Election night ballroom bash underlines NPA defeat (Vancouver Courier, Nov. 19, 2008)
Last Saturday, as 30 per cent of eligible voters trickled into polling stations around the city, approximately 300 loyalists of Vancouver's oldest political party, the NPA, gathered on the patterned carpet of the swanky Renaissance Hotel ballroom to await the results of the 2008 civic election.
The crowd was typical NPA. Lots of white hair. Blue blazers. Black evening wear. "Fresh from vacation" tans. The ballroom's dim lighting revealed Vancouver's cultural balkanization, as small groups of South Asian and Chinese-Canadians claimed their own carpeted territory.
The mood was brooding. The NPA, led by mayoral candidate Coun. Peter Ladner, had run a bland campaign, which was rocked two weeks ago by the $100 million Olympic Village bailout "scandal." Vision Vancouver mayoral candidate Gregor Robertson seemed poised to seize power, along with a Vision majority at city hall.
Shaw TV's election coverage flickered on two large projection screens. After the polls closed at 8 p.m., and the returns came rolling in, the mood grew more bitter as a Vision landslide materialized in full colour. Business picked up at the three bars placed strategically around the ballroom. In between sips of Hiram Walker and Beefeater gin, NPA diehards blamed the $100 million bailout, as if that issue alone sunk the NPA campaign.
But their outrage seemed forced.
The two parties are substantially similar. Vision and the NPA made similar promises on taxes and environmental issues. The NPA campaign failed to galvanize supporters with a consistent message. Ladner's top priority morphed from week to week. First crime, then homelessness, then "affordable" living.
The ballroom walls were plastered with posters of NPA candidates, each with their own catchphrase. But there was no banner proclaiming the NPA message--a perfect symbol for a rudderless campaign.
So what does the NPA stand for?
"Fiscal conservatism," opined Dr. Frank Nevin, who chatted quietly with 1970s city councillor Dr. Setty Pendakur. "You have to ask yourself who can run the city best during these difficult times," Pendakur said.
But "difficult times" are relative. This election loss means little to the lives of many gathered in the Renaissance ballroom. A Vision-dominated council won't obstruct their West Side worldview.
Take Michael Geller, for instance, whose failed council bid garnered a respectable 44,353 votes. Geller, a wealthy real estate planner and developer, rented the Renaissance "club lounge" on the 19th floor, complete with chic red couches, low ceilings and a patio view of Vancouver's business district. Groovy jazz fusion emanated from a hidden sound system as Champagne and Perrier chilled in stainless steel coolers next to white porcelain bowls filled with "Geller is sweller" campaign buttons. While friends and family stirred, Geller camped out in his private suite across the hall, watching the NPA massacre.
But he'll be all right. In fact, Geller was later seen hobnobbing at Vision's raucous victory party five blocks away at the Hotel Vancouver.
Back downstairs, Shaw TV proclaimed a Robertson victory and a Vision/COPE landslide. Coun. Suzanne Anton was the only NPAer to retain her seat at city hall.
Ladner entered the ballroom to the sound of mandatory applause and a strange techno/samba music mix. From a shallow stage, festooned with clumps of red and blue balloons--and a dreary gaggle of defeated school board, parks board and council candidates--Ladner squinted into the spotlight. He looked tired and pale, but his relief was palpable. He ran an honest, uninspiring campaign highlighted only by his springtime coup d'état of incumbent NPA Mayor Sam Sullivan. In the end, Ladner was vanquished by a lightweight candidate, whose GQ good looks disguised a limited knowledge of city issues.
After Ladner's brief "thanks for everything" speech, the ballroom quickly emptied except for a few groups of hangers-on who hugged and smiled through teary eyes.
On a cluster of plush leather couches, a group of hip-looking young Asians laughed and chatted and typed on their cellphones. Kelly, a pretty 22-year-old, sat comfortably with legs crossed. In between sips of white wine, she pointed across the room to her father, a longtime NPA supporter. When asked what the NPA stands for, she flashed a patronizing smile, and with an upward inflection, said "The Non-Partisan Association."
Absolutely, Kelly. No doubt about it.
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