“In many affected communities, a carnival atmosphere took over. People made the rounds of neighbours to chat, took to backyards to barbecue and admire the stars, or found refuge in candlelit bars and restaurants.” — Maclean’s magazine, describing the northeast blackout of 2003.
Descriptions like this one made me envious of those who enjoyed the positive side effects of the blackout that struck much of Ontario on August 14, 2003. I’d been travelling from the northwest end of the province back to Toronto as part of a once-in-a-lifetime trip, and it was hard not to feel a sense of FOMO (“fear of missing out”) — it was already clear the event would be remembered for years to come.
My sister and I were 12 days into a cross-continent road trip: we’d gotten our kicks on Route 66 from Chicago to Santa Fe before heading north to take the Trans-Canada Highway east from Calgary. It was the first time I’d ever been in western Canada and, despite the plague of grasshoppers that splatted all over my car throughout Alberta, the trip was going smoothly.
Front page from the August 15, 2003, editions of the Windsor Star,
Not knowing where we’d wind up each day, we booked our hotels on the fly. Around 5 p.m. on August 14, we pulled into an information centre in Ignace to reserve a room in Thunder Bay. The clerk asked where home was.
“Toronto,” I said.
“Good thing you’re not there at the moment,” they replied. “Sounds like there’s a giant blackout down there!”
Less than an hour earlier, at 4:11 p.m., Ontario’s main grid had gone down. At the province’s main power-control centre, workers were shocked when they discovered the province was short 8,000 megawatts of power, about a third of what was required on a steamy summer day. “This was the entire power system imploding,” manager Kim Warren told the Toronto Star years later. “That wallboard we have was lit up like a Christmas tree.”
Editorial cartoon from the August 20, 2003, edition of the Ottawa Citizen.
Over the first few hours, accusations flew back and forth across the border over who was responsible for 50 million people losing electricity across Ontario and seven American states. The blame game grew so ridiculous that Ottawa mayor Bob Chiarelli appeared on NBC to refute a CNN story that inaccurately blamed the national capital area for the blackout. The cause was eventually traced to northern Ohio, where transmission lines drooping onto trees due to the heat triggered a cascading series of failures.
In Ontario, anywhere northwest of Wawa was spared because their power came from a different grid. We had a smooth drive to Thunder Bay, where the only electrical issue we experienced was a blown fuse in our hotel room. Once that was fixed, we settled in to watch the blackout coverage. Television stations from affected areas scrambled to stay on air — we watched WDIV Detroit, where the use of Victorian-style footlights gave the anchors an eerie glow.
Editorial cartoon from the August 16, 2003, edition of the Ottawa Citizen.
Flipping around the dial, we likely got word of the state of emergency enacted by the province. Premier Ernie Eves would be criticized for his initial handling of the crisis, which came as he prepared for a nomination meeting that night in Orangeville for the provincial election that was expected soon. Although regional leaders ranging from New York governor George Pataki to Toronto mayor Mel Lastman addressed the situation, nearly six hours passed before Eves declared an emergency. He tried to deflect the blame, telling reporters that “we can’t control what happens in other jurisdictions.” All non-essential and non-emergency workers were asked to stay home on August 15. The public was asked to conserve energy and water. Rotating blackouts were possible until the provincial electrical supply was back to normal.
We didn’t know what to expect as we continued east the next morning. At White River, we called ahead to Sault Ste. Marie and were assured there was power. Restoration had been a gradual process; initial priority was given to Sault Area Hospital, Algoma Steel, and St. Marys Paper. Like us, Mayor John Rowswell had been far from home when the blackout struck, driving along Highway 401 en route to New York State for a business trip. Low on gas and unable to fill up, he stopped into the Belleville Police Service and used an emergency land line to monitor the situation back in the Sault. Twelve hours after the power went out, it was fully restored in the city.
Front page of the August 15, 2003, edition of the Sault Star.
Sault Ste. Marie was one of several communities that scrambled to accommodate Air Canada passengers overnight after backup systems at Pearson International Airport failed. The city took in 222 travellers from a Toronto-Vancouver flight, spreading them around local hotels so they could sleep before resuming their journeys at 6 a.m. And there were other significant diversions: 450 passengers spent the night in North Bay, where a Canadian Tire store equipped them with snacks and supplies.
As we drove towards the Sault, rumours spread that the area might be temporarily removed from the electrical grid, sparking a panic rush that led to lineups 30 vehicles deep at stations along the Great Northern Road. I don’t recall running into problems, which makes me think the panic had subsided by the time we reached the city. The situation was better than further south, where tempers flared in long lineups. While most stations held the line or raised prices 6 cents/litre as part of a hike planned before the blackout, some took advantage of the situation and gouged customers, charging over 20 cents/litre more than the average provincial price of 77 cents. In Toronto, 20 people required medical treatment after siphoning fuel from other vehicles.
Bruce Power President Duncan Hawthorne (left) with Premier Ernie Eves at the Bruce nuclear-generating station on August 16, 2003. (J.P. Moczulski/CP Photo)
After a quiet night, we drove back to Toronto. News reports were concerning, as several parts of the city, including an area near my apartment in North Toronto, were still without power. I obsessed over whether a large volume of meat I had recently bought was going bad in the freezer, though my losses would be nothing compared to the volume of spoiled food tossed out by businesses and residents across the province; according to many reports, people were enjoying free food that grocers and restaurants needed to get rid of. Our greatest concern was continuing fuel-supply issues, so we topped up the tank wherever possible. The only place we encountered anything unusual was in Parry Sound, where the gas station we stopped at imposed a $30 limit. Another hiccup: due to the state of emergency, our planned stop at Science North in Sudbury didn’t happen.
Photo of a line at a functioning ATM in Ottawa from the August 16, 2003, edition of the Ottawa Citizen.
We absorbed more stories about how life had rolled along during the blackout. There were tales of people stuck in elevators and on public transit, the hours it took to bring 170 miners to the surface in Sudbury, and a few deaths related to mishaps with candles. The general mood, though, was positive: People were trying to get the most out of an unusual situation. We heard of how communities came together and partied, forging ties between neighbours. How, on the first day, people tried to alleviate rush-hour chaos and pressure on police by directing traffic. How the army didn’t have to deploy troops on standby to combat looting and lawlessness. How some people took advantage of the situation to enjoy a little outdoor romance.
But we missed the festivities. By the time we reached my apartment on the evening of August 16, power was back. Not knowing how long it’d been out, I cleared out the freezer. The neighbourhood was quiet, as if everyone had retreated inside to stay cool and enjoy power for however long it lasted. Over the next few weeks, as the emergency faded, friends discussed the celebratory mood, which made me feel as if I had missed a major moment in time.|
Photo of a man directing traffic from the August 17, 2003, edition of the Ottawa Citizen (left); Photo of workers tossing out ice cream at a Dominion store from the August, 18, 2003 edition of the National Post.
The next day, Eves addressed the province. He urged government and manufacturing workers to take another day off and called on industry to use half its normal power. He also suggested that the public should snitch on anyone who wasted power. Over the next week, pundits debated Eves’s performance. They wondered how badly the blackout — combined with the government’s controversial efforts to reshape power management in Ontario — would affect the Progressive Conservatives at the polls. Eves believed he would be fine, but the public, weary of the Common Sense Revolution–era Tories, would deliver him a crushing defeat on October 2.
In the years since the blackout, I’ve been charmed by stories surrounding it and come to terms with the feelings I had about missing out. In 2023, when people seem more willing to erect barriers around themselves and to be more suspicious of others, would a similar blackout result in behaviour that’d realize officials’ worst fears? Or would the festive spirit remain, leading people to think, according to a quote I found in the North Bay Nugget, that “this should happen more often”?
Sources: the August 16, 2003, edition of the Globe and Mail; the August 25, 2003, edition of Maclean’s; the August 16. 2003, and August 18, 2003, editions of the National Post; the August 15, 2003, edition of the North Bay Nugget; the August 16, 2003, edition of the Ottawa Citizen; the August 15, 2003, and August 16, 2003, editions of the Sault Star; and the August 16, 2003, and August 13, 2013, editions of the Toronto Star.