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At the starting gate
In a surprisingly subdued election year for area city councils, the interesting races may be the ones fought by three relative newcomers

BY DORIE CLARK

THIS YEAR’S BOSTON City Council race is already looking pretty sleepy. A September preliminary election for the at-large candidates seems doubtful, since it requires nine contenders, and only six have expressed serious interest so far (though candidates have until July 31 to get on the ballot). And at this point, only three out of nine district races are contested. The situation isn’t much more lively in Cambridge, where just two newcomers have entered the council race — despite the tantalizing opening provided when four-term councilor Kathy Born announced earlier this year that she won’t be running for re-election. (Though more challengers may jump in following Councilor Jim Braude’s announcement on Tuesday that he also will not run again.)

But there are a few pockets of excitement. Brian Murphy, an experienced political backstager who managed Lois Pines’s unsuccessful 1998 campaign for attorney general, is making his own bid for the Cambridge City Council. High-school history teacher Mike Rush is taking the wonkish way to voters’ hearts in his second try for the Jamaica Plain/West Roxbury seat on the Boston City Council. And Rob Consalvo, an at-large candidate in Boston, is crisscrossing the city handing out souvenir pens and prowling for votes. Here’s a look at the pols in action.

BRIAN MURPHY’S campaign literature starts out in storyteller mode. A leaflet shows him sitting comfortably on a park bench, his jacket slung back and his affable grin surrounded by a teddy bear–shaggy beard. It bears the caption “Wouldn’t It Be Wonderful If We Could ...” and then trots out a list of his priorities: to keep development in check, to create more affordable housing, to protect green space and the environment. The Sesame Street motif is appropriate, since his number-one campaign prop is Molly, his adorable four-year-old daughter. His appeal to Cambridge’s crunchy-yuppie-parent demographic is undeniable. Murphy’s June 25 campaign kickoff party, held at the swank new restaurant Daedalus in Harvard Square, included plenty of infants, toddlers, and playmates of Molly’s, all accompanying their concerned-citizen moms and dads.

But Murphy’s strength goes beyond pure demographics: he’s the inside guy of Cantabrigian lefties. Former mayor Frank Duehay and City Councilors Marjorie Decker and Ken Reeves showed up at the kickoff party, as did register of probate John Buonomo and school-committee members Nancy Walser and Denise Simmons (the latter of whom is actually competing against Murphy for a council seat). More important was the presence of State Representatives Jarrett Barrios and Alice Wolf, from whom Murphy inherited almost his entire campaign apparatus, including Wolf’s former campaign manager and Barrios’s former deputy campaign manager. (Full disclosure: I served as Barrios’s campaign manager in 2000.) “He’s going to be a great addition to the city council when he’s elected on November 6,” Wolf said of Murphy in an address to the crowd. “We are going to work hard over the summer and in the fall, and we hope you’ll work hard, to see that Brian is added to the Cambridge City Council.” Her political heft should help: it was crucial to getting her protégé and former State House staffer Marjorie Decker elected two years ago.

In addition to his own political contacts, Murphy benefits from those of his wife, Kate Champion-Murphy. She’s a star fundraiser for both Wolf and Barrios — and the daughter of Hale Champion, the former chief of staff for Governor Dukakis and former head of the Boston Redevelopment Authority. But in a city as politically zealous as Cambridge, Murphy also has to work the grassroots. He’s been door-knocking in earnest (going through “three or four shirts a day,” jokes his campaign manager), and billing himself as a “pragmatic progressive,” which he defines as “somebody who has progressive values but is focused on getting things done” — contrary to the pie-in-the-sky stereotype about pols from the Left Bank.

Most crucial to Murphy’s prospects — given Cambridge’s system of proportional representation, which requires voters to rank candidates in order of preference — is whether the large number of Born and Braude voters will now embrace him as their standard-bearer. Though Murphy hasn’t yet decided to seek the endorsement of the Cambridge Civic Association, the venerable liberal group that backed both departing councilors, he probably will. “I’m leaning that way,” he says. With or without their official nod, his contacts and the goodwill he’s earned will go a long way.

LAST WEDNESDAY at Doyle’s — Jamaica Plain’s fabled bar, restaurant, and political haunt — there was yet another campaign event going on in the John F. Fitzgerald room, bedecked in Kennedy-clan memorabilia and favored by pols hoping some of the magic will rub off. The heated trays of obscenely fried food (cheese sticks, zucchini, chicken) were there; so was the eager crowd (mostly seniors) jonesing for some political action. But the event wasn’t a fundraiser, or even a typical schmooze-fest. Instead, Mike Rush — candidate for the West Roxbury/Jamaica Plain council seat — had organized a lecture series.

He’d enlisted Robert Deasy, a history professor at Providence College who was Rush’s master’s-thesis adviser, to speak on “The Electoral College: From George Washington to George Bush.” The week before, syndicated columnist Mary McGrory had given an address on politics and the media. That’s it for the summer, but he plans two more events closer to the election (check www.RushforResults.com).

Rush acknowledges that lectures aren’t typical campaign events, but, he says, “I think they’re effective just because they get people thinking — it’s probably the teacher in me.” Indeed, with sweat pouring off him and a big grin, the 27-year-old (“Twenty-eight this fall!”) exudes a pep-talk enthusiasm about the political process with which his students at Catholic Memorial High School are probably pretty familiar. “I do have a love of politics and government,” he says. “Absolutely, it makes a difference in people’s lives.” Potential mothers-in-law take notice: he’s even an Eagle Scout and a Navy reservist.

Though one of his signs hung on the podium and a campaign banner was draped overhead, Rush was astonishingly quiet about his candidacy at this free public event. He didn’t make any campaign promises and didn’t even ask people vote for him. Instead, he gave a nod to State Representative John Slattery of Peabody, a lieutenant-governor hopeful who dropped by for a quick hit, and he provided a gushing introduction for Deasy, who taught “the most unbelievable history classes I’ve ever had” and served as a consultant to NBC News for the 1992 inauguration.

Then again, Rush didn’t really need to troll for votes that night: it was clearly a feel-good event for the faithful. Elaine Becker of West Roxbury has “known Mike since first grade.” Said Brian Flinn, a Jamaica Plain resident who student-taught at Rush’s school, “He’s a great guy, solid, down-to-earth.” And Mary Anne Hailer, whose son goes to Catholic Memorial, didn’t need a heavy dose of ideology anyway. In choosing a city councilor, “you need someone who’ll listen to you and answer your questions honestly,” she said. “I know that’ll happen with him because he always responds.”

Rush, who’s been knocking on doors since January, is smart to capitalize on his credentials as an educator and to pitch for voter involvement. If it had been better publicized, the lecture series could have been a PR masterstroke, building on the clever palm cards he handed out at the polls last fall that named historical instances when one vote swung an election — from Adolph Hitler’s ascent in the Nazi Party to Tom Menino’s rise as city-council president and then acting mayor of Boston. But Rush somehow missed that opportunity. With the election less than five months away, it’s time to go into full-fledged, never-miss-a-beat candidate mode — even in a crowd of loyalists.

IN A FULL suit and tie during last Saturday’s scorching noontime heat, Boston at-large council candidate Rob Consalvo — his hand gripping a fistful of pens pulled from his pocket — looked like a younger, shorter, more Italian Bob Dole. But unlike those of the erstwhile Republican presidential nominee, Consalvo’s ubiquitous pens serve more than a decorative purpose: they’re part of an elaborate campaign strategy. “The best way to get elected is to get in front of them, give them that pen so they remember you, and ask for their vote,” says Consalvo, a 31-year-old aide to State Representative Angelo Scaccia of Hyde Park, who’s already handed out 19,000 pens. He’s got the pitch down. “I’m Rob Consalvo and I’m running for city council at-large. I hope you’ll consider me for one of your four votes,” he said over and over as he worked the crowd at the Roxbury YMCA’s ribbon-cutting celebration, alongside fellow at-large candidate Felix Arroyo, Charlotte Golar Richie (who heads the city’s Department of Neighborhood Development), and Congressman Mike Capuano. He even had a line for the out-of-towners who wanted one of his writing implements. “Where are you from? Randolph? That’s okay — I could run for governor,” he said half-jokingly.

The predominantly black crowd wasn’t necessarily a natural constituency for Consalvo, a plugged-in politico from the electorally powerful southwest part of the city, whose dad and brother-in-law both work for at the Boston Redevelopment Authority. He’s got a formidable résumé — vice-chair of the board of the Hyde Park YMCA, board member of the Greater Roslindale Health Center, Little League coach, Lion’s Club — which, like a seasoned pol, he manages to work into almost every conversation that lasts more than a minute. But his experience is mostly limited to his own part of the city, so his challenge in outings like this (and the rest of the day’s frenetic schedule would include trips to East Boston, Dorchester, Hyde Park, and South Boston) is to get citywide credibility. He’s convinced he can get support from every neighborhood: “The local grassroots action that I do — I’m one of them. I think they want someone who’s going to be attuned to their needs.”

His networking skills got him an important nod at Saturday’s ribbon-cutting, where supporter Harold Sparrow — the Roxbury YMCA’s executive director — recognized him first among the pols in attendance, while Arroyo didn’t even get an introduction. Consalvo’s outreach efforts don’t always hit their mark. One African-American pen recipient inquired, “Are you Spanish?” Consalvo shook his head: “Italian.” She seemed vaguely disappointed. But a few minutes later, an obviously pleased black senior citizen grabbed him, saying Consalvo had given him two pens a few days before at an event in Dorchester. “That’s what I’ve got to do — earn their votes,” Consalvo said later. “You don’t just show up once.”

Consalvo has all the right moves to get elected. Maybe too much so — his nervous energy comes off as a little slick. But his slogging determination to leave no hand in Boston unshaken, or bereft of a souvenir pen, is an impressive start.

Dorie Clark can be reached at dclark[a]phx.com.

Issue Date: June 28 - July 5, 2001