Open season

Three candidates vie to fill retiring Senator Bob Bernstein's shoes. With few issues that separate them, can voters tell the difference?

by Chris Kanaracus

No question Harriette Chandler is a busy woman. Not only is the state representative in the heated, final days of the legislation session, but also she has a campaign to worry about. Chandler, a three-term District 13 legislator and former Worcester School Committee member, has given up her seat, and thus a key post on the legislature's Health Care Committee, to face local lawyer Joseph D. Early Jr., a political newcomer, for the Democratic nomination to a state Senate post.

Chandler, 62, is so pressed for time she's forced to tell a reporter about her achievements -- and, if elected, her future plans -- not over a cup of coffee or on the phone but in her car on the way to the State House. She has her eyes on the road, of course, but even navigating a traffic-choked Mass Pike doesn't distract her from getting her message out. "Under my watch, Medicaid expanded. Every child under the age of 19 now has medical insurance under MassHealth. We're trying out a pilot program to see how we can insure seasonal workers like fishermen," she says. Later, the talk turns to better schools and to prescription-drug coverage for senior citizens.

Hers is a likable -- if fairly obvious -- platform. Who's not for quality health care? Or for an improved education system? It's no shock then when you ask Early what he stands for, his response triggers a case of déjà vu.

If there's one thing to distinguish the two September 19 primary challengers (the winner will face another Worcester lawyer, Republican Chris Loconto, in November), it's Early's attempts to play "outsider." The 42-year-old political neophyte is a vocal proponent of campaign-finance reform and of a clean-elections law. He points to -- actually, he faxed a copy to the Phoenix -- a July 23 Boston Globe article that painted state government as a body in the immutable grip of lobbyist-funded leadership, i.e., House Speaker Thomas Finneran and Senate President Thomas F. Birmingham. Without specifically saying so, Early intimates Chandler is part of the problem.

He hopes his irritation with the status quo -- which presumably includes Chandler -- is shared by District 1 voters. "People are

looking for a new voice, a fresh voice. I'm that person."

Yet don't expect a bloodbath; the candidates so far prove to be allergic to mud. Instead, connections, loyalties, and strategy will continue to drive the campaign. But if you ask around, most -- make that all -- local politicos will tell you this race is one of the tightest this year.

That shouldn't be a surprise when you consider what's at stake. District 1 covers Clinton, West Boylston, Boylston, and Holden; it also governs Wards 1 and 9 in Worcester, both of which are in the generally well-off, voter-rich West Side. The seat, too, is one now held by retiring Senator Robert Bernstein, easily the most respected legislator from Worcester. And, according to many observers, he's an effective anchor man for the Central Massachusetts delegation (see "What About Bob?", April 7). His retirement could vault his replacement to superstar status across the state.

On the surface, Chandler has an edge. As a three-term representative and former school committee member, she's established her name recognition. And her tenure hasn't been contentious: as one longtime observer puts it, Chandler has "stayed away from the fray, from any political bloodletting. She's managed to reach across age, race, and [gender] barriers for support." Chandler isn't hurting for funds either, having entered the race with more than $60,000.

Yet Early is the scion of a local political dynasty. His father, former Congressman Joe Early Sr., retained the 3rd Congressional District seat (currently held by James McGovern) for 18 years. It's nearly a decade since he held office, but Early is still influential. How so? His son's first fundraiser, held in May, drew more than 700 supporters, at a $100 a head.

But networks will get you only so far. In peak economic times, with no burning issue, both Early and Chandler have realized if they want to win, they have to go face-to-face with the voters -- especially when there's little meaningful difference between them.

THE CORNER OF Devens and Burncoat streets, 6 p.m. It's a classic upper-middle-class neighborhood. Every lawn is impeccably manicured. On several, fresh water drops glisten invitingly. Small children buzz around on their bikes. Today, at least, Devens Street looks like the soundstage for a My Three Sons revival.

In comparison, Joe Early's blue Jeep Cherokee is a mess. Coffee cups and crumpled papers spill on and over the front seat. The back of the vehicle is a jumble of campaign literature and gimmicks: stickers, magnets, emery boards.

But Early's prepared. Attached to a clipboard is a list of the street's registered voters: their names, party affiliation, and even voting records for the past two elections. After each house, Early places a number next to the name; a "1" signals a hit, a "3" a strikeout. Later, he and campaign manager John Murphy, a Worcester attorney, will compile the information to see which areas require more campaigning.

Early seems energized, hardly apprehensive given this is his first run for office. "I've definitely got the fire in my belly. People have asked me for years. `Joe, run for this, you should run for that.' Here I am."

He's at the first house, a pale yellow colonial. Early delivers his pitch. "Hi! How are ya? . . . I'm Joe Early, I'm running for state Senate, and I hope you'll consider voting for me." The man who answers the door, a burly, goateed fellow in his early 30s, appraises the campaign literature Early hands him. He shrugs and bids a pleasant good-night. But at the next house, Early strikes gold: his golf buddy, a sixtyish man named Tom, answers the door. "We're taking nothing for granted," Early chuckles.

Tonight not many people are home. In each case, Early makes sure to stick pamphlets in doors. An hour or so later, it's time to call it quits. There's a concert in Elm Park he won't miss; potential voters are sure to be there. But Devens Street, while not a washout, hasn't been a gold mine either. That is, until Early makes his way back to the Jeep. Just before he gets there, the front door of a house across the street opens. It's Mr. Goatee, and he has Early's campaign flier in hand. "Hey, good luck!" he shouts. "I'll give you a vote." It turns out, like Early, the man has children, too. For about a minute, the two talk about fatherhood. Then it's time to go.

The moment illustrates a crucial point: no matter how well-known your name or how earnest your approach, voters don't give away their votes. They think about such decisions, as did the gentleman on Devens Street. Indeed, Early has his work cut out for him.

But he's hardly new at this. He's worked on his father's numerous campaigns, and on those of close friends, such as District 5 councilor Steve Abraham who defeated Wayne Griffin last November. Plus, there's always Dad's advice, which, Early says, he's glad to take. "Politically speaking, he's the smartest person I've met."

But for Early, there's no better primer than his father's own defeat to Republican Peter Blute in 1992. Overshadowing the campaign was the elder Early's most embarrassing moment: after accusations he bounced scores of checks through the House bank, Early melted down on live television. In what is known as the "Rats" speech, Early tore mercilessly into his colleagues, alleging they turned their backs on him. Early was later exonerated by a Justice Department investigation, but the scandal no doubt contributed to his defeat.

Perhaps, though, the real reason behind the senior Early's loss was his failure to campaign outside of Worcester. Al Vuona, who hosts the politics-themed Public Eye on WICN (90.9 FM), says the Early camp underestimated the importance of Blackstone Valley towns like Attleboro and Fall River and didn't vigorously campaign there after the district was redrawn in 1992. "I'm sure that due to that, [Joe Early Sr.] is filling him in on not taking anything for granted," Vuona says.

But one thing the younger Early hasn't done is to strongly define the differences between himself and his opponent. So far, he's resorted to the old "throw the bums out" approach. It could work, but it's a little surprising, considering his father held office for nearly two decades. "As a legislator, I will act. I won't react to the people's concerns," he says.

Early says he's also troubled by Chandler's war chest, an amount her campaign has yet to release. "What am I supposed to do when someone's that far ahead? I'm going to get outspent." As likable as Early is, this rings a bit hollow. After all, $70,000 from one fundraiser is a rock-solid performance, especially when you consider he has two more events planned, on August 14 and August 28. "It's not enough. It's not enough," he says, shaking his head. "And I don't like asking. But you have to do it in order to get elected."

ON ONE PARTICULAR morning, you wouldn't guess Chandler is leaving anything to chance; she and several supporters are already out campaigning at 6 a.m. They've decided to hold a "standout" on a patch of grass near the Lincoln Street bridge, which runs over I-290. It's a shrewd choice; even at this early hour, hundreds of cars hurtle by on their way to the highway. "Reaching people is the number-one thing," says Chandler as she waves to passing commuters, trades asides with campaign workers, and fields questions from a reporter.

And her supporters sing her praises. Mary Jane Saska, a Worcester County House of Corrections counselor, says she's backed Chandler for several years, after Sheriff John "Mike" Flynn invited Chandler to speak with prisoners. "She stayed all day. I was surprised. She impressed me. Everything she stands for is what I would fight for," says Saska.

Dale Fair, a seniors advocate from Paxton, says Chandler's dedication to the elderly is exemplary, particularly on health-care concerns.

Chandler, a longtime Worcester resident who currently makes her home on the city's West Side, has built her support for some time. Prior to defeating Republican Constantin T. Leventis in 1994 (she has since run unopposed in the past two elections), she served on the school committee for three years. Chandler, unlike Early, doesn't consider her experience a hindrance. "I've been around for six years. I don't feel tired or like an insider or anything else," she says. "[Early] should come up with something better than that." And she's not finished. "Look. I have a record. I have accomplishments. I can come through the door running. I know how the political process works. I don't feel beholden to special interests. Just because some people are [tied to lobbyists] doesn't mean everyone is."

But Chandler's representative's seat could work against her; though it grants her an incumbent-like rub, she's still on the job, which, judging by a recent day the Phoenix spent with her, is so burdensome, it's a wonder she finds the time to campaign.

The standout breaks up shortly after 7 a.m.; Chandler has a breakfast to attend at the Martin Luther King Center, and then it's off to the grand opening of Union Station. After the ceremony, she must scramble to make it to the State House for a noontime Democratic caucus. That afternoon, she'll take her final votes of the legislative session, which ended on Tuesday. After, she'll be a guest on Upton Bell's WMEX (1060 AM) talk show.

"It's a very demanding position," Chandler says. But, nowadays, its one that affords a level of visibility her primary challenger can't match.

Take the Union Station event, which drew hundreds of Worcester's most connected players. Chandler worked the room like a pro. Not that she had to, really. Nearly everyone in her path stopped to say a few words.

But beyond mere charm, there's Chandler's co-chair position on the Health Care Committee, which in light of recent events, boosts her profile even higher. On July 21, Governor Paul Cellucci signed into law a measure that will change how health maintenance organizations, or HMOs, do business. There's a "patients' bill of rights," a provision common to many states but only now in place in Massachusetts. "The last 10 days have been remarkable. They've revolutionized what health care is going to look like in the future."

But critics of the bill, including Early and Loconto, complain it doesn't go far enough. Several key items are missing, they say, among them the right of patients to sue HMOs and provisions to cover the state's 600,000 uninsured citizens. Earlier this year, the grassroots Coalition for Healthcare successfully lobbied for an initiative on the November ballot, which will address those questions. But Chandler says such proposals need more study before becoming law.

Still, Chandler is sure to use those recent legislative victories during the campaign. "I'm not an opportunist. In running, I'm giving up a great deal. I'm going out on a limb with this race," Chandler says. Why gamble with a good thing? "I wanted a bigger voice."

RIGHT NOW, the race is too tight to call. Who claims the district's outlying communities might prove the biggest factor. For instance, Clinton -- easily one of the state's most politically active towns -- has been Early Country for decades. And if you ask longtime Clinton's politico Jackie Weeks, nothing has changed: Early Jr. is his man. "I like his fight. He's out there for education [and] health care. He's more of an independent on a lot of things," Weeks says. "When it's a Democrat, it's tough. But Joe Early represented this town very well for a long time. His father took care of Clinton."

Chandler hasn't overlooked Clinton's significance; she recently opened a campaign office there. But while she has the backing of 12th Worcester District incumbent Harold Naughton, a popular Clinton native, to hear Weeks tell it, she's doomed.

Yet even without Clinton, it would be naive to assume Chandler's chances outside of Worcester are slim. She's long been associated with Sheriff Flynn, whose popularity -- and organization -- is county-wide. And she has the important support of several prominent labor organizations: the Massachusetts Teachers Association, the Educational Association of Worcester, the United Steelworkers local, the Massachusetts Caucus of Women Voters, and the Worcester/Framingham AFL-CIO (also known as the Central Mass Labor Council). So far, Early has won the support of the Local 243 Laborers Union. Other influential groups, such as the Teamsters and area police and fire department unions, have yet to release their endorsements.

Murphy says Early's end of the race is based at the grassroots level. "Our opponent is a state representative. She enjoys a certain level of incumbency, and all of the things that go with that." Joe Engwer, also managing Early's campaign, is confident the Early camps' strategies will work. "We're running a meet-the-people type of campaign."

WHOEVER WINS the Democratic primary will have competition in the general election. Republican Chris Loconto, 33, a local criminal defense attorney, says he's campaigned since the year began. His candidacy, though, hasn't generated much interest from observers; he has no primary opponent, and, as such, local media haven't paid much attention.

But that's not to say he hasn't been waging his own grassroots campaign, stumping on a platform that's decidedly moderate: he's pro-choice, albeit with limitations, and expresses support for many of the initiatives pushed by Chandler and Early -- better schools, health care for all, and the like. Still, he separates himself from the Democrats.

"They're like Coke and Pepsi. I'm the outsider," Loconto says. He certainly is, especially when it comes to support from groups like local unions. "They send me all of these questionnaires," he sighs, holding one such document up, during a meeting at his Harvard Street office. "I could send it in and answer all the questions the way they want me to and get their endorsement. But who's the winner and who's the loser if I do that?"

Sharp rhetoric will only get him so far. More than likely, Loconto will rely on perennial Worcester-area Republican supporters for those crucial campaign funds: he suggests as much. For legwork, though, he has recruited the region's younger Republican set. "The older folks can help out with money, but they're too busy to go around door-to-door, getting the word out. The younger guys are very much gung-ho, and it's contagious," says Worcester Young Republican Club President Peter Lukes.

Loconto says he's eyed the seat for some time. "Look, Bob [Bernstein] is a gentleman, that's for sure. But I just wasn't happy with the level of representation we had in the district."

And though he has no primary competition to worry about, Loconto isn't wasting any time. Last week, he invited the Phoenix to accompany him on a dinner-hour swing through Boylston to knock on a few doors. "I'm doing it because I want to avoid sound bites, if I can. When I go and talk to people, I hope they'll see I'm a sincere guy."

Today, Loconto has chosen to canvass a sparsely populated series of winding country roads. A Loconto aide, Aaron Hackonsen, mans the clipboard with the registered-voter list. But Loconto takes care of the door-knocking.

But almost immediately his inexperience shows. Up ahead a short distance, an elderly person sits on a porch swing, rocking slowly back and forth. "Hello, sir!" Loconto cries. As it turns out, sir is a woman. D-oh. Surprisingly, the chat goes well. "You've got my vote!" Loconto's feeling so confident, he even asks if the woman will accept a lawn sign, which she does. He returns to the road, smiling but slightly red in the face. "Boy, that was a little embarrassing. From the profile, I could have sworn it was a man."

He's self-effacing in this way nearly all the time -- even when discussing the issues. Take his view on Second Amendment rights: "Look, I'm not a gun nut. But why not leave the laws they way they are now? Why add more?" Or on tax cuts and smaller government: "Look, no one wants to destroy the school systems and put people out of work. But why can't we get the most for our tax dollars? If I ran my business the way the legislature runs the state, I'd be picking up cans on the street trying to pay my rent."

Of course, Loconto won't be able to offer such opinions to the public at-large until after the primary when debates are held. Until then, he says, he'll be working diligently. "I see a campaign like I do a six-month jury trial. You have to slowly build your case over a period of time and get a group of people on your side."

It's a view, no doubt, all three candidates have proved they share. But if District 1 voters are playing the role of jury in this campaign, Chandler, Early, and Loconto won't know their verdict until November 7.

Chris Kanaracus can be reached at
ckanaracus[a]phx.com.