The un-campaign

Part 3

by Yvonne Abraham

Many people who donate to campaign funds want something in return. That's a fact of political life. It's what the coffee session-Lincoln bedroom hoo-hah in Washington is all about. When Senate inquisitors asked oil entrepreneur Roger Tamraz why he gave the Democrats $300,000 last year, he replied, simply, "It's the only reason -- to get access." Next time, Tamraz said, he'd give $600,000.

Their pockets may not be quite that deep, but there's no shortage of people willing to fill the kitty of an incumbent mayor. Menino gets contributions from all over, but sometimes he doesn't have to go too far. A good deal of the money Menino has raised since January 1996 -- 9.4 percent -- has come from within City Hall (see "City Haul," page 18). Those dependent on the mayor for a paycheck have made about 1700 donations, totaling more than $126,000, in the last 21 months. That's a lot of loyalty. And 212 of those donations -- $10,600 -- came after July 1, 1997.

The days when activism in city politics was a route to better jobs and brighter futures for the city's Irish and Italian working-class residents may be gone, but this remnant of the old patronage system remains. By helping to maintain the status quo, many city workers must feel as if they are investing in their own futures.

Elsewhere in the Menino Committee's 15,000-strong donor base you will find hoteliers, restaurateurs, realtors, transportation professionals, and, of course, many lawyers. Nothing so surprising here: those people generally have the most money to give, after all.

You will also find plenty of people in property. Between January 1 and September 30 of this year, folks in the property development and construction industries gave Menino's campaign a total of $63,840 -- 8.3 percent of his total receipts. And among those citizens are many familiar names: John Cruz, of Cruz Construction, for example, the company which, together with Suffolk Construction (also well-represented in the campaign records), is just finishing up the new Boston Police headquarters at Ruggles station; Gerard Doherty, a lawyer and developer who is also a Menino friend; Ron Druker, the Colonnade Hotel owner who built the Heritage apartments and wants to develop two major properties in the South End; principals of Boston Sand and Gravel, located on what will become extremely developable property when the Big Dig is done; and Robert and Bruce Beal, developers whose relations with the Menino Administration have always been extremely cordial (although they may be less so since it came out that, without the city's knowledge, the Beal companies had been buying up Allston land on behalf of Harvard).

Menino maintains that, for the most part, developers and contractors contribute to his campaign as a kind of reward for the good job he's doing. "Developers and contractors are the most aggressive groups," says Menino. "They're the ones out there doing business, and they want to contribute to an administration that makes the city work."

Pollyanna lives.

The state legislature does not have such a rosy outlook. Seeking to reduce the influence of money on politics, members voted in 1994 to overhaul Massachusetts's campaign finance system. The limit on annual donations by a single person used to be $1000. Since January 1, 1995, it has been $500.

There is no rule, however, that prohibits a group of individuals related by family or business from making clusters of $500 donations. Menino's campaign finance reports for the last two years are full of such "bundles"of donations -- often made on the same day. About 50 of those bundles are large -- five or more people, related by blood or employment, contributing $2000 or more. Some bundles consist of as many as 10 donors. Their total contributions can top $8000. There are many more small bundles, composed of two or three people -- a hotelier, a colleague, and his wife, for example -- whose contributions total $1500 or less.

One of the biggest bundles in Menino's campaign fund comes from the Susi family, which owns Mario Susi and Sons. That's the company with a city contract to plow Dorchester and parts of Roxbury and downtown -- a contract that paid them $588,430 last season. In 1996, members of the Susi family made contributions totaling $4200: two of those donors listed their occupation as "homemaker." This year, another $1300 came from the Susis, bringing the total to $5500.

Similarly, executives and employees of Old Town Trolley Tours, which buses 350,000 people a year between its 17 stops on the city's streets (and which also owns the Boston Tea Party Ship Museum), contributed $5000 to the mayor's campaign in June 1996. Several of those contributors have Florida addresses.

Seven executives and family members of Cannon Design, an architectural firm with offices in New York, D.C., and Boston, donated a total of $3500 to Menino's campaign this year. Three thousand dollars' worth of contributions are dated September 16, 1997. The firm specializes in hospitals and universities, and will be working on the new Polaroid headquarters in Cambridge.

Executives of Fidelity Investments contributed almost $9000. Lawyers at Foley, Hoag & Eliot, the downtown law firm that counts Menino's campaign finance chairman Joe Maher among its partners, contributed $8000, and half of that this past April.

Many of the corporations and individuals who support Menino would give much more if they could, as the campaign to retain the appointed school committee shows. Last election day, November 5, voters faced a ballot referendum to decide whether Boston would keep its appointed public school committee or return to an elected one. Menino, who had staked his reputation on the success of the education reform begun by his hand-picked superintendent, Thomas Payzant, was determined to prevent the school committee from becoming an elected body, as it was before 1991. He'd lured Payzant to Boston with the proviso that the schools would be run by a stable, appointed board. He needed to win.

Winning is much easier with a lot of money. The cap on contributions to the Boston Education Reform Committee, Menino's team, was $25,000. Four companies gave that much, including Boston Duck Tours, a fast-growing competitor of Old Town Trolley Tours, and the State Street Bank and Trust Company. Dozens of other companies made $5000 and $10,000 contributions. Menino ran an aggressive, expensive campaign. He, and the appointed school committee, prevailed.

That campaign was like an electoral dress rehearsal -- a demonstration of Menino's strength, his ability to marshal the business community to his causes, and his effectiveness at raising cash. All of which served to further deter possible mayoral challengers very early on, and, ironically, to diminish his need for the hefty campaign contributions he continued to collect.

Menino was criticized at the time for linking his education crusade too closely to big business. It's a contention that makes him impatient. "We're so parochial here," he says. "They should look at other cities and see what the business community does. The businesses were investing in our future," he says. "And it's in their own best interests to see that the schools are improved."

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Yvonne Abraham can be reached at yabraham[a]phx.com.

Kate Cunningham provided research assistance on this article.