The real story behind Mayor Miller’s elevator rescue
Neither Shriners nor anarchists nor blackouts can stay the heroes of City Hall
Mark Schatzker
From Saturday's Globe and Mail Published on Friday, Jul. 09, 2010 6:08PM EDT Last updated on Friday, Jul. 09, 2010 6:49PM EDT
“David Miller responds to man’s tweet for help” – headline, Toronto Star, Mon. July 5
TORONTO CITY HALL, office of mayor. DAVID MILLER is shirtless, seated on a stool in an Adonis pose as his sidekick, ADAM GIAMBRONE, carves his likeness in Carrera marble.
MAYOR MILLER: When Porter Airlines digs the tunnel to the Island Airport, have Solid Waste Management look into diverting sewage pipe into it, ideally during the ribbon cutting…. How do I look?
GIAMBRONE brushes the dust off the bust’s muscular chest.
GIAMBRONE: Like the opposite of Rob Ford.
MAYOR MILLER: To carve his bust, you’d have to use cookie dough.
GIAMBRONE explodes with laughter.
JOE PANTALONE enters.
PANTALONE: Sir, an emergency tweet is coming in!
MAYOR MILLER: What is it?
PANTALONE: There’s been a power blackout. A citizen is trapped in an elevator on the 18th floor of the TD Bank Tower.
MAYOR MILLER: A garbage man?
PANTALONE: No. He works in marketing.
MAYOR MILLER: Still, we must help him.
GIAMBRONE is still doubled over, laughing uncontrollably at the Rob Ford joke. MAYOR MILLER slaps him hard across the face.
MAYOR MILLER: Pull yourself together, man! [to PANTALONE] Fire up the Red Rocket.
In mere seconds, MAYOR MILLER has changed into a skin-tight blue superhero outfit. ADAM GIAMBRONE is wearing a green elfin tunic and is struggling to aim his toes into a pair of bright yellow tights.
MAYOR MILLER: Are you ready?
GIAMBRONE [struggling]: I can’t seem to… get my legs… into these… stockings.
MAYOR MILLER: Then go commando. It’s hotter than a garbage incinerator – something I would never support – out there.
The Red Rocket, the mayor’s private jet-powered super-streetcar is waiting outside City Hall. GIAMBRONE is shaking its driver, who is snoring loudly.
GIAMBRONE: Wake up, silly! Wake up! A citizen is trapped in an elevator! Wake up!
MAYOR MILLER: It’s no use. He sleeps at this time every day. You’ll just disrupt his circadian rhythm and he’ll be in a bad mood all afternoon. We’ll have to get there on foot.
MAYOR MILLER and GIAMBRONE begin running down King Street in 34-degree heat (40 degrees with the Humidex). Though MAYOR MILLER stops periodically to hand out tickets to idling motorists, GIAMBRONE still struggles to keep up with him.
GIAMBRONE [panting]: Can barely… keep up. [he wheezes] Running out… of breath. [he wheezes more] Scrotum… chafing.
At King and University, a mob of angry young men and women dressed in black and wearing gas masks surround MAYOR MILLER and GIAMBRONE.
GIAMBRONE: Is there a gas leak?
MAYOR MILLER: No.
GIAMBRONE: Then this can only mean one thing…
MAYOR MILLER and GIAMBRONE [in unison]: The Black Bloc!
The Black Bloc anarchists surround MAYOR MILLER and GIAMBRONE, yelling “Capitalists!,” “Yuppie scum!” and “Non-vegans!” MAYOR MILLER strikes a karate pose. GIAMBRONE starts to cry.
GIAMBRONE: What do we do now?
MAYOR MILLER: Nothing.
At that very moment, the ShrinersParade
, wearing their signature red fez caps, turns from University onto King. Witnessing the unruly mob, hundreds of octogenarians dismount their mini-cars and do battle with the Black Bloc, who are easily overwhelmed by their more established, better-connected, financially independent opponents. Cries of “Fascist!” and “My civil rights are being trampled!” rise from the black and red scrum.
MAYOR MILLER appears in a golf cart. [Honking the horn at GIAMBRONE]: Hop in!
GIAMBRONE: Don’t you need to be a Shriner to drive one of those?
MAYOR MILLER places a fez atop his blond/grey locks, then gives a fellow Shriner a secret handshake.
GIAMBRONE [flabbergasted]: But… but… but…
MAYOR MILLER: You don’t get to be mayor of this town on good looks alone, son.
GIAMBRONE hops into the passenger seat. MAYOR MILLER floors it, and the golf car screeches down King Street at triple the speed limit.
GIAMBRONE: It’s so fast!
MAYOR MILLER: And sustainable!
FRONT LOBBY, TD Bank Tower. GIAMBRONE is standing in front of the elevator bank, pressing the up button over and over again.
GIAMBRONE [frantic again]: It’s taking forever!
MAYOR MILLER: The blackout. Remember?
GIAMBRONE: What do we do now?
MAYOR MILLER runs outside, humps his way up a lamppost and rips an overhead streetcar wire down. He runs back into the TD Bank Tower holding the high-voltage wire , which is giving off blue sparks, and plugs it into the elevator banks. The elevators hum back to life. Moments later, the doors open and formerly trapped man who works in marketing exits the elevator, oblivious of the man in the superhero outfit holding a high-voltage streetcar line.
GIAMBRONE: He didn’t even thank us.
MAYOR MILLER: He doesn’t have to. He pays taxes.
GIAMBRONE’s cell phone rings. He answers it.
GIAMBRONE: It’s Joe! Another emergency tweet has come in. Someone at Union Station just recycled a coffee cup without removing the plastic cover.
MAYOR MILLER hands the high voltage cable to GIAMBRONE and runs for the exit.
GIAMBRONE: How long do I have to hold it for?
MAYOR MILLER [entering the revolving door]: For as long as it takes.
MAYOR MILLER: When Porter Airlines digs the tunnel to the Island Airport, have Solid Waste Management look into diverting sewage pipe into it, ideally during the ribbon cutting…. How do I look?
GIAMBRONE brushes the dust off the bust’s muscular chest.
GIAMBRONE: Like the opposite of Rob Ford.
MAYOR MILLER: To carve his bust, you’d have to use cookie dough.
GIAMBRONE explodes with laughter.
JOE PANTALONE enters.
PANTALONE: Sir, an emergency tweet is coming in!
MAYOR MILLER: What is it?
PANTALONE: There’s been a power blackout. A citizen is trapped in an elevator on the 18th floor of the TD Bank Tower.
PANTALONE: No. He works in marketing.
MAYOR MILLER: Still, we must help him.
GIAMBRONE is still doubled over, laughing uncontrollably at the Rob Ford joke. MAYOR MILLER slaps him hard across the face.
MAYOR MILLER: Pull yourself together, man! [to PANTALONE] Fire up the Red Rocket.
In mere seconds, MAYOR MILLER has changed into a skin-tight blue superhero outfit. ADAM GIAMBRONE is wearing a green elfin tunic and is struggling to aim his toes into a pair of bright yellow tights.
MAYOR MILLER: Are you ready?
GIAMBRONE [struggling]: I can’t seem to… get my legs… into these… stockings.
MAYOR MILLER: Then go commando. It’s hotter than a garbage incinerator – something I would never support – out there.
The Red Rocket, the mayor’s private jet-powered super-streetcar is waiting outside City Hall. GIAMBRONE is shaking its driver, who is snoring loudly.
GIAMBRONE: Wake up, silly! Wake up! A citizen is trapped in an elevator! Wake up!
MAYOR MILLER: It’s no use. He sleeps at this time every day. You’ll just disrupt his circadian rhythm and he’ll be in a bad mood all afternoon. We’ll have to get there on foot.
MAYOR MILLER and GIAMBRONE begin running down King Street in 34-degree heat (40 degrees with the Humidex). Though MAYOR MILLER stops periodically to hand out tickets to idling motorists, GIAMBRONE still struggles to keep up with him.
GIAMBRONE [panting]: Can barely… keep up. [he wheezes] Running out… of breath. [he wheezes more] Scrotum… chafing.
At King and University, a mob of angry young men and women dressed in black and wearing gas masks surround MAYOR MILLER and GIAMBRONE.
GIAMBRONE: Is there a gas leak?
MAYOR MILLER: No.
GIAMBRONE: Then this can only mean one thing…
MAYOR MILLER and GIAMBRONE [in unison]: The Black Bloc!
The Black Bloc anarchists surround MAYOR MILLER and GIAMBRONE, yelling “Capitalists!,” “Yuppie scum!” and “Non-vegans!” MAYOR MILLER strikes a karate pose. GIAMBRONE starts to cry.
GIAMBRONE: What do we do now?
MAYOR MILLER: Nothing.
At that very moment, the Shriners
MAYOR MILLER appears in a golf cart. [Honking the horn at GIAMBRONE]: Hop in!
GIAMBRONE: Don’t you need to be a Shriner to drive one of those?
MAYOR MILLER places a fez atop his blond/grey locks, then gives a fellow Shriner a secret handshake.
GIAMBRONE [flabbergasted]: But… but… but…
MAYOR MILLER: You don’t get to be mayor of this town on good looks alone, son.
GIAMBRONE hops into the passenger seat. MAYOR MILLER floors it, and the golf car screeches down King Street at triple the speed limit.
GIAMBRONE: It’s so fast!
MAYOR MILLER: And sustainable!
FRONT LOBBY, TD Bank Tower. GIAMBRONE is standing in front of the elevator bank, pressing the up button over and over again.
GIAMBRONE [frantic again]: It’s taking forever!
MAYOR MILLER: The blackout. Remember?
GIAMBRONE: What do we do now?
MAYOR MILLER runs outside, humps his way up a lamppost and rips an overhead streetcar wire down. He runs back into the TD Bank Tower holding the high-voltage wire , which is giving off blue sparks, and plugs it into the elevator banks. The elevators hum back to life. Moments later, the doors open and formerly trapped man who works in marketing exits the elevator, oblivious of the man in the superhero outfit holding a high-voltage streetcar line.
GIAMBRONE: He didn’t even thank us.
MAYOR MILLER: He doesn’t have to. He pays taxes.
GIAMBRONE’s cell phone rings. He answers it.
GIAMBRONE: It’s Joe! Another emergency tweet has come in. Someone at Union Station just recycled a coffee cup without removing the plastic cover.
MAYOR MILLER hands the high voltage cable to GIAMBRONE and runs for the exit.
GIAMBRONE: How long do I have to hold it for?
MAYOR MILLER [entering the revolving door]: For as long as it takes.
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