HURRICANE HAZEL PROFESSIONAL
She even parlayed those early pond-hockey games into a source of income after landing a job in Montreal, she played in a three-team women’s professional league, earning $5 a game. I still do,” she claims, adding that her organic diet of farm-raised vegetables and meats washed down with unpasteurized milk “helped me be healthy, to get a good start on life.” Plus, she was always active, playing hockey with her brothers and sisters, which inculcated a life-long passion for the game. Here, her parents, Armand and Amanda Journeaux, owned a fish processing plant and ran a small farm as well.īorn in 1921, the youngest of the Journeaux brood, she grew up in an Anglican household in the midst of a global depression, which instilled in her the values she carried with her throughout life: the Protestant work ethic, spending money wisely and eating lots of fish. When I quiz her about this seemingly miraculous run of health and longevity, she points back to her formative years, growing up with her two brothers and two sisters (all deceased) in Port Daniel, Que., a small village of 1,500 on the Gaspé Peninsula. A recent fall while lugging wood to her fireplace left her undaunted: “My bones are pretty strong.” She takes no medication, other than a daily Aspirin and a shot for mild osteoporosis. Her mind is razor sharp she can recall names and events instantly without pausing or consulting notes.
Every one of those houses, condos, office buildings, parks and municipal facilities, including those not named after McCallion, have her fingerprints all over them.Īlthough a little hard of hearing and slightly stooped, she doesn’t wear glasses or use a walking aid.
While the City that Hazel Built encompasses all the imperfections of North American suburbia – it’s a sprawling acreage of residential housing, strip malls and stumpy office buildings intersected by four-lane throughways – it does have its virtues: affordable housing, a Living Arts Centre, a big arena, soccerįields, baseball diamonds and libraries all with ample parking. Her no- nonsense and outspoken manner – imagine Don Cherry as your mayor – flamboyant photo ops, confident manner, ridiculously long work hours, boundless energy and uncanny ability to get projects through City Hall in time and under budget earned her that tempestuous moniker – Hurricane Hazel. She was accessible to all, ran a debt-free government and always delivered value for taxes (which she seldom raised).
Perhaps the most towering figure in Canadian municipal political history, in more than 36 years as mayor, she oversaw the transformation of Mississauga from a comatose commuter town west of Toronto into the sixth largest city in the land.Ī retail politician beyond compare, McCallion became famous for showing up at every event, kissing every baby and cutting every ribbon. McCallion demurs at the primping and, using a tone that served her well during her days as mayor of Mississauga, makes it clear to everyone in the room that she’s the boss: “I want the camera to capture who I am.”Ĭapturing Hazel McCallion’s very public persona has never been difficult. Her first point of order this morning is dealing with a blow-dryer-wielding stylist zealously trying to glam her up for the Zoomer photo shoot about to take place in the boardroom. Ninety-eight–year–old “Hurricane” Hazel McCallion, or Madam Mayor as she still prefers to be addressed, is ready to face whatever new challenge this day may bring. As she enters, the receptionist greets her warmly and hands off a cup of fresh coffee, liberally whitened with cream. Unfazed by the frigid wind blowing off Lake Ontario, a tiny old lady nimbly emerges from the car, navigates the icy patches and walks briskly toward the office. A dark Mercedes rolls into the parking lot of the low-rise office building, one of many such squat utilitarian edifices that dot the landscape in this rather bleak stretch of Mississauga, Ont.