Face-off

Can grassroots activist Joe O'Brien unseat State Rep. Vincent Pedone and thus end a 3 decades East Side tradition?

by Kristen Lombardi

Vincent Pedone is perplexed. In his stack of leaflets and nomination papers, he cannot find the registered-voters list, and there are more houses on Harrington Way to visit. Muttering that he "knows the area anyway," he takes control and walks toward a Spartan, brown home.

A frail woman in a purple robe answers the door.

"Hi. I'm Vincent Pedone, your state representative," he says. The 31-year-old Democrat and 15th Worcester District incumbent stands tall in a gray suit and yellow tie, easily dwarfing the woman, yet addressing her in an unimposing manner.

"I'm running for re-election and am hoping you'll sign my papers to get me on the ballot," he adds.

The woman invites Pedone in, and while she scribbles down information, he chats to her son and grand-daughter who are watching home videos. Just like most exchanges he's had thus far, Pedone interacts freely with them. He gets personal; he asks about their health, jobs, and whether he can be of assistance.

He then thanks the woman and turns toward the next house.

"Don't worry. My vote's with you," she calls out.

Over on Lake Avenue, the political rival, Joe O'Brien, is preoccupied. He's so focused on his introduction that he just forgot to engage a firefighter in shop talk. Reminding himself to "make personal connections," he scans the voter list and approaches a well-kept, wooden cottage.

A Rubenesque woman opens the door.

"Hi. I'm Joe O'Brien, and I'm running for state representative," he says.

The 31-year-old Democratic primary challenger, dressed casually in blue slacks and a white shirt, explains, with increasing animation, why he's taking his first shot at elective office -- how Worcester's neighborhoods have been neglected due to downtown development, and how he wants to work with residents to build up communities again.

The woman smiles and says, "That sounds nice, but you know, Vincent Pedone is a big name."

The battle is on to represent the 15th District, which takes in Lake Avenue on the east, Greater Hammond Heights on the west, and downtown neighborhoods in between. On one side is Pedone, an affable, energetic legislator who is reputed to deliver to constituents. On the other side is O'Brien, equally likable and driven, who has enough political and grassroots experience to make him a viable candidate.

Although O'Brien is a new challenger, he isn't a political novice. Considering his past work on five campaigns, including Kevin O'Sullivan's unsuccessful 1994 bid for Congress, it's not startling that O'Brien's become the candidate. This isn't to say that his candidacy stems purely from ambition. If he wanted to make a name for himself, he admits, "I would have run for School Committee."

Simply put, O'Brien's running to ensure that more resources are funneled into neighborhoods. And he suspects that his own activism will appeal to the district at a grassroots level. "I have connections, skills, and a clear sense that I can go far. I'm not a fool," he says.

Yet overwhelmingly, Worcester's political insiders have already named the winner. Being a challenger is tough enough, they reason, without having to go up against the well-defined, ethnic vote concentrated on the East Side, which is the district's largest geographic area. Ever since the early 1960s, Italian-American politicians have held the 15th Representative seat. So O'Brien isn't simply challenging a popular incumbent, he's trying to break a long-standing tradition.

As one observer surmises, "If the boy's name wasn't O'Brien, Pedone would have real problems."

For the candidates, though, the fight has just begun, and neither wants to play the ethnic card. Pedone and O'Brien both outright dismiss the significance of ethnicity, arguing that voters look for effective, trustworthy leaders -- the very qualities, they add, that describe them.

ANOTHER SATURDAY ON THE campaign trail, and Pedone sighs as he settles into a booth at Parkway Diner on Shrewsbury Street. In the 30 seconds it took him to cross the restaurant, he extended hearty handshakes to four customers dining here. Now situated, he rubs an eye in apparent exhaustion. It is, after all, eight in the morning.

A waitress shuffles over and says, "Hi, Vinny. Can I getcha coffee?"

Several steamy sips later, Pedone considers the day's course -- a Union Station meeting, another at Scano's Bakery on Shrewsbury Street, yet another at Pickle Barrel on Pleasant Street. All of this precedes hours of signature-gathering that he plans to do in the Brown Square neighborhood.

For the next six months, he will pass his Saturdays just as today, crisscrossing the district, chatting with voters. He will, in short, partake in what he calls "retail politics."

"State reps must listen to and relate with constituents," he explains.

Pedone says this with confidence, as if he had years of experience behind him, but he is relatively new to politics. Unlike many of his colleagues, who seem primed for politics since youth, Pedone first entertained a legislative career in 1992, when his predecessor, Andrew Collaro, announced his retirement after 28 years of service. At the time, Pedone was a social worker (then 25) at Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.

"I wasn't involved in politics," he says. But assisting battered children left him frustrated by an ineffectual system. He adds, "I knew I could affect more change as a legislator."

Pedone's political inexperience might have rendered him unknown in voters' minds, but his surname, which was well-known among East Side residents, gave him an edge. Not only had the Pedones resided in a modest Verdi Street home for decades, but his father, John, was a respected court officer at Worcester's central district courthouse.

For Pedone to be viable, though, he needed more than a recognizable name. Two politically connected Democrats, Joe Foley and George Russell, had declared candidacies even before Collaro's announcement. Facing tough opposition, Pedone solidified support by appealing to Collaro (then 82), a venerable East Side figure.

Collaro endorsed Pedone as chosen successor, thereby adding esteem to the fledgling candidate. Collaro faithfuls worked assiduously for Pedone's campaign, helping raise an impressive $41,000.

This connection, undoubtedly, bolstered the beginner's winning prospects. At the September 1992 primary, Pedone captured 56 percent of the vote -- over 2100 of the 2978 votes cast in his favor came from the East Side. Momentum endured into November general elections, at which Pedone trounced his Republican opponent, Richard Pinto, who campaigned while, strangely, serving a 90-day jail sentence for threatening to blow up a state welfare office.

Now after three terms as the unchallenged incumbent, Pedone's looking at serious opposition again. This time, he doesn't need his predecessor's endorsement. He's managed to gain a reputation among colleagues for being a conscientious, effective legislator. Back home, campaign manager Gary Vecchio says, "Vincent is an easy sell. He's accessible, honest, and has a record to run on."

As a member of Worcester's state-legislative delegation, Pedone can certainly take credit for contributing to many of the city's major developments. Like the $110 million allocated to local courthouses in the state Courthouse Bond Bill, the $160 million in state aid the city currently receives, and the $250 million in public funds for the Mass Pike-Route 146 Exchange, which city officials trumpet as the type of project that ensures future economic success here.

Perhaps his most celebrated moment dates back to August 1996, when, quite uncharacteristically, a fiery Pedone blocked a bill that would have provided money for Springfield's Basketball Hall of Fame but ignore fiscal needs for Worcester's convention center.

He and his colleagues eventually delivered $19 million to city officials for the center, a sizable increase from the original $12 million allocation. This achievement delights Pedone, who describes the bill's passage last year as "a weight off our shoulders."

"The convention center was a huge win," he says, now nursing his coffee. He elaborates on why the center is wonderful ("It's a beautiful facility.") but is interrupted by a familiar face.

"You're dressed up and it's only quarter after eight," says a stocky man in a blue cap.

After a few minutes of banter, discussing things like basketball and girlfriends, the man offers an assessment of Pedone: "You can always find this guy everywhere up-and-down the strip."

Pedone cannot, of course, be all places at all times, but he has ventured out of the Statehouse enough to satisfy voters. Take the time he helped Lakeview residents raise $50,000 in state, city, and private funds so they could buy land and build a park. Or when he assisted Haviland Street residents in negotiating a policy with the city's Parks Department to replace rotting, road-side trees.

Pedone consistently delivers on constituents' requests, observers say, and this responsiveness makes him wildly popular. He appears so willing to help residents, regardless of demands, that he has come across as manipulative. T&G columnist Dianne Williamson recently revealed his involvement in a feud between Jim Powers of Jim's Car Care and Shrewsbury Street neighbors, reporting that Pedone called Powers's biggest customer to convince the client to "re-evaluate the relationship." Even Pedone followers admit that he "took a hit" when the story unfolded.

The incident will unlikely hurt Pedone's reliable, East Side vote, observers say. But the 15th District is larger than one ward, and neighborhoods beyond the East Side are where Pedone seems to be most vulnerable. Pedone insists that he's tried to represent the whole district equitably, but there is an undeniable perception that he spends too much time on Shrewsbury Street's needs.

As one person with East Side ties says, "Pedone is more known and visible in [this part] of the district. That's obvious."

IF THE EAST SIDE REPRESENTS Pedone's bastion of support, the district's remainder (Ward 10) is where constituents seem ambivalent. This isn't to say that Pedone enthusiasts don't exist west of Main Street. Activists like Debbie Konigsburg of Shephard/King Neighborhood Association absolutely laud the incumbent's work; "Even before he was elected, he helped us fight to [revitalize] our neighborhood," she's said.

His followers, however, are hardly prevalent here. Leaders of neighborhoods like Castle Street, Crown Hill, and Elm Park say Pedone hasn't ignored them, but he's not their champion either. Piedmont activists note that only recently (two weeks ago) he started showing interest in them, and because of this, they're incapable of "explaining what he's done." Residents of smaller neighborhoods, such as Preston Street, claim their representative is a complete unknown.

"Pedone may be a nice man, but I've never seen him in my neighborhood," says Brenda Jenkins, a Preston Street resident for 17 years.

Thus it's not surprising that O'Brien, a man known for his political astuteness, is attempting to turn this ward into his support base.

"I can't go to the heart of East Side and win over Pedone supporters, but he's not well-known [elsewhere]," he explains.

On a sunny Saturday, O'Brien, wearing a bold campaign button, trudges through his childhood neighborhood, Hammond Heights. He walks past pastel colored bungalows and white colonnaded homes, offering commentary on people who live there. ("They have twin sons; one is getting married.") He is here to solicit voter support, but nearly everyone greets him with a warm salutation.

"Joe, for heaven's sake," says one man, pumping O'Brien's arm.

O'Brien launches into his 30-second spiel about neglected neighborhoods, then asks, "Do you know who your state rep is?"

"Harriette Chandler?" the man asks.

Down the road, a driver stops and yells, "Hey, Joe, congratulations! When are you running for President?"

It won't require much campaigning for Hammond Heights to become an O'Brien stronghold. But the neighborhood, with its affluence and picture-perfect image, is quite an aberration from downtown areas, all of which constitute the rest of Ward 10. O'Brien may be able to fare favorably in this ward, pundits say, but it's always been tough to tackle.

"Ward 10 is the land that nobody knows," says Lou DiNatale, a Worcester political observer and senior fellow at McCormack Institute of Public Affairs at UMass/Boston.

Historically, he adds, politicians haven't paid attention to the ward because a majority of residents don't vote. Instead, it consists of areas characterized by poverty, transience, and ethnic diversity, where residents often feel disconnected from politics. It is also divided into tiny neighborhoods, pundits say, and this makes it hard for politicians to organize.

More important, the ward isn't large enough to outweigh East Side cohesiveness. Gerard D'Amico, a former state senator whose district included the 15th representative seat, says, "It is a smaller piece than the entrenched families who have been on Shrewsbury Street for years."

None of these formidable factors are lost on O'Brien, especially since he moved into the ward's core, Castle Street. He lives in an austere apartment across from dilapidated row houses that activists hope to rehabilitate. If the physical decay isn't enough, then images of clients from the Public Inebriate Program shelter on Main Street -- sprawled out, asleep, at his front door -- will surely remind him of area problems.

"The district faces the most challenges in the city. It needs real leadership, and I'm that leader," O'Brien says.

If anything, he has ample experience in trying to better communities. His volunteer work includes efforts like organizing 60 clean-ups for the Regional Environmental Council, and helping to establish St. Andrews/Lakeside YMCA Summer Youth Program, which provides kids with free activities. These contributions, as well as his past work as YMCA community-programs director, prompted agencies, such as United Way of Central Massachusetts, to grant him accolades for outstanding leadership.

More germane, maybe, to urban neighborhoods is what he's done outside of Worcester. While attending New York-based Fordham University in the late 1980s, he developed affordable-housing programs. (He was featured in Life for exceptional leadership.) In 1989, he took a job as a community organizer in the South Bronx, where he helped residents establish programs in crime and drug-abuse prevention and economic development.

This background in what O'Brien calls "community building" is fueling his political platform today. He's talked with intensity about current, "fundamental" problems in the democratic process -- how voters have "lost faith" because politicians don't speak to relevant, daily issues, and how incumbents have yet to deliver resources necessary to strengthen neighborhoods.

Although he waxes in idealism ("There is a crisis, and I want to restore people's faith in democracy."), O'Brien is known as a doer among activists, particularly since his recent involvement in Worcester Interfaith, a coalition of churches, and its efforts to revitalize communities. His message -- neighborhood development matters -- is resonating with residents.

Jenkins, who also works as downtown YMCA's wellness specialist, recalls meeting O'Brien a few years ago when he assisted teens from the Lakeside housing projects in setting up activities. She was struck then by his work with disadvantaged kids, and is convinced he's perfect for the district.

"Joe is a down-to-earth guy who believes in community. He'll keep politics real and make sure neighborhoods aren't forgotten," she says.

Rosa Fernandez, who lives near Elm Park, also remembers O'Brien from Lakeside; she was one of about 20 adolescents who created anti-violence programs under his tutelage. Now a youth advocate at Plumley Village's health clinic, she credits O'Brien with steering her in the right direction, and is certain he'll do the same for constituents.

"He has the mentality of a resident, so his word is truly of the people. We need more leaders like him," she says.

IF THE CAMPAIGN SEASON WERE really a horse race, pundits would put money on Pedone's win. He has, by virtue of incumbency, the momentum to stack odds in his favor, they say. He is viewed, generally, as a relentless "bird-dog" for constituents, and the perception's spread to areas like Grafton Hill, King Street, and Wall Street in the last six years.

There's also little question that Pedone will benefit, as incumbents normally do, from the vigorous economy. Not only has the state funneled funds into local infrastructure throughout his tenure, but Shrewsbury Street has become one of the city's most economically vibrant neighborhoods.

As D'Amico explains, "Peace and prosperity never hurts an incumbent, especially one who is seen as working for constituents."

In addition, Pedone enjoys the support of councilors Michael Perroto and Janice Nadeau, who represent the city districts, two and four respectively, that make up the 15th seat. Insider support is not essential for a candidate's chances, pundits say, but O'Brien may have trouble luring Nadeau followers in Ward 10 to his camp.

O'Brien, who helped with the fall 1997 campaign of Nadeau's challenger, Maritza Cruz, already confirms this: "Janice made it clear it's payback time, and because she is connected to Main South it hurts."

Pedone's shifted his campaign to overdrive -- a sign that he takes his opponent seriously. He's knocking on voters' doors to outline achievements, meeting activists to pledge assistance, even calling constituents from the House floor to rally support. If people don't know of his accessibility, diligence, and "equal representation of the district," Pedone says, he plans to show them.

His intentions appear genuine. Ever since O'Brien announced his candidacy, Pedone's stepped up efforts in downtown areas enough for activists to take notice. One resident says, "he has no clue of how much we talk to each other. . . . He's working `em."

Even if O'Brien correctly assessed Pedone's vulnerability, insiders maintain, O'Brien will unlikely penetrate the district's solid, ethnic vote. Worcester exhibits some of the most defined ethnic voting patterns in the state, DiNatale says, and the 15th seat has long been considered Italian-American. Politicians with Italian surnames have represented it since 1960, years before Collaro's reign.

"In first blush, based on the old politics of ethnic patterns, it seems that O'Brien doesn't have much of a chance," he adds.

But the district has changed over time. Its lines were redrawn to include Hammond Heights and parts of Grafton Hill neighborhoods, so its population is less homogeneous today. And voters, on the whole, aren't as concerned with a candidate's ethnicity as in the past. If candidates focus on door-to-door campaigning and building constituent relationships, the ethnic factor can become immaterial, pundits say.

None of this, however, removes the fact that ethnic considerations in this race tilt toward Pedone. DiNatale says, "In Worcester, the ethnic vote still happens for real, regularly."

The barriers before O'Brien appear so daunting that insiders wonder why he's even bothering to run. Some note that O'Brien hasn't been involved in the district's current, high-profile issues, such as Union Station's redevelopment, while others say that since he lived outside of Worcester, he isn't instantly associated with the district. One observer says, "It's not like he's been [here] for years and everyone identifies him."

This has prompted wild theories about his motives. There's talk that Mayor Raymond Mariano, angered by Pedone's failure to endorse Mariano last fall, is behind O'Brien's campaign. More convoluted scenarios paint O'Brien as "sacrificial lamb" for At-large City Councilor Tim Murray, who, it is reasoned, must be eyeing Senator Robert Bernstein's 1st Worcester District seat.

"If you challenge Pedone and shake him up, it could make Bernstein vulnerable," one person with East Side ties speculates.

Still, nothing about O'Brien suggests that he would willingly be someone's stooge. Not only is he visiting the homes of district Democrats several times, but he's convening focus groups on issues like housing, job development, and youth. This summer, he'll release "position papers" to better explain how he will address such social problems.

All of this, O'Brien says, should prove to skeptics that he is anything but insincere in his reasons. As he sees it, "I'm not just standing here telling people we need change; I'm doing it."

First, he must convince voters that their well-liked, nearly impeccable incumbent hasn't already done it.

Kristen Lombardi can be reached at klombardi[a]phx.com.