The Brussels Post, 1972-05-03, Page 2Foot bridge over the Maitland
f °11 9
ESTABLISHED
1872
I4Brussels Post
BRUSSELS
ONTARIO
Serving Brussels and the surrounding community
published each Wednesday afternoon at Brussels, 'Ontario
by McLean Bros. Publishers, Limited.
Evelyn Kennedy - Editor Tom Haley - Advertising
Member Canadian Community. Newspaper Association and
Ontario Weekly Newspaper Association.
Subscriptions (in advance) Canada $4.00 a year, Others
$5.00 a year, Single Copies 10 cents each.
Second class mail Registration No. 0562.
Telephone 88'7-6641.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 3, 1972
All Canadians benefit
Since Confederation there has
been a continual struggle over fin-
ances, not only between the federal
and provincial governments, but also
between provincial governments,
namely the "have" and "have not"
oraGinces.
The outstanding public event of
the depression years of the thirties
was Rowell-Sirois Report which re-
commended a rational system for
providing a basic common level of
government services to people in
all provinces regardless of their
differing economic circumstances.
This principle has been applied
ever since the war and has been
supported by all federal govern
ments and by all political parties.
Despite the fact that equalization
has been reviewed and brought up to
date periodically, there are those
who use the process as the basis of
arguments based on prejudice.Quebec
is getting too much they say or we
in Ontario are paying too much. It
just isn't so.
The proposed-equalization pay-
ments amount to $213 to each person
in Newfoundland and Prince Edward
Island; in New Brunswick, Nova
Scotia and Saskatchewan, the per
capita payments are $164, $135 and
$102 respectively; while Quebec and
Manitoba each are closer to the
national average for revenue poten-
tial and qualify for $75 and $58
per person respectively.
Next time somebody in the club or
other organization you belong to •asks if
you'd handle the publicity for some event
that's coming up, take my advice and
respond with a ringing "NO.!'
That's the way they always put it:
"Handle the publicity." Casual. Nothing
to it. You just "handle" it.
Well, I'm sitting here in my underwear
trying to write a column, because I've
just finished a two-week stint of "handl-
ing" the publicity and I'm soaking wet from
the waist up.
Why? Because I'm just home after
galloping up and down the main street
begging merchants to put posters in their
windows.
I should have known better. I got
my baptism quite a few years ago when
I took on the publicity chores for an
election campaign. And I've been in-
volved in three elections since, each time
emerging in the same condition: wring-
ing wet and swearing "never again".
But the first one was the worst one.
I was a lot younger or I'd probably not
have come through it without cracking up.
My candidate was young, had never run
before, and was up against a man who
belonged to the large government majority.
The latter should have been a shoo-in.
But we licked him.
We formed a triumvirate: Ross
Whither, the candidate, Geordie Hough,
campaign manager, and myself, publicity
manager.
Ross beat the back roads and wore
out three pairs of shoes. Geordie beat
every bush in the county raising money.
And I beat my brains to the bone writing
speeches and news releases and advertise-
ments.
Hardly anybody pays any attention to
the platforms of the various parties, so
you have to sell the man. And there are
only so many ways of saying, "Our guy
is better than their guy."
You say your guy has more children
than their guy and that the former is
active in church work. The opposition
counters by pointing out their guy's ex-
perience and claiming he is vitally in-
terested in crippled children. And so on.
-You challenge your opponent, in an
ad, to a public debate. He gets free public-
ity by refusing on the grounds that there
is no evidence your guy has anything
worth listening to in public. And so on.
Then there are the advertisements.
We had ten weeklies and a daily paper
involved, plus two radio stations. And
We never had enough Money. So, every
ad had to be small but packed with power.
Try this sonietime. Try getting across
a vital message in a thirty-second dom-
ni ercial.
Oh well, it was sort of fun at the time,
and I learned that a man can work 18
hours a day and emerge, if not unscathed,
at least alive. As I recall, the only material
reward was a crock of Crown Royal. Not
because-the candidate was a cheap-skate,
blit because he was up to his ears in bills,
after the election.
As I said, I should have known better,
at my age, than to "handle the publicity" \
again. But when I was asked, I responded
like an old war horse who has been through
the reek and blood of battle, but can't
resist it.
It was such a little thing, really. Just
the publicity for an Open House at our
school, to mark the completion of a new
wing, built to the tune of three million.
Nothing to it. A no-profit event. Just let
the papers know . etc.
Next thing I know, I'm writing ads,
churning out thousands of words of copy,
trying to con radio and television stations
into believing that the "news item" I am
phoning in is not paid advertising, com-
posing a letter for 1300 kids to take home
to their parents, writing letters of invi-
tation to various dignitaries, arranging
printing of posters, and finally distribut-
ing these in person.
However, I've managed to totter
through once again. The only thing that
bothers me is that I enlisted one of my
young assistants in the English department
into writing radio commercials, and I'm
afraid he's hooked. He's been batting out
thirty-second commrcials with not only
elan but gusto. I wouldn't be surprised if he
quit teaching English and went into adver-
tiSing, a fate worse than death.
There's one other unfortunate side
effect. My wife and daughter have a wed-
ding coming up. The former is flying in
ever-decreasing circles of panic and ac-
cuses me of having deserted her during
the crisis, because I've spent so much
time - you guessed it - "handling the
publicity."
Fortunately, Kim is blithely uncon-
cerned about the whole thing. She constant-
ly remarks, "Stop worrying, Mo M.There"s
nothing to it" which has the effect of
turning the Old Battleaxe a deep shade
of violet, while her head whirls with
thoughts of invitations and announcements
to be printed, the houge to get ready,
the flowers to' be organized, arid the
casual kid's wedding dress not even
thought of, with ten days to go. Not to
mention, ',When is the yard going to be
cleaned Up?" and "I'll never get' that'
chair back from the upholsterer'S in
time'', and simply, "I can't face it."
Like Kim, I believe the Wedding Will
take place, and it will scarcely rate
in the history books with the crossing
of the Red sea.
Sugar and Spice
by Bill Smiley