A close election

Wait.... you thought.... no, not that election. Are you people still talking about that? Geez!

The election I'm referring took place 30 years ago this month. Were people's freedoms hanging in the balance from this one? Not really. Does anyone even remember what happened? Other than possibly a few old-timers like me, I can't imagine so.

Yet it ended up becoming a very pivotal night for my career.

I was in my final year of Journalism School and interning at a local newspaper known as The Richmond Hill Liberal (amazingly, the publication still exists online to this day). The role was a great introduction into the world of community news, even though - as I've written about before - I really didn't make the most of the experience.

Come election night in York Region, the entire editorial staff was dispatched to cover different aspects of the proceedings. While most were assigned to mayoral races, I was asked to cover a city council contest that had the potential to be "close."

As the polls began to close, I set out on my reporting assignment. Driving around the city in my mother's clunky 1988 Chevrolet Cavalier (license plate: MOM'S TAXI), I wasn't quite sure how to report on the election. I had called both campaign offices earlier that week and learned where both candidates would be hunkering down for the night, and decided that would be the best place to start.

The first candidate was at his family home, dozens of people coming in and out of the house throughout the evening. I introduced myself to a few people on the candidate's team, and the novelty of watching people watch television quickly wore off. It's worth pointing out that, 30 years ago, I was painfully shy (still not sure how I managed to get into journalism) and as soon as I felt as though I was an unwelcome intruder in their house, I quietly made my exit.

The second candidate rented out a restaurant and the overall vibe was much more relaxed. Televisions were on, but most people were only glancing at the results. Again, I introduced myself to the candidate's team and they insisted I meet the candidate. We had a very brief conversation, and she made two things very clear: First, she did not want to comment on the record and second, I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted and join in the celebration.

Duty called, though, and after spending about half an hour at the restaurant, I decided to check in with my editor, at which point I sheepishly asked whether it was about time to call it a night.

Turns out, it was not.

I honestly don't remember how I spent the next few hours while votes continued to be tabulated. I probably interviewed a few backers from each side, took some notes, and drove around in Mom's Taxi to make a few trips between the house and the restaurant to see if anything had changed.

By around midnight, it was becoming clear that the first candidate was expected to win. It was time for me to start collecting quotes for both candidates.

I first drove back to the house, where the first candidate gave a triumphant (albeit very-rehearsed) comment for my publication. I thanked him for his time and headed over to the restaurant where, surprisingly, no one had really cleared out, despite the increasing evidence that their candidate had lost.

I asked her for a comment and after some hemming and hawing, she agreed. I don't remember the exact quote all these years later, but instead of focusing on the loss, she made a comment about it being a "very close race."

Hers ended up being the only quote that my editor kept in the entire article.

In fact, my entire article was cut down to maybe 400 words and could have probably been printed on a Post-It note. So that said... why was this election such a pivotal night for my career?

Because a few months later, I was contacted by the second candidate, the one who lost the Council race. She was taking a break from politics and starting up a community newspaper. As it turned out, she was interested in hiring the guy who quoted her, as a staff writer for the new publication.

Imagine if my editor told me to stop reporting at 9 p.m.?

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