But it wasn’t until 2002, when the city introduced an anti-postering bylaw, that the TPSC became serious, launching a Web site, soliciting volunteers and holding monthly meetings. The bylaw was defeated (twice, actually, since the issue re-emerged in March 2005). The TPSC then went on to defeat the monolithic, ad-filled garbage cans known as Megabins. When I asked David Miller about the botched pilot pro­ject, he was conciliatory: “I disagreed with [Meslin] about the Megabins. I thought we should give them a chance. As it turned out, it was a complete failure. He was right.”

In the summer of 2002, Meslin came up with the idea of creating a magazine as an adjunct to the TPSC campaigns. He discussed the concept with an old friend, Matt Blackett, then the art director of The Hockey News, who offered to be creative director. Progress was slow but steady. In December of 2002, Meslin left for South America for six months to be logistics coordinator for Klein and her husband, Avi Lewis, during the filming of their documentary The Take, about a group of Argentine auto-part workers who resuscitate their bankrupt factory. “He has an incredible imagination in the service of getting shit done,” says Lewis, who spent much of our conversation gushing about Meslin’s colour-coding system for the 200 hours of footage that were shot.

Blackett got Spacing off the ground in Meslin’s absence, and the first issue launched just in time for Miller’s election win, taking advantage of the progressive momentum of the time. Meslin happened to be assisting a crew on a documentary about city politics during Miller’s first day on the job. He handed the mayor a copy of Spacing, his last official involvement with the magazine.

Now a full-colour, photo-heavy, tri-annual publication, it’s the magazine of record for the neo-Jacobites. With a readership of 20,000, it pays the bills through fundraisers and ads from local businesses and non-profits, plus the sale of their now-famous transit buttons, emblazoned with the logos of TTC stations. They’ve sold 60,000 of them since fall of 2004.

“I think what’s attracted people to Spacing is that it’s not dogmatic and preachy,” says Blackett. “It’s pretty conversational. We’ve been able to present progressive ideas and not sound like wackos.” The flâneur-friendly content ranges from hug-and-kiss pieces on manhole covers, public art and bike couriers to investigative features on civic politics and concrete policy suggestions for making the city function better. Unlike mimeographed flyers of yore or the cut-and-paste zines created by the Media Collective, Blackett describes Spacing as “About as slick as you can go in the activist world.” Bolstering this claim, it earned a gold medal for best editorial package at this year’s National Magazine Awards.

While Spacing was busy making its mark, Meslin was busy with a hundred other preoccupations. In 2004, he became bass player for the Hidden Cameras, one of the original Torontopia bands. He also worked for the Ontario chapter of the federal NDP, produced a newsletter for street nurse Cathy Crowe and was city councillor Joe Mihevc’s executive assistant in the fall of 2005. Between paying gigs, he focused on bringing new volunteers into the TPSC fold. Meslin has a knack for attracting unpaid help, thanks to a combination of charisma, the fun factor of his projects, and the fact that those giving their time see tangible results from their efforts.