THE JOY OF BEING MAYOR

Poking into Politics
Copyright 1966 The Institute of Applied Art Ltd.
192 pages

The modern city Mayor cannot escape the necessity of attending to those practical matters affecting civic efficiency but if he can keep closely in touch with such administrative matters and, at the same time, appear as the bright and effervescent spokesman who always says the right thing in public, so much the better.

Public appearances were nearly always cheerful events, helping to brighten a Mayor's day. Distinguished visitors were a source of pleasure. The loyalty of good and able Commissioners, Heads of Departments and Secretaries, could be a source of comfort. And never did the Mayor need to be hungry because the invitations to luncheons and banquets offered enough food to meet all body needs, even if he never went home.

But the main rewards for public service come, one-third from salary, one-third from experience and one-third from satisfaction. And one of the nice features about being Mayor, if one may be facetious, was in the "fringe benefits," like free advice. If the office incumbent had to pay at consultant's rates or lawyer's fees for the advice to which he was obliged to listen, a thousand dollars a week would not have met the total costs. That would come to not less than $52,000 per year and no part of it reportable to Income Tax.

Citizens contemplating running for the office of Mayor should be encouraged. But it may be hoped that those who see themselves in the Mayor's chair would first sit as aldermen. City Council offers good training exercise. Indeed, his potential for the Mayor's office should be considered by the voters in every aldermanic candidate. Then, after four, six or eight years as an alderman, the successful individual might properly be a candidate for the higher office.

It is customary for City Mayors to be elected directly to the high post by the voting public but there is something to be said for the principle of aldermen only being elected by the people and then the Mayor being chosen or elected from the aldermanic ranks by the aldermen themselves. In London, England, the Lord Mayor's post is filled, for all practical purposes, on the basis of seniority from elected civic ranks and tenure is for one year. The idea of fairly long periods of service for aldermen and short periods of service for Mayors has much in its favor. With a substantial body of experience among on-coming aldermen and good judgement among Commissioners and other permanent public servants, there is no need for the Mayor to think he must remain long. Some of those who held office as Mayor in Canadian cities, made the mistake of staying too long.

My years in the office of Mayor were rewarding and wonderful in many ways but I reached the point where my feeling was like that of the man with 14 children: he would not take a million dollars for anyone of his youngsters and "wouldn't give two cents for another."

THE MAYOR'S PHONE

Of all the evils sent to test a Mayor's patience, the telephone is the one most likely to break his spirit and drive him mad. Often he will say, hopefully, solemnly, to himself: "Some day, God willing, I will own a home without a phone."

Democracy confers upon every citizen the precious right to curse the government, ridicule the political parties and telephone the Mayor to "give him Hell" at any time of the day or night. Many people who would not face an angry mouse, find satisfaction in calling the Mayor and, from the security of offices and dens, talk courageously, sometimes belligerently.

The politician has the reputation of approaching every problem with an open mouth but if statistics be accepted, the average telephone-using Canadian has the same characteristic. Records show Canadians as making more telephone calls per capita than any other people and Calgarians gained the doubtful honor of being the most talkative of Canadian users. Just how the high number of Calgary telephone conversations was divided is not indicated but there is every reason to think the urge to "call the Mayor" accounted for a substantial part of the record-breaking total.

Drunks were especially inclined to call at inconvenient hours. It should not be difficult to judge of the annoyance of receiving a telephone call from an inebriated citizen at one or two o'clock in the morning and finding, at the end of the conversation -invariably lengthy-that there had been no indication of the caller's purpose. One of those calls came, long distance from Saskatoon at 2: 30 a.m., Saskatoon time, with the party trying to have it accepted as a "collect" call. But, failing to obtain the Calgary Mayor's willingness to pay the toll, the man in Saskatoon deposited the necessary money and then entered into a jolly 15-minute chat about nothing in particular.

Another late-hour caller asked: "Why don't you make those Parks Department people roll the grass at Central Park?"

When I enquired of the reason for the call, the party said:
"Some people have to sleep there and it's damned rough."

"But," I interrupted, "you're not supposed to sleep there."

"That may be," my caller replied, "but when the old woman boots a man out at night and there's no place else, he deserves a level piece of grass."

"Has this happened often," I asked with growing sympathy.

"Just about every Saturday night," answered my caller. "Now how about rolling the grass?"

Telephone warnings about some impending events of violence like suicide or murder came generally late at night and the same was true of calls for the Mayor to adjudicate family arguments or husband-wife disagreements.