Back in the early ’90s, when cameras still used film, I patronized a photo finishing shop called Prints on Church. It stood at the epicentre of the gay village—at The Steps, a short flight of outdoor stairs that had become a popular hangout. I was a regular customer and liked dealing with the friendly young man behind the counter. I vividly remember an occasion when I had some mild complaint about the service I’d received and was hashing it out with him when someone suddenly erupted from the back office and into my face, shouting me down, brooking no interruption, query or challenge. The clerk stood by, embarrassed. I was stunned, and I never went back. When I told that story to others at the time, they’d nod and smile and say I’d had a run-in with The Slitherman. The nickname was a gay village joke.

George Smitherman was the proprietor of Prints on Church. Today he’s the man who would be the next mayor of Toronto—he announced his bid back in November, long before any of the other candidates now filling out the ballot sheet. He had been the MPP for Toronto Centre–Rosedale since the 1999 election (the first openly gay man to win a seat in the Ontario legislature), the minister of health after the Liberal election victory in 2003 and then, until his resignation from cabinet so he could run for mayor, deputy premier and minister of energy and infrastructure. He was the second most powerful man in cabinet, after Premier McGuinty. He’s famous (perhaps infamous) for being “Furious George,” McGuinty’s attack dog, master of the F-word, the man who could always be counted on to shout down or intimidate the opposition. He’s also the man with enough upfront gay wit to convert “attack dog” to “attack poodle.”

His new mantra, though, is love. George Smitherman, the “son of this city,” as he likes to call himself, promises to wrap his ever-loving arms around Toronto, find us jobs, make us proud and make us happy (even if a little tough love might be on the agenda, especially when it comes to labour unions). Maybe there’s been a dog whisperer at work, easing the transformation from pit bull to Pekingese, helping pave the way for the moment when none of us will even remember The Slitherman, or the days when one-time staffers nervously referred to his dark side.

There are many who will argue vehemently that the man has always been a gentle giant, idealistic, loving and generous, with an open heart and a hand extended to the less fortunate. They admit that, yes, he can be demanding and abrasive, but that he’s as hard on himself as he is on any staffer or colleague, that he’s passionate about public service, and if sometimes he’s just a little impatient, well, it’s a small price to pay for civic engagement on the monumental scale he fosters. These are people who are willing to speak to me on the record. And they are ardent. The people who refer to his dark side are, unsurprisingly, not willing to let me quote them by name.

None of which would matter if he weren’t running for mayor. At Queen’s Park, the ability to deliver a blistering riposte is an asset, and Smitherman had ample opportunity to exercise that talent. He also had a party apparatus to back him up, a party whip to bring his colleagues into line. With a parliamentary majority behind him, it didn’t matter how much he baited or infuriated the opposition. Having the opportunity to drive them crazy was one of the perks.

City hall is different—the mayor’s power derives from his or her skill as a deal maker and conciliator. Our exceptional mayors have overcome differences, found common ground and eased tensions. And when a little shoving was necessary, they did it gently. That’s no job for an attack dog. Whether it’s the job for Smither­man depends on his ability to persuade the public over the next eight months that he is a tireless worker and a consummate politician who gets things done. That’s the easy part. The hard part will be convincing us that his dark side never really existed, that he got the nickname Furious George only because it was an irresistible parliamentary slight.

If he’s lucky, Torontonians will have the same mixed reactions I did in that camera shop some 15 years ago. Yes, I was appalled. But part of me recognized the man was backing up an employee, consequences be damned, and somewhere, just a little deeper down, I was impressed.