Peggy's closet

South Boston's Peggy Davis-Mullen -- a city councilor with a conservative past -- is becoming a consensus candidate for Boston's gay and lesbian community. It says a lot about the candidate. It also says a lot about the state of gay politics in the city.

by Jason Gay

The conservatives like her. So do the moderates. Even the liberals are coming around, and this fall, incumbent Peggy Davis-Mullen is expected to win the endorsement of almost every one of Boston's important gay and lesbian political leaders in her quest for an at-large city-council seat.

Wait a second. Rewind. Peggy Davis-Mullen?

Yup. As Election Day approaches, the savvy South Boston politician is reaching beyond her moderate-conservative neighborhood base and courting traditionally liberal voters. She's speaking up on issues like health care and arts funding, she's publicly backing liberal city-council candidate Frank Jones, and now she's winning surprising new allies in the city's gay and lesbian community. A nonpareil campaigner and a Menino critic with mayoral ambitions of her own, Davis-Mullen has wooed the right gay activists, attended the right events, and most important, cast the right votes during her two city-council terms -- including a March 1996 vote in favor of domestic-partnership benefits for city employees.

The payoff? Prominent leaders like activist/attorney Vin McCarthy, Massachusetts Lesbian and Gay Alliance chairperson Dena Lebowitz, and Michael Greene, president of the Massachusetts Gay and Lesbian Equal Rights Lobby, are touting Davis-Mullen as a consensus-building city-council candidate. This Tuesday, September 9, Davis-Mullen is expected to score her biggest prize yet: the official endorsement of the alliance, Boston's largest gay and lesbian political organization.

"Peggy has been there for us," says the Alliance's Lebowitz.

But not everyone is convinced. There are activists who recall Davis-Mullen's conservative history -- and her ambiguous behavior during the 1995-96 domestic-partnership controversy -- and wonder how the city's gay and lesbian leaders can champion her as a devoted friend. And some think that Davis-Mullen's record on gay issues isn't bad, but is considerably less stellar than her boosters suggest.

"I think people should support Peggy Davis-Mullen, but I'm wary of us jumping full steam ahead . . . when it's not clear she's always been with us," says Gary Daffin, chairman of the Massachusetts Gay and Lesbian Political Caucus, which has backed Frank Jones in the at-large council race. "Somehow, it seems that we have taken a step backwards."

No one disputes that Davis-Mullen says the right things about gay issues, and that she's a much better choice than, say, Dapper O'Neil or Mickey Roache. Indeed, it's hard to find a gay or lesbian advocate who won't vote for her reelection. But the question remains: if a politician like Peggy Davis-Mullen can become the candidate of choice for Boston's lesbian and gay voters, what does that say about the state of Boston's gay and lesbian politics?

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The 1990 governor's race taught the state's political establishment a valuable lesson: gay and lesbian voters are a large and influential force, capable of making the difference in a tight contest. It's no secret that strong, organized support from the gay community helped push a Republican candidate, William Weld, into office over Democrat John Silber. Observers across the Massachusetts political landscape -- politicians who might have avoided gay and lesbian groups in the past -- took notice.

It's taken a few years, but Davis-Mullen has caught on to the potential political power of this community. Though she insists that she's always been supportive of gay issues -- and, in return, had gay and lesbian support in previous elections -- it's clear that the councilor has recently stepped up her advocacy. She's attended important community events, including a March 1 Back Bay vigil for slain male prostitute Lee Thompson, where she was the only city councilor to show up. She's also been outspoken in her support of increased funding for people living with HIV and AIDS, criticizing Mayor Menino for not allocating more money.

Davis-Mullen has also been a terrific networker in the community. Though the gay and lesbian vote is politically attractive and powerful, it's by no means monolithic, especially in Boston. Getting everyone on the same page can be difficult. But insiders marvel at how Davis-Mullen has secured the endorsement of old-school progressives like the Alliance's Lebowitz and more conservative voices like Vin McCarthy -- who are spearheading the effort in gay and lesbian circles to get her reelected.

"Peggy is gutsy," says McCarthy, who also backed Davis-Mullen's reelection bid two years ago. "She stands up for people in a time when too many politicians want to hang around their offices, thinking about what they want to run for next. She's out there on the firing line."

Indeed, Davis-Mullen's gay and lesbian supporters admire the councilor's maverick reputation and her penchant for rough-and-tumble politics. They aren't troubled by Davis-Mullen's combative relationship with the Menino Administration, or her roots in South Boston -- not exactly a bastion of freethinking and tolerance. No, supporters say, the fact that Davis-Mullen isn't cut from the same liberal cloth as the typical pro-gay politician has actually worked to her benefit.

"It takes honor and respect, but not leadership, to represent a progressive ward with progressive votes," says the Equal Rights Lobby's Greene. "But it takes courage and leadership to represent a conservative base of support with the record of Peggy Davis-Mullen."

But what is her record? Foremost is her March 1996 vote in favor of the domestic-partnership bill, which would extend health-insurance benefits to the partners of gay and lesbian city workers. The bill is currently mired in the State House; Davis-Mullen wants Menino to pry it loose and enact it by executive order. (Menino's lawyers think that would be illegal.) The councilor backs increased spending for AIDS research, care, and education, as well as substance-abuse prevention; and she supports an improved breast-cancer-prevention program, a major women's issue that's been championed by lesbian activists.

Until this year's city-council race, however, Davis-Mullen wasn't seen as a natural choice for Boston's gay and lesbian electorate. Why is she reaching out now -- and more to the point, why is that community taking her in?

On the one hand, it looks like another bid by Davis-Mullen to get more liberal votes and broaden her constituency beyond her South Boston turf. The Menino Administration won't campaign for her, and after taking heat for backing the Krafts in the South Boston football-stadium battle, Davis-Mullen needs all the votes outside her home base that she can get.

But it's also true that Boston's gay and lesbian community, always looking for few more friends on city council, has eagerly welcomed Davis-Mullen. Gone are such long-time allies as Bruce Bolling and Rosaria Salerno, as well as David Scondras, the city's first and only openly gay city councilor. Though the current council is not necessarily regarded as hostile toward gay issues -- Back Bay/Fenway district councilor Tom Keane's work on domestic partnership, for example, won particular praise -- there is a sense it could be a lot more supportive of them.

"We've lost some of the heroes from the past," says Don Gorton, a lawyer and former Alliance chairman. "There's no one out there who stands out as a long-time supporter of gay and lesbian issues. We're looking for new opportunities . . . and Peggy seems to be one."

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But is she an opportunity or an opportunist? Davis-Mullen's critics in Boston's gay community suggest that the councilor's current strategy is an act of desperation, fueled only by the erosion of her Southie political base. They remember Davis-Mullen as a candidate who barely acknowledged topics like domestic partnership and AIDS the first time she ran for the council, back in 1993. And they can't ignore Davis-Mullen's participation in Southie's St. Patrick's Day parade, an event that many gays and lesbians have come to see as a symbol of entrenched homophobia.

It's not that critics think Davis-Mullen is hiding antigay skeletons in her closet. They just don't think she has done enough to earn such a flood tide of gay and lesbian support.

"I think Peggy has been there for us recently, but I'm surprised to see people be so strongly supportive of her," says Daffin, of the Gay and Lesbian Political Caucus. "I don't think she has that strong of a history."

Additional questions surround Davis-Mullen's role in the domestic-partnership fight. Eyebrows were raised at City Hall by an August 17, 1997, Boston Globe column by Alan Lupo, in which the Lesbian and Gay Alliance's Dena Lebowitz praised the councilor as a "leader" in the effort to secure domestic-partnership benefits. Though there is little doubt that Davis-Mullen's vote was critical to securing the bill's 9-4 passage, people who were there -- including the bill's architect, Thomas Keane -- don't necessarily remember her as a leader.

"To describe Peggy as a key advocate for this bill,is substantially incorrect," says Keane.

In fact, Keane maintains that Davis-Mullen was missing in action during much of the 1995-96 domestic-partnership battle. When she finally got involved, Keane says, it was to "water down" the bill by adding language that would give long-time heterosexual couples the same insurance benefits. (Including heterosexual couples in a domestic-partnership bill makes it more saleable to politicians, but critics say it undermines the symbolic significance of such legislation -- namely, validating the unions of people who cannot legally marry. Keane tried, and failed, to remove heterosexual couples from his bill.)

And Davis-Mullen's foes inside City Hall say she didn't just want to dilute the domestic-partnership bill; she would have preferred to avoid it altogether. Mayoral aide Gary Sandison claims that Davis-Mullen lobbied hard to delay a vote on the bill -- largely because she didn't want it to be on the minds of Southie constituents at the upcoming St. Patrick's Day parade. According to a March 13, 1996, story in the Globe, Davis-Mullen was so miffed by the timing of the domestic-partnership vote that she engaged in an obscenity-laced shouting match with another councilor that sent staffers "scurrying for cover."

"She was actually an obstructionist," says Sandison, who is openly gay. "She just didn't want to deal with it, and kept holding it up."

It's obvious that now, more than a year after the domestic-partnership showdown, Davis-Mullen's critics are perturbed that she has so much support from the gay and lesbian community -- and even gets credit for the passage of the bill.

"I see this as a calculated effort at getting votes," Keane says.

Listening to Keane and Sandison, it's difficult to tell where the valid criticism of Davis-Mullen's behavior stops and the familiar anti-Davis-Mullen rhetoric begins. After all, Davis-Mullen did vote in favor of the bill. And even if she hasn't always been a passionate advocate for gay and lesbian issues, even if she marches in the St. Patrick's Day parade, isn't she allowed to grow as a politician, and commit herself to a new cause? And isn't the gay community entitled to welcome her into the fold?

Even Keane concedes the latter two points. "Perhaps the fact that Peggy's making overtures to the gay community argues very strongly that gay political issues now cut across all political stripes," he says. "Today, you don't have to be a progressive, a liberal, or a left-winger to be a friend to gays."

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For her part, Davis-Mullen greets the skeptics with the resigned tone of someone who's quite accustomed to greeting skeptics. Over the course of her political career, she explains, she's grown accustomed to defending herself, whether the issue is neighborhood schools, city budgets, or gay rights.

"People will make judgments about me because of where I happen to live, or because I'm Irish Catholic, or whatever," Davis-Mullen says. "I'm hoping, at some point, that there won't be so many hoops that I'll have to go through. I think that people should judge me by my acts and deeds, and not by what other people might say."

The councilor rejects Keane's claim that she is trumpeting gay and lesbian issues in a transparent effort to win votes. Though she acknowledges that issues like domestic partnership and AIDS funding haven't always been on her front burner, she says she's always been sympathetic to these causes, and is comfortable with her record of service. People who know her and have followed her career closely, Davis-Mullen says, don't find it surprising that she's found a growing audience in the gay community.

Davis-Mullen strongly disagrees with the version of the events offered by Keane and the Menino camp on the domestic-partnership battle. She says her vote was "always firm," and that her bid to include unmarried heterosexual couples in the bill's language was simply an attempt to avert a legislative defeat. "The magic number is seven [votes], and you want to get the end result," she says. "That's what I was focusing on."

Furthermore, Davis-Mullen thinks the timing of the domestic-partnership vote was specifically intended to intimidate her, practically on the eve of the St. Patrick's Day parade, into withdrawing her support for the bill. Though she still resents this maneuver, she points out that the plan backfired -- undaunted, she voted for the bill, and marched in the parade a few days later.

"They thought I would fold because of that," the councilor says. "I'd say Tom Keane was a part of it, perhaps because [he and his allies] wanted to get all the glory for themselves . . . but I was there when I needed to be there."

It's clear that Davis-Mullen would rather talk about the present than rehash old squabbles with City Hall foes. She'd rather talk about the fate of the domestic-partnership bill in the legislature ("It's struggling up at the Hill, and it needs to happen"), the need to increase AIDS funding from its current $100,000 per year ("When you spend $2 million putting a new roof on a clubhouse at a golf course, you could easily spend half a million on AIDS funding"), or breast-cancer prevention (one of Davis-Mullen's ideas is for a medical van to provide breast exams in city neighborhoods).

But instead, Davis-Mullen finds herself fighting old ghosts. It's become too predictable, she says: whenever she reaches out into a new constituency beyond South Boston, she gets whacked by an old-boys network that likes to sucker-punch her with the opportunist label. And whenever she takes on a progressive cause, she is forced to carry the baggage of her controversial hometown.

Take, for example, the St. Patrick's Day parade. As long as she continues to march, people will ask Davis-Mullen to explain herself. This is not some cheap-shot issue easily dismissed; the parade is such a hot button among Boston's gays and lesbians that Menino avoids it completely. This is where being a gay-friendly candidate from a place like South Boston stops being a mere novelty -- and starts getting sticky.

"You're talking about my home," Davis-Mullen says, picking her words with caution. "You're talking about an institution, that parade, that has been a part of my life for 37 years. . . . I'm not going to make people happy 100 percent of the time. I'm only human. We're not always going to get it right. You do the best you can, and you hope that people understand."

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Does Davis-Mullen have what it takes to become a political leader for the city's gay and lesbian community? Many of the community's leaders say yes, and are banking on her. In the coming weeks, activists plan to campaign hard for Davis-Mullen and Frank Jones to fill two of the four available at-large seats. (The September 23 preliminary election shrinks the at-large field from nine to eight candidates; the general election is November 3.)

"Peggy is straightforward and sincere," says the Alliance's Lebowitz. "People grow and change throughout their careers. And she is someone who did."

Still, the rise of Peggy Davis-Mullen as the gay and lesbian community's candidate for city council may say more about the state of Boston gay politics than it does about the candidate herself. On the one hand, it's impressive that the community feels it can embrace a city councilor who is most closely identified with the conservative traditions of her neighborhood. As little as a decade ago, such a relationship would have been deemed impossible.

But there's also a sense that Boston's gay and lesbian community needs more than new allies and consensus-building. As Don Gorton says, the old heroes are long gone. Perhaps as a result, gay and lesbian issues often don't command the kind of attention in Boston city politics that they do in New York or San Francisco. That needs to change. There are still fights left to be fought -- domestic partnership was just a start, activists say -- and the next generation of advocates, on city council and elsewhere, must take the battle for equality even further.

Is Davis-Mullen ready?

"A long time ago, we simply wanted politicians to open the door and let us talk to them about supporting pro-gay legislation," says Gary Daffin. "We were simply asking to be protected and not discriminated against. We didn't want much. We just didn't want to be fired from our jobs or lose basic accommodations.

"But now," he says, "our standards are much higher."

Jason Gay can be reached at jgay[a]phx.com.