King makers

Meet several folks who've hit the campaign trail, licked envelopes, and waved signs so their candidate comes out on top

by Joe O'Brien

If you're a Democrat who wants to win an election in Clinton -- whether it be for US Senate or the Board of Selectmen -- your first stop wouldn't be City Hall, nor would it be the chamber of commerce. Instead, you'd head straight to the town's post office. That's where you'll find Jackie Weeks, janitor by day, political heavyweight by night. Weeks is the epitome of a campaign volunteer: a behind-the-scenes leader who can transform a foundering election bid into a full-fledged door-to-door, placard-wielding, envelope-licking campaign assault.

And it's that grassroots power few politicians will pass up. Take Senator Ted Kennedy. During his 1994 re-election bid and campaign sweep through Central Massachusetts, Kennedy wanted to touch base with one man in particular: Jackie Weeks, who in his 64 years has become a legend within political circles for delivering voters to the polls in every presidential bid since Harry Truman's -- and in every race tucked between.

"When I first ran for Congress, in 1994, Jackie was campaigning for Kevin O'Sullivan," says US Representative James McGovern (D-Worcester). "Kevin won the town of Clinton and won the primary that year. Afterward, my father said to me, `God damn it, Jim, if you ever run again, make sure you get Jackie Weeks on your side.' And when I decided to run in 1996, Jackie was one of the first people I visited."

In this age of cynicism, when candidates' foibles and missteps seem more important than their political ideas or their organization, we rarely hear about the hundreds of thousands of people who make a campaign effort run. Yet behind every successful politician, you'll find dozens of workhorses: the folks who get a candidate's message and platform out, who are willing to get up at six in the morning to hold a poster at a busy intersection, who man the phones late into the evening, and who raise cash contributions.

Worcester's Mayor Raymond Mariano, also a political consultant, muses that campaign workers tend to fall into three categories: "people who get involved who want to make a difference in their communities; people who want to be noticed (perhaps so they can run themselves someday or perhaps are looking for a job); and, lastly, people who see campaigns as recreation." Of these groups, Mariano says, the largest number of volunteers fall into the first category: they are the people who support candidates because they share issues and ideals. And these volunteers will tell you -- whether they be Republican or Democrat, young or old -- working on a campaign is a very satisfying experience.

For some people, volunteering actually changes their lives. Worcester Election Commission executive director Craig Manseau, for instance, first got involved in municipal elections nearly 10 years ago during former Mayor Jordan Levy's campaign. At the time, Manseau, then a 33-year-old machinist, says, he was frustrated with his job and looking for a new focus for his energy and idealism. So he volunteered for Levy and eventually became Levy's chief of staff. "Getting involved in politics was the best thing I have ever done" he says.

But for most, the campaign is an outlet for those who want to contribute to their community, to meet new people, and to have the opportunity to rub shoulders with political stars. Certainly, most volunteers don't change jobs -- like Manseau did -- but many everyday people who volunteer discover an opportunity to become leaders themselves.

With fewer people involved in politics today, these folks keep grassroots democracy alive. And we present you with several of them.

THIS MARCH CARMELA Delaney's family gathered at the East Side American Legion to celebrate her 70th birthday, but the event looked more like a political rally than a birthday party. There was a host of local leaders, from state Rep. Vincent Pedone (D-Worcester) and Sen. Bob Bernstein (D-Worcester) -- who were there with a Statehouse proclamation honoring her for her community work -- to McGovern, who brought her a dozen yellow roses. Even Worcester County Sheriff John "Mike" Flynn stopped by to wish her well.

"My children thought I was crazy getting involved in politics, until they saw who came to my birthday party," she says.

For though this humble and upbeat retired teacher's aide and church volunteer is neither a wealthy contributor nor a union leader, she is undoubtedly a campaign-worker extraodinaire. "Carmela is a close friend, a great American, and [she] is someone who is very involved in the political system," says Flynn.

Though Delaney has lived her whole life on the city's politically active East Side, she is a relative newcomer to the political game, having worked on campaigns for just 10 years. And it wasn't until her niece called her and asked her to volunteer for Edward Augustus's Worcester School Committee bid that Delaney's love of political races was tapped. Augustus, at the time, was a Worcester County jail guard who had political aspirations.

Delaney was hesitant at first, but she soon found that she enjoyed working for the candidate and his campaign team. And before long, she was organizing other seniors in her building, enlisting them to stuff envelopes and complete office work. When Augustus won his race, Delaney's reputation grew, and, soon after, she was asked by Augustus's boss, Sheriff Flynn, to help him send out about 1000 Christmas cards. Delaney was hooked, and in the past decade she has worked on campaigns for Pedone, Bernstein, Flynn, McGovern, and Kevin O'Sullivan.

When asked why she volunteers, she says, "I think that people should get involved in their communities, and working on campaigns is a good way to do this."

Delaney also believes her efforts count ("I make a difference for them"). Perhaps what is most striking to Delaney is that "you can tell a lot about the candidate by the people who volunteer for them."

WHILE SOME PEOPLE "get involved" in campaigns, 32-year-old John Brissette is an example of someone who takes it to the extremes. Brissette has worked on campaigns since he turned 17. Besides being active in local races, Brissette, this past year, started spending one week a month traveling with presidential hopeful Al Gore as a volunteer for Gore's "national advance staff," which prepares communities for a Gore visit. Campaigning, Brissette says, is more than a volunteer job, "it's a way of life."

Indeed it has been; politics have been at the center of the Brissette-family discussions for years. His parents were active with area politicians; his father was an Auburn School Committee member for six years. Even after his father retired from the board, Brissette stayed close to the local political scene because, "I felt that by working on campaigns, I was helping to elect people who were building a better society." Upon being graduated from Worcester State College, Brissette helped his high school friend Craig Blais win an Auburn selectman's seat. He then worked on Kevin O'Sullivan's 1994 unsuccessful congressional campaign.

In 1995, Brissette took a break from volunteering to launch his own run for an at-large seat on Worcester City Council. He lost the race, but he did not lose his passion for politics. Since then, he has volunteered for state Sen. Guy Glodis (D-Worcester) and McGovern, describing McGovern's 1996 victory over incumbent Peter Blute "the highlight of my career in politics because no one gave Jim a chance."

After his success with McGovern, Brissette threw himself into statewide politics, serving as the Worcester coordinator of Shannon O'Brien's 1998 state treasurer campaign. And his work on behalf of Democratic party candidates was noticed by party officials; last year he was asked to serve on Gore's campaign. Now as a member of his "advance group," Brissette travels across the country (with both Gore and Gore's wife, Tipper).

"No other state comes close to the level of interest that people here in Massachusetts have," he says.

When asked why people should get involved in politics, Brissette says, "People need to get involved if they want their city and country to be a better place. . . . It doesn't do you any good to sit back and complain" and "if you don't like how things are, then get involved and help elect someone who will change things for the better."

GROWING UP IN Clinton, Jackie Weeks was the second of four children born to working-class parents in a working-class city. His mother, Anne, raised her children with four fundamentals: love for God, family, country, and the Democratic party. When Jackie was 10, his mother enlisted him to pass out campaign cards for a relative who was running in a selectmen's race. Weeks loved it, and he has kept on campaigning for the past 54 years.

Today, his name is synonymous with politics in Clinton, and in many political circles Weeks's reputation has reached almost legendary status. For the past 20 years, he's served on the town of Clinton's Democratic Committee (the past seven of which he's been elected its chairman), one of the state's most active political organizations. In fact, so important is Weeks's ability to organize that no trip through Massachusetts is complete for a candidate unless Weeks is on the agenda.

There's never been a November that's gone by without his involvement in some kind of campaign. The only exception being the time that he left to fight in the Korean War as a Marine. But even then, Weeks managed to meet Truman in person while he was stationed in Washington.

When asked how many candidates he has helped, Weeks says he's lost track. But his most satisfying moments included helping and meeting presidents Truman, John F. Kennedy, Jimmy Carter, and Bill Clinton. And one thing that he is sure of is that he has never worked for a Republican. "The Democrats are the party that supports the working man," he says, reciting a litany of programs, like Medicare and Social Security, championed by Democrats over the years.

CARL COPELAND IS one of a rare breed when it comes to Worcester-area politics: he is a Republican campaign activist. While he might be rare, most people would agree that he has also been very effective. Copeland, 39, has been at the forefront of electing Republicans here in Central Massachusetts. He helped lead Blute's upset victory over Joe Early in 1992, and he was one of the original supporters of Gov- ernor Bill Weld's "revolution." And he's a professed campaign junkie.

"I approach politics with the same zeal that many other have for sports," he says.

"There is a certain thrill that you get on election night" that makes politics special . . . "that is, of course, if your candidate wins."

Copeland grew up in the north end of Worcester, near the West Boylston line, in a working-class family that had little interest in politics. But he was attracted to campaigns from an early age. "The Republican philosophy of limited government and taxation appealed to me," he says.

At age 18, he called up then Republican Committee leader Barbara Sinnott and was soon enrolled on the local Republican Ward Committee. That spring, he became the youngest delegate to the Republican State Convention. Later that fall, he volunteered for Governor Edward F. King and since has been involved in many races.

Perhaps, he is best known for his role in Blute's 1992 election campaign. He was the first person to join Blute's team and recalls many long nights helping the Blutes devise a strategy.

"When we started, it was myself, Peter, and his wife, Robbie, writing out strategy on napkins at the Ground Round. Obviously he was a long shot when it started in 1991."

By getting involved in campaigns, Copeland says, you get "to meet many people in business and government." He believes that campaigns "give you the opportunity to learn skills like marketing and organizing."

Copeland points out that one person -- as the saying goes -- can make a difference. For example, he says, it was he who urged Blute to stop the government from allowing people with drug and alcohol addictions to live in senior housing. Blute took his advice and eventually passed the Blute Amendment, which banned the practice. "I am living proof that one person can make a difference."

WHILE ON THE national level, corporate and special-interest money has largely overwhelmed grassroots efforts, campaign volunteers can still make a difference on the local front. The recent primary election victory of Steve Abraham, who's running for the District 5 city council spot, proves a viable run for office is not out of the question if the organization is there and volunteers are willing to work hard. Even on a statewide level, the elections of populists like Jessie Ventura in Minnesota and Angus King in Maine show that grassroots campaigns work. Let's hope others follow in the footsteps of Jackie Weeks, Carmela Delaney, John Brissette, and Carl Copeland. Who knows? With a bit of devotion, even you could find yourself invited to the next inauguration.