A newly elected reeve of a small township was keen to take his duties seriously. He asked the long-time Clerk-Treasurer if she had a copy of the Municipal Act as he wanted to study it to be better informed about municipal operations. “I have a copy,” she responded sternly, “but it never leaves my home.” [End of discussion]
Nothing for You to Worry About
Another long-time Clerk-Treasurer in another small township had an interesting way of dealing with municipal correspondence. At the start of each council meeting she would open the items of mail, give them a quick look, and then decide on their disposition. If she determined that a matter merited council’s attention, she would outline its nature briefly and then asked councillors how they wanted to handle it. Otherwise, after skimming an item she would toss it into a nearby wastebasket. If asked what that was, she would simply say that councillors didn’t need to concern themselves about it.
And That’s the Law
A feisty mayor of a large city (no, it wasn’t Hazel) would often justify matters that she wanted done by council by ending discussion with the observation that the matter in question was in the Municipal Act. After one such meeting, a member of council decided to investigate. At the next meeting, he challenged the mayor, pointing out that the issue from the preceding meeting was, in fact, not covered in the Municipal Act. Without missing a beat, the mayor snapped, “well if it isn’t it should be,” banged the gavel, and moved on to the next item on the agenda.
The Province Bears the Responsibility
During one of my local government restructuring studies, I had the heads of council take me on a tour of their municipalities, showing me their facilities, and highlighting any issues they wanted to draw to my attention. One such tour gave me new insight into provincial-local relations. As we stopped briefly at the municipal waste disposal site, the reeve told me that bears were attracted to the food, frequently encountered locals at the site, and actually became rather tame over a period of time. The end result, he explained, was a phone call he received from an irate local resident who complained that “some goldarn American tourist shot my pet bear.” Nonplussed, and showing commendable creativity I thought, the reeve responded that bears (and the shooting thereof) were a provincial responsibility under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Natural Resources.
Just the Type for the Job
A municipality advertised for a clerk-typist and the successful applicant was surprised but impressed when she reported to her first day of work and found the entire council there waiting to greet her. What a friendly organization she thought, before discovering that the council members were waiting to swear her in as Clerk-Treasurer, the former occupant of that position having died over the weekend – after a long illness. In what might charitably be considered an efficient move, the council had decided to forego the delay involved in searching for a Clerk-Treasurer since they already had a new employee arriving that morning, albeit for a clerical position. [I might add that the new Clerk-Treasurer chosen in this rather capricious fashion went on to acquit herself well, completing the Municipal Administration Program of the AMCTO along the way.]
Don’t Cry for Me Wentworth
In late 1968 I became the Research Officer for the Hamilton-Burlington-Wentworth Local Government Review, chaired by Donald Steele, who would go on to serve on the Supreme Court of Ontario. The Commission was investigating municipal restructuring and the City of Hamilton was pushing for the merger of all municipalities in Wentworth County into an enlarged City. This option was, not surprisingly, strongly opposed by the County, represented at the Commission’s public hearings by its lawyer, Eileen Yates.
During one such public hearing, after considerable wrangling about the merger issue, I had a rather rebellious reaction. I turned to the three commissioners and exclaimed that the problem we faced was a lack of compassion – as evidenced by the fact that Eileen Yates was not willing to shed a tier for the City of Hamilton. An incredulous Donald Steele managed to maintain his composure, and even to forgive the young upstart who spoke out of turn.