Late bloomer

First-time state-rep candidate James Lukes draws name recognition from his wife, but he still faces an uphill battle as an untested Republican in Massachusetts

by Chris Kanaracus

AFTER AN AUGUST debate at Gary Rosen's Hot Dogs in Newton Square, many in the crowd of about 100 partisans milled around on the sidewalk, chatting and holding signs for their candidates. Democrats like Bob Spellane, who eventually won the September 19 primary in a close victory over Joseph Spillane, held court with scores of followers, as did Spillane and Democrat Harriet Lebow. In contrast, James J. Lukes -- the lone Republican vying for the seat vacated earlier this year by state representative Harriette Chandler -- seemed like a lonely figure. His arms crossed and his mouth a wan line, Lukes stood with just two supporters.

If Lukes is going to win on November 7, he'll have to overcome some pretty long odds. It's no secret that the Republican Party is anemic in Massachusetts, and the GOP is certainly weak in Paxton and Worcester's heavily Democratic West Side, which are part of the 13th District. In fact, a Republican hasn't held this seat in more than 20 years.

But the GOP hopeful performed pretty well during the pre-primary debate at the hot dog stand. Lukes' centrist and conservative views provided a sharp contrast to the homogeneity of the four Democrats in the field, and his persistent, even frantic, manner of speaking suggested sincerity and firm convictions.

Lukes is no stranger to politics, of course. He's married to longtime Worcester city councilor Konstantina Lukes, who, with her support for controversial issues like needle exchange, exists outside the zeitgeist of local politics. She's also long carried on a public rivalry with Mayor Raymond Mariano.

The Lukes family's political inclinations span the generations. The couple's 30-year-old son, Peter, is seen as the area's most promising young Republican, and as such, he's been rewarded by Governor Paul Cellucci with a pending appointment as register of probate at Worcester District Court, an $88,000 position.

James Lukes also enjoys solid name recognition. While her pair of mayoral bids -- including one last year -- and an attempt at the District 5 council seat failed, Konnie Lukes has served on the school committee and as an at-large councilor for 14 years. It won't take much for most voters to draw a connection between husband and wife. Still, Konnie Lukes has remained in the shadows during her husband's campaign, on purpose, she claims.

"I don't want any baggage I might have to penalize my husband. This is his campaign," says Konnie Lukes. And since her relative popularity stems less from party affiliation than from her own strong personality, James Lukes remains largely on his own.

That said, he's showing a fair amount of ambition in gunning for the House seat. And the post vacated by Chandler, who's running for the state Senate, has a tradition of introducing some of the local delegation's strongest voices on Beacon Hill. The district itself is stocked with prosperous and politically active voters.

The major issues in the race between the 60-ish Lukes (he won't specify his age, citing a possible stigma) and Spellane, 30, the director of development for the Central Massachusetts Housing Alliance, are pretty familiar: education reform, health-care and prescription-drug coverage for seniors -- important, but obvious topics. Save for the simmering dispute over a proposed access road to Worcester Airport (which both Lukes and Spellane support, with restrictions), the candidates haven't had much, other than personality, to hang their campaigns on.

There's no question that Lukes is as likable a figure as his opponent. But without a firm voter base of his own and not much in the way of a war chest, James Lukes may be a little overly optimistic about his prospects for November.

AT THE SAME time, Lukes is a viable candidate on his own merits. At a time when health-care is once again a dominant issue, he can point to 25 years of experience in the field. Lukes recently retired as head of addiction services at St. Elizabeth's Hospital in Brighton. Before that, he headed a heart-research wing at the former St. Vincent's Hospital and served on the faculty of UMass Medical Center.

"I'm seasoned in this field," Lukes says. "I've worked with providers, patients. I've dealt with budgets . . . my knowledge base [on health-care] will help me deal with these issues." In contrast, Spellane has been active in health-care reform at the grassroots level, but hasn't worked in the medical field.

Unlike most Democrats, Lukes supports the Cellucci-Swift administration's proposed rollback of the state income tax from 5.95 to five percent. The proposal has been decried by many, most notably the teacher's unions, who say education has historically been hardest hit when taxes are cut. Others suggest that cutting taxes in times as flush as these isn't a good idea. Lukes, though, says it is, citing ethical grounds. "When that law was passed, they promised it would be lowered later on," he says, referring to 1989 legislation that raised the tax to its current rate.

Also in contrast to Spellane, Lukes supports the idea of charter schools -- publicly funded schools operated without union restrictions -- and supports removing the cap that allows only 50 charter schools in Massachusetts. The centerpiece of his platform may be his call for a two-year budget, which, Lukes says, will reduce the chance of shady deals in the frantic final days of legislative sessions.

These are traditional, even predictable, conservative views. But much like his wife, Lukes is not easily pigeonholed. He's anti-death penalty and pro-choice, a somewhat unusual combo for a Republican. "I actually look at myself as a Republicrat," he jokes. "I don't wear my "R" on my forehead."

Issues aside, one of the biggest questions is why Lukes hasn't run until now, especially when one considers his wife's involvement in public life. "I had a career, and I loved it," he says. "The bug never really bit me until now, but in the back of my mind I always thought about it. I could be on the golf course now. But I really want it. I want to contribute something. It might sound schmaltzy, but I believe it."

Although civic idealism is nice, Lukes has just $3295 in his campaign war chest, mostly because, he says, he doesn't like to twist supporters' arms. But frankly, that's not enough to win a city-council seat, let alone a state representative's contest against a strong Democrat. Beyond a paucity of campaign funds, Lukes -- at least on the surface -- has yet to mount a truly aggressive campaign. The candidate, however, says looks can be deceiving.

"We've been aggressive already," he says. "Don't believe that it's low-key. It's not. We've got our chess pieces in place and we've been out there every morning, whether it's a standout or knocking on doors." More fundraisers are planned in the coming weeks, he adds.

And even Democrats with ample campaign funds and strong name recognition can be fallible, as demonstrated by the way Loring Lamoureux, the incumbent clerk of courts, trashed Mariano in the September primary. "It reinvigorated me," Lukes says with a grin. Despite a robust campaign backed by more than 100 endorsements from elected officials, Mariano was trounced on a 60-40 margin by the experienced, but relatively low-key, Lamoureux.

At the same time, Lukes faces stiff competition in the general election. In the September primary, first-time candidate Spellane defeated three other Democratic hopefuls through a combination of strong connections to labor, solid fundraising (he brought in more than $30,000), aggressive door-to-door campaigning, and a focused and distinctly liberal message.

Spellane also proved resilient, surviving a nasty -- if laughably small-time -- tiff with Joseph Spillane, his closest rival in the primary. First, in August, Spellane claimed the pro-life Spillane had pulled strings to block his use of a Knights of Columbus hall for a fundraiser. The dispute brought the irrelevant (for a state's rep race) issue of abortion rights to the forefront, and led to dissension within the congregation of Christ the King Church, of which both men are members.

Then in September, Spillane charged that Spellane's campaign had conducted a "push poll," in which callers asked area voters leading questions about other candidates. A Tufts University grad student working for Spellane's campaign asked about 300 13th District voters if they'd vote for Spillane if they knew his father was an insurance lobbyist.

Despite the mud, Spellane squeaked past Spillane by 146 votes and left his other challengers, prominent School Committee member Brian O'Connell and management consultant Harriet Lebow, coughing in the dust.

Still, the Democrat says he's not about to underestimate Lukes. "Is he a threat?" asks Spellane. "Absolutely. This horse race is only half over. My campaign strategy won't change, no matter what."

Except, perhaps, for the hard words that marked his primary win over Spillane. Both Spellane and Lukes have pledged their contest won't go negative. And in truth, negativity between these candidates might be uncomfortable. Spellane played Little League baseball with Peter Lukes, and at one time was actually coached by James Lukes. While he notes the old-time connection, Spellane also says he's not about to take it easy on his opponent. Since September 1, when candidates were required to file financial records with the state Election Commission, Spellane says his campaign has raised an additional $10,000.

But one factor that could hurt Spellane (and perhaps help Lukes) might come from within Spellane's own party. At a September "unity" meeting held by area Democrats, Spillane --unlike Lebow and O'Connell -- didn't rise to endorse Spellane's campaign.

Spellane downplays the matter. But even a professed supporter, local talk-show host and pundit Robert MaCauley, says this split could be an issue. "He [Spillane] might help out Lukes, if only to hurt Spellane for the next time around," MaCauley says. "I think Joe Spillane will be back." In any case, Spellane would be wise to worry. Spillane lost, but he still garnered more than 2000 votes -- a more than ample swing vote come November.

IF YOU LOOK around, though, even this potential rub probably wouldn't put Lukes over the top, largely because Massachusetts remains a lousy place to be a Republican, despite the party's presence in the governor's office. Most observers point to the lack of grassroots party-building by Republicans Cellucci and his more charismatic predecessor, Bill Weld, since Weld was elected in 1990. More recently, Cellucci has made it a point to reach out, dispatching aides to candidates statewide, including Lukes, to dispense advice. Just advice, though. "Yeah, they come out here and talk strategy," Lukes says with a laugh. "But it's not like they bring the war wagon out or any money with them."

The GOP has even had difficulty getting enough candidates to run. Many Democrat-held seats in the area are unopposed. And for the most part, what Republican challengers do exist haven't fared much better than Lukes has.

The only remotely competitive bipartisan local race this year is between Representative David Bunker (D-Holden) and Republican Mark Ferguson. Ferguson won a special election for the seat in March after incumbent Harold Lane left to take another job. But just days later, Ferguson was forced to cede to Bunker when a re-count showed that Bunker had won by 13 votes.

The area's only Republican incumbent representative is Paul Frost (R-Auburn), who is gunning for a second term against little-known Democrat Susan Weagle.

Harriette Chandler will likely cruise to victory over moderate Chris Loconto, a local lawyer, for the 1st Worcester state Senate seat. Loconto, 30, has had to canvass an area about four times the size of the 13th Worcester district without the benefit of a machine like Chandler's. Indeed, Chandler-Loconto looks as much like a David-Goliath situation as any this year. Loconto's war chest stands at about $7000. In comparison, Chandler spent $150,000 on her successful primary win over Joe Early Jr., and she begins the post-primary period with $43,442.

For sure, this suggests a less than hopeful outlook for Lukes. But he shows no sign of fear. In fact, he's talking as if the race is in his pocket. "This is not going to be a career for me," he says. "I don't expect to get on the best committees. I just want people to take a step back and look at the candidates. It's all I can ask."

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