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What Covid wrought
Steve Ferguson is a good man, surely guided by good intentions. Somewhere along the way, he came to believe he might be a transformational leader. One who would guide County residents to a bigger, better, brighter future.
But Prince Edward County wasn’t changing. Not in the way he and others imagined.
It was what it was. And had always been.
But Steve Ferguson had come too far. He was fully invested in the prospect of population growth as the salvation of the County. (A place that largely didn’t know it needed saving.)
When it didn’t happen, Mayor Ferguson was stuck. It was still the same place. Only he had changed.
Steve Ferguson was once driven by the stories of Prince Edward County—of its traditions, its past and its ideas. While still a councillor in South Marysburgh, he organized the first Flashback February Heritage Week in 2018—a celebration of the County’s history and heritage, an event featuring tours, music and storytelling.
His focus changed when he became mayor. More precisely, events changed his outlook. Ferguson was just a little over a year into his first term when Covid-19 forced the world to stop.
Steve Ferguson met the moment. He seemed made for it. While we nervously waited for news of restrictions and PPE supplies, Steve perched himself on his desk with a video camera and spoke to us via YouTube. Calmly. Confident. Purposefully. It was surely his finest hour. When the pandemic began to recede into memory, however, he, along with senior leadership at the time, threw themselves into plans for a massive remaking of Prince Edward County. The pandemic had given him a broad sweep of powers and authority. He seemed intent, indeed, he was encouraged, to use them to do big and bold things.
After all, there was a wave of folks coming to live here, to settle here. Developers said so. Surely they wouldn’t spend money in Prince Edward County if it wasn’t true. Armed with bad information and an overripe sense of authority, he and Shire Hall folk, at the time, embarked on an unprecedented— and ultimately unwarranted— spending spree in preparation for the horde that was about to descend upon this place.
The ranks of Shire Hall swelled without restraint. Big plans were dreamed up. Deals were made with developers that never should have seen the light of day. But by now, Ferguson was on a mission. Guided by an insight only he could see or understand.
But then nothing. The overheated housing market cooled. The wave of folks fleeing the city reverted to the trickle it had always been. Developers put their plans on hold. The predicted population boom was off. (When the census is completed this year, few will be surprised when it reveals that Prince Edward County’s population declined. Again.)
Not quite the conflagration he was banking on.
Then desperation began to set in. When the inevitable pushback came, he flailed. He worried that the County was beholden to the folks who had invested money here. He warned of hellfire and brimstone if the municipality didn’t continue to spend hand over fist, money it didn’t have.
Consider just a handful of the crazy ideas that took life under his mayorship that should have been smothered at conception. A big new street to be paved through existing homes to connect the Picton Foodland to the Heights. The shepherding of the development of fourteen hundred homes on land at Waring’s Creek—an acutely sensitive ecosystem that the municipality had a duty, and a prior agreement, to protect. Oh, and the unrelenting promotion of a $300 million boondoggle to bring water from Wellington to Picton—on the backs of just 6,000 users.
No idea was too big, nor too ludicrous, to set in motion. Money didn’t matter. That Shire Hall’s reserves were empty and it was finding new ways to add debt sheltered from limits set by the province didn’t dull its ambition.
Covid-19 ruined a great many things. In this minor context, it put power and authority into the hands of folks who lacked the training, experience or intuition to use it wisely beyond the immediate emergency. The tail of the pandemic will be with us—and our children— for a long time.
Steve Ferguson was a good man in a crisis. Sadly, he lost his way when the crisis dissipated.
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