Like a prayer

From Philadelphia to Boston, the cities fight for survival

Talking Politics by Michael Crowley

A recent flurry of politicking by Boston mayor Tom Menino is a reminder that even in this moment of economic giddiness, the city of Boston can hardly relax about its future.

For weeks now, Menino and several other Massachusetts mayors have been pondering what marching orders to give the few hundred delegates they will control at this June's Democratic state convention, which will choose the party's nominee for governor.

On the surface, it smacks of classic backroom, cigar-chomping political dealmaking. But this time the mayors aren't driven merely by the typical imperatives of ego, vengeance, or old political allegiance. They are driven by a fear that in this, the last Massachusetts governor's campaign of the century, there may be no urban agenda.

That fear has been justified by the early months of the race, which have been a suburban dream -- and an urban nightmare. We've heard a lot about huge tax-cut and child-care proposals that seem tailored to yuppie couples. But there's been hardly a peep about child hunger, poverty, or affordable housing. (The marginal standing of the two candidates who do speak up loudly about these issues, former Boston mayor Ray Flynn and former congressman Brian Donnelly, is as telling as the silence of the others.)

And so, employing hardball tactics in pursuit of a noble goal, Menino and his counterparts essentially hope to extort some more respect for their cities' needs.

With the Democratic nomination still up for grabs, the strategy is sure to have some short-term impact. But the fact that the state's mayors, major party power brokers of years past, are relying on a few hundred convention delegates -- not even enough to guarantee any candidate a spot on the primary ballot -- is a reminder of how marginalized they have become.

The struggle of cities to stay on the political radar -- and to survive one hostile social, political, and economic trend after another -- is the central issue of Buzz Bissinger's new book, A Prayer for the City (Random House, 408 pages, $25.95).

An enthralling and important read, A Prayer for the City is the story of Philadelphia mayor Ed Rendell's nationally celebrated effort to rescue his city from the brink of disaster. Reminiscent of J. Anthony Lukas's masterly Common Ground, Bissinger's book is the product of four years of unprecedented access he was granted to follow Rendell through his tumultuous first term, from 1992 to 1996.

As Menino fights to keep Boston politically relevant and economically viable, he will find lessons in Rendell's story. The two took office within a year of each other. Both preside over major northeastern cities with strong working-class identities and profound racial tensions. Both have emerged from dark economic days in the early 1990s, but both are still contending with awful public schools and a shrinking middle-class base.

The Philadelphia that Rendell took over in 1992, however, was in much worse shape than Boston. His city faced a staggering projected budget deficit of $1.24 billion. Taxes were rising, jobs disappearing, city services eroding. The city had hemorrhaged nearly a quarter of its population. Civic morale had been crushed.

But Rendell rolled up his sleeves and went right to work. He ditched such traditional paradigms of city government as racial identity politics, patronage, and finger-pointing. And within two years, he'd turned things around. To avoid bankruptcy, Rendell went to war with the city's unions, forcing them to abandon ridiculous and wasteful contract provisions that had cost the city hundreds of millions of dollars. He was a zealot for efficiency in government, saving millions more and improving city services such as trash pickup. He stalled the loss of jobs and population, and restored Philly pride.

Along the way, Rendell got himself crowned "America's Mayor" by Vice President Al Gore, and came to epitomize a much-celebrated "new breed" of mayors nationwide who are dedicated to innovation, efficiency, and reform.

Tom Menino rarely made it onto the media's roster of these hot urban stars. Instead, he has faced often-critical comparisons to overachievers like Rendell. It's not a comparison he appreciates. When I asked Menino last October whether he was impressed with "what Rendell has been doing" in Philadelphia, he bristled: "What's Ed Rendell been doing?"

Menino rightly notes that there are limits to the parallels between the two -- mainly because Philadelphia was in such dire straits that Rendell enjoyed wide latitude to kick ass.

Nevertheless, Menino could learn from the Rendell example. Any serious examination of Boston's budget would find it bloated and wasteful, but when it comes to efficiency and streamlining, Menino -- the self-proclaimed Urban Mechanic -- has disappointed. Even techniques he has proposed in past budgets, such as opening city services to competitive bidding in order to determine their true cost, have gone nowhere. Rendell found some $35 million in annual savings this way.

This is not a matter of petty nickel-and-diming. As the city fights to keep its middle-class residents from moving to the suburbs, every extra penny that can be devoted to street-cleaning, crime-fighting, or schools -- or simply saved as insulation against a future recession -- is invaluable.

That much is clear from Bissinger, who, despite having witnessed one of the most remarkable turnarounds in urban history, leaves the reader disheartened about the future of America's cities. Even a star mayor like Rendell is often fatalistic in the face of the national trends he must combat: an economy that shifts jobs and residents to the suburbs, and a political system that chases after them, continuing the vicious cycle.

This is what makes the seemingly insidery matter of how Tom Menino and his fellow mayors will use their clout in the 1998 Massachusetts governor's race so crucial. If cities like Boston don't fight back, they are in danger of being left behind.

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QUESTION OF THE DAY, posited a press release from the campaign of Attorney General Scott Harshbarger last week: DOES PAUL CELLUCCI HAVE A POSITION ON THE MINIMUM WAGE?

Question of the campaign so far: aside from his endlessly repeated call for tax cuts, does Paul Cellucci have a position on anything?

First, the minimum-wage beef. Harshbarger charges that the acting governor, his chief rival in this year's governor's race, has refused to take a stand on new state and federal proposals to raise the minimum wage by $1.50. Caught between fealty to big business and fear of big labor, Cellucci has hemmed and hawed, and finally settled on the cop-out position of waiting to see what Congress does.

This is getting to be a familiar routine in the governor's race. Cellucci ducks, dodges, or no-comments, while Harshbarger delivers the substance voters deserve.

Criticized just a few months ago for running a campaign that lacks direction and specifics, Harshbarger has been fleshing out a more detailed vision of how he would run the state.

The issues Harshbarger has chosen aren't sexy, but they're the stuff of smart government. Last week, for instance, he addressed one of the state's most overlooked needs with a plan to double spending for adult-education and worker-training programs. What could make more sense? Those programs, which a major study by the Boston think tank MassINC recently found to be underfunded, not only help people qualify for higher-paying jobs, but also boost the quality of the state's work force. Yet it's an issue, as Harshbarger puts it, that Cellucci has "ignored."

Last month, Harshbarger soundly addressed another issue that's been screaming for attention: health care for the state's uninsured. His plan would expand Medicaid benefits and tap money from a settlement with the tobacco industry to cover as many as 200,000 of the state's 500,000 or more uninsured people.

Contrast those meaty positions with the cotton-candy policy dispensed by Cellucci, such as his plan to hire 4000 new teachers (where the money will come from isn't clear). Or his nonexistent health-care vision, which consists of token attempts to regulate HMOs and recent credit-stealing for state efforts to broaden Medicaid coverage for uninsured children, funded in part by cigarette taxes he opposed.

And those are the rare instances when Cellucci has been willing to take a position at all. More typical are his minimum-wage seesaw, and his recent unwillingness to weigh in on a bill that would extend health benefits to the domestic partners of state employees -- a dodge that betrayed the gay and lesbian activists who had long spoken so highly of him.

What we're seeing is a classic incumbent's campaign. Surrounded by the warm waters of a strong economy, Cellucci apparently plans to simply float along, avoiding risks altogether. And hollow objects, as we all know, float much better.

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The legislature was a more humane place in 1997, according to a Beacon Hill scorecard compiled by State House Watch, a publication of the Massachusetts Human Services Coalition.

Released last month, the scorecard tallied legislators' votes on 10 issues over the past year -- from health insurance to the death penalty to electric utility deregulation -- and found scores up across the board. The average score in the House jumped to 68, from 52 in 1996; senators fared even better by the coalition's lefty standards, averaging 71 (up from 52 the year before).

Boston-area legislators, in particular, cleaned up. State representative Byron Rushing (D-South End) was awarded a 95 rating, state senator Dianne Wilkerson (D-Roxbury) scored a 90, and Representative John Businger (D-Brookline) nailed a perfect 100.

Meanwhile, state senator Warren Tolman (D-Watertown), a candidate for lieutenant governor, has again proved himself a darling of liberal interest groups. Just one of three senators to score a perfect 100 in recent environmental ratings released by the Massachusetts Audubon Society, Tolman got perfect marks from State House Watch as well.

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