STILL STANDING
Pat Lorje — elected in Saskatoon for 34 years and running again in October — provides a fiercely independent voice
Pat Lorje’s career as a psychologist led her to an unprecedented 34 years elected to represent the people of Saskatoon.
The colourful, controversial councillor made a direct connection between depression she was seeing in women in the 1970s and a poorly designed west-side neighbourhood, which she declines to name.
“These women were basically isolated in their homes,” Lorje says.
“I decided that a city had to be planned in a different and better way.”
Her determination to change the city of Saskatoon resulted in a victory by fewer than 200 votes to represent Ward 2 in the 1979 municipal election.
As she prepares to convince Saskatoon voters to elect her for a 12th time in October, Lorje is staring down history.
If she wins and serves out her term — Lorje rejects the word if and insists on “when” — she will become the longest-serving councillor in the city’s history.
If she completes another fouryear term in 2020, she will surpass John Cairns, who served for 9,442 days between 1927 and 1966, with 9,497 days.
It’s difficult to imagine anyone equalling or bettering her run of 34 years elected by Saskatoon voters. It’s also tough to imagine a less conventional politician.
“As a crusty old feminist, I think maybe it’s time women made records rather than men,” Lorje, 69, says. “I think as long as a councillor has an abiding love for a city and has important points of view to bring forward to the public that the number of days, weeks, months or years you serve shouldn’t be the criteria that you’re looking at.
“It feels like just yesterday in 1979 when I first walked in. I can even tell you what I was wearing for my inaugural city council meeting.”
In addition to 22 years as a city councillor — a position still called alderman in 1979 — she also served 12 years as a New Democrat MLA, including a brief, tumultuous stint as a cabinet minister.
She decided not to run again provincially in 2003 and felt the pull back to Saskatoon city council in 2006.
“I don’t fit comfortably into the partisan politics political mould,” Lorje says. “I never have. I tried it.”
Saskatoon Mayor Don Atchison, who has also served 22 years on council, declines to speculate on the secret to Lorje’s longevity.
“I wish I knew,” Atchison says. “I’d bottle it and sell it.”
While Lorje acknowledges she is “outspoken,” Atchison rejects the term to describe his longtime colleague.
“I think she just tells people what she believes,” he says.
Lorje, herself, thinks that’s the key.
It feels like just yesterday in 1979 when I first walked in. I can even tell you what I was wearing for my inaugural city council meeting.
PAT LORJE
“I think that there is a desire amongst the general population to hear the straight goods from their politicians, rather than hearing things that have been filtered and spun and twisted and sanitized,” she says.
Her willingness to put the ‘candid’ in candidate may be more important than the content of what she says or her ideology.
Gerry Klein, who covered Lorje as a reporter and columnist for The StarPhoenix for 30 years, notes her tendency for “off-the-cuff, off-colour” remarks.
In 2014, she infamously admitted she had just voted for a motion because she did not think it was going to pass.
Klein sees a parallel between Lorje and another outspoken politician popular for his candour: U.S. Republican presidential frontrunner Donald Trump.
“Almost like Trump, people see what they want to see,” Klein says.
However, he adds, she often seems to say what people are thinking. “She seems to have the ability to connect with a wide range of people,” Klein says.
Few would contest she provides a fiercely independent voice at council and often finds herself isolated on issues. It’s not uncommon for Lorje alone to vote for or against a motion.
Her lonely crusades have included banning plastic bags at supermarkets, attacking the use of consultants at city hall and bashing a move to hold city council meetings once a month rather than biweekly.
She recently declared herself “unalterably” opposed to a 33rd Street bridge that forms a major plank of the City of Saskatoon’s celebrated growth plan.
“Am I good at compromising?” Lorje says. “It depends on the issue, but I would think just generally I feel strongly and passionately about a lot of issues, so perhaps I’m seen as being less flexible than I think I should be.”
Klein witnessed a change in Lorje after she returned to municipal politics after her bruising stint as an MLA and cabinet minister.
In her early years, Lorje resembled a classic, left-wing activist focused on social issues, according to Klein. Now, she’s far less predictable.
“She’s a hard woman to buttonhole,” Klein says. “Her positions (on issues) sometimes surprise me.”
She’s also less conciliatory than in her early years, Klein says.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re leftwinger or a right-winger, she’ll butt heads with you — and often be quite critical,” he says.
Lorje’s approach to politics comes at a price, according to Atchison.
“I don’t think you see a lot of the warmth behind the scenes,” he says. “She really does have a heart of gold.”
Owen Fortosky, who represented Ward 2 for two terms while Lorje was an MLA, appreciates Lorje’s hard work for her ward, but believes she’s been around too long.
Councillors should serve no more than two consecutive terms, he says.
“I think our community is served better by new voices and new ideas,” Fortosky says.
Fortosky re-entered the fray in 2012 to run against Lorje because nobody “of substance” was running against her. Lorje beat him with 61 per cent of the vote compared to 34.5 per cent.
Fortosky says he will consider running again in October to avoid giving Lorje a “free ride” to another victory.
Lorje says she is looking forward to whatever challenge awaits her. She has speculated there may be candidates lining up to take a run at her, sensing vulnerability.
“Every election is a tough election,” she says. “Actually, it’s more exhilarating than tough.
“I’ve had really good experiences door-knocking. I only was attacked once.”
Klein credits her success with getting out into the community and notes that has been her strength from the start of her career.
“Everybody knows her,” he explains.
Though some might see the veteran politician’s age as a strike against her, Lorje sees it as a strength.
She and Atchison are the only current council members over the age of 50 in a city with a growing population of seniors, she points out.
She also invites the judgment of voters on her leak of a private document concerning slope failure in the Nutana neighbourhood to former provincial cabinet colleague Eric Cline, who lives near the affected homes.
Far from contrite over the 2014 incident, she is, perhaps predictably, defiant. She maintains she was only seeking confidential advice from a trusted friend.
Further, she says the sanctions taken against her by council — she was forced to go to city hall to look at confidential documents — only made it more difficult to represent her constituents.
It’s easy to draw comparisons to her 2002 dismissal from provincial cabinet, when she was fired for telling reporters what was contained in a report about an allegation of harassment against her.
On the more recent leak, Lorje says she was judged by a different standard for doing something every other councillor has done at some point.
Coun. Darren Hill, who suggested Lorje should have resigned over the leak, declined to speak to The StarPhoenix about Lorje. He said in an email he did not think a feature on a sitting councillor seeking re-election was appropriate.
Lorje thinks the awkward appearance of city councillors judging one of their own has prompted changes. She welcomes the proposed appointment of an independent integrity commissioner to preside over future code of conduct breaches.
She also thinks an alleged culture of secrecy is in decline at city hall — though she refuses to take credit. She says she “never” takes credit.
“There were far too many confidential items on the agenda,” Lorje says. “Just about everything and things that most properly should have been discussed and debated in public were being debated behind closed doors so that a sanitized version could be brought to council.
“City hall is less of a secretive, closed-door, in-camera place than it was when all this is happening.”
Klein does give Lorje credit for a major shift in Saskatchewan’s demographics.
After Lorje got the boot from cabinet in 2002, but before she left provincial politics, she was asked to write a report on reforming the province’s approach to immigration to boost its declining population.
Klein links this report to a subsequent increase in immigration. International immigration to Saskatchewan has increased from fewer than 2,000 immigrants in 2003 to more than 11,000 by 2012, according to Sask Trends Monitor — whether you link it to Lorje’s report or not.
Lorje was seen as a top contender in the 1990s for Saskatoon mayor, but decided to serve out her term as an MLA. She has now settled into the role of councillor, though hardly the quiet elder stateswoman.
When Lorje reflects on her long political career, she is dismayed by changes to the way council interacts with residents.
Council used to meet every Monday and citizens could come address members on any issue. Now, people can only come speak to items that are already on a council or committee agenda.
“We’re not hearing as directly from the people we are representing,” Lorje says. “And I think that’s a shame.
“I’m sad about that.”