SEE HOW HE RUNS
A day on Jim Watson’s campaign
With The Municipal Election Monday, This Newspaper Is Profiling The Two Leading Candidates To Become Mayor. Today ... Jim Watson
7:30 A.M. TENTH LINE AND INNES ROADS
Campaign volunteers and staffers stand at Tenth Line and Innes in Orléans, rubbing their hands and stomping to keep warm. They carry signs that read HONK FOR PROGRESS ON LIGHT RAIL TRANSIT and HONK FOR LEAD ERSHIP AT CITY HALL. The boss is running about 15 minutes late. “Sorry,” Jim Watson says as he arrives. “I hardly slept last night. I have sleep apnea, and I also have this cold that I can’t shake.” It’s somewhat surprising that Watson doesn’t always have a cold, given the ribbon-cuttings, meetings and store openings he attends — he (half) jokes that he’d show up for the opening of an envelope. But he presses on, and his innocuous placards do the trick, as passing drivers lean on their horns in support. Some roll down their windows to offer an upturned thumb or encouraging shoutout: “You’ve got my vote, Jim!” This is Watson country. But everywhere is Watson country, it seems. As a capital-L Liberal and small-c conservative and fiscal pragmatist, he comes close to reflecting the character of the city he represents. In the last election, he claimed about 80 per cent of the vote in Orléans, Innes and Cumberland wards. Even in his least supportive wards — Rideau-Goulbourn and West Carleton March — he managed to scoop up 59 and 63 per cent of the 2014 vote, respectively. He won every poll in the city.
8 A.M. McDONALD’S, INNES ROAD
Jim chats with a handful of members of a seniors’ breakfast club. Nearby, a man with three grandchildren cranes his neck in the mayor’s direction and takes out his phone, readying for a possible photo-op with Watson and the kids. The mayor doesn’t disappoint. After the breakfasts are divvied up and everyone has eaten, there remains a single unclaimed pastry on a tray. The mayor asks if anyone wants it, and when he’s satisfied that no one does, snatches it up for later. Watson, who does not cook, has a sweet tooth and a steady diet of fast-food takeout meals. It’s remarkable he doesn’t weigh 300 pounds, but metabolism and his schedule have so far kept him on the sunny side of the scales. “All you’ll find in my fridge at home,” he says, “is some maple syrup and Eggo waffles.” “I may be the only mayor who dies of scurvy,” he jokes. “I can’t remember the last time I had fresh fruit.”
8:45 A.M. OTTAWA COMMUNITY HOUSING, ALBERT STREET
The next appearance is at Ottawa Community Housing on Albert Street, where workers from Deloitte have rolled up their sleeves to help paint. From the front passenger seat (Watson is driven everywhere), he fiddles with the radio until he finds some music he likes. “I really like Sarah McLachlan and Jann Arden,” he says. “But I usually only listen to music in the car. I tend to get a CD and then play it over and over again. Like Train. I love Train and one of their albums I play over and over again, and everyone in the car is sick of hearing it 10 times in one week.” There was a time, too — usually Friday nights — when he would go to movies or dinner with friends — former councillors Karin Howard, Brian Mackey and Allan Higdon, and former city clerk Pierre Page. “I haven’t done that in a while, to be honest,” he admits. “I like going to movies and sometimes I’ll just go just on my own — it sounds like I’m a bit of a loser — but it’s the one time I can just sit back and escape for a couple of hours.” He says he wakes up “around” 6:25 a.m., and goes to bed at about 11 p.m. In between, he hustles. Election or not, he’s always campaigning. “I have to better manage my time,” he adds. “The job can be — and, for me, is — all-consuming. You’re out every night to one or two or three events.”
9:30 A.M. CITY HALL
The mayor’s office is filled with memorabilia — hockey pucks, medallions, drums, plaques, ball caps, mugs, footballs, baseballs and an honourary black belt (7th dan). There’s the cracked windshield of the snowmobile that Watson fell from in 2015, fracturing his pelvis; and a baton from conductor Pinchas Zukerman. There are also some commemorative shovels; the one from the Confederation line of the LRT hangs from a coat hook on the back of a door. Watson is going through invitations he’s been sent. The grand opening of a Hair Fellas Barbershop. The launch of the First Peoples Innovation Centre. The Network of Indian Professionals’ Diwali dinner. A flag-raising for Hindu Heritage Month. Remembrance Day ceremonies at the Royal Canadian Legion. The Siminovitch Prize Awards. Leisure by Design grand opening. A Syrian refugee art exhibit. A gala for the Canadian Liver Foundation. An investment event put on by Platinum Mortgages. Last year, Watson received 5,200 invitations. He accepted 2,700 of them, an average of slightly more than seven each day. “I’m not looking for sympathy,” he says, “but there used to be 10 mayors, and now there’s one, so the workload is still there. And while we may have amalgamated the cities, we didn’t amalgamate the Santa parades.” He keeps a folder of his 2014 campaign promises, which he refers to every week or two. There’s also a sign in his office that reads “How many people have we helped today?” At his 10 a.m. staff meeting, the mayor is updated on current issues, including Amazon’s east-end warehouse; plans for a film studio hub; an upcoming economic luncheon; enforcement of cannabis laws; the status of the bubble zone around Ottawa’s abortion clinic; and correspondence regarding murals and tornadoes. It all takes just 25 minutes. Watson has a reputation for being thin-skinned — recent reports of his blocking of Twitter followers is just one example — although he can be self-deprecating when it suits him. On the oft-made charge that he is boring, Watson, 57, simply quotes another similarly viewed politician. “I’m a big admirer of (former Ontario premier) Bill Davis, and he had this expression: ‘Bland works.’ He wasn’t flashy, but he was competent. He had a vision that wasn’t like Jean Drapeau’s, but it was implementable.”
11:15 A.M. THE AIRPORT PARKWAY
On the way to the EY Centre, Watson notices that the newly paved road hasn’t had its lines painted on it yet. That was supposed to be done by the end of the week, he says. He sends an email from his phone to the general manager of the city’s public works department to look into the matter. The EY Centre ribbon-cutting is for the 10th anniversary of Out-GROW OutPLAY, a massive consignment sale of new and used children’s clothes, toys and accessories. Watson is given a tour, makes a brief speech, presents a framed certificate, cuts a ribbon, poses for photos, and grabs a cupcake on his way out. The organizers seem pleased. “Someone’s put their heart and soul and life’s savings into a business, creating some jobs,” Watson says of these sorts of events. “The least I can do is show up.” Being a mayor really is two fulltime jobs: the actual day-to-day running of a city, and the rubber-chicken circuit of events. On weekends, he can fit in nine or 10 a day. He says all the events, the canvassing, keep him in touch with residents’ concerns.
12:30 – 5:30 P.M. ST. BROTHER ANDRÉ SCHOOL, GLOUCESTER FIREHALL SUBS, OGILVIE ROAD, CANVASSING EVERY HOUSE ON DECARIE DRIVE, ORLEANS CAMPAIGN HEADQUARTERS, BANK STREET, MORE CANVASSING, HOLMWOOD AND FIFTH AVENUES, THE GLEBE
The pace is punishing. A quick lunch stop at Firehall Subs provides a humility check, though: After taking his order, the cashier asks him his name. “Jim,” he says. While waiting for the transaction to be processed, he points to a card on the cash register indicating that $26,000 had been raised there for firefighters. Watson points to the photo on the card showing him with some firefighters. “Look!” he exclaims (to me). “It’s me!” “Oh,” the cashier replies. “Are you a firefighter?” As a youngster in Lachute, he says, he simultaneously wanted to be three things when he grew up: a firefighter, a journalist and a minister. His role as mayor bears some similarities with all three, perhaps more so the latter: He’s an often benevolent head of a congregation, not very flashy but carrying a certain fearsome authority. Indeed, beyond his aw-shucks affability, he’s often accused of being ruthless in getting his way, a charge he dismisses. “I keep hearing that, and I’m not sure where it started. One of my roles as mayor is to bring some semblance to decision-making, so that we’re not all over the map. Remember the old days of the city, where we’d vote on something and then change our minds two weeks later? It made us look like the Keystone Cops. But we’re running a $3.5-billion organization funded entirely by taxpayers’ dollars, and I think we need to know if an issue is going to pass or not, before the last minute at council. “I have absolutely no power, apart from the bully pulpit, I suppose, to twist someone’s arm off. Some journalist said you’re punishing councillor X’s constituents because he didn’t vote for something, and I said ‘Why would I do that? Their constituents are my constituents.’ “At the end of the day, I have one vote. I don’t have 24 votes.” That may be, but just as he is a consummate retail politician on doorsteps and at store openings, he also knows how to make, rally and marshal allies. And whether canvassing, attending events or just being out in public, it’s impossible not to notice that Watson has a remarkable capacity to make people smile as soon as they see him.
6:15 P.M. BAYSHORE SHOPPING CENTRE
The last event of the day is another ribbon-cutting, this one set up by HOT 89.9 radio personalities Jenni and Mauler. HOT 89.9 listeners are not Watson’s typical market, so it’s an opportunity for him to make inroads where he’s not well known, similar to the “Party Advice” he offered LIVE 88.5 listeners a few years ago. It’s a different election this time, since his parents died — his mother, Frances, passed in December 2014, while his father, Beverley, followed 18 months later. “They always supported me, although they never wanted me in politics,” says Watson. “But every once in a while, you have these moments where you’re going to be doing an event and you want them to come, but obviously they can’t. They used to come to my kickoff rallies and swearing-in ceremonies. You miss things like that — you want to share that happiness and excitement with the people closest to you.” But he says he still has the energy and enthusiasm for the job, and counts among his proudest achievements helping to save the Aberdeen Pavilion; development of the Innovation Centre; and the Smoke-Free Ontario Act he championed during his time at Queen’s Park. “As mayor, once the LRT gets up and running early next year, that’s something I can look back on with great fondness. It’s helping to reduce our greenhouse gases, reduce traffic congestion and operate our city in a more efficient fashion than we have.” He won’t say if this will be his final term, should he win. “If you make that decision too soon,” he says, “you become a lame duck and everybody’s running for your job. If you make it too late, it’s unfair to people who want to mount a serious campaign. So I’ll probably decide in the two- to threeyear period. “But I never have a day where I walk into city hall and it feels like work. And we have a lot of issues that we’re going to deal with that need a steady hand and someone with a rational temperament to work well with others, everything from the Civic Hospital to LeBreton Flats to the Zibi project and Phase 2 of LRT. If they’re done well, they’re going to help us reshape the city for the next generation.” Darkness is descending and his (public) day is done. He stops at the food court to get some Jimmy the Greek to take home — he hasn’t eaten since a mid-afternoon slice of cold pizza. It’s dark by the time his driver pulls into Watson’s driveway, where the mayor’s 2001 Volvo sits. The car, which Watson only has occasion to drive maybe 10 times a year, can’t fit in the garage for all the campaign signs there. The driver, his car’s headlights shining on the front door, waits as Watson gets out his key and finds the lock and goes inside. There, he’ll do some paperwork. “About an hour,” Watson says, although his driver insists it’ll be more like three. Then he’ll watch Stephen Colbert for a bit before turning in. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.
Someone’s put their heart and soul and life’s savings into a business, creating some jobs. The least I can do is show up.