVIEWS THROUGH THE WEEK. A LOT OF COUNCIL FOLKS WERE EVASIVE AND ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO GET A HOLD OF, ONCE I LEFT THE SCHEDULED MEETINGS. OF COURSE, IT WAS DONE ON PURPOSE. I'D GET CALL-BACKS ON WEDNESDAY MORNING, WHEN THE PAPER WAS ALREADY ON THE STREET. THEY KNEW IF THEY DELAYED A DAY OR SO, I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO USE THEIR INTERVIEWS THAT WEEK, AND BY THE NEXT ISSUE, THE STORY WAS OLD NEWS.

On every other Monday morning, I had to attend meetings in Port Carling, for the Township of Muskoka Lakes, where I got to be with my two favorite mentors; Lou Specht, of The Examiner, and Bill Cole, of the Gravenhurst News, two senior reporter / writers, who despite the fact we were competitors, always kept me up to speed as to what was going on, in the usually crowded municipal hall. There were usually three our four delegations attending to pitch a project, and initiative, or launch a protest against a re-zoning, or development proposal. I don't know what I would have done without these chaps. I remember once, sitting in the stuffy council chambers. badly hungover, and having a beggar of a time keeping up with my associate note-takers. They'd keep showing me their notes, so I could copy what they had written, and on one occasion, I was so lost in the mire of delegations, and amendments, motions, deferred items, and minor variances, it was necessary to beg for assistance. There was a very well dressed gentleman, who had been sitting beside us, and when he was asked to speak, the name was garbled to me, anyway, and when I thought I'd figure it out by the end of the presentation, it became imperative to ask Lou his name. Well, they both laughed at me, and Bill whispered, "It's the former Minister of National Defence," which was still foggy to me on that morning. "Paul Hellyer," said Lou Specht. Cripes, it was! I was so green, I'd missed snapping a photograph of a well known and accomplished Canadian politician, who stood right in front of me for fifteen minutes. He had been there to discuss restrictions on his resort property on the Muskoka Lakes, and his own business, Arundel Lodge, on Highway 169 near Walker's Point. What was stupid about this, is that both my grandfather Stan Jackson, my uncle Carmen, and my father Ed, had all worked for Mr. Hellyer in Toronto many years earlier. I knew what he looked like, and as a the holder of a degree in Canadian history, I really embarrassed myself in front of my peers.

Muskoka Lakes Council was a busy place on those Monday mornings, and I can always remember Mrs. Tozer, the Township Clerk, would have my minutes ready to go, and a little small talk to extend, if we had time. I'd gone to school with her daughter Sandy, so we reminisced. I had a good relationship with Mayor Bob Bennett, who was a well versed and passionate guy, famous in these parts for attempting to sue Inco, over its emissions which contributed to the manifestation of Acid Rain falling on, and damaging Muskoka's lakes and rivers. It didn't work out too good for Bob. He wrote a wonderful little book entitled "Bindle Stiff," about his young days as a hobo, traveling all over Canada and the United States in boxcars. He got me an autographed copy. Bob always had time for the press, but he also insisted on us getting the facts straight. But he'd give us all the time we needed to make sure we had the right information from the get-go. A lot of mayors and councillors used to do the "runner" once the meeting was declared over. I always left a little early to intercept them in the parking lot.

I had a terrific relationship with Mayor Wynn Maddock, and the only problem we ever had, between us, is that he had the same sense of humor as I did, and as time went on, I knew what kind of facial expression would make him start laughing. It all began once, when I ran into him at a dog show, at the Port Carling Winter Carnival, and I said, "Wynn, that is by far the ugliest dog I have ever seen…..can I get a picture of it." Before he could stop laughing, I asked him about the breed? Well, I even answered before he could. "Did you say an Arse Hound?" I thought I was going to have to give the him CPR, he was almost on his knees laughing. They guy couldn't go to a District Council meeting either, unless he turned the high-backed chair away from me. I had a running deal with CKCO cameraman Gar Lewis, and CKVR's John Palmer, to try and get Wynn on film cracking-up….after I'd made some sort of crazy sign to get his attention. There was another District Councillor who used to fall asleep, and slouch in his chair. We used to get a picture every time, just for the file drawer, in case the councillor got on our case at some point. It's not that we took these meetings lightly, but rather it was our way of staying awake ourselves, through some pretty boring council business. Of course, at this time, the boss of District was my own boss at The Herald-Gazette, Hugh Mackenzie, and every now and again he'd give Brant Scott and I crap for press gallery shenanigans. We snuck in food in our camera bags. It could look like a deli at our table.

At the Township of Muskoka Lakes, I also covered council under Mayor Sheilah Hatch, which was a particularly controversial period, when development interests were escalating around the lakeshore, including the on-again, off-again Roseneath Resort planned for Milford Bay, and at a time when the Muskoka Lakes Association became very heavily involved in local elections……supporting and running candidates, to represent their interests on council. Actually, ahead of this, I covered an election north of MacTier, in the Township of the Archipelago, when cottagers there reared-up and ran a slate of candidates in their municipal election. I made the mistake of suggesting to them, it was the equivalent of employing party politics in a municipal election, and they went nuts on me. I never changed my mind, despite the rigorous brow beating. And then the same thing happened in Muskoka Lakes, and it was a difficult period between the local and seasonal population. It was over increasing taxation, and the fact the township seemed to the cottagers, to be a little reckless with the way they were handling major developments on the lakeshore. This was the early 1980's. Of course, members of the press were treated much differently then, because we were considered useful conduits to getting the message out. The only problem was that we were being torn apart by opposing interests and politics. It was a raw period, and as editor of The Herald-Gazette, it was an egg-shell walk every week, because we had to be unbiased in our news coverage, such that no one side assumed we were against them. If the publisher wanted to write an editorial, we just stood back and gave him whatever typewriter he wanted. If we had to write one, knowing that we were going to get clobbered without a clear demonstration of fair play, we got real good at waffling, but in such a way, that each side felt we understood their perspective, and their protest; while at the same time, show regard for the council's necessity to entertain projects and development applications as democratically as possible. It was like being in the Daytona 500 every week, during this great period of controversy, because there was no margin for error. We had heavy weights on all sides of us, and I can never recall a time in my days reporting, when every front-pager could have been our last. There were lawyers everywhere it seemed. We used to run any particularly controversial news copy across our lawyer, Basil Reid's desk, down at his Chancery Lane office, to make sure, if we were going to get sued, we'd, by his tough standard, stayed inside the legal line. We wore a deep path into the asphalt in runs to his office, in those years, when so much was under scrutiny almost all the time.

In Bracebridge I covered their council under the leadership of Mayor Jim Lang, through that whole decade, and had a pretty fair relationship with most of the councillors. Those I could always get an interview with were Ralph Melvin, Ross Miller, Frank Henry, Jim Boyes, and Russ Crockford. Russ was a great guy for sharing stories of life and times on the Fraserburg Road, and when he started yarning, by golly, it was a treat from the normal fare of bylaws, and severances. He was wise and clever when it came to dealing with the press. But he was so wonderfully animated and had such a good sense of humor, that you, at best, never got more than five minutes of serious interview time, out of a full hour. Tell you what though. You got a hell of a history lesson, but not one you'd ever get from a book. They couldn't print that kind of stuff. Was it true? Damn right it was! When Russ did speak at a meeting, he started out gruff and in a low voice, and rookie reporters would look at him as if he was going to burst at the seams, he seemed so mad about something. You had to listen carefully, and patiently, but when he finished speaking…..and it was never a long presentation, the other councillors would be killing themselves laughing, and he would have, at the same time, made a profoundly sensible argument, or offered a practical solution. You'd just sit there and ponder the success the council could have had, with eight more like him.

When I came to Gravenhurst I covered local council for a short period, which was then directed by Mayor Gord Adams, who I got along with rather well, and I could tell at the time, he had his sights set on District Council. I knew a lot about that position, from my years covering the Pine Street chambers, and having Hugh Mackenzie as my newspaper boss at the same time. What a wild period it was. We had to watch for conflicts of interest all over the place, and let's just say we couldn't listen at his office door, which abutted our newsroom. It was tempting. There was a who's who of politicians coming through our office, including Frank Miller, then the Treasurer of Ontario, at that point, plus many of the mayors of the district, who'd pop-in from time to time. I didn't like our position in all of this, but we managed to walk that fine line for the entire decade. There were deep canyons on either side of that line, and we knew that even the slightest mistake, was going to toss us into the abyss. I had a lot of help from Brant Scott and Judith Brocklehurst week to week. We policed ourselves. Made sure that what made it to print was accurate. This doesn't mean we didn't hammer those who deserved it, just not such that we were going to be successfully sued for the effort.

I had good advice from a lot of talented writer-kind, such as veteran teacher / reporter Bill Kelly, who often shared stories with rookies, and good hearted folks like Norm Tanner, who was a human dictionary, and always someone you could run copy past, for an honest opinion. Bob Boyer used to read copy over my shoulder, and there was never a time, Bob hesitated to chastise us for a perceived or actual error in copy, particularly when it came to the protocols of names and titles, which I always had to ask his advice. Bob liked that, versus having to impose, over our shoulders, to read how we planned to editorially represent an event or situation of which he had an interest. I had more eyes over my shoulder in those days, but very few of them belonging to a face I wanted to kiss. Occasionally one of the office girls would want to read what was in my typewriter roller, (and there could be crackers or a partially eaten sandwich), and get real close such that I'd assume for an enchanted moment, we were dating. Reporters are lonely folks. We were a band of practical jokers, to keep ourselves from office madness. So when one day, the same girl brought in her pet lab, and she let him put his paws on my shoulder while I worked, I said, "If you're going to keep licking my neck Bes, we'd better open some wine." Well sir, she started laughing, the dog started barking, coffee was spilled, and the manager came running…….to see if a riot had broken-out in the newsroom.

When I might occasionally offer a critique about, for example, the Mayor's Newsletter, here in Gravenhurst, you have to consider my background in gonzo reporting, pressure editing, the experiences covering five regional councils, and a legion of past politicians I've had close working relationships with…..since the late 1970's. You might think me presumptuous and untutored in the fine art of municipal reporting, but it is just isn't so. I've done the miles and earned the stripes. I had a lot of help from associate reporters and from the subjects I was interviewing……the politicians I was reporting on. In between the day to day stuff of reporting on seriously controversial council business, we had some laughs and you know, I kind of miss those days. I liked being in the loop. Yea, and I liked to make Wynn Maddock laugh too. I could always lip read his response, once he stopped slobbering on himself after a laughing jag. "Currie you bastard." Hey, there are councillors still mouthing that when I walk by them. Ah, that's what I loved most about a reporter's life. It was always colorful and exciting, at the same time as it was nerve wracking and gut churning. It was the cold beer down at the old Holiday House, at the end of the work day, when we sank into a comfort zone with our mates from other newspapers, to share horror stories of a week on the front lines.

Suzanne knows how tough it is to live with a writer, who still carries some bad habits from my early years…….when she used to fetch me from that same comfort zone, well after midnight, when Brant, Scott McClellan, Mike Gavin and I, had found some cute groupies who found reporters like us, rugged and exciting conquests. It was kind of embarrassing to get pulled home by an ear lobe.

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