Glitzy, sleek, exclusive. The Sheraton Wall Centre on Burrard. Where the best people stay. Inside the Wall Centre ballroom, they stroll on shiny tile and plush blue carpet beneath the dim light of high ceilings. Most of Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»seems far away. Members only. But tonight, for a few hours, democracy, the great equalizer, lifts the velvet rope.
It's Vision Vancouver's election night bash.
There's wine and beer but it's unnecessary. These people, the Vision rank-and-file, are high on each other. They arrived en masse after polls closed at 8 p.m. With each favourable vote count (Robertson: 58,162_ Robertson: 75,980) flashing on two big screens, the guttural shouts grew louder. And when Mayor Gregor Robertson was declared victorious shortly after 10 p.m., reelected in a landslide with a Vision council majority, the place went nuts.
"We did it," said Jill Morley, a 26-year-old makeup artist from Kitsilano. "I was nervous all week, with Occupy Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»and all of that. But we did it because people believe in Gregor."
She's right. The Vision campaign, whatever it's theme, was mainly about Robertson. And you can't understand Robertson without understanding his past, or more accurately, his creation.
A child of privilege (son of a corporate lawyer, stepson of a wealthy San Francisco businessman), Robertson graduated from Colorado College, was rejected by UBC medical school, and sailed the Pacific for 18 months before buying acreage near Fort Langley. According to legend, he did a little farming -then presto!-was discovered by Joel Solomon, an international eco-activist and founder of Tides Canada. Solomon helped fund Happy Planet, Robertson's organic juice company, and in 2005, after Robertson spent two years as a Tides Canada director, bankrolled Robertson's successful MLA bid. In Victoria, as the honourable member for Vancouver-Fairview, Robertson wallowed in obscurity. His greatest legislative achievement, stocking public school shelves with Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth, was not nearly enough.
So in 2008, Team Robertson turned towards municipal politics and Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»city hall, a public policy launching pad, free from Victoria's stifling bureaucracy. Again, big bags of American money from Solomon and friends fell into Robertson's lap. His mayoral campaign, directed by Mike Magee, a political strategist and fellow former Tides man, shattered fundraising records. Robertson won big, and once installed, hid behind a battery of Vision city councillors. He won reelection tonight despite enabling two huge traumas-the Stanley Cup riot and the Occupy Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»camp outside the art gallery.
This is who they cheered, shoulder-to-shoulder, inside the packed Sheraton ballroom.
Tom Choy arrived early, mingling and monitoring the returns on his iPhone. A middle-aged realtor with a slight Asian accent, Choy works Vancouver's inflated housing market. He voted for Robertson because he's "very real estate friendly." Choy hopes the Vision majority "densifies" large chunks of East Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»especially 12th Avenue east of Fraser, paving the way for blocks of "condominiums and townhouses."
I'm with Tom on this one. If Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»needs anything, it's more condos.
Incidentally, during a fundraiser two weeks ago at the swanky Westin Bayshore, Robertson powwowed with Terry Hui, the CEO of Concord Pacific, a mega-real estate development company. While donating big bucks to Robertson and Vision Vancouver, Hui's made millions in Northeast False Creek despite past promises to build a nine-acre public park at the site.
But why spoil a party with history and hypocrisy. Tonight's about Robertson, the image. Shortly before 11 p.m., as the crowd chanted his name, he appeared from behind a blue curtain on a low stage, flanked by Vision's cast of councillors, school trustees and park board commissioners. He always looks the same. Black hair, closely cropped. Suit, freshly pressed. Tanned skin. White teeth. Easy smile. A politician from central casting. But if you stare long enough at Robertson, you notice a sneer-a fixed expression of contempt, cultivated over decades of entitlement. Robertson's speech lacked all of the necessary substance. "This is your victory. For you, your family, your kids, your neighbours." He delivered it stiff, raising octaves for applause lines, falling back into monotones. "Vision Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»is all about bringing the people of this city together to do great things, and tonight we did just that."
The speech, like the man, said little. Yet there he was, once gain, in the spotlight. The luckiest man on Earth.
Perhaps that explains his appeal. Robertson's a culmination of aspirations, a group effort. Through his well-tailored vessel flow the goals of many.
"He's the first politician I've ever believed in," said Amy Robinson, in between sips of red wine. "The left finally has someone who reflects our values-hardworking and environmentally conscious." Robinson, a pretty 41-year old blond, represents Robertson's base. She owns a small "networking" business and is unabashedly green. During the campaign, she volunteered for Vision, canvassing her neighbourhood near Commercial Drive. She believes-like the party faithful inside the Sheraton ballroom and thousands of voters across Vancouver.
The reelection of Gregor Robertson reinforces the obvious. We're an off-the-rack culture. He's the best-looking disciple of a new age politick, steeped in the self-affirmation that defines the green movement.
Over the next three years, with help from his Vision majority, he'll enact the Greenest City Action Plan and transform the city to combat what he once called the "biggest crisis in the history of our species." During his victory speech tonight, he reiterated his pledge to "make Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»the greenest city in the world by 2020."
It was typical stuff. True to form. Smiling, green and flowery. Robertson, the image.
Twitter: @MarkHasiuk
