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Knack, who is trying to balance a socially progressive platform
— emphasizing affordable housing and mental-health services —
with a “back-to-basics” focus on growth, affordability and safety,
all anchored by his smiling “nice guy” persona. Running as an
independent, the three-term city councillor has called the new
model of partisan municipal slates “poison,” warning it will bring
fighting and negativity to council. As he told Real Talk host Ryan
Jespersen the morning after his campaign launch, “I don’t think
you have to become a fighter to get things done in politics.”
On the other hand, Tim Cartmell, the apparent mayoral front-
runner who founded the centre-right Better Edmonton Party,
seems to recognize the unpopularity of Sohi’s discreet approach
with his promise to “fix what’s broken” and “get shit done.” Yet,
when you drill down on Cartmell’s platform, it’s even more boiler-
plate than Knack’s: a promise to focus on basic services, to create
safe streets, to practice fiscal responsibility, to identify inefficien-
cies and to create a 100-day post-election action plan to look at
safety, snow clearing and road construction. Whatever he lacks in
imagination, he makes up for in scrappiness and self-assurance.
If Sohi possesses these qualities at all, he doesn’t like to show
them. His humility, it seems, is too entrenched.
During our interview, he told me a story about his first federal
run in 2015, which seemed to embody his distaste for political
theatre. During the campaign, his 101-year-old father took Sohi
aside and said to him, “I know you are worried you’re not going
to win, but I want you to remember that what you say today and
what you say during this election is going to reflect on you and
who you are. Do not do anything that you will end up regretting.”
Back at the Royal Palace for the election night
party that never was, I took a moment to speak with a couple of
Sohi supporters named Randeep Dhaliwal and Deepak Sondhi.
Dhaliwal told me that politics has always been Sohi’s passion. “It
doesn’t matter if he wins or loses tonight,” said Dhaliwal. (It was
still early in the night, before the numbers finally told us which
one of those it was going to be.) “He’ll always be serving his com-
munity. He wants to serve the public.”
Sondhi agreed. “Remember, he started as a bus driver. Then a
councillor, then a federal minister, then Mayor. I didn’t support him
because he was a Liberal or a Conservative or whatever. I support-
ed him because he’s a friend of the community. Fingers crossed!”
Crossed fingers didn’t help. By 9:15 p.m., the mood in the room
felt conflicted. It seemed clear by then that the Liberals would
win, but not with Edmonton Southeast. It was now simply
about waiting for Sohi to arrive and make a speech acknowl-
edging the reality of the result. But by 9:45, he still had not
shown up. At 10 p.m., big groups of people began to leave. You
could almost see and hear people asking themselves, Where is he?
Then the giant televisions showing the election results started
glitching and, almost eerily, the ballroom lights began flickering.
The metaphor (the bulb of Sohi’s once-bright political career
powering off) was as obvious as it was uncanny.
Sohi finally arrived about a quarter past ten. After shaking a
few hands and giving out a few hugs, he went to a stage festooned
with his campaign’s posters and banners, the whole production
now looking more sorrowful than festive. Once at the micro-
phone, he signalled to his staff to shut off the televisions still
blaring away in the corner. For some inexplicable reason, no one
seemed able to do so. After a moment, the screens went blank but
the sound remained on and somehow louder. The sound finally
42 EDify. JULY•AUGUST.25
went off but the lights above him kept popping and crackling. If
ever there was a series of signals that perhaps this was not meant
to be, here it was.
The whole thing was shambolic. And yet, despite undoubtedly
just wanting to get it all over with, Sohi kept his cool and
handled his concession speech, and the media scrum that
followed, graciously. He had referred to his future previously,
but when asked by reporters what his City Hall plans were, Sohi
reiterated, firmly and formally, that he would be finishing his
term out as mayor and would not run again. He seemed to take a
beat to absorb the full meaning of the statement, that this may in
fact have been his final campaign.
When he finally left the stage and began moving through the
hug line toward the exit door, I expected him to go through these
motions and then call it a night — and a career. But to my surprise
he didn’t rush at all. He lingered, looked people in the eye, made
each person feel noticed and appreciated … all while the lights in
the room continued to flicker like a bartender flashing the house
lights at last call.
Once he made his way through the line of supporters, Sohi
found himself strategically situated by the exit door leading out
to the foyer and the parking lot. I imagined his staff had planned
it that way. But instead of proceeding through the exit, he turned
the other direction, towards the bar and the main part of the
banquet hall. There were still quite a few people standing and
sitting around in pods of four or five. As Sohi moved deeper
into the room, he kept circulating, making his way from group
to group, exchanging handshakes and conversations, until he’d
basically settled in with the crowd, drinking what looked like a
double shot of straight whisky.
At that point, for reasons I am wholly unable to explain, the
lights in the room began to work again. The flickering stopped.
A kind of calm returned to the room.
By now, it was close to 11 p.m. and yet Sohi continued to seek
out every single person remaining in the hall. If this had been
a week prior to the election I would’ve simply passed it off as a
politician working a room. But the election was over. He’d lost
badly. The biggest humiliation of his political career. I wondered
if a part of him was relieved at the result, unburdened by the
pressure and expectation.
I felt I had seen all I needed to see. It was close to 11:30 p.m.
The screens were off. The banquet hall staff were clearing the
buffet table. About 50 people were milling about. Among them,
a campaign volunteer stacking signs in a rather forlorn pile on
the stage, and the mayor himself, laughing during what appeared
to be a light-hearted conversation. As I left The Royal Palace, I
couldn’t help wondering if he might end up being the last person
to leave. ED.