Race for the House Not as dumb as they hoped

After the Democrats dumped him, state Rep. Bill McManus made a calculated move to take his message straight to voters. But the party that hopes to remove him from office has its own plans.

by Chris Kanaracus

The past two years have been tumultuous ones for 14th District State Rep. Bill McManus. He's crafted unlikely alliances with two of the most powerful state leaders, House Speaker Tom Finneran and Governor Paul Cellucci. He's chairman of the influential House Steering, Policy and Scheduling committee. On the legislative front, he's part of Worcester's biggest projects and projects-to-be. But his reputation has stumbled: just ask your local union.

Among certain people -- namely, the lion's share of the city's most connected Democrats -- there's little love for the 37-year-old Worcester native. To them, he's "Billy the Bully." Or how about a "Benedict-o-crat"?

But more than insults have come McManus's way. Speculation he was hunting for a plush state job mounted. A penchant for using strong-arm tactics was illuminated when his war with Worcester Housing Court clerk James Bisceglia (over funding eight court positions) was revealed in the Telegram & Gazette last May. After he endorsed then gubernatorial candidate Cellucci in 1998, McManus was booted from the Democratic City Committee. Former backers have jumped ship. And last week, McManus stunned the city when he announced he was leaving the party to run as an independent.

But McManus has always had a flair for the dramatic, say observers. It's part of his style, and it explains how he got where he is today. But it may come at a price. Three candidates have lined up to oppose him in the November 7 election, political newcomer Jean-Paul Brouillette, lawyer James Leary, and former At-large Councilor Tim Cooney.

Right about now, on the morning of May 1, McManus, his face a bit drawn, his sweat pants a tad baggy, looks more like an aging fratboy than a brash, Statehouse inside player. He's standing in the doorway of his law office, which occupies the first floor of a modest white frame house on the north end of West Boylston Street. He's a little surprised to see a reporter standing before him. He shouldn't be, considering the same reporter placed 17 phone calls to his office, home, and his Statehouse headquarters to set up an interview.

He's still not ready to talk. "Chris, Chris! I've got tons of constituent stuff to take care of. I've got two lines going off like crazy. I've got to get this stuff done. Let me call you in an hour."

That call doesn't come. Two hours later, the reporter decides to buzz him again and, in short order, receives a haranguing that would wilt a sequoia. It seems McManus is aware of all the recent bad press. He's concerned over the nature of the piece, a personality-profile-slash-preview of this year's race, which many observers say could be the hottest local contest.

Maybe he should be worried. For not only are a number of candidates lining up to take him on, but also is a veritable army of local politicos, interest groups, and fellow elected officials. But they don't want to run against him; they just want to badmouth him, and, for the most part, they want to do it off the record.

On this particular day, though, McManus doesn't feel like fighting or, for that matter, responding to his critics. "This is about certain votes that I wouldn't take. These are people who are upset about certain issues, so they hide behind their anonymity. And their true motivation is to get their own way in the legislature. I won't kowtow to them, so they say nasty things."

In general terms, he elaborates: his critics represent but five or six people attempting to punish him for particular votes he took this term. And then he's gone. He does say he'll think about talking.

Depending on whom you ask, 14th District state Rep. William J. McManus is either a political genius, a true independent, or a power-crazed walking Napoleon complex. But there's something on which everyone agrees when it comes to the incumbent: wherever he goes and whatever he does, he stirs things up.

Take the high-profile friendship he's forged with Finneran. As steering-committee chairman, McManus is responsible for scheduling House votes and hearings; he's essentially carrying out the Speaker's agenda, and thus an important ally to Finneran. And then there's Cellucci, a Republican.

McManus has defended his party-hopping, arguing it's good for the district. And, he maintains, such alliances don't shackle him to one point of view.

Yet some observers in Worcester say his friendship with Finneran hasn't produced much for the district or for the city. As a result, agree his critics, McManus has created as many enemies as he has friends.

But so far, McManus has done things his way, running unopposed in all but one election year since he came to office in 1992 -- until now. And the challenge isn't coming from local Republicans. It's coming from what, till last week, is McManus's own party.

Indeed, an unlikely situation. After all, in Massachusetts, party politics are a way of life. It's the rare election year where an entrenched incumbent finds his own people out to knock him down. But then again, Bill McManus isn't your typical politician. For the whole story, you have to go back several years.

Riley's on Lincoln, October 3, 1998. It's just a few weeks before the gubernatorial battle between Scott Harshbarger and Cellucci was to be settled by voters. About 50 Cellucci supporters are inside the popular breakfast spot to voice their support.

One guest has yet to arrive. But when McManus shows, his entrance is anything but low-profile. A small group of picketers greets him by the door; one shouts "Turncoat! Turncoat!" repeatedly.

McManus isn't swayed. He enters Riley's and officially endorses Cellucci's campaign.

In the following weeks, McManus made no effort to downplay his move. According to T&G reports, he told the Riley's crowd he threw his support behind Cellucci because they both had "the same constituency. The moderate middle-class, the silent majority." And he had harsh words for his critics, saying he wouldn't "answer to the special interests who scream and yell that they will run you out of office."

It was a surprising stance to take, given the potentially embarrassing situation. "I think [McManus] had agreed to work for Cellucci quietly, behind the scenes," speculates one observer. "So when Paul Riley had this party, Billy got linked to it -- and it blew up in his face."

But McManus didn't stop there. Instead, he released a statement to the T&G that detailed what he considered Cellucci's contributions to Central Massachusetts: money for a new library at Quinsigamond Community College, funding for a new courthouse, and money for a proposed Vietnam War memorial, to name a few. "He was trying to justify the fact that he got busted," says the source.

McManus's attitude wouldn't change -- even as the Democratic Committee began to talk of ousting him from its membership. The following month, he, At-large Councilor Konnie Lukes, Craig Losapio, and Joe Capone (three Democrats who also endorsed Cellucci's run) were voted out of the DCC. Lukes, Losapio, and Capone immediately appealed the decision. McManus didn't.

And he made no effort to make light of his ties to leadership. Beginning in 1999, McManus accompanied Cellucci on a number of trade missions overseas. Cellucci was beat up in the press for the trips, which were portrayed as little more than taxpayer-footed pleasure cruises for state leadership and accompanying cronies. One 10-day trip to France and to Ireland last summer cost $142,000, according to the Boston Globe. McManus, who took part in the trip, told the T&G that he paid his own way. (He again joined Cellucci on another 10-day mission, this time to Hong Kong and to China in March.)

Almost immediately after the 1998 gubernatorial election, speculation and press reports had McManus taking over the clerkship of the Clinton District Court. As McManus's name surfaced in connection to the $80,000-a-year post, critics charged it was Cellucci's way of supporting him. Even before that, though, McManus was tied to an appointed position: in 1997, a Boston Globe article named McManus as possible director of the state's disability pension fund, a post that commands $85,000.

Although a job has yet to surface, many onlookers say the cozier McManus became with top brass, the more confidence he gained. No one would agree more than Worcester Housing Court head James Bisceglia, who publicly clashed with McManus last May. It was alleged that McManus had asked Bisceglia to hire one of his friends. Bisceglia consented to interview the candidate, but ultimately the job went to someone else.

Suddenly, funding for an expected eight new positions (court officials were so certain that funding would be granted, they had already filled the jobs) was struck from the House budget by Wellesley Republican John Locke. And local media pounced. According to a Dianne Williamson T&G column, when McManus learned the job would go to someone else, he called Bisceglia to say "those positions are gone. You'll never see them." It was suggested that Locke -- chair of the House Judiciary committee, which controls the funding for the state's court system -- had "carried water" for McManus.

The debate smoldered until November, when state Senator Bob Bernstein led an effort to restore the funding. McManus has continued to deny any involvement in the flap.

Negative publicity aside, McManus still seems fairly solvent. A December fundraiser held at Higgins Armory drew a crowd of more than 250. At one point, there was a line to get in.

The size of the crowd seemed to counter any payback the Democratic Committee's boycott hoped to exact. You had to wonder what, if anything, could take McManus down.

The first one to try is James Leary, 32, a local lawyer and a cousin of comedian Denis Leary. Unlike his famous relative, though, Leary won't win any name-recognition contests.

Yet Leary isn't completely new to politics. He's worked on the campaigns of Congressman Jim McGovern, Worcester County DA John Conte, and At-large Councilor Tim Murray. Leary's also stumped for Kevin O'Sullivan during Sullivan's unsuccessful Congressional run in 1996.

But Leary is such an unknown quantity, he spurred another of Murray's campaign workers to tell the Phoenix he "heard the name, but never saw him once."

Yet Leary isn't concerned about his no-name status; instead, he seems to relish it. "Certainly, being an incumbent has its advantages. But people are looking for a new voice, and I can provide that."

Leary says the need was underscored during a recent meet-and-greet tour he took through Great Brook Valley, one of the city's largest low-income housing projects. "The people there were so happy, so surprised to see someone coming around and asking what they thought."

Steve Williston, who heads the 6000-strong Lincoln Village tenants association, says he was happy to see Leary, too. "I've met Jim Leary once, which is 100 percent more than Bill McManus," Williston says, adding both McManus and Bernstein were "conspicuously absent" when politicians statewide came to Lincoln Village to fight owners' plans to forgo government subsidies (Lincoln Village houses many low-income residents) and raise rents. "I'm a little surprised at the both of them," Williston says. "An average of 700 people from Lincoln Village vote in each election. You'd think it would be an asset."

Leary says he'll be door-knocking all year long; but he also asserts, "People know me in the district. I'm one of five kids. And if people don't know me, chances are they do [know] one of my siblings. I'm going to be out there at every meeting, at every event from now until the election."

But the legwork may not be enough if Leary hopes to defeat McManus, who remains a connected, flush player. It will take cash and backing. To date, Leary's amassed about $8000 in his war chest, though, he says, he's "not worried about money" or support.

So far there are promising signs. At a recent fundraiser held at Leo's for 13th District state Rep. Vincent Pedone, organizers made quite a display of introducing Leary to the crowd. Councilor Tim Murray -- who publicly maintains he'll remain neutral throughout the race -- has repeatedly been linked to the fledgling politician. And Leary counts players like Democratic Committee chair Bill Eddy (an outspoken McManus critic) among his allies.

But while he doesn't bristle at the suggestion, Leary firmly denies he's running at someone else's -- namely, the Democratic Committee's -- whim. "Sure, people have encouraged me. A lot of people have. But I made the decision to run myself. I'm not the puppet of any machine. This isn't the Democratic Committee saying, "We're going to take down Billy McManus." Yet one observer says committee members have made "getting rid of Billy" a main objective.

It's obvious, though, Leary's not looking to start a political tong war. He's sticking to a classic Massachusetts Democrat platform: strong public schools, HMO reform, prescription coverage for seniors, public safety, job creation, and neighborhood revitalization.

When it comes to criticizing McManus, however, other camps aren't playing so close to the vest. Local unions have yet to complete (some haven't even begun) their yearly endorsement processes, but it appears -- save for the Teamsters -- labor has left McManus's side. In April, at an AFL-CIO candidate's breakfast, Leary received a standing ovation -- the only candidate to do so, according to one attendee.

Joe Carlson, local United Steelworkers spokesman, says the executive branch of the Worcester-Framingham AFL-CIO "intends to be working on Jim Leary's campaign. We will also be encouraging our members to do the same." Carlson says that the AFL-CIO, which has backed McManus in the past, won't this year because of McManus's Cellucci endorsement. "When someone makes a decision to side with people who don't share our beliefs, there's no reason to support him."

Lou Cornacchioli, representative of the Educational Association of Worcester (EAW) teacher's union (which has endorsed McManus in the past), notes endorsements haven't been handed out yet, but says, "We are upset with Mr. McManus for a number of reasons. A big thing, though, was when he endorsed Mr. Cellucci." The governor has supported charter schools and MCAS testing of teachers, two issues that have been criticized by teachers statewide. But, Cornacchioli says, the biggest blow came when McManus rejected the EAW's request for a meeting to discuss his endorsement. "He said to us, `I don't need your support.' All we asked is for him to give us an opportunity. But his arrogance in saying that he didn't need us was the worst."

Michael W. Coonan, who represents the 6000-member Worcester/Fitchburg Building & Construction Trade Council, says his organization's faith in McManus has steadily eroded. What particularly irked the union, though, says Coonan, was McManus's stance on prevailing-wage provisions in 1998's courthouse bond bill. McManus has frequently pointed to the courthouse as an example of his effectiveness. Judging by Coonan's remarks, McManus may have been most effective in driving labor out of his camp. The bill, which will provide funding for five new courthouses in Central Massachusetts, passed with the caveat that only projects totaling more than $100 million would require union-level pay rates. Just one of the five projects, the $125 million downtown courthouse, meets the requirement. "McManus didn't support us on this issue," says Coonan.

But McManus isn't the only candidate with someone gunning for him. With the entry of Tim Cooney a well-known, popular city-council veteran, Leary has some competition. Cooney announced a possible run as far back as January. But he remained elusive about his candidacy for months, then surprised fellow Democrats when he filed nomination papers on May 1, one day before the deadline. "I [am] concerned that the district wasn't going to be represented by a Democrat," Cooney says.

Until McManus announced he'd run as an independent, Cooney's possible participation in the race worried some Democratic insiders who feared the "anti-McManus vote" in the primary would have been split between Cooney and Leary.

Now it's just Leary and Cooney in September 19 primary. Cooney boasts considerable name recognition, but he isn't known as a strong campaigner. "I'm going to give it my best shot," Cooney says. And he expects to challenge Leary for the labor support. "I have an impeccable record when it comes to labor. . . . I think it's a little early to say who's going to be backing who."

Leary, for his part, won't dismiss Cooney but remains confident. "I'm going to run the same campaign I've always intended to run," he says.

Yet whether the Democratic front is united or not, members have a common target: McManus.

But McManus won't go easy. He's earned a reputation as a dogged representative who can get things done. One observer, who is critical of McManus on certain issues, says, "If Billy says he'll do something, you can take it to the bank." Another says McManus "can be a little rough, but his candor is refreshing." And Paul Riley, owner of Riley's on Lincoln, says McManus "has done more for Worcester than all those other politicians combined. He may say the wrong thing sometimes, but he brings home the bacon."

And that's exactly what McManus intends to emphasize in the next several months. A week after he told the Phoenix he didn't want to respond to his critics, McManus changed his mind. This time, he was ready to talk: about his record, his challengers, and his detractors.

McManus insists his opponents represent a small group -- mainly made up of labor leaders, though he indicates members of his own delegation aren't his fans -- intent on running him out office because he votes his way and not the party's on certain issues. For instance, McManus was the only Worcester representative to support charter schools. He's the only local legislator who supported lowering the tax rate to five percent, which could lead to budget cuts. "I have quite clearly proven that I can take the tough votes for the district," he says.

But as an ally of state leadership, McManus was the one to take the hit when the courthouse bond bill passed curbing organized labor at court-construction projects valued at less that $100 million. And then there's the teachers union, perhaps the most vocal of McManus's critics. "I had the same voting record as my colleagues'. I'm very supportive of many teachers in the state. But Lou Cornacchioli and I don't get along," McManus says of the union official.

There's his ties to the governor, which labor has said is the main reason it will stop endorsing him.

"I support Mr. Cellucci because he's a Worcester County resident who supports Worcester County projects," McManus says.

Perhaps his critics have unintentionally hurt their cause. For McManus surprised most folks when he announced he'd run in this election as an independent. A shrewd move, for sure. McManus will avoid the scramble to take on Leary and now Cooney in the September primary. He no longer has to defend himself over his failed relationship with labor, a traditional Democrat's ally. And, perhaps just as important, he's taken a bold stand against the Democratic City Committee. No longer a wayward Democrat, McManus is now his own, reinvented man free to court the nearly 50 percent of registered voters (citywide) who list themselves as "unenrolled," neither Republican nor Democrat.

But McManus says he's always been his own man. Contrary to belief, he says, he's not a lifelong Democrat. "Eight or nine years ago, I was unenrolled," he says.

"[Being an independent] is entirely about integrity," he says. "Special-interest groups attempt to coerce the primary process through litmus tests for their endorsements."

His new status as an independent might work. Though McManus should expect to lose some of the Democratic vote, labor's desertion might not be as damaging as anticipated. "Joe Carlson can't really hurt Billy as far as votes go, because the district is mostly middle-class," says one observer. "But what they can do is set up phone banks and mailing lists."

There are some prominent Republicans among McManus's supporters as well. Heavy-hitters like John Nelson, Norm Peters, and George Peterson attended his standing-room-only fundraiser at Higgins Armory. Don't forget those much-maligned Statehouse connections. At Higgins last December, Cellucci told the crowd "Bill McManus is my friend. And I stand by my friends."

And McManus comes from a powerful family, one with undeniable name recognition. His father is a former judge, who's held city and state posts. His brother Dennis currently sits on the Governor's Council. Those family ties are sure to work in McManus's favor come November.

With months to go in the campaign, McManus has time to deliver his message to the voters. He's certain to focus on his work thus far at the state level, to tick off a list of accomplishments -- count on plenty of references to his role in funding Union Station renovations, Green Hill park improvements, the courthouse, the $1.4 million Vietnam Memorial, and a $15 million Quinsigamond Community College library.

Pierce Gould, of the city's veterans' services office, says the Vietnam Memorial "would not be where it is today" without McManus.

And then there's those trade missions. According to McManus the trips bore impressive results. He attributes 3000 new jobs at Intel's Hudson facility to talks that occurred during a visit to the company's Dublin-area facility. Perhaps more important to the district, though, is the new nine-month training program at Quinsigamond Community College that specifically prepares students for work at the Hudson plant.

But when McManus talks about his record, he will feel the pressure. For many elected officials privately chafe at what they say is his love for the spotlight.

"You know, no one has an exclusive on those things. Do you think that just because [McManus] is friends with Paul Cellucci, that we have a new courthouse in town?" one observer asks.

McManus may see fit to share the credit with his legislative colleagues, several of which face their own re-election battles. "I've never taken exclusive credit for [large-scale] projects. . . . But I've worked extremely hard, both on getting them through the legislature and then the appropriation of money through the governor's office."

So will McManus prevail? He thinks so. And he's certainly not afraid of his competition. General election candidate and Republican Jean-Paul Brouillette, who remains unenrolled, has yet to mount a visible campaign. Cooney's laying low for now, too, though that's certain to change. The biggest buzz is around Leary, who has emerged as the primary candidate to beat. Does McManus feel threatened by Leary? "No, no, no, no," he snorts. "At the end of the day, the people from the district are going to decide who represents them -- not political insiders who are trying to back a horse whose votes they can control and manipulate and coerce."

Well, that's certain to rankle the guys at the union hall.

Jim Leary will most likely throw his mud, too, if his response to McManus's decision to run as an independent is any indication. "It has nothing to do with principles, and everything to do with retaining his seat. "[McManus] has been a Democrat his entire life. It's only now that he's being challenged that he's not one anymore."

But nothing is certain when it comes to Bill McManus. Just the mention of his name sparks strong, often contradictory reactions. Is he a maverick or just a two-fisted bully? Constituents' champion or self-serving operator? McManus could fit all, several, or none of those descriptions. The only people who can decide are the voters of the 14th District, and we won't know their answer until November. Until then, the campaign's killing floor is sure to be bloody.

Chris Kanaracus can be reached atckanaracus[a]phx.com.