Winning is everything

Scott Harshbarger's campaign is off to a bad start -- but he can still topple Paul Cellucci. Here's how.

by Michael Crowley

Here's a question: If you cut Scott Harshbarger, would he bleed? Watch the Democratic nominee for governor on the campaign trail and the answer might not seem obvious. Harshbarger, the state attorney general with the fighter-pilot snarl, often seems less like flesh and blood than wires and circuits. He may be a smart, principled, and tenacious man. But he is a horrendous salesman.

Just ask Harshbarger if there's any one thing he wishes more people knew about him, any piece of his personality that might make him more likable to a public that suspects he may have been built in a factory, and he seems at a loss.

"I mean, I think that, you know, I think this has been the great challenge of this -- and, and probably the great challenge -- and, and an appropriate -- and a recognition of what running for governor is," Harshbarger sputters. "I think people know -- the people really want to know who you are."

"If there's one thing, I'd like people to know where I came from," he finally offers, referring to his upbringing in central Pennsylvania. "Part of it is, you know, we're concerned here -- well, you came from Pennsylvania, so you're not sort of from here, but -- and that's, so that's a little, an edge of you, you know, does that work or doesn't it work?"

It doesn't work. And the answer is a small but telling example of why, with less than a month to go until Election Day, Harshbarger's campaign hasn't been working either. Although the Republican candidate, Acting Governor Paul Cellucci, is eminently beatable, the weakness of Harshbarger's candidacy makes it look increasingly likely that Cellucci will spend the next four years bungling around Beacon Hill.

Who is Scott Harshbarger? Although he's been running for governor for about two years now, Scott Harshbarger remains something of an unknown to much of the public. People may be dimly aware, after his two terms as attorney general, that he is Massachusetts's supercop. Less widely known, as Harshbarger himself noted in a recent interview, is where he comes from. Born in the small town of Furnace, Pennsylvania (slogan idea: "A Place Called Hell"), he is the son of a schoolteacher and a Lutheran minister who was chaplain of Penn State University. Harshbarger was a driven athlete who entertained dreams of playing pro sports -- he even tried out for the Pittsburgh Pirates in his senior year of high school. "That's what I wanted to be," he says. "Sports was my life." In 1960, an athletic scholarship took him to Harvard, where he was a record-setting halfback (and where he roomed with Dick Darman, later budget director for Ronald Reagan). But though he was still a jock at heart, his horizons began to broaden as the social idealism of the time turned to turmoil. Harshbarger recalls hearing about the 1963 assassination of John F. Kennedy while warming up for the Yale-Harvard game in New Haven. After graduating in 1964, Harshbarger spent a year at a street ministry in a poor East Harlem neighborhood, teaching Sunday school, leading a Bible study group in the projects, and organizing the community. Harshbarger describes that year as a formative experience for him, and says it was then that he read the book that has influenced him most: The Crisis in Black and White, a study of race relations and community empowerment by social scientist Charles Silberman. When Harshbarger talks about his year in Harlem, a rare degree of authenticity breaks through his usual politispeak. "Nobody gave a shit about those kids, about this community," he says, staring off into space as he recalls the youth programs he helped organize. "By God you saw the difference that it made. It made a difference." Harshbarger went on to Harvard Law School (he overlapped there with Bill Weld); he then spent seven years as a private lawyer and a public defender. In 1975 he became head of the state's Public Protection Bureau, and three years later he became general counsel for the State Ethics Commission. That year he made his first run for office, losing a bid to unseat incumbent Middlesex County DA John Droney. He tried again four years later and won. Harshbarger aborted a run for attorney general in 1986, and then boldly challenged and defeated incumbent James Shannon in 1990 (Harshbarger was reelected in 1994). Knocking off Shannon was an early sign of his disregard for the rules and hierarchy of the state Democratic Party establishment, as were the vigorous ethics prosecutions he brought as AG against popular Democratic officials, including former Boston mayor Ray Flynn and former attorney general Edward McCormack. Those prosecutions, many of which ruined reputations but didn't lead to indictments, earned Harshbarger the eternal hatred of many party insiders. But Harshbarger's tenure has been defined less by prosecutions than by high-profile, issue-based crusades. Harshbarger has fought against casino gambling, he's sought to tighten gun-control laws, and he was one of the first attorneys general to join a multibillion-dollar class-action suit against the nation's tobacco makers. Harshbarger lives in Westwood with his second wife, Judith. He has two sons and three stepdaughters. His campaign biography duly notes that he is a "die-hard Elvis Presley fan."

There's no question that Scott Harshbarger is getting outcampaigned. From the day after the September 15 primary, he's been on the defensive as Paul Cellucci has used media savvy, strong advertisements, and a surprising eloquence to sell a simple and clear message: he stands firmly for economic health, low taxes, and the death penalty, and Scott Harshbarger is a namby-pamby Michael Dukakis liberal who will raise taxes, ruin the economy, and flinch from putting child-killers to death.

Simplistic and unfair as it may be -- Harshbarger backs lots of new spending but actually wants a big tax cut -- Cellucci's message has defined the race in terms that will doom Harshbarger. Even Democrats agree that Harshbarger's campaign has foundered. "I'm still waiting to see any sign of a real strategy," says one Democratic campaign insider.

But there's still hope for a Harshbarger comeback. His pro-social investment message reflects the public's desires far more than does Paul Cellucci's platform of laissez-faire economic policy, tax cuts, and executions. He's just done a miserable job of selling it. That needs to change -- now. Harshbarger needs to wage an aggressive, well-defined campaign that better explains his rationale for running, more thoroughly deconstructs Paul Cellucci's facile leadership, and more effectively uses the media to embed his message in the gray matter of the electorate.

It makes a real difference which of these men sees his vision triumph on November 3. At a time when the federal government is delegating more power to the states, governors are more influential than ever. And Massachusetts needs a strong governor right now. Although the economy -- Paul Cellucci's best asset -- appears strong on the surface, it has failed thousands of citizens. Manufacturing jobs continue to disappear. Poverty is rising. Wages are stagnant. Some 750,000 people lack health insurance. Seven years of a booming economy haven't solved these problems. These are issues that demand the kind of activist government Scott Harshbarger envisions.

And yet because his campaign is so bland, his image so dull, and his rhetoric so garbled, Harshbarger is losing. Reversing his fortunes may not be easy; it may not even be possible. But there is still time.

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FIRST, THERE is the message. Both in criticizing Cellucci and in making the case for himself, Harshbarger -- a man more comfortable with specifics than with themes -- has been missing the forest for the trees.

At the debate in Lowell, for instance, he hit several weak spots in Cellucci's record, including his flip-flops on taxes and the death penalty, his opposition to cigarette taxes that now fund health care for children, and his vetoes of $200 million in surplus spending on local projects around the state. A new Harshbarger ad also lampoons Cellucci for his flip-flopping tendencies.

But are voters really going to throw Cellucci out of office based on a confusing list of bad votes and switcheroos that sound pretty standard for a lifelong politician? Harshbarger's real task is to paint a broader portrait of Paul Cellucci as an impostor in the governor's office, a pedestrian hack who sees government more as a vehicle for patronage, influence-peddling, and favor-granting to big business than as a way to help people. Instead of griping that Cellucci voted to raise taxes during the Reagan administration, he should point out the ways Cellucci has shown himself to be lacking in moral authority, ethical standards, and intellectual dynamism right now.

That's precisely why the highlight of the Lowell debate was Harshbarger's declaration that "I'm not Michael Dukakis -- and Paul, as we all know, you're no Bill Weld." The line perfectly articulates a gut feeling people have that Cellucci is a second-rate pol, which is why the media made it the most-quoted jab of the night. As long as Cellucci keeps repeating his narrow-minded (though effective) call for Harshbarger to sign a no-new-taxes pledge, the attorney general should use every variation of the Weld line he can think of.

But he can do more than make jokes. Harshbarger, with his squeaky-clean prosecutorial record, should tear into the way the ideals of state government have been degraded under Paul Cellucci. When Cellucci touts his backing by several Democratic officials as proof of Harshbarger's unpopularity within his own party, Harshbarger should point out that many of those endorsements were obviously bought with patronage. He should then proceed to detail Cellucci's well-known role as the patronage chief in Bill Weld's administration, and ridicule him as a small-time pol who sees government as a tool for rewarding political allies. That attitude is an insult to the public, and Harshbarger should say so.

The next target should be Cellucci's lobbyist-infested circle of advisers, one of the dirtiest secrets in the State House. As Democratic consultant Michael Goldman puts it, Harshbarger should declare that "you will never see an adviser on one day sitting in my office giving me advice and on the next giving a company advice on pending legislation." Newly raised questions about the coziness of Cellucci's insurance commissioner, Linda Ruthardt, with corporate lobbyists make this issue scream out for attention.

Harshbarger has hit some of Cellucci's flip-flops, but he hasn't exposed the way the acting governor has spent the past year systematically undermining his once-ballyhooed social liberalism. Last year, for example, Cellucci unexpectedly reversed his support for condom distribution in schools. An avowed defender of women's rights and abortion rights, Cellucci recently revealed that he supports what women's groups now consider the number-one threat to reproductive rights: a ban on "partial-birth" abortions. And after years of portraying himself as a courageous gay-rights advocate, Cellucci abandoned the cause this summer by opposing two domestic-partnership bills that topped the gay agenda on Beacon Hill. Granted, these are all touchy issues. But added to Cellucci's death-penalty flip, they show how lightly he seems to take basic matters of conscience. Harshbarger should ask just how much influence social conservatives truly have in the governor's office.

Finally, the Harvard-educated Harshbarger should try to convey the intellectual bankruptcy of Cellucci's administration. Remind people of Cellucci's idiotic call for "character education" in the schools (and then note that he hasn't mentioned it in months). Point to a "brain drain" exemplified by the dearth of powerful minds in Cellucci's cabinet, and by the recent departure of several top officials -- including Cellucci's brilliant former budget chief, Charlie Baker -- from the administration. And throw some of Cellucci's dumbest statements back at him -- like the time he argued, in 1994, that with the death penalty "you always run the risk that an innocent person would be executed," but that the risk was a necessary one. Finally, use that "you're no Bill Weld" line -- over and over and over.

Where they stand Scott Harshbarger and Paul Cellucci on the issues Taxes CELLUCCI: Supports rolling back the state income tax over three years, from its current 5.95 percent to 5 percent, at an estimated annual cost of $1.2 billion. HARSHBARGER: Also supports cutting the income tax to 5 percent. His plan would lower the rate to 5.25 percent over five years as long as the economy stays strong. He has not said when the rate should be dropped to 5 percent. Education CELLUCCI: Proposed hiring 4000 new teachers, but so far has budgeted only $20 million to do it. Has also proposed instituting "character education" and requiring that 90 cents of every education dollar be spent in classrooms. Supports competency testing for new and current teachers. HARSHBARGER: Would boost spending by $283 million to hire 4000 new teachers, build and repair schools, and expand child-care and early-education programs. Health care CELLUCCI: Supports subsidies to encourage businesses to offer health benefits; backs expanding insurance with federal Medicaid dollars and revenue from cigarette taxes (although he opposed raising the taxes). Says he supports making HMOs more accountable with a "Patients' Bill of Rights," but has made little effort on behalf of the bill. HARSHBARGER: Would expand publicly funded health insurance to another 100,000 of the state's 755,000 uninsured people. Strongly backs the "Patients' Bill of Rights." His program's $220 million cost assumes a big settlement of a state lawsuit against tobacco companies. Welfare and job training CELLUCCI: Opposes any softening of state's 1995 welfare-reform law. Has made no significant proposal to increase workers' job skills. HARSHBARGER: Would allow welfare recipients to count education and job training toward their weekly requirement of 20 hours of work. Would add $25 million for worker training programs to increase job skills. Death penalty CELLUCCI: Supports the death penalty. Stated in 1994 that the execution of an innocent person is an acceptable risk. HARSHBARGER: Opposes the death penalty, saying it is costly, is not a deterrent, and could lead to the loss of innocent lives. Says killers "should die in jail." Gay rights CELLUCCI: Long known as a gay-rights advocate, Cellucci offered no support this year for a bill that would provide domestic-partnership benefits, such as health care, to same-sex partners of state employees. He also vetoed a similar law that would apply to the City of Boston. HARSHBARGER: Supports domestic-partnership benefits and calls for "a serious, open discussion" of gay marriage.

Even as he builds a clearer case against Cellucci, however, Harshbarger must make a stronger case for himself. Again, the debate in Lowell clearly exposed his shortcomings. Harshbarger repeatedly ticked off such core issues of his platform as education, health care, and job training, but he never joined the pieces to form a compelling whole. He needs to explain the way these new programs can address an uneven economy in which some people are winning big and many others are working harder and harder just to keep up. He needs to (concisely) explain how a state with better-trained workers, rebuilt school buildings, and fewer uninsured people will be more productive, profitable, and humane for everyone. (For more specifics on the candidates' proposals, see "Where They Stand," this page.)

Finally, Harshbarger should relax. Routinely branded as preachy and stiff, he might borrow tips from pols who've conquered the same problem. Even Al Gore, after all, managed to ace Late Night with David Letterman when he wore industrial goggles and smashed ashtrays.

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OF COURSE, there is no message without medium. At the same time that Harshbarger tries to improve what he's saying, he's got to get a lot better at how he says it.

Campaigns are driven by the media and by paid advertising, and on both fronts Paul Cellucci is winning. He didn't wait even a day after September 15, for instance, before rounding up his first bunch of Democratic endorsements. Although it was a pathetic display of hackery, Cellucci got his desired outcome: news reports about Scott Harshbarger's unpopularity and slow-starting campaign.

That's been the story of the race so far. Cellucci has dominated media coverage and set the agenda, overshadowing Harshbarger's bland policy events and mostly drab commercials. "Cellucci has defined the debate," says Democratic consultant Mary Anne Marsh, "and the media are following his lead."

To win, Harshbarger has to seize control of the campaign. He needs to stop defending himself against Michael Dukakis comparisons and knock Cellucci off balance. He has to cater to the needs of the press corps, giving it drama and photo opportunities. Perhaps more important, his TV ad campaign -- which has been gradually improving -- needs to get a lot more engaging.

Asked about his campaign's early difficulties, a clearly frustrated Harshbarger suggests that the media may be partly to blame. "There's a little irony," he says, "when you . . . talk about all that you've done positive in education and what Paul's done wrong, and have the first question be, `Well, how do you explain your death-penalty position?' "

"I'd benefit from people reporting what I'm doing a little bit more," he adds.

But what Harshbarger has been doing -- holding dry, largely news-free press conferences at dull locations -- has simply been less interesting than what Cellucci's been doing.

Harshbarger devoted a recent campaign week to health care, which serves as a good example. Monday: Harshbarger stands at the State House steps to talk about health care; Cellucci campaigns for death-penalty supporters and attacks Harshbarger as soft on crime. Tuesday: Harshbarger stands in front of an ambulance to talk about HMOs; Cellucci appears with George Bush at a huge State House ceremony. Wednesday: Harshbarger has no major event; Cellucci poses in front of a new maximum-security prison. Thursday: Harshbarger holds a brief press conference at a Roxbury health clinic; Cellucci appears with the father of murdered 10-year-old Jeffrey Curley. On just about every day, Harshbarger was more substantive and got completely drowned out.

With just three weeks to go, Harshbarger can't afford another day in Cellucci's shadow. If the six o'clock news were more like

C-SPAN, Harshbarger would win in a landslide. But he needs to start feeding redder meat to a carnivorous media. That means events with more eye candy for the cameras, a more compelling hook for the scribblers, and far more memorable sound bites for both.

One consultant suggests that Harshbarger could visit a crumbling bridge to denounce Cellucci's summer vetoes of millions of dollars in infrastructure spending. In fact, he might consider a tour of every town where Cellucci's summer budget vetoes nixed improvements to a library, courthouse, or school. Another Democratic campaign veteran singles out Harshbarger's call for the firing of state education board chairman John Silber -- who Harshbarger says is too confrontational -- as one of his better moves. "That's exactly the kind of thing he should do," says this Democrat. "It's a high-stakes kind of position which people will remember."

Meanwhile, Harshbarger must remember that he is, in the end, a bar of soap -- and his advertising has to be good enough to get voters to switch brands. Though his latest ads are an improvement, they have so far been forgettable milquetoast, too reliant on Harshbarger's boringly earnest monologues.

By contrast, Cellucci's ads have been lively and entertaining, showing a dynamic Cellucci in schools, marching in parades, and offering glowing praise from ordinary citizens, newspaper columnists, and Bill Weld.

And in the campaign's first advertising shootout last month, Harshbarger took a bullet in the head. Cellucci began running spots falsely saying that Harshbarger opposes teacher testing -- complemented by the cuddly image of young kids playing soccer. Harshbarger quickly threw up a response defending his record, but the hopelessly dry visual showed him standing in an empty room, complaining. Harshbarger needs to get more outsiders talking about him; how about some testimonials from crime victims Harshbarger has assisted as attorney general? Where is his attractive family? And how about having a little cheeky fun? If Cellucci is going to tout endorsements from Democrats, try pulling out this testimonial from a top Republican officeholder in 1995: "Massachusetts is truly fortunate to have someone of Scott Harshbarger's talent and integrity and dedication in such an important position." Says it all, doesn't it? And the speaker? Bill Weld.

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IN A nearby New England state, a cautionary tale may be unfolding for Scott Harshbarger. This November, Connecticut voters will choose between the incumbent governor, Republican John Rowland, and his Democratic challenger, congresswoman Barbara Kennelly. Like Paul Cellucci, Rowland has a flat personality and few real achievements but is the beneficiary of a good economy. Like Harshbarger, Kennelly is a top official in the state's dominant party and a serious pol with a strong record.

And according to every indicator, Kennelly is destined to suffer a humiliating blowout. The latest poll in the race shows Rowland ahead, 61 percent to 28 percent.

Some of Kennelly's failings -- her lack of rigorous campaign experience, for instance -- don't apply to Harshbarger. But there are significant similarities. Kennelly has failed to come up with a compelling message, to work the media deftly, or to craft a strong advertising campaign. As a result, she's become little more than a joke.

Scott Harshbarger is a long way from being a hapless also-ran like his predecessor, 1994 Democratic nominee Mark Roosevelt, who was crushed by Bill Weld, 71 percent to 28 percent.

But campaigns have a way of falling apart quickly. And Harshbarger certainly doesn't have a lot of forward momentum. Absent some new life in his campaign, Harshbarger may see Cellucci begin to pull away from him.

The odds are against Scott Harshbarger. It isn't easy to oust an incumbent at a time when unemployment is at 3 percent. But Harshbarger is capable of doing it -- if he makes his case more clearly, creatively, and aggressively.

Harshbarger, a star halfback at Harvard, says that he'd like to have gone into pro sports had he not become a politician. He should know that you can always come from behind to win. But he should also know that you've got to outplay your opponent to do it. It's time to change the game plan. Michael Crowley can be reached at mcrowley[a]phx.com.