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Brash or bully? Meet Sarnia's locked-out 'Mayor Mike'

For a man who has been locked in a fierce political battle — and locked out of city hall on nights and weekends — Sarnia, Ont., Mayor Mike Bradley is surprisingly popular.

"I love the mayor," says resident Isabel Walsh, when stopped on a sidewalk near city hall. "I think he has been great for the city."

Walsh says she is tired of the accusations and turmoil that have gripped this city of 73,000 in recent months. "I think this bullying-harassment thing has gone on way too long … He has paid the price. Get over it, let's move on."

A report released in October concluded that Bradley created a toxic work environment by engaging in "egregious bullying and harassment" when dealing with senior city staff, some of whom have since left. An investigation was launched after four staff complained earlier this year, including Sarnia's city manager, the top unelected official.

In response, city council suspended Bradley's pay for three months.

Councillors said they were compelled to rein him in or risk legal trouble. Failure to act, they have said, would have been seen as tacit approval of bullying, leaving the city vulnerable to lawsuits.

They even considered a plan to move Bradley and his office out of city hall and into a bus-storage barn across town. That plan was eventually deemed impractical, but the after-hours lockout of the mayor wasn't.

Instead, council decided to spend more than $70,000 on a key card system that will separate staff at city hall from all politicians.

Some councillors worry he will never change his hard-charging, my-way-or-the-highway style.

"We decided we're not going to expose any more of our workers to that possibility [of harassment]," Coun. Anne Marie Gillis told CBC News earlier this month.

One of Canada's longest-serving politicians

Bradley doesn't fit the stereotype of a small-town mayor. His office is stuffed with an eclectic mix of souvenirs, from a life-sized cardboard cut-out of astronaut Chris Hadfield (a local boy) to a stuffed kangaroo decorated with the mayor's chain of office ("I have never worn it," he says).

He is filled with restless energy, which has propelled him to contribute to two books about Bruce Springsteen while taking calls from residents and keeping up a punishing pace of media appearances.

Michael Moore, the documentary filmmaker, even interviewed Bradley for 2002's Bowling for Columbine, later dubbing the mayor "the voice of reason."

In Sarnia, he is often called "Mayor Mike" — fitting given his blue-collar image. Bradley says he has good relations with the city's rank-and-file employees; his conflicts, he says, were with top managers.

Bradley has held the mayor's job for 28 years, making him one of Canada's longest-serving politicians. But the 61-year-old says he doesn't rest on his record.

He doesn't appear to rest much at all.

Bradley can be spotted around the city long before dawn in his convertible sports car, heading to a studio to appear as a guest on three different radio stations in an hour.

The car, he jokes, is called "Air Mustang" ("because it sometimes leaves the ground.")

In an era when politicians are cautioned to stick to pre-rehearsed messages and to deflect the unexpected, Bradley casually banters with hosts on one program before quickly switching to another studio and a fresh set of questions.

In his office, he becomes more wary when the topic turns to the turmoil at city hall. It's clear he has been advised not to say anything that might further inflame those who oppose him.

"I have given my heart and soul to this city," he says.

He stops, appearing to be near tears. "I am emotional, because I have given 30 years of my life to this."

'Way beyond fairness'

Bradley has apologized for his clashes with senior staff, repeatedly, although his critics say his words are unconvincing.

"I'm disappointed. I did some things in raising my voice in the workplace that led to all these issues," Bradley says. "I accepted I made mistakes. I'm taking counselling. I think it's gone way beyond fairness."

Many of the city's eight other councillors are dissatisfied with the mayor's apologies and, in their opinion, his lack of interest in teamwork or even co-operation.

"[I'm] not enjoying this very much," Coun. Matt Mitro says in an interview. "[It] wasn't what I planned on doing. I have lots of issues in the city I'd like to be dealing with. This is not one of them."

Bradley has admitted to being a "strong" presence at work and jokes that his problems stem from his Australian, Irish and Canadian heritage. "That combination can be combative," he says.

Bradley says his leadership and ideas have been endorsed by residents over and over again. He was first elected mayor in 1988. He has tried his hand at both federal and provincial politics, running for the Liberals twice and losing each time.

He is philosophical about those losses, saying he prefers working in local government, something he says makes it possible for him to take calls from constituents in order to help them directly.

"I have always prided myself on no barriers," he says. "That's why I have no voicemail."

It's said without irony. After all, the mayor who doesn't like barriers is now barred from city hall after 5 p.m. and is not permitted in the building on weekends.