Paper chase

Few people know what the Worcester Superior Court clerk does. Yet everyone knows what a great, nasty campaign race looks like. And Raymond Mariano and incumbent Loring "Red" Lamoureux are at war.

by Melissa Houston

Those who love to watch Worcester Mayor Raymond Mariano squirm get precious few opportunities. But if they were in Clinton on June 13, they'd have grinned. Mariano was pounding the campaign trail, standing alone on the Town Hall steps, and greeting passersby as a Democrat candidate for clerk of Worcester County Superior Court. Certain folks readily recognized him and offered assurances they'd help him unseat incumbent clerk Loring "Red" Lamoureux, the longtime court administrator and also a Democrat. Others -- most, in fact -- smiled but cast a faraway, perplexed Clerk of what? look. And then there was Helen McNally, owner of the famed Old Timer Restaurant and a member of the well-known local family.

The elegant, reserved McNally conceded only a silent nod when Mariano massaged his connection to her.

"So you're the famous one?" he playfully inquired.

"No, I'm the old one," she replied flatly.

He kept at it. He knew a McNally. A husband? A brother? It was her son, and Mariano did know him and for years. "I called him a few days ago," he pitched. "And he said I could count on his support. And he's a man of his word." The implication was clear: he wanted her vote, too.

"I'll tell him I met you," she allowed, then gracefully walked off taking her commitment with her.

Ah, such work for Mariano and in contrast to the superstar status he's enjoyed in his hometown since becoming Worcester's top politician in 1994, when he first captured the mayor's office. Today, he's a man who appears in the newspapers almost daily and who's normally flanked by fans. But come the September 19 primary (there is no Republican challenger, thus the race will be decided then), the 49-year-old hopes voters countywide will let him retire from his $18,000 a year mayoral post (he's announced this is his last term) to play a more inconspicuous civic role as chief administrator of the 27-member clerk's office.

And he's criss-crossing the 59-community-large district at a dizzying pace, for Worcester includes less than 50 percent of the county's voters. He's introducing himself to strangers who've heard about that fella Mariano or to those who know nothing of his political accomplishments.

Yet if there's one question before the court of public opinion, it's why? For the clerk's job -- perhaps like Registrar of Deeds -- is an elected profession few people understand and even fewer care about. And Worcester's Superior Court is already considered first-rate by Lawyers Weekly, a prestigious legal publication; Lamoureux himself is lauded as one of the best clerks in Massachusetts.

Still Mariano counters he'd do better: the court isn't working for all citizens, he maintains; there's a caseload backlog; and the clerk's office, which is responsible for the court's paperwork, is sorely in need of a technology overhaul.

Sound like good, old-fashioned issues campaigning? Not so, say his critics who've in recent weeks launched a spirited attack of the mayor's job qualifications, his complete ignorance of the position, they say, and his "temperament." And they're attacks that are unlikely to abate. Indeed, the accusations coming from both camps have taken on such an interesting tone that a clerk's contest! may be the hottest, potentially nastiest, but perhaps the most entertaining election of the season.

Call it the chase for the paper-chaser's job.

Machine against the man?

Although the sniping is likely to stay fierce, there is one thing on which Ray Mariano and Loring Lamoureux will always agree: they're nothing alike, though they've never met. Spend a minute with the current clerk and it's undeniable. Unlike Mariano, who thrives in the public arena, the 67-year-old Lamoureux is admittedly an uncomfortable politician. He's a rusty one, too; he hasn't faced a challenge to the six-year post since 1988. His personality is also much different than Mariano's. Lamoureux's an "aw, shucks" guy, an unknown within political circles, and modest to a fault when naming his accomplishments. But in the courthouse Lamoureux's at home. Perhaps it's because he's been there 41 years. Initially hired as an assistant clerk, and later appointed first-assistant clerk, the Worcester native and attorney filled his current $88,000-a-year position in 1987 after incumbent Philip Philbin died. He ran a three-way race in 1988 and was unchallenged in 1994.

On a recent morning, he's giving a reporter a tour, something he gladly does on occasion with school children, college students, or anyone else begging to understand a byzantine judicial system most of us hope to avoid. For those who've never been there, the Superior Court, located at 2 Main Street in Worcester, houses five courtrooms, a jail cell, evidence storage, judges' chambers, offices, a host of windowless rooms where lawyers hash out plea bargains, and then Lamoureux's operation. Lamoureux quietly presides over the court's day-to-day business, which he relays in easy-to-understand exactitude.

"I just love the job," he says. "It's been a challenge. You have to know, I mean, really be conversant with different sets of court rules."

To punctuate the point, Lamoureux holds up a Massachusetts Rules of Court, a forbidding, dense paperback. "Half of this book pertains to the clerk -- just the Superior clerk," he explains.

Receive a call to jury duty? Thank Lamoureux. Need to post bail? See Lamoureux. File a lawsuit? An appeal? Yup, Lamoureux. Then there are motions, verdicts, settlements . . . he and his office tread this surprisingly orderly sea of paperwork generated from nearly 5000 cases filed annually in Superior Court, not to mention years' worth of other lawsuits soberly making their way through the system. And his office wields a measure of unspoken power: clerks statewide sometimes know more about the arcane legal rules than attorneys do and can help retain a lawyer's good-standing in front of a judge by ensuring paper flow is on time and in order. But to conclude Lamoureux's job is "detail oriented" would be an understatement.

And those who support him -- in fact, a majority of the region's lawyers do -- argue it's his knowledge of those details that should be enough for voters to keep him put. They say Lamoureux is a walking encyclopedia of the state's judicial code as it relates to the proceedings of Superior Court, where more serious crimes (murder, for instance) and complicated, substantial civil suits (class-actions and corporate litigation) are tried.

Lawyers Weekly seems to agree. In a May 1999 article rating the state's five busiest Superior Court clerks' offices, Worcester is the only operation to receive an "A." The survey reviewed the staff's helpfulness, efficiency, knowledge, even phone etiquette. "Worcester lives up to its reputation as a `nice' place to practice law," the report says.

"Worcester County has a gem, and I don't want to see it lose [him]," says Worcester attorney Francis Ford, Lamoureux's campaign manager. "I've known Red for 25 years. What's his strength? The strength is probably that of any worker in any field who's been doing it for a long time. . . . I know not only members of the public and members of the bar, but members of the judiciary go to him" for guidance.

But Lamoureux's qualifications represent just one reason why his supporters are rallying behind his re-election bid. They don't want to see Mariano -- specifically Mariano -- get the job. In fact, the mayor's entire campaign has been dubbed "an affront," "offensive," even a greedy move for a bigger paycheck by certain critics. The mayor, after all, is a connected politician. Emphasize the word "politician."

"The machine is definitely behind Ray," Ford says. "The question I'd want to ask voters is if they want to turn over the court to the machine."

Others are more blunt. "By the time September comes around, the image of the court will be completely revised and fiction will be reality, and the job that the current clerk is doing will look completely different," says a longtime Mariano critic, forecasting how the campaign will unfold. "[Lamoureux] will not recognize himself."

Lamoureux takes a gentleman's approach. He focuses on his own accomplishments, yet subtly discredits the mayor. "For the best results [the clerk] should be an attorney or have a minimum of 10 years' experience in a Superior Court's office," he explains (Mariano has neither). "If you had a person who was an attorney but had no experience, or if you had a person who had that experience but was not an attorney, that person could become proficient. But if you have neither, the results would be chaotic for the attorneys and the judges who sit here -- more especially for the public and the people who sit in this office."

Certainly, Mariano has rankled by some of the talk around town. At a recent interview, he angrily relayed what he charges are disparaging references to his Italian ethnicity. "Words that are too foul to repeat relative to my heritage. . . . They have nothing to say about me so they attack me personally -- my personality, my temperament. . . . It goes to the highest levels of that campaign. . . . The clerk is allowing it," he fumes. He pulls out an anonymous flier sent to area attorneys praising Lamoureux for having the "temperament needed" for the post and attacking Mariano for "looking for a pay check" and being a person who "could not care about anyone but himself."

Mariano says he knows the source of the flier and of the attack, but he refuses to name names. Yet he's comfortable enough to air it in public, and that puts the Lamoureux camp at a disadvantage. "This is the first I've heard of it," says Lamoureux (who is of French-Canadian and Irish decent, by the way). "If anyone is doing that then they're doing it on their own. They're certainly not doing it on orders or on anyone's direction involved in the campaign. That's repulsive."

For sure, Mariano's a popular man to talk about, a point the mayor concedes. And his campaign is tonic for those who love to speculate -- most of all for those not even involved in the race. Several oft-heard tales are worth responding to, he agrees. First, he will indeed complete the six-year term ("of course"), though it's said he'll use the office to secure a fundraising and voter base for a statewide, higher-office run. Mariano laughs at the notion, adding it's "unlikely" he'll ever seek higher office. Then there's the pay-raise talk (in fairness, a logical and widespread conclusion given the city's meager, part-time mayor's salary). Mariano argues the job represents a "small" pay cut for him because he'd retire from his current political-consultant's job (he won't disclose the income). He compliments the clerk's staff, saying he'd keep it intact, though some have suggested he'd gut the office for jobs for his friends. And the fact he's not an attorney? On this issue, Mariano has plenty to say.

"Our view of the job is very different," he says, explaining what sets him apart from Lamoureux. "I'm a trained public administrator: I have a degree in it, and that's what the job requires. . . . He sees his job as head secretary. I don't. It's the only elected position to speak for the people of Worcester County. . . . For 13 years, he has not spoken to the people. He has talked to no one. He sits in his office all day and talks to lawyers. I'm not going to go there and shuffle papers. I'm going there to serve the people."

Mariano provides specifics on how he'd do the job; but if there's one word to sum up the campaign message, it's "advocacy."

He points to the Superior Court sessions in Fitchburg, canceled in the 1970s when the state was short on judges. Northern Worcester County legislators say they've argued for years the court should be renovated and reopened to boost Fitchburg's downtown economy and to spare folks from traveling for as long as an hour (think of faraway New Hampshire border towns such as Royalston) to Worcester. Mariano insists the clerk should lobby the state legislature to remodel the Fitchburg facility, and then press the judiciary to assign a judge there.

"Loring Lamoureux has done zero. He's talked to no one about it. He even acknowledges it's a problem," Mariano says.

Mariano is critical of what he says is an "unacceptable" caseload backlog, arguing a Fitchburg session would give the county another courtroom to cut the delay in lawsuits tried. Other satellite courts could be established, too, he says. The clerk should publicize current "alternative dispute resolution" (similar to mediation) programs and convince the legislature to allow retired judges to handle lawsuits that linger on the court's docket, he says.

He claims evidence can be handled better. Education programs can be boosted -- Mariano cites a series of programs he put together as mayor with a variety of agencies in 1994 to combat the city's gang program as an example of how the court should "collaborate." Updating the clerk's office equipment and creating a court Web site are on his priority list. Improvements in staff training, citizen services, and community outreach are all addressed in an 11-point plan that answers why he wants such an obscure, low-profile job.

"I like solving problems. To work and make changes is very gratifying. It doesn't have to be high profile," Mariano says.

"This allows me to do all kinds of things that I don't do in my current job," he adds.

And that's exactly why, Lamoureux supporters insist, he shouldn't be clerk.

Reform movement

If Lamoureux employs an effective line of defense against Mariano it's likely to be what he and his supporters consider the mayor's lack of appropriate professional training. After all, half of the clerks in the 14-county-large Superior Court system are attorneys. And if they're not, then they have extensive experience working in the clerk's office prior to getting the top post.

"My take is that most people think [the person who fills the position] should be a lawyer," says Shirley Doyle, a noted local divorce attorney, wife of Fran Ford, and soon-to-be Worcester County Bar Association president, though she says she doesn't speak for the bar. She does, however, publicly support Lamoureux. "We have someone who wouldn't be able to get himself out of a paper bag. [Mariano] has no concept."

In fact, the talk of Mariano's campaign within the legal community has reached such levels, attorneys, among others, have responded by opening their wallets. Lamoureux had less than $3000 when the campaign began. (Compare that to Mariano's election funds, which at the start of the year totaled $146,000.) But a May 24 fundraiser netted the current clerk $40,000, Ford says. Lamoureux will soon take to the airwaves to air campaign commercials (which Mariano has already done to great, perhaps damaging effect). He's likely to push the fact his late mother, Lillian, was former US Rep. Joseph Early's aunt. Early is still a popular figure in Central Massachusetts political circles. His son, Joe Jr., is currently running for state senate; his organization will certainly help.

Lamoureux will also do what he seems so uncomfortable at, shaking hands with the voters and campaigning on the "Where's the need for reform?" creed.

And he intends to refute certain facts advanced by Mariano's election team.

"Some of the comments in the paper could be a little more accurate and probably a little more complete," Lamoureux says.

For instance, the Fitchburg court issue was wildly blown out of proportion, he says. In early May, the 129-year-old courthouse was reopened for a week-long session. Mariano and North Worcester County legislators publicly blasted Lamoureux for the move saying it was a campaign tactic. Lamoureux counters, the decision wasn't his but Judge Timothy Hillman's; the state judiciary -- not the clerk's office -- has jurisdiction, he says, over which courts are in session. And he dismisses the characterization he'd stoop to politics or that the reopening was "more than a coincidence" as Mariano insists.

"I wouldn't be surprised that people who are not lawyers or don't have training in the law wouldn't know that," he says. "You can try to put a spin on it, but it doesn't wash."

Then there's the caseload backlog. Lamoureux argues there's little delay in lawsuits being scheduled before judges. If there's any, it's due to the courthouse's space limitations. He points to a new courthouse (construction is slated to start in the next several years, though a site has yet to be selected). A new court will solve the backlog problem with additional courtrooms. He also references another Lawyers Weekly article, this one from May 2000, which shows the backlog decreased statewide in recent years because fewer cases were filed.

He and his supporters also challenge Mariano's assertion evidence can be handled better.

"I wouldn't store things in paper bags," Mariano says.

"If there's any indication at all [that evidence isn't properly handled], there would be an inquiry by the district attorney's office," says Michael Donovan, Suffolk Superior Court clerk for civil trials and a Lamoureux supporter. "I think that's a scurrilous rumor."

But as far as being an advocate for the courts, the cornerstone of Mariano's campaign platform, Lamoureux gives his opponent credit for the idea. Sort of.

"I suppose there's something to be said for that. In the past, I've spoken to the legislature for some of the needs for the court," he says. "But that certainly -- in the overall job description -- would represent a very small percentage of the clerk's time.

"Of course if the clerk knows little of the rules and the statutes that govern the clerk's job, one could assume that he would fill his time with such things as advocacy," he adds.

Advocating is what Mariano does best. And there's no question he's waging an effective campaign; at the helm of it is William Eddy, who's run several mayoral elections prior to this race. Nowadays, he spreads Mariano's court-reform gospel.

"The issue in this race, the bottom line, is that the voters have a clear contrast: one candidate who represents the current administration thinks everything is fine," he says. "I think it does work fine for the small clique of attorneys who practice there. They'll say Lawyers Weekly this, Lawyers Weekly that, and they'll pat themselves on the back. Ray Mariano will tell you, the ordinary people who use the courts don't feel it works fine."

But Eddy's message might be eclipsed by those in the smallish circle of Worcester's Democratic City Committee, of which Eddy's president. He's come under fire for his campaign involvement -- for working on Mariano's behalf prior to the primary. Certain members say the committee has an "unwritten agreement" to avoid races between "good" Democrats embroiled in a primary race. But there are many examples when that rule was broken. In 1994, for example, committee members worked for both congressional candidates and Democrats Kevin O'Sullivan and James McGovern in the primary (McGovern won and successfully beat incumbent and Republican Peter Blute). So it's unlikely much will come of the criticism concerning Eddy.

In fact, a staggering number -- 120 thus far -- of elected officials (Congressman McGovern and all but three of the county's state representatives included) are involved in the race, publicly endorsing Mariano's bid. So too have the Teamsters and, says Mariano, members of the Tenet nurses' union are working on his behalf. Then there are even high-profile lawyers like Bowditch & Dewey's Michael Angelini and Richard Van Norstrand, a former bar-association president and a partner at Worcester's Mirick O'Connell firm. Unlike many lawyers who fear Mariano's "advocacy," Van Norstrand welcomes it.

"I think while it's an administrative position, it's also a position that requires the clerk to advocate the needs of the local Superior Court with the higher leadership of the judicial administration and to advocate for the distribution of necessary resources of the lower courts," he says. "Ray, it seems, has proven his effectiveness at that."

Effective at governing, perhaps. Mariano sits atop the city's revival, which includes Route 146 construction, the Medical Center, and a renewed interest in Worcester's neighborhoods. And he's praised for his leadership. Yet the mayor does have his critics, ones who surfaced years ago and are likely to vote against him on principle. A host of Worcester City Hall employees are said to be giddy at the prospect he'll eventually leave 455 Main Street. (He maintains he'll keep a clerk's job and remain mayor until his mayoral term expires at the end of 2001 unless there is a court ruling otherwise. Definitely expect someone to file a lawsuit challenging his dual, albeit short-lived career, should he win. Mariano, though, says he's likely to petition the court for an answer before anyone else does. Aside, the city has 113 cases pending in Superior Court, which could prove a compelling reason for him to step down.)

Still observers consider him the front-runner. But on the campaign trail, Mariano is taking nothing for granted. He embarks on a daily crusade to convince voters he's the best man for Superior Court clerk. Compared to Lamoureux's campaign effort -- virtually invisible so far -- Mariano's is a full-blown assault. And in a primary race, sure to compel just a small number of voters to the polls, being organized and being visible could make the difference. Mariano's banking on that.

Lamoureux is hoping there are still fans of the retired Congressman Early to carry him to victory. His widespread popularity within the legal community will also help. And he's praying ordinary folks take the time to understand and appreciate his record.

So far, there is promise, say his supporters. "I think [people] are surprised by the rapid response of the Lamoureux campaign," says Ford, his campaign manager.

Beyond the stumping, the mud-slinging, and the fundraising, there's an even larger, more daunting challenge facing both candidates. Currently, this race is rooted in the inner circles of the county's political establishment. For how long, who knows? Because convincing voters to show interest in a clerk's race might be the toughest, cruelest obstacle out there.

Melissa Houston can be reached atmhouston[a]phx.com.