Subject: Highway Two Revisited
Normally the bus drivers who commandeer the vehicles that carry leadership contestants, their staff and the media around the country are a pretty amiable and reliable lot. Every once in a while though, there's a little slip-up, and so it was on Stephen Harper's excellent adventure on Alberta's Highway Number Two on Sunday. Mr. Harper's officials had organized a convoy down the spine of Alberta in six campaign buses that had the words Conservative plastered across them. Everything had gone well until the buses were scheduled to pull into a whistle-stop on the side of the highway near Bowden, Alta. There, the five buses not carrying the leader pulled off the side of the road at the front entrance of a small park to be greeted by about 25 individuals. While the media waited for Mr. Harper's bus, someone spotted the big blue machine about 500 yards down the road. Much to the chagrin of the assembled group, the bus missed the turn-off and ended up flying past the well-wishers. It returned about 10 minutes later, having had a little tour of the local area. Perhaps, one wag said, Mr. Harper was trolling for votes at a medium security prison located near Bowden. (For the record, Mr. Harper is opposed to giving prisoners the right to vote).
From: Clark, Campbell (With the Liberals)
Sent: Sunday, June 27, 2004 11:39 AM
Subject: Exhaustion
After five weeks of rainy days, buses, and dingy hotel ballrooms from 7 a.m. to midnight, the Liberal campaign tour has set down in beautiful Chester, N.S. A revolt is brewing. We don't want to go.
The exhaustion has set in for real this week. One reporter forgot Paul Martin's name this week as he went to ask a question in the press scrum. The next reporter called upon had forgotten her question, and had to look through her notes. Paul Martin got the names of Liberal candidates mixed up twice yesterday. Today he called Stephen Harper "Joe."
Today's schedule, changed to add a last-minute mad dash for votes, includes touring towns in Nova Scotia until 4 p.m., then travelling to Gatineau, Que., before moving on through Toronto and Winnipeg to Vancouver for a barbecue and rally tonight. We are to fly back to Montreal by 7 a.m. Monday.
But the campaign has come to Paradise for 30 minutes. On the rocky beach at Chester Front Harbour, the sun is blazing, and most of Paul Martin's staff and the travelling press corps are standing out in the sun, or lounging in Adirondack chairs, listening to the speech with one ear. Mr. Martin's press secretary is throwing sticks into the water for two Gloden Retrievers to chase.
"I'm not leaving," one of the PM's staffers says. Several reporters echo the same sentiment.
One reporter comes up with an idea: take a picture of Paul Martin in front of the harbour, then aim the cameras in the other direction and take a picture of him in front of the trees, pretending it's Stanley Park in Vancouver. Then we can sit on the waterfront for the rest of the day.
"You'd all have to be in on it," one of the staffers notes. But it turns out media conspiracies are harder to organize than most people think, and the dream dies.
So we're leaving. But first, Paul Martin dips his toes into the Atlantic, rolling up his pant cuffs to stand in the water. A nervous Mountie scrambles up to Mr. Martin's aides, noting that there is no towel to dry the prime ministerial feet. Speechwriter Scott Feschuk offers the shirt off his back -- ot least the shirt he had been wearing over a T-shirt until we arrived in sunny Chester. The PM apparently has now qualms about wiping his tootsies with Feschuk's shirt, which is graciously returned afterward. Time to go.
