But if he is to take advantage of any opportunities in Washington or on Smith Hill in the coming years, Cicilline has to win re-election, first. And during a recent interview in his office, he offered the Phoenix a preview of his stump speech.
When he came into office, Cicilline said, he ran on a five-plank platform: restoring honesty and integrity to city government, ratcheting up public safety, providing opportunity for the city's children, improving quality of life in the neighborhoods, and boosting the local economy.
The administration, he argued, has made strong progress in all these areas. Among the accomplishments he rattled off: moving to a community policing model that has shown real promise in some of the city's most intransigent crime centers, building an after-school program that has been replicated in 17 cities across the country, and ushering in some $3 billion in investment before the recession struck.
And he has more to do, he said: an ambitious public transit proposal that centers on expanding bus service and reviving the city's old street car system and economic development on the land that will be freed up with the relocation of Route 195.
Supporters say his accomplishments are all the more impressive given the circumstances. "I think he's doing very well in a difficult environment, a transitional environment," said developer Buff Chace.
But Cicilline's message is, undoubtedly, muddied by our ugly moment. A years-long drop in the overall crime rate has run headlong into a troubling spike in some violent crimes. And the recession has left 1.4 million square feet of office space empty in a downtown that has never quite lived up to its potential.
The mayor also has to come to terms with bubbling discontent in the neighborhoods. When he first sought the mayor's office, Cicilline built a coalition that united the well-to-do East Side and the impoverished South Side — capitalizing on a progressive record in the state legislature and an early appreciation for the growing political clout of the city's Latino population.
Observers say the mayor, who lives on the East Side, can still count on solid support in his backyard. "The beautiful people are always going to be with him," said one strategist. But there is some unrest in black and Latino Providence, where economic malaise has combined with a sense that the mayor is more interested in high-end development than the plight of the poor.
"There was an initial — when he first came in — hope," says Fred Ordoñez, executive director of Direct Action for Rights and Equality (DARE), a South Side advocacy group. "And that was dashed."
The high expectations, built on the overly optimistic belief that a progressive legislator could carry the same sort of politics into an administrative role, have created a larger pessimism about Providence politics. "If someone as good as they thought Cicilline was goes that route, what hope is there?" Ordoñez said.
Indeed, activists suggest that Paolino, Lombardi and Cianci are not generating much enthusiasm in poorer pockets. Instead, the city's growing but splintered Latino community seems to be waiting for the day — perhaps four, or eight years from now — when a legitimate mayoral candidate will emerge from its own ranks.
