2004-02-21
Stronach's message, myth - and math
LARRY CORNIES, London Free Press

Organizers of yesterday's big Belinda breakdown in London hadn't planned it, but, in a odd kind of way, her no-show at a scheduled noon-time gathering fit what is looking more and more like the Stronach camp's strategy for electing their candidate: control her exposure to public events and volatile situations, coach her relentlessly, keep her carefully scripted and present her as the only real national candidate with the business smarts to bolster Canada's economy and unite the new party.

To be fair, it was freezing rain in the Toronto region and mechanical problems with her plane that conspired to keep Stronach, a candidate for the leadership of the federal Conservative party, out of London. At least, that's what the 300 or so people who showed up at the London Convention Centre were told -- and there's no reason to believe otherwise.

The unwelcome logistical problems left Ontario campaign co-chairperson Ken Kalopsis with the job of explaining the absence, the latest wrinkle in what he called a "fast-paced campaign" in which "certain things happen."

The backup plan consisted of having Stronach address the crowd via an amplified speakerphone from her cellphone somewhere along Highway 401, as her handlers moved her on from Toronto to a stop at a Chatham cafe yesterday afternoon.

It became the job of Perth-Middlesex MP Gary Schellenberger, a kind of middle-aged rock star among Conservatives because of his win in last year's byelection, to introduce a disembodied voice where the candidate was to have stood.

Schellenberger tried his best to rally an already disappointed crowd with a reference to the "long faces on the other side of the House" due to the Liberal sponsorship scandal, calling the mess described in the devastating report by Auditor General Sheila Fraser a symptom of "a culture of corruption in the Martin government."

When he turned the floor over to The Voice, party officials seemed to be thanking some deity for small mercies -- at least the amplified speakerphone performed flawlessly.

Reading from a script, Stronach said she felt "absolutely horrible" about her absence, then struck the chords she has already sounded many times over the past weeks: her Austrian immigrant father's success in Canada, her concern for the country's future economic prosperity, the need for lower taxes and smaller government, the importance of skills training, including technical trades, the attention that must be paid our ailing health-care system and the importance of creating a new Conservative movement that will be more than a "regional party."

The latter, of course, was a not-so-veiled reference to Stephen Harper, the perceived front-runner in the contest, who this week admitted not being able to stand directly across from the prime minister in the House of Commons and turn up the oratorical heat during one of the biggest scandals in recent memory is driving him a bit to distraction.

Lastly, Stronach urged her supporters to sign up members before the Feb. 29 deadline and to vote for her March 20. London lawyer Angus McKenzie had the unenviable task of thanking The Voice on behalf of an already thinning crowd.

There was disappointment, to be sure. But, as one former Alliance candidate put it, Stronach would not get a second chance to make a first impression. "She should at least have told us she was coming back."

It's unlikely Stronach's campaign, however, will see yesterday's no-show as more than a logistical wrinkle. Theirs, after all, is a campaign built on mathematics, not handshakes. It is characterized by a strategy in which the path to victory is marked by memberships sold and votes gathered in ridings where Harper and fellow candidate Tony Clement aren't popular or can't win -- parts of Ontario, most of Quebec, much of Atlantic Canada, pockets in the West. It is a strategy designed to capitalize on the fact that each riding in the country -- whether it contains 10,000 party members or 10 -- will have equal weight in next month's voting, and the aim is to populate the anti-Harper ridings with Stronach memberships and votes.

And if not the first choice, the Stronach team wants to be members' second choice on ballots coast to coast. Victory lies in the math, not in Stronach's experience or innate political skill.

Her disembodied appearance yesterday left some, such as Londoner David Burghardt, feeling as if they'd just been part of a bizarre kind of "Charlie's Angels episode." Later, Burghardt said he's "one of those Liberals who's gone from being mildly offended to thoroughly disgusted" (by the Grits) and is "looking for some place to hang my political hat."

So were a lot of others yesterday. They had to content themselves with an image. Minus the visuals.