On a warm night in mid-June, a Latin club on Dundas West called Lula Lounge played host to the final episode of City Idol. The event had little in common with its namesake, Canadian Idol: instead of a recording contract, the winner would live out his or her dream of running for city council. And the production values were certainly lower: organizer and host David Meslin (known as Mez since junior high) stood behind a podium he built from a breakfast tray and some scrap wood. But the capacity crowd of 200 friends, relatives, indie kids, CBC Radio One listeners and deep Annex representatives cheered as if he were Ben Mulroney—or, to be precise, they cheered because he is the antithesis of Ben Mulroney. Thirty-two-year-old Meslin, who resembles a less anguished version of Radiohead front man Thom Yorke, has devoted the past decade to his clever brand of urban activism. And these were his people.

He began the evening by outlining the purpose of City Idol: to inject cultural diversity into a starchy white city hall; to draw attention to moribund voter turnout (38 per cent in 2003) and to challenge “a political culture that loves to produce reports, but can’t seem to produce results.”

Applause.

The event marked the culmination of six weeks of competition that began on April 28 at the Danforth Music Hall, when 71 candidates stood up to explain why they deserved to be a city councillor. Half were voted off the stage, with the remainder assigned to one of four geographic quadrants. A semifinal was then held for the central Toronto City Idolists, to cull 24 hopefuls down to a manageable six—the energetic crew assembled onstage at Lula Lounge.

After a short opening speech, each candidate was given two minutes to explain the issue most important to them. Desmond Cole, a 24-year-old who works at Youthlink, a social services agency for street kids, spoke with a measured cadence as he described being stopped countless times by the police for the crime of being young, black and male. He wants to improve police accountability and eliminate the “us versus them” mentality. “Walls have been constructed to bar us from our own police stations in our own communities. These should be torn down”—Cole’s emphasis on “torn down” being the City Idol equivalent of hitting a high note—“so that we can feel free to access our own police stations as citizens and equals.”

Enthusiastic applause.

Gathered that night, onstage and in the crowd, were the spiritual grandchildren of the late Jane Jacobs. These neo-Jacobites are taking pride in a city with perennial self-esteem issues, making an emotional investment in a way that hasn’t been seen for a very long time. Many subscribe to what the local music community calls Torontopia—a defiant optimism designed to eradicate the “Toronto sucks” attitude of generations past. After suffering the Lastman years, and with various upticks in the music and cultural community, the neo-Jacobites feel their moment has arrived. They are united by impatience, and a certain fatigue with status quo politics. While they were emboldened by David Miller’s 2003 election victory, they now find themselves disappointed by his in­ability to offer a sweeping vision for a myopic city.

Through Meslin’s lobby group the Toronto Public Space Committee and its adjunct magazine Spacing, the neo-Jacobites have pitched a tent big enough to house an assemblage of like-minded but previously unconnected groups, including bike nuts, artists, musicians, writers, photographers, civic activists, community gardeners, local musicians and energy conservationists. Equally important, they’ve fostered an environment where acts of urban intervention—like Murmur, a project that allows pedestrians to retrieve audio commentary via cell phone in selected portions of the city; or geeky bursts of eccentricity like the TTC Subway Rider Efficiency Guide, a tiny pamphlet that shaves seconds off your daily commute by showing how the subway cars align with escalators, exits and transfer points at various stations—are encouraged into being. And Meslin is at the centre of it all.