In his 18 years as a champion for tall buildings, gay rights and heritage in Toronto, city Councillor Kyle Rae has never minced words.
Not when he referred to a controversial police visit to a lesbian bath house as "a panty raid." Not when he stared down his own constituents and towering reputations such as Jane Jacobs and Margaret Atwood over a high-rise condo in historic Yorkville.
And not, in an exclusive interview with The Globe and Mail, when he announced he will not run in the 2010 election.
"The next four [years]are going to be just as dire as the last 18, and I do not wish to take part any longer in the struggle of municipal government making ends meet," said the 54-year-old, who has sat on council for almost two decades.
He blamed a "vile political culture" that allows senior governments to download services, leaving cities to pick up the financial pieces.
"They [senior governments]are trapped in this game where they don't want to appear to increase taxes [themselves] but are quite prepared to have the city do so," says Mr. Rae, chairman of council's economic development committee.
Mr. Rae's tart bon mots have been all the more memorable because, in council debate, he is a man of few words who speaks only when he has something to say. It's part of an unapologetic persona that befits a councillor overseeing a broad swath of the city with a wildly mixed electorate. Elected in 1991 as Toronto's first openly gay politician, Mr. Rae serves Ward 27, Toronto-Centre Rosedale, which encompasses residents of Rosedale mansions, the largest homeless shelter in the country and the Gay Village.
Unlike many of his council mates, he looks beyond his ward to the city as a whole, making him one of the most influential figures in modernizing the city's skyscape.
And, uncharacteristically for most politicians, Mr. Rae is not afraid to scold local residents when he disagrees with them.
As councillor, he has overseen the designation of two heritage districts that include 2,000 homes in Rosedale and pushed through a bylaw to prevent the demolition of neglected heritage buildings. In condo and other development projects in his ward, Mr. Rae has secured more than 10 acres (four hectares) of open space and campaigned hard for the rejuvenation of Yonge-Dundas Square.
On leaving, he is no less unabashed.
"There needs to be a radical change on the council," he declares, adding that speeches have changed little since Toronto's forced amalgamation in 1998. "For most of the colleagues, they are interested in protecting their neighbourhoods and not taking a city-wide view," Mr. Rae contends.
His own idea for leaving first took form after the last election in 2006. The decision, backed by his partner, artist Mark Reid, hardened in recent months.
"Since the summer, I have been quite resolute in the direction I am going in," he said, adding that he has not figured out his next career move. Late last night, the politician sent a lengthy memo to his council colleagues about his plans to leave city hall.
Toronto Mayor David Miller, who is also not seeking re-election next year, characterized Mr. Rae as someone who is prepared to support the necessary investments to build a 21st-century city. "His record is one of action, whether it is standing up for human rights, standing up for jobs, for his neighbourhood, or saying it is okay to build a very tall building at Bay and Bloor," said the mayor.
In a controversial move that changed the built form in downtown Toronto, Mr. Rae rebuffed city planners who envisioned a squat 12-storey slab tower at 18 Yorkville Ave. Through negotiations that brought together residents, developers and planners, Mr. Rae won city council approval in 2000 for a slender 33-storey glass "point tower," one of the first in a city that now brags of more than 100 buildings that stand 26 storeys or higher - more than half of them in the downtown area.
"The planning department did not want point towers. They wanted to continue to support Euro loaves: short, squat fat buildings when in fact the public was looking for and demanding a built form that was far more positive and attractive," Mr. Rae says. "There's a hunger people have for a better urban design in the city."
Some residents were infuriated by Mr. Rae's largely pro-development stand. Less visibly, he also rejected projects that he felt failed to meet the test of high-quality urban design.
No less important a pillar of his political career is Mr. Rae's gay-rights activism. In 1994, he left the New Democratic Party after the Ontario premier at the time, Bob Rae, refused to demand that party members vote in favour of the first attempt at legislation to recognize same-sex marriage.
In 2003, the year that Toronto City Hall became a venue for gay weddings and he himself got married, Kyle Rae publicly blasted local officials for ignoring the tourism potential of same-sex travellers.
Mr. Rae doesn't have a successor in mind, but he does have some advice for anyone who wants to take a crack at what will be a hotly contested open race. "Politics is about listening," he says. "It doesn't mean you listen and do what people want, but you need to listen, digest and figure out what is a solution. If it is not [a solution] you need to tell them that. That's one of the things that made me different from a lot of my colleagues," says Mr. Rae. "They were not prepared to say no to their constituents. I have."
Jennifer Lewington