A Tale of Infamy

ORIGINALLY POSTED Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Until you do it, you can have no idea how intricate it is. You run for office, committing yourself to protecting the taxpayer's interest. But if you apply yourself scrupulously to the task, you may find yourself cast in the role of villain.

Stories abound about the extent of my infamy. "Beer In The Fire Hall" comes to mind:

When I was first elected, we had a Volunteer Fire Brigade. The Volunteers are part of Ontario history. In some small places, they are still the only community organization. As well as fighting fires they organize minor sports, come to the aid of widows and orphans and whatever other needs might emerge.

It's always tricky when the change comes from Volunteer to full-time departments. The jobs are highly-coveted. I was out of office, when it happened in Aurora.

Around 1980, the town built a new fire hall. Gone was the club house attached to the old Fire Hall where the guys hung out played billiards and had a beer when they felt like it.

At that time, the town provided accommodation, equipment and a full-time Chief. The volunteers ran their own show. They took pride in being one of the best departments around. They were our local heroes.

Politicians didn't mess with the Volunteers. In fact, being a Volunteer was a natural step to being elected.
When the first full-time officers were hired, the Volunteers abandoned their traditional title and called themselves “part-time firefighters”. The club-house status of the fire hall had to change. But it didn't.

I brought the matter to the attention of the Clerk-Administrator andHuman Resources Officer. Nothing happened.

Firefighters who won the coveted jobs were former volunteers. Some were employees in other town departments. They went from a job in one department into another with three times the wages and the enjoyment of club house facilities during their work day. They worked office hours. Some of them went from very humble status in the heirarchy.

The works superintendent brought a request : “Could the works people keep a beer in the fridge and have it with lunch?” No. They couldn't.

Again I spoke to the Clerk-Administrator and the Human Resource Officer. Still no action. At that time, I had no idea the fire hall was a hang-out for more than the fire-fighters.

Finally, the issue came to a head. The department was receiving donations for the food bank on a Saturday. I received two phone calls complaining that two firefighters accepting the donations, in uniform, were the worse for wear and cheerfully chug-a-lugging in full view of the public.

My caller would not give his name. I figured it was a disgruntled employee of the works department.

At the next council meeting, in new business, I quietly mentioned the call and asked the fire chief for a report on the matter.

That's when the proverbial matter hit the fan.

At the very next meeting, the audience seats were filled with wives of part-time firefighters to watch me get my come-uppance. Husbands came along too, but I got the feeling they were not quite so gleeful.

One by one, council colleagues, figuratively speaking, pushed my face into the dirt and jumped on my head. How could I cast such aspersions on the noble firefighters? What a dastardly deed indeed!

Three councillors held out from the fray - one was a Captain in the North York Fire Department. He said if a member of his crew came to work with the slightest smell of beer, he would be sent home and lose his shift. He did not however contribute that information to “the debate”. The second councillor who refrained was a former volunteer. The third had lived behind the old fire hall for years.

It was only after the outrage had exhausted itself, I learned the beer had been dispensed from a Coke machine in the fire hall. The place was a hangout for all kinds of public officials, appointed and elected, including a postman who wrote a letter to the Auroran years later with fond memories of enjoying a cold one with the boys after the mail was delivered.

The Coke machine eventually appeared in the front porch of the deputy-chief's home. There were no more requests from the works department to keep beer in their fridge. I weathered the storm. The change that needed to happen – happened.

I still bear the scars and firefighters are still the local heroes.

HEATHER'S NOTE: A similar issue is currently brewing in Point Leamington, Newfoundland. Here is the link.