Globe: Bombardier Subway Deal - Take from T. Bay
From the Globe:
Thunder Bay looks south for help
Bombardier subway contract could ease some of the region's unemployment pains
ANTHONY REINHART
THUNDER BAY -- As powerful as human nature can be, nature itself has always loomed larger than the humans in Thunder Bay, the population centre of northwestern Ontario's wooded universe.
Its 109,000 residents -- assuming the number hasn't shrunk since the 2001 census -- are fond of turning visitors' eyes toward the natural wonders that surround their small city, most notably the Sleeping Giant, a rock formation that lies, in a strikingly human way, off the shore of Lake Superior, and flat-topped Mount McKay, standing watch high over the south end.
People here are nothing if not appreciative of nature's power to give and to take away; for decades they have hewn a living from the vast forests only to see their industry badly eroded by red tape, politics and high energy prices.
These days, those who aren't eyeing a move to booming Alberta are looking south to Toronto in hope that the nobler aspects of human nature will help them stop the bleeding -- or at least slow it down.
Over the past few weeks, more than 3,000 people here have sent letters to Toronto City Council, urging it to stand behind the Toronto Transit Commission's plan to spend about $700-million on 234 subway cars from Bombardier's Thunder Bay plant without inviting bids from foreign competitors.
In Toronto, a handful of councillors have turned the exclusive negotiations into fodder for a typical election-year dust-up. In Thunder Bay, where the air is clearer and the threats easier to see, the implications of the Bombardier contract resonate far beyond city hall.
"It's the only big industry left around here," Terry Boehler, 44, said last week at the sprawling plant, taking a break from his work inside the unfinished hulk of a new GO Transit railcar, soon to head south for Toronto commuters.
Even at that "big" means a work force of about 450, half of what it was three years ago. The TTC contract, if approved by Toronto council this month, will ensure five years' work for 300 people at this plant, and keep 250 employed at GTA parts suppliers, officials say.
Mr. Boehler, the widowed father of a 14-year-old son, embodies the precariousness of Thunder Bay's once-solid employment market. As a young man, he put in 12 years on the docks before the winds of the global grain trade shifted and blew most of the ships away. He landed a job at Bombardier 10 years ago, but wound up back on the street, on employment insurance and then welfare, after the big layoff in 2003.
"They called me back here last week," said Mr. Boehler, whose name remains on a "spare board" of workers the company calls in to fill vacancies of less than a week.
With an economy so reliant on raw materials that are sought, bought and turned into goods by people living elsewhere, namely Southern Ontario, people here are well attuned to the impacts of decisions made far away from them, where the power rests.
While few in Thunder Bay would begrudge Toronto its privileged role as the country's economic engine, the subway controversy has some wondering if it has forgotten where the fuel for that engine comes from.
"You can't manufacture furniture without wood," Mayor Lynn Peterson said in her office a day after watching Toronto council, by live video link, vote down an attempt to scuttle the TTC's talks with Bombardier. "The interdependency of the communities in this province is far tighter than people realize."
Ms. Peterson cited a local forestry company that spent $600-million on supplies last year: Half of that money went to companies in Southern Ontario; and $270-million of that to Toronto.
Electricity costs are also a sore point in Ontario's northwest. While the region can produce more power than it needs, and do so more cheaply than the nuclear-reliant south, its users still must pay rates, set by decision makers in the south, that are the highest in Canada. These high rates are often cited as a key forestry job killer.
John Irwin expects the axe to fall any time now. He works at a local paper mill, "and they're right on the verge of shutting it down," he says.
With 30 years invested, he'll be in line for a decent severance package. But at 48 he doesn't expect an easy time finding a new job that will carry him into retirement.
Sipping his coffee outside Robin's Donuts, across from a convenience store that sells the Calgary Herald alongside the Toronto papers, Mr. Irwin knows what that could mean.
"I would move, probably out west," he said. "You don't really have a choice."
The limited choices of northwestern Ontarians have led to calls for greater political autonomy from the south; some have even suggested breaking off and joining Manitoba, since their voices would have to carry only as far as Winnipeg, half the distance to reach Toronto.
While separation is unrealistic, the alienation of those calling for it finally seems to be getting some attention at Queen's Park, said Livio Di Matteo, chair of the economics department at Thunder Bay's Lakehead University.
"Since the Manitoba issue came up, there's been a cabinet minister up here about every two weeks," said Dr. Di Matteo, a Thunder Bay native who grew up within view of what is now the Bombardier plant.
Still, he said it shouldn't have to take constant lobbying to get people in Southern Ontario to realize their decisions can have huge ramifications for people in the rest of the province -- people who pay provincial taxes that help to fund Toronto's transit system.
"The average Torontonian thinks everybody [outside Toronto] hates them, and that's not the case," Dr. Di Matteo said. "People here just want to be listened to."
Like just about everyone else here, he hopes the recent political tussles over the subway deal prove to be just that -- politics.
"In an election year, the way to get attention is to stand up for the taxpayer, and it's easier to stand up like that when the jobs are somewhere else," he said.
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