Porter: What I learned at campaign boot camp

I went to campaign boot camp this weekend.

It was at Metro Hall, a place that competes with Pearson's luggage pickup halls for inspirational ambience. Grey carpet, fluorescent lights, grinding escalators.

But the aspiring candidates were a knockout. The room looked like the subway. Headscarves, dreadlocks, hennaed fingers – and BlackBerrys. One exception: Almost all of them were women. One, Ella Rebanks, pushed her 7-month-old baby around in a stroller to get her to sleep between workshops. That's dedication.

We were there to glean some practical tips on what it takes to run for office from political veterans such as former NDP MP Peggy Nash and backroom Liberal campaign strategist Nicole Lovell.

"If I say anything," former Toronto mayor Barbara Hall told the 40 political recruits, "make sure you have a good handshake – that you convey warmth and strength."

You'd think that would have been obvious to someone like me. I've covered a municipal election as a reporter. But I still don't know how the machine works.

For instance: It costs about $24,000 to run a credible campaign, so start asking everyone you know for a donation. Directly. Like this: "I'm running for city politics; it really requires a lot of money to do this," instructed Charm Darby, a financial adviser. At this point in your ramble, reach out and touch the person's arm, she said. "I would be so grateful if you would consider donating to my campaign."

Darby ran against Councillor Karen Stintz last election. She once dismounted her bike on Don Mills Rd. to ask two male joggers she regularly passed to donate. The chutzpah! They both sent cheques for $750 two weeks later.

Most first-time campaigns are failures. They're considered dry runs. But facing a chronically male council chambers, Velma Morgan decided some nitty-gritty practical advice might speed up the process.

"We have to change the face of politics," said Morgan, a board member of Equal Voice, a non-profit group aiming to unjam the political door to women. "There are a lot of men."

I went to six workshops. Here are five things I learned:

1. Hold your nose and wear the clothes. Did we learn nothing from Hillary? Female politicians are more scrutinized than their male colleagues. If you ignore that on principle, it will be at your peril. Book hairdressing appointments in advance. Pick your canvassing and debating outfits and stick to them. Get a superstar portrait photographer for your brochures. "It is going to be in people's homes, on their coffee tables," said Darby. "They are going to judge you for it."

2. Misery loves company, so canvass in groups. That way when someone hollers `You are an idiot,' you can chuckle rather than cry. "I remember someone yelling at me to get off their porch and I said, `I know you're warming up to me,'" Nash said. Your sidekick can also be your fall girl, cutting off an escalating debate so you can hit the next door without seeming rude.

3. Sticks and stones will come into play. Women, I learned, are averse to attack campaigns. Many aspiring candidates said they wanted to focus only on the positive. That won't cut it, advised Jane O'Hara, crack journalist and Hall's former press secretary. "There is no point in running a campaign if you can't say why the incumbent should be defeated."

4. Volunteers mean as much as money. You will win or lose by them. So collect and treasure yours. Carry a pad and pen with you at all times to write down the names and numbers of prospective volunteers. That's how Liberal MPP David Caplan recruited Lovell to work on his first campaign. He met her at a party, said he'd love it if she would think about helping out.

Two weeks later, his brother invited her to a strategy meeting. "I felt really important and special that he'd remembered me," she said. Caplan won the election. His team of volunteers exceeded 1,000.

5. It's not you, stupid. Yes, that's your face on the pamphlet. And you taking shots at the podium. But it's not personal. "Your candidacy isn't about you," said Alejandra Bravo, 38. "You're just a vehicle for an idea."

Bravo ran twice against Cesar Palacio for council. She had reasons to take things personally. She was known as "the girl," she recalled. She had her third child before her second run. "There was a whisper campaign about how I'd abandoned my children," she said.

Roll in some gravel. Politics is a blood sport – it's best to develop scabs.

Bravo lost her second run by a paltry 280 votes.

But she won, she says. Through her campaign, she'd gleaned new contacts and a fat profile. She was recruited by the Maytree Foundation to launch their School4Civics program. It's an extended version of this boot camp, four months of coaching people who don't see themselves reflected in city hall on what it takes to get elected.

Her point: You don't have to win to deliver on your campaign promises.

The campaign is the end, not the journey.

Catherine Porter usually appears Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.

Email: cporter@thestar.ca