Decision time

Part 3

by Michael Crowley

What doesn't seem to give Birmingham second thoughts about running is the opposition he could face. "There's nobody who strikes fear into my heart," he says. Indeed, in a May poll commissioned by liberal activist Jerome Grossman and reported in the Globe, Birmingham repeatedly placed first in several possible fields.

In many ways, the stocky, square-jawed Birmingham is a formidable candidate. His is the compelling American story of a working-class, street-smart Chelsea kid who went through Harvard and Oxford. A close ally of labor, he offers a well-developed statement of principles that is strikingly similar to the blue-collar/urban-liberal agenda of a Joe Kennedy.

"I'm committed to bettering standards of living and quality of life for ordinary middle-class and working people who I think are the backbone of the economy," Birmingham says. He is pro-choice, supports gay rights and gun control, and though he's not an active supporter of the death penalty, he isn't philosophically opposed to it.

But in a time of peace and prosperity, personality, rather than issues, will likely drive the '98 campaign in the Eighth. That could hurt Birmingham, a quiet intellectual with none of Kennedy's flash. And even if his competitors for the seat aren't exactly a pack of celebrities themselves, Birmingham would be mistaken to dismiss them.

Joining Birmingham in the "first tier" of candidates identified by Grossman's poll is former state senator George Bachrach, a quick-witted suburban liberal. It was Bachrach who lost to Kennedy in 1986, but in an otherwise flat 1994 run for governor, he won strong support in the Eighth District -- actually carrying Cambridge, Belmont, and Watertown.

Other dangerous rivals include State Senator Warren Tolman (D-Watertown) and State Senator Dianne Wilkerson (D-Boston). Also thinking it over are Somerville mayor Michael Capuano, former state rep Susan Tracy, the wealthy Cambridge enviro-activist John O'Connor, State Representative Byron Rushing (D-Boston), and Boston city councilors Charles Yancey and Thomas Keane.

Many of these candidates may wait to see what choice Birmingham makes before getting into the race. As Gerald Sullivan and Michael Kenney observed in The Race for the Eighth, a study of the 1986 campaign, "In a multicandidate race . . . the gathering of the field may be the most important part of the campaign. In a very real sense, it can determine the eventual outcome, for it is the process by which eventual candidates try to figure out who else will get into the race."

Birmingham may have a strategic reason to stall. Once he jumps in, his splash will scare off some of the smaller fish. And surprisingly, Birmingham could probably benefit from having several opponents. For one thing, the more the vote is split up among marginal contenders, the fewer votes he'll need to win. And the strongest contender in the primary could be a lone black or female candidate who would be able to claim those constituencies. Wilkerson scores on both counts, but Susan Tracy is said to be more likely to win big bucks from national women's groups like EMILY's List. Bachrach and Tolman, who share a Watertown base they can't afford to split, are currently engaged in a game of chicken to see who drops out first. Birmingham, with neither the natural constituency of a Dianne Wilkerson nor the ethnic draw of the Italian-American Capuano, could be vulnerable to such a candidate in a narrow field.

From Warren Tolman, Birmingham has been getting an early taste of what the campaign would offer. Tolman, whose Senate district also occupies much of the Eighth, says flatly that he's running for Kennedy's seat -- and it shows.

Tolman recently turned Birmingham's smoking habit against him with a proposal to make the State House, like every other state government building, smoke-free. Birmingham -- who went through four butts in a recent hourlong interview -- initially resisted. But under mounting criticism, and the apparent realization that this is no time to be identified as a friend of tobacco, Birmingham capitulated. Tolman also triumphed recently by preventing Watertown and Belmont from losing their 617 area code next year. ("It's off the chart," Tolman says of his constituents' reactions. "I got thank-you calls at home.") Some on Beacon Hill are mystified as to how Birmingham could have allowed such a coup; according to one State House source, however, Birmingham did hope to block Tolman's amendment but backed off rather than risk an embarrassing public blow-up.

And when Birmingham donned a strike jacket earlier this month to walk the picket line outside the UPS facility in Somerville, whom should he run into but . . . Warren Tolman! (Tolman, for his part, denies any hidden agenda behind his UPS appearance, noting that he once worked briefly for the company. "I know how hot those brown trucks get," he says.)

Some observers think Birmingham would be even more vulnerable were he to hit the stump. Although Birmingham says "the idea of a campaign excites" him, many question whether he has the internal fire for a tough campaign -- something he's never really endured. Close up, Birmingham deftly weaves personalized chatter with cerebral policyspeak. But he has yet to prove an ability to rally a crowd. Just ask the hundreds of restless delegates who talked through his lackluster speech at this summer's state Democratic convention.

"He's really good in a small group, and he may be a dealmaker," says Democratic consultant Jim Spencer, who works for Wilkerson. "But he's not a retail campaigner. He seems particularly nervous in front of a crowd." Spencer recalls that at "larger public events, including the St. Patrick's Day breakfast and the Charlestown Parade breakfast, his hand was physically shaking. He needed a sturdy mike."

"He's a very smart inside player," echoes a fellow Democratic inside player. But on the stump, he says, Birmingham "ain't exactly lighting up the room."

Even fundraising might not be as easy as one might expect for a Senate president. For one thing, under new state campaign-finance laws limiting donations to $500 (from $1000 previously), money will be tighter than ever -- especially with Kennedy squeezing his Eighth District supporters for the governor's race. ("Because you have to grow your donor base," Marsh says, "people are going after donors harder and earlier, and there's only so much money to go around.")

Although he's been cozying up to donors -- as he did at an August 5 Democratic fundraiser at Anthony's Pier 4, hosted by House Majority Leader Richard Gephardt and US Representative Patrick Kennedy (D-Rhode Island) -- Birmingham has yet to open a federal campaign account. And as one veteran of congressional campaigns put it, "There's this perception that as Senate president you can raise a lot of money. But once you announce for Congress, you're not Senate president anymore."

Part 4

Michael Crowley can be reached at mcrowley[a]phx.com.