Shawn Ewing wasnt about to let a gloomy six-figure debt or downpour of volunteer resignations spoil her parade.
She knew how much the Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»Pride Parade meant to the gay community.
It was much more than just a cavalcade of colourful costumes and floats.
Shed first attended the parade, a fixture in the West End since 1978, in the mid-1990s when she was still coming to terms with her own sexuality. By the time the parade finished, she felt a greater sense of belonging.
Its a celebration, even if its just one day, to be whatever you are and celebrate that, says Ewing.
But by the time Ewing was elected Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»Pride Society president in 2002 the future of the VPS-run parade looked perilous.
Several burnt-out board members had recently resigned. To make matters worse, the society learned after its AGM that they were in the hole for $100 grand. The parade was in serious jeopardy because we owed money to the city, recalls Ewing.
With just six months to go before the 2003 parade, which at the time brought out 150,000 revellers, Ewing gathered the volunteer 12-member board to vote on its future.
She sighed in relief when members voted unanimously: the parade would go on.
But, they didnt have time for a celebratory round at the Fountainhead Pub on Davie which soon became the organizations unofficial HQ. They needed a business plan and sponsors; they needed membership drives and fundraisers.
And without money, they couldnt rent anything for the parade speakers, bleachers, vehicles for grand marshals because vendors were now demanding cash up front. It was brutal, she recalls.
Tenacious, patient and sometimes a little bitchy, Ewing devoted every spare second of her life to making sure there was a parade that year. After working until 4:30pm each day as a public servant for the feds, she headed to the VPS office and worked past 11, fuelled mostly by coffee and cigarettes. It was exhausting, but she was driven by a strong belief that the event has got to happen and its worthwhile; people deserve to have the party. And we were going to make it work.
For that to happen, they needed support from the gay community, and they got it.
The community realized this group of people was really trying to do something.
On Parade Day 2003, Ewing undoubtedly felt a huge sense of accomplishment and relief as she helped marshal the 130 or so floats at the start of the parade route. But even after the final float had reached Sunset Beach it wasnt time to celebrate. Short on dollars and volunteers, she and the other members still had to clean up garbage along the route and at event sites.
Pretty much we were dead on our feet. It was insane. I dont think anyone in their right mind would have signed up [to volunteer that year]. They believed in the organization
