The myth of suburban superiority

>> Montreal's small towns haven't always been so well run

by KRISTIAN GRAVENOR

A central argument against the one-island one-city megamerger contends that smaller island municipalities have traditionally been better run than the City of Montreal. But our island's towns and cities have been rocked by their own lesser-known scandals. The Mirror presents a sampling of some of the excesses, catastrophes, vindictive pettiness and mind-boggling corruption that represent the darker side of the cities on the verge of extinction.



Pointe-aux-Trembles (1)

Louis-Phillipe St-Pierre became mayor of this East-End town in 1961 and was soon boasting that he controlled "the best Gestapo on the island." Once when he felt insulted by council, he simply refused to sign cheques to city creditors for over a year. In 1964, dozens of homes were still without running water and exasperated citizens voted to join Montreal, but the result was ignored. In 1967, St-Pierre had empty ballot boxes filled before voting began, resulting in more votes cast than there were citizens. Rebel councillors begged the province to put it under trusteeship and soon a Superior Court judge ordered St-Pierre and four friendly councillors out of politics for three years. But the mayor clung to power pending a legal appeal, leading irritated citizens to burn him in effigy and forcing the mayor to travel with a police escort. PAT cops later confessed that they had bought their way onto the force and a bureaucrat complained that the mayor had him tailed by agents in unmarked cars. Others noted that St-Pierre listened in on private City Hall conversations thanks to microphones hidden in the ceiling.

The city emerged from trusteeship under new mayor Bernard Benoit, but he too cooked the books and monkeyed with zoning for his own ends. Desperately seeking divine intervention, voters next elected a 36-year-old priest named Maurice Vanier. The holy man was eventually attacked for using city workers to fix up his country place and PAT, bearing an incredible $55-million in debt, returned to temporary provincial tutelage in 1978. Pointe-aux-Trembles finally joined the City of Montreal in July, 1982.



Côte St-Luc (2)

Pity the town council of Cote St-Lunatic, where neurotic citizens once forced an inquiry over a major problem: a city bus route passed in front of their homes. The Warnock-Hershey report of 1966 dispelled farfetched complaints that the buses caused vibrations that might damage the foundations of their houses. Many inconvenienced motorists revile this xenophobic municipality for refusing to allow Cavendish to be extended to the Metropolitain, but don't blame council; in 1963 they okayed the road extension, only to be hit by a complicated lawsuit by a private citizen. Over the years CSL has tried to ban car washes, dance clubs and "for sale" signs in cars. From 1974-84, motorists were ticketed simply for driving down Emerson Road because a tiny sign designated it restricted to local circulation.



St-Léonard (3)

In 1951 many homes had no running water and citizens buried their waste in their backyards, a telling metaphor for this city's administrative history. Mayor Philias Vanier gave top city jobs to four of his seven sons, but he was voted out in a July 1955 election, in which the two-man police force was supplemented by 100 specially deputized thugs. The gun-toting brutes beat up a newspaper photographer and jailed the police chief, along with 30 others, for the night.

Vote rigging continued in 1967, as mayoral candidate Léo Ouellet's supporters paid $15-30 to anybody who'd vote for their man. Meanwhile, council would constantly and unexpectedly change zoning that would net lucky entrepreneurs big cash profits. In 1974, a nursing-home manager complained that council demanded $10,000 in kickbacks to let him relocate to the area, but like other complaints, it went unpunished.

In '81 new mayor Antonio Di Ciocco immediately gave himself a 40 per cent raise and an unlimited expense account and dodged bombs, most notably one stuck in his car tailpipe. Soon the young mayor was stricken with leukemia and as he slowly died, rival factions brazenly fought to control the city. After a mean-spirited fight to replace him, Raymond Renaud prevailed as his successor. His first few vindictive acts included the firing of his secretary, whom he suspected of siding with his opponents, and suing his opponents $464,000 for libel. The secretary won her job back and the city has since been trying to do the same for its reputation.



Montreal East (4)

Four thousand acres of picturesque hayfields belonging to J. Versailles in 1910 remained his personal fiefdom until his death in 1931. Things went bad from there, when subsequent leaders craftily doubled as real estate agents, buying farms from simple folks and peddling them to oil companies for profit.

In 1962, Édouard Rivet began a two-decade reign that would actually see the area's population fall by over one-third and vote to join Montreal, a decision later overturned in a follow-up vote. His successor, Yvon Labrosse, managed a budget funded 90 per cent by oil companies, loot that he spent to send himself and the councillors on lavish trips to exotic locations. Wives were invited along because, as Labrosse explained, "I found out that you spend more when there are only men. You drink more."

Customary perks offered to the dwindling few still able to bear the city's foul, industrial stench included free snow clearance from driveways, free paving of driveways and free erecting of clotheslines. The freebies were challenged by a vengefully minded pair of failed council candidates who also objected to Labrosse using the city-paid '83 Buick for personal use. Labrosse, who made sure most council business remained incomprehensible to the public, was eventually ordered from office in 1985 by a judge who disapproved of the $9,000 in illegal handouts to a car parts dealer. By then, Labrosse's well-tanned political allies had jumped ship.



Lachine (5)

This city's woes began in 1970, when Jean-Guy Chartier--a mayor with a fondness for discreetly delivered paper bags of cash--refused to reward a vacated council seat to the second-place finisher in the riding, as was custom. The opposition was irate. They boycotted council meetings, ignored a court order to return and were eventually slapped with fines. Anarchy reigned, Lachine fell into trusteeship and opponents exposed the mayor's team of grabbing $200,000 in kickbacks for a water-filtration contract.

An election in the disputed riding saw William McCullock, the man who should have been awarded the seat in the first place, lose to newcomer Victor Timbro. Timbro was soon behind bars for taking bribes and McCullock died an early, heartbroken death. In 1973, new mayor Guy Descary replaced the old-time kickback democracy with the comparably dodgy practice of giving city officials luxurious junkets to such sun-drenched destinations as Hawaii, Israel, Italy and New Orleans. In 1981, McCullock's son, William Jr., was elected to council and attacked Descary's spending. The mayor retaliated by denying McCullock a restaurant permit, but a court overturned the petty reprisal. In 1997, McCullock, to everybody's surprise, was voted mayor. Worried rivals had McCullock charged with fraud, but he was acquitted. Hatred and suspicion reigns to this day as council regularly conducts city business without Mayor McCullock and irate citizens jam council meetings. McCullock recently launched a court action to have nine of 11 councillors kicked off the city payroll.



St-Michel (6)

Maurice Bergeron ruled over a town where a career in the police force could be bought for $500, a zoning change for a cobbler cost $375 in bribes and a taxi permit went for $1,750 in kickbacks. A prosecutor who went after the greasy-palmed mayor in 1968 was warned that he'd "wind up in the river." And in spite of seemingly endless, damning testimonies detailing corruption, Mayor Bergeron went free. Many suspect he got off because he was also an influential organizer for the Union Nationale party, whose government proved reluctant to open a full-scale inquiry. The town, undoubtedly disgusted by the affair, ceased to exist after voting to join Montreal in October 1968.



Town of Mount Royal (7)

Like many island municipalities, decades would pass in TMR without municipal elections, as potential candidates were discouraged from challenging incumbents: such needless democracy was considered an unnecessary expense. In 1960, TMR erected a wire fence along its border to "protect children and pedestrians from the fast traffic along Acadie." Many suspected it was really meant to the keep out residents of the less-affluent Park Extension. Montreal protested that it was "greatly offended" by the fence and TMR Mayor Reginald Dawson and councillors mused about taking it down. In 1970, 300 students tried to demolish the barrier and Dawson agreed that it should go. The wall between rich and poor was to be demolished in 1971, but was instead reinforced and stands to this day as a vile symbol of the semi-gated community.



Outremont (8)

In the '80s, this old-boys-club city became an unlikely stage for a reenactment of the FLQ crisis, with Gérard Pelletier--a convicted FLQ armed robber--serving on council while former provincial Justice Minister Jérome Choquette was mayor. In 1988, Pelletier spearheaded a divisive campaign, organizing opposition to a zoning request to allow for a new orthodox synagogue. Meanwhile Choquette, who once passed a law banning people from wearing swimsuits in the city, hired a team of armed guards to protect the city's parks because reports suggested that several dozen young people had started spending time there.



Anjou (9)

After being elected amid suspicions of ballot stuffing in 1960, Ernest Crépault seemed hell-bent on becoming the most legendary, all-time most vile island mayor. In 1964, the Quebec Liquor Board reneged on a plan to locate in the area simply because they disliked dealing with a mayor double-dipping as a real estate agent. By 1968, his smallish community owed a staggering $49-million, compelling the province to put Anjou into trusteeship. The next year, his police chief--who used to turn known opponents of the mayor away from the ballot box--was discovered to have a criminal record, after which he mysteriously turned up dead. From 1974-79, the now old and ailing Crépeault fought various charges of corruption while repeatedly keeling over in court. The pathetic saga reached its conclusion in 1982 when the city repossessed the ex-mayor's mansion.



St-Laurent (10)

A political spat shone the spotlight onto this sprawling, industrial burg in 1988, exposing a nasty can full of patronage and nepotism. When one councillor was asked how she managed to get three family members on the payroll, she said, "If I had a dozen children, they'd all work for the city." Another councillor got his brother a $28,400 gig simply taking photos for the city, while the legal department racked up bills 20 times that of comparably sized neighbours. The city reached the cusp of anarchy when two councillors were deemed to have been sitting illegally after spending city cash for their personal legal affairs, leading to massive confusion and the threat that all bylaws passed during their illegal stays would have to be undone. The city later chose to commemorate the mayor who presided over this mayhem, Marcel Laurin, by naming a major thoroughfare after him.



Other head-scratching suburban moments

Westmount council--known for its all-you-can-drink, mid-meeting wine breaks for elected officials--decided in 1971 to revoke taxi permits of any cab driver with long hair, a moustache or beard.

In a council session in August 1966, the Town of Mount Royal passed 20 bylaws in 20 minutes. They boasted that they could have done it in 15 but Mayor Reginald Dawson's chair collapsed and had to be repaired.

In the '30s Outremont, for reasons known best to itself, forced its police officers to wear heavy woolen winter jackets, even on scorching hot summer days.

In 1966 Verdun doled out $104,000 for "an electronic brain" which they boasted "will practically run the city."

In 1963 an Outremont bylaw forbade any gas station from opening within 200 feet of a school, but conversely, no bylaw banned a school from opening near a gas station, leading council to okay a children's school just 25 feet from the pumps.

In July 1968 Roma Food was convicted of peddling rotten meat but appealed and got off on a technicality: the company was headquartered in Ville St-Laurent and Montreal inspectors had no jurisdiction to check their bad meat.

Lachine chose to get tough against a wave of vandalism in a park in the '30s by putting up a sign reading "Persons of good education and morals are invited in this park."

In 1988, Montreal West tried to ban pick-up trucks, motor homes and commercial vans from streets and driveways. In 1962, Verdun tried to tax cable TV, in 1989 Lachine outlawed pit bull terriers and in 1963 Outremont considered banning people wearing short pants.