ONE LAST FORD FEST
Edward Keenan reflects on the polarizing former mayor who was bid a fond farewell by his faithful ’nation,’
It may be fitting that to honour Rob Ford, they shut down the streetcars. They shut down the roads to car traffic, too, which may have tickled the man less in life, but certainly provided a grand stage across the downtown core to send him off.
In many ways, it felt like one last Ford Fest — the famous parties the former mayor threw first in his mother’s backyard and then in parks and parking lots in Scarborough and Etobicoke — downtown for the first time, gathering the faithful together one last time.
Many faces familiar from those earlier parties were there as mourners, well-wishers and curious citizens assembled in brisk sunshine under a clear blue sky in Nathan Phillips Square on Wednesday morning, awaiting the start of the funeral procession. There was a festive mood to celebrate Ford’s life among many of those gathered beside the hearses, hoisting some old election signs that read “FORD MAYOR” as they sang “Amazing Grace,” and “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” and chanted, periodically, “Mayor for life!”
The Canadian flag in the centre of the square flew at half-mast. At the corner, on Bay St., a pair of fire engines draped another massive Maple Leaf from their ladders. A crowd unfurled another giant flag, this one surrounded by the flags of all the provinces, to carry in the march. The back of one man’s sweatshirt bore lettering that read, “Rest assured that with a heart that’s pure we’ll be victorious and not let our hate get the best of us.”
As the clock on Old City Hall struck 11, the pipe band hit their snare drums and the ceremonial honour guard — first police, then firefighters, then paramedics, TTC employees, provincial offences officers and civic workers — marched out onto Queen St., leading the hearse carrying Ford’s casket. His brothers Doug and Randy and their families led the crowd marching behind, in a procession that was blocks long and reflected the ragtag diversity of Ford Nation all the more, as the hundreds streamed by in cowboy hats and hard hats and broad straw Sunday-go-to-meetin’ hats and dreadlocks and turbans. Towards the end of the marching line was a crowd singing repeated choruses of “When the Saints Go Marching In.”
Along the route, the sidewalks were lined with employees of stores along the way who came out to watch, and the windows of office buildings were filled with workers looking down on the parade.
People waved red, white and blue mini-flags that read “Rob Ford May 28, 1969 — March 22, 2016 Best Mayor Ever.” One woman carried a hand-lettered sign: “God Bless Rob Ford, Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, Bob Marley, Céline Dion.” Occasionally they broke into chants of “Rob for the people!”
St. James Cathedral is the very birthplace of the Toronto establishment, the historic parish of Bishop John Strachan, patriarch of the Family Compact, against whom William Lyon Mackenzie rebelled, and whose remains are interred in the chancel on the altar at the church.
Here, the Toronto establishment gathered to honour the self-proclaimed insurrectionist Ford, and a long list of dignitaries (including the lieutenant-governor, premier and mayor) joined the Ford family inside, while the bulk of those who had marched, “Ford Nation,” gath- ered in tents on the lawn and in crowds on the sidewalk and the road surrounding the church. They sang “O Canada” at the end of the procession route, the sound mingling with the faint strains of the church organ from inside, as a woman on the sidewalk wept while a police officer in dress blues told her there was no room for her in the church and directed her to the tents on the west lawn.
At noon, the church bell tolled 46 times and the Most Reverend Colin Johnson, Archbishop of Toronto, led the pallbearers who carried Ford’s body into the church.
Former premier Mike Harris gave a mildly political remembrance, touching on some familiar lines about the gravy train and poking at the media, but saying the real tribute to Rob Ford was the memories of those “Rob had inspired to care about their city and their community.” A member of the Don Bosco Eagles remembered football road trips and pizza dinners under the watchful eye of Coach Ford.
And then Ford’s 10-year-old daughter, Stephanie, stood in front of her mother Renata, and beside her 8-year-old brother Dougie, and in a clear, confident voice, remembered her father. “My dad was a great mayor,” she said. “He was also an amazing dad.” Expressing a sentiment that drew long applause, she said, “He’s the mayor of heaven now.”
Eventually, the service proceeded from the personal into the ceremonial. People walked dogs and some sat on the lawn as niece Krista Ford read from the Gospel — “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.” They stood in the tents and swayed in time as Liberty Silver sang “Amazing Grace.” Some stood on the sidewalk smoking and cocked their heads to the speakers as the archbishop asked, “Rest eternal grant upon him, O Lord,” and “May his soul, and the souls of all the departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.”
It was about 1:15 p.m. when the thousands assembled one last time on the church steps and front lawn and sidewalks as the bagpipers played and the former mayor’s body was carried into the car that would take him to the private interment ceremony. The church bell rang again, and again, and again. Following the police motorcade along King St., the hearse pulled away, and Rob Ford was gone.
And for some time the crowds remained, in the sunshine on the street, chanting and singing, and talking and waving flags and remembering the man they knew, as the police took down the barricades, preparing to return the roads to the cars and the streetcars, preparing to resume the life of the city. Edward Keenan writes on city issues ekeenan@thestar.ca. Follow: @thekeenanwire