Peter Stoffer's office. RIP. Photos by Jenn Jefferys
This article originally appeared on VICE Canada.
On Parliament Hill, there are very few judgement-free sanctuaries to catch one's breath and really relax amid the noise and vanity.
In my early twenties, as a volunteer for another NDP MP, I found one space where I could get a beer and let my political guard down a little—namely, Peter Stoffer's office.
There's a number of things about the thickly-mustached Nova Scotian that set him apart from his colleagues. For one, he sat quite contently among the back benches of the House of Commons for 18 years until becoming a casualty of the Liberals' bloody sweep of the Atlantic provinces this October. If you asked him why he was content to be on the sidelines, he'll tell you it's so he had more time to engage with his constituents (not exactly a typical mentality among some of the more power-hungry people in the House).
Stoffer had also established that nice, regular guy reputation that Rob Ford so desperately wanted. Stoffer calls it as he sees it, so when someone says something dickish, he calls them a "dickhead."
If you really get to know Stoffer (probably over a beer or a rum and coke—which were always flowing in that office), you'll learn pretty fast that this isn't your standard, yawn-inducing white-collar parliamentarian. This is just a dude who really digs telling stories, hosting parties, and helping folks out—particularly veterans, who were his primary focus during his time in office.
If there's a party happening on the Hill you can generally assume Stoffer is hosting or organizing it, and you can also assume that politicos from across the political spectrum will be welcomed. Reporters, staffers, volunteers, MPs, senators—literally everyone is invited when Stoffer's door is open.
There's a lot of great stories that start with "the other night at Stoffer's office..." And not just from dippers. Why? Because there really was no place else where some of the most stressed out, high-strung people in the country could kick off their heels, loosen their tie, throw a few back, and just chill the fuck out for once. Stoffer absolutely loves being the national vessel for chilling. He's kind of like that one uncle you can't wait to see at Christmas every year cause he always manages to keep it real and sneak you some booze when your parents aren't looking.
Once you get past the stache, the second thing you will notice about Stoffer is that he's kind of a hoarder. His office is covered in wall-to-wall shit—thousands of baseball caps, political pins and memorabilia, sports gear, puppets and stuffed toy animals, flags, military equipment, and more photos and awards than you'd want to count. There's a story behind every piece, and Stoffer is more than happy to tell you about it. The man loves to talk.
In the middle of the office, a full-sized pool table has sat for years to welcome countless friendly games across party lines. A dart board also dons his wall, and a guestbook sits open to all those who pass through.
When I caught up with Stoffer during his last week on the Hill, he was in the process of regaling half a dozen friends and well-wishers the story of how he once "stole a Greyhound bus" and somehow "never got arrested" (I never did find out whether this tale was true or not. Knowing him, it probably was.) He unceremoniously sat in an old wooden rocking chair, with a giant smile on his face and a can of beer in hand—getting up to give a hug or handshake every few minutes as a new guest arrived to pay their respects, Maritime Godfather-style.
VICE: So. You didn't see the results once said when he came to Canada that Canadians waved at him with all their fingers, you know? All their fingers, not just one. I mean, and he said 75 percent of Americans don't like him, but he sure loves that other 30 percent.
These things happen in politics. You can't take it personal, because if you do, then you shouldn't do this job. And the people of Canada, they're not wrong. The only people who are wrong on Election Day are those who don't vote.
Now, I expect this office that we're in is very special to you, and holds a lot of memories. What will you miss the most about it?
The people. I mean the thousands upon thousands upon thousands of people who came to this office. Just to see it, out of curiosity. But it all sums up with a couple of Americans a few years ago who were the window. And they went to the guard below, and they looked up, and they said to the guard, "How do we get to the gift shop upstairs?" That was perfect. Then I knew I had it right.
But I can't tell you how many cabinet ministers, MPs, individuals, who have come in, closed the doors, had a couple of beers, and had a game of pool with me. Just to talk about whatever they wanted to talk about. Because they knew that one, I was a relaxed fellow, they could come in here and be comfortable. And that whatever happened here, goes with me to the grave. From all parties.
.
Okay, I've got one more question for you: If you could give one piece of advice to a young person, maybe someone feeling kind of cynical about politics, what would you give them?
Get involved. Run for politics. Regardless of what level you are—regional, municipal, provincial, federal—go for it. It's a great career.
For women as well?
Absolutely. The more women we have the better it will be.
There's a lot of feminist memorabilia in here. Do you identify as a feminist?
Yeah. Why not? I have two daughters, my wife's strong. Why not? If we have more women involved in politics, I think it would be better for everybody.
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