Crowded field

Who will be the sole survivor in the four-way Democratic primary race to succeed state representative Harriette Chandler?

by Chris Kanaracus

The streets leading to Newton Square in Worcester are a crush of minivans and late-model sedans, most of them plastered with campaign signs and stickers. They're streaming to Gary Rosen's Hot Dogs and Ice Cream, which has been transformed into a political forum on this recent Wednesday night. Rosen, a former Worcester city councilor and school-committee member, has invited the four Democrats running for the 13th Worcester District state representative's seats -- Harriet Lebow, Robert Spellane, Joseph Spillane, Brian O'Connell (and James Lukes, the sole Republican candidate) -- into his business for a debate.

The turnout -- albeit heavily padded by campaign workers -- is strong. About 100 onlookers are in the house and at one point, the gathering spills out the door and onto the sidewalk. It's a decidedly low-tech affair; The candidates' names have been scrawled in Magic Marker on five cardboard placards, which are arrayed on the front counter.

Despite the homespun atmosphere, there's apprehension in the air, and with good reason. The 13th Worcester seat, now held by Representative Harriette Chandler (who is battling lawyer Joe Early Jr. for the 1st Worcester Senate post formerly held by Robert A. Bernstein; see "Open season," August 4) is a coveted one. It covers the town of Paxton and West Side wards 1 and 9. Whoever wins will face Lukes for the chance to represent one of the area's most powerful, affluent and politically active voting blocs.

The seat is also considered by many to be the traditional mouthpiece of the Worcester delegation, certain members of which have been maligned for their lack of polish. "Historically, this seat has been the most articulate voice for Worcester. It's the seat that leads," says a longtime political observer.

Three of the Democrats are political newcomers. Bob Spellane, 30, director of development for the non-profit Central Massachusetts Housing Alliance, nods to a row of supporters at the back of the room and fiddles with his collar. Lawyer "Big" Joe Spillane (he's 6'9"), also 30, stands bolt upright, a thin-lipped smile on his face. Lebow, 49, former director of the non-profit Oak Hill Community Development Corporation, stands to the far left, and looks straight ahead. Of the five candidates, only one, O'Connell, a 51-year-old lawyer and long-time school-committee member, looks truly at ease. He stands to one side and pores over an open notebook. Occasionally, O'Connell surveys the room and displays a game face or a garrulous grin.

During three terms, Chandler connected with seniors and voters while building a reputation as a health-care advocate. Many credit her with helping to smooth the 1998 merger between Memorial and the University of Massachusetts hospitals, and she held a key post as co-chair of the legislature's Joint Committee on Health Care.

Health care won't fade as a concern, but there are only a few heated issues within the district right now. The next representative will have to deal with the ongoing debate over a proposed access road to struggling Worcester Airport. The road, which backers say could increase business there, would require the removal of scores of homes in the Hadwen Park neighborhood. In Paxton, parents are embroiled in talks with sister towns in the Wachusett school district over how to replace ancient Wachusett Regional High School.

Both issues come up during the debate at Rosen's, but the generalized talk centers on high-profile topics like health care reform, prescription-drug coverage for seniors, and MCAS educational testing. Save for hot-button issues like abortion rights and the death penalty, the candidates seem remarkably unified in their opinions.

Indeed, the field's most notable aspect is how crowded it is. Local media has paid only cursory attention, but indications are that the 13th Worcester race will be one of the tightest this year. If voter turnout on September 19 matches that of previous years (about 40 percent), the winner will need less than 3000 votes to win -- an easily obtainable goal for someone with the money, a committed group of supporters, and an eye for their would-be constituents. This is why the four Democrats are steadily using the time-honored techniques: lawn signs, "stand-outs," bumper stickers, direct mailings, and phone banks, and maybe even a few dirty tricks.

With less than three weeks before the September 19 primary, things are heating up.

FOR AT LEAST TWO of the candidates, a race that began as a quiet, grassroots affair has turned into something more bitter.

Spellane and Spillane, by virtue of their similar names and backgrounds (both are 30 and attended Doherty High School), seem like the race's most natural adversaries. Since most voters couldn't tell one from the other, they need to sharply define themselves in order to win.

The pair haven't disappointed fight fans. In August, a Dianne Williamson column in the Telegram & Gazette alleged that members of Spillane's campaign staff, including his father, John W. Spillane, pulled strings to block Spellane from holding a fund-raiser at the Circuit Avenue Knights of Columbus hall. The ostensible reason? Spellane is pro-choice. Spillane is pro-life, as is the Knights of Columbus organization. But according to the column, the move by Knights officials to rescind Spellane's $200 deposit was a first.

Williamson's column also suggested the congregation of Christ the King Church, of which both men are members, is split over the issue. But complicating things, for sure, is Spellane's extensive involvement with church fundraising efforts; he participated in a recent drive that garnered about $750,000.

Beyond that controversy, Spellane says he'll distinguish himself by his record. A father of three, he is a longtime volunteer in the Worcester Public Schools, co-founded the Seven Hills Youth Foundation, which raises funds for youth activities, and has led an effort to build a park near the Main Street YMCA. Spellane says his work as a member of the Coalition for Health Care, a grassroots group that placed a referendum on this year's ballot, shows his commitment to health-care issues. "The key is, no other candidate has worked on all of these issues prior to running for office," he says.

Spellane's political training began in 1982, when US Senator Ted Kennedy used the Spellane family's Vassar Street home as the setting for a nationally televised response to a radio address by then-president Ronald Reagan. "The country was in a recession at the time," Spellane recalls. "My dad had been laid off from General Motors. . . . He worked on the assembly line. Ted Kennedy asked Ronald Reagan how he could tell my father everything was going to be fine."

It's also significant that Spellane's primary vocation is as a fundraiser. To do that job effectively, you need to ingratiate yourself to connected, monied players -- key relationships in any political campaign. "He's definitely been planting the seeds for a run for at least a couple of years now," says an observer. And there's no doubt Spellane has been eager to get going. When Chandler announced her run for the state Senate seat, he declared his candidacy the very next day.

Judging by his war chest, Spellane has friends, indeed, and has called in favors. He's raised about $35,000, more than his opponents, and can claim a host of labor endorsements -- the AFL-CIO, the United Auto Workers, and the Central Massachusetts Labor Council, to name a few -- and from such prominent Worcester residents as former mayor Sarah Robertson and school-committee member Jack Foley. Even a pair of Paxton selectmen, Ronald Johnson and Tom Carroll, are backing Spellane.

Referring to the blocked fundraiser at the Knights of Columbus Hall, Spellane says, "We've stayed on the issues while this has gone on. It just reaffirms how desperate some candidates will behave when the pressure is on."

Perhaps, but the reality is a little more complex. Spellane doesn't mention how Williamson's article, which painted Spillane's camp as bullies, could help his own case with pro-choice voters in the district, a constituency where he's certainly competing with Lebow. And who, exactly, tipped off Williamson to the story, anyway? "You know how campaigns are," offers Spellane, who says he has no knowledge of the tipster. "Things like this always get leaked."

Spellane's fundraiser will go forward, on September 8, but the issue was still kicking during an August 23 debate. Spillane, his cheeks flushed, refused to directly comment on the Williamson column.

The next morning, during a meeting at his Pleasant Street apartment, the lanky, soft-spoken Spillane reiterated his stand. "I'm not going to dignify her column, which was mostly an attack on my father, and which was based on inference, conjecture, and speculation," he told me. "It's not even dignified for me to speculate how [Williamson learned of the dispute]."

Spillane, a former assistant district attorney, says Spellane's complaints aren't really relevant. "[Abortion] is not among the top 10 issues in this race. I haven't made it a part of my platform. It's a divisive issue. . . . I can understand the arguments on both sides. I hope people respect my own view, without marginalizing me, or attempting to make [abortion] a centerpiece of the campaign."

He says he's spent his time in the district, talking to voters about issues like brownfields renewal, health-care reform, education, and economic development. But on this morning, at least, he offers little in the way of specifics. instead, it seems, he hopes to get by on his earnest personality and experience as a prosecutor. "What I bring to the table is a lawyer's dispassionate way of reasoning, combined with a Democrat's passion for social justice," Spillane says.

Although his work over the past several years with the DA's office legally precluded him from direct involvement in political activities, he says he's been watching from the fringes all the while, and comes across as a sincere admirer of the Legislature.

Early campaign buzz had Spillane in the lead, mostly due to the influence of his father, who has long been among Worcester's most connected Democrats and is a prominent figure in the area's pro-life community. "[John W. Spillane] knows a lot of [prominent Democrats]. He's made a lot of phone calls on behalf of Joe," says a Democratic committee member. The elder Spillane also lobbies part-time for the insurance industry. Observers speculated the combination of big-time donations from Spillane's associates (Joseph Spillane declined to reveal how much money he's raised), along with the loyal support of the district's pro-life voters, was a winning one.

But things haven't gone as well for Spillane of late. While he scorns the validity of the Williamson column, he's done and said nothing to disprove it; as it stands, he looks like a bully. Then there's the possibility that he's the victim of a telephone "push poll," in which potential voters are asked biased questions in the guise of a survey. Voters from the 13th District tell the Phoenix they have received phone calls from an individual who, among other things, asked if they would vote for Spillane if they knew his father was "a lobbyist for the insurance industry."

The Spellane camp denies conducting a push poll as such. "Any organized campaign is going to do an informational poll to find out where their strengths and weaknesses are," Robert Spellane told the Phoenix. "That's what we have done."

Asked if the question about Joseph Spillane's father's lobbying activities wasn't a little pointed, Spellane takes the opportunity to spell things out. "No. It's true," he says "Just like he could say my dad spent 30 years in the UAW union. . . . If I called you on the phone and said, `Did you know Joe Spillane's father worked for years to increase your insurance premiums by 20 to 30 percent?' then that would be a push poll."

A Spillane victory won't be an easy one -- something he readily concedes. "It's a horse race right now. It's definitely a horse race."

LEBOW, WHOSE campaign slogan declares she's "Not One of the Boys," hasn't and says she won't join the abortion fray. "I've always been pro-choice," she says. "I think people should forget about mixing [Spellane and Spillane] up and vote for me."

Her platform stresses economic development and transportation, community relations, and neighborhood revitalization. Nothing unusual there. But Lebow hopes voters will choose her based on her record, especially at the Oak Hill CDC. She's most proud of her work securing funds for the $16 million, 150-unit Upsala Elder Housing project, built from the shell of a crumbling elementary school. "Getting that done took community organizing, finding grants, and making partnerships with the business community," says Lebow.

On a recent afternoon, Lebow -- with her two young sons in tow -- is on a door-knocking sojourn through the June Street neighborhood. She says she spends at least two hours each day canvassing the district, and sometimes as many as five. "It's what the old political hands say is the thing to do, so I'm doing it."

Lebow was a latecomer to the race; she filed her nomination papers in May, just one week before the deadline. No matter, she says. "We're making headway lately. I feel like a real contender now."

On this occasion, though, Lebow's efforts bear mixed results. "Sixty to 75 percent of the time, people aren't home," she says. And when a resident does answer the door, her interactions tend to be brief, albeit pleasant encounters marked mostly by personal introductions and handing out campaign literature. "I think people probably have more to say to you if you're already in office," she says.

In order to get there, she's sought the input of longtime politicos, and noted consultant Kathy Robertson, who ran US Representative James McGovern's successful 1996 campaign, says she's offered Lebow free advice. Beyond expert help, one observer sees a clear advantage for Lebow; namely, her potential connection in some voters' minds to Chandler. Both are progressive, Jewish women, a good many of which live in the 13th District. In addition, the Caucus of Women Voters recently endorsed Lebow's campaign.

As far as money, Lebow declined to reveal the exact figure she's raised. She does say, however, that her campaign is close to its initial $35,000 goal. "I don't want this campaign to be about money. I want it to focus on the issues," she says. Nice sentiment, but also a clever way, perhaps, to avoid admitting you're not in the lead.

WAITING IN THE wings, of course, is O'Connell. Some observers, in fact, say they're not even sure that he's running. His opponents should be especially appreciative -- O'Connell is easily the most experienced of the candidates, and unlike his peers, a seasoned and nimble public speaker.

But during a meeting at his Main Street law office, O'Connell disputes the perception that he's invisible. "[The race] is going well," he says. "[My opponents] have chosen to blanket main streets with signs. I've been more subtle with my visibility." O'Connell says he's stuck to direct-mail campaigns, public debates, and discussions with people during his travels. "As we get a little closer to the election, I think you'll start seeing a bit more happen." But perhaps O'Connell's strategy is born out of necessity -- he says he's raised only $15,000 so far.

It's also provided an added benefit of sorts. O'Connell is pro-life and is also a member of Christ the King, but has entirely avoided the ugly conflict between Spellane and Spillane.

But current visibility notwithstanding, O'Connell has major name recognition, something even his opponents acknowledge. "I think I've got a good base," he says. Indeed. He's in his ninth term on the school committee, and in the last election, garnered over 15,000 votes, more than any other candidate. O'Connell also serves on the Massachusetts Education Reform Review Board, an appointed committee that oversees proposed changes in the state's education-reform laws. The 13th Worcester race, though, is only O'Connell's second run for a more ambitious office. In 1992, he unsuccessfully challenged US Representative Joe Early for the Democratic nomination. Despite the defeat, O'Connell performed strongly in areas that coincide with the 13th District.

Based on experience in public office, O'Connell has an advantage over the other candidates. He says his legal background provides another edge. "As a lawyer, I'm aware of how poorly worded language can backfire," he says. Still, you've got to wonder why O'Connell waited so long -- more than 15 years -- to run for higher office. One observer sees it as a plus: "By not running until now, [he's] demonstrated he's not in politics for the sake of his ego."

For his part, O'Connell says he was motivated by the upcoming review of funding for education reform. "Unfortunately, people tend to look at problems through the prism of their own community," he says. "This and other concerns are polarizing ones, and as a legislator I'll seek to craft a complex look at all the issues."

But most say O'Connell won't get the chance if he doesn't raise his campaign's profile. "He's never been a tenacious campaigner. You never hear him bash anybody, it's not his style," says Al Vuona, host of The Public Eye, a WICN (FM 90.5) political talk show.

With just over two weeks until primary day, one observer says, "The biggest factor is what [O'Connell] does between now and then. He has the resume, the record, and the respect."

Yet with no clear frontrunner, the race remains too close to call. A tough situation for pundits, perhaps, but perhaps a fitting one, given the prize at stake.

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