Mike's world

Our new congressman grapples with Kosovo, right wingers, and outer space

by Michael Crowley

Michael Capuano is sitting across from the man who runs NASA, pondering the possibility of extraterrestrial life.

It's an odd scene. Just five months ago, Capuano was still the mayor of Somerville, worrying about potholes and snow plows and other quotidian matters of life in that crowded working-class city. Back then, he was more apt to wonder about the possibility of intelligent life on the Board of Aldermen than in distant galaxies.

But now Capuano is Greater Boston's newest congressman, and suddenly the issues confronting him are, well, astronomical. And today NASA chief Dan Goldin has paid a courtesy call to discuss Capuano's new seat on the House Science Committee, MIT's high-tech laboratories, Mars landings -- and, yes, the ultimate question: are we alone?

Goldin hedges. "We have a lot of people who are uncertain," he says.

"Well, I'm not one of them," Capuano quickly replies. He believes.

But there's no time to linger over such cosmic mysteries. Capuano cuts right to the chase. "For me, science is an economic issue," he says. Recent cuts in NASA's budget, he believes, are shortsighted. But, he adds, "I don't know how you're managing the place. Maybe if you've got a gold-plated toilet in the back of the room, that might not be so good."

From extraterrestrials to toilets, just like that. Welcome to Mr. Capuano's Washington -- living proof that you can take the boy out of Somerville, but you can't take Somerville out of the boy.

With his barrel chest and crooked nose, his flair for profanity, and his love of the word "ain't," Capuano seems out of place among the blow-dried slicksters and drawling Southerners who populate the Congress. At times, he seems as much at odds with his surroundings as Rodney Dangerfield at the Bushwood Country Club in Caddyshack, offending sensibilities and marveling at the strange customs of the institution he has joined.

Of course, every new congressman must adjust to the Capitol's insular culture. But for this one, the differences are more than just cultural. Capuano is a cocksure control freak who, in his nine years as mayor, got used to seeing his bidding done quickly and effectively by loyal minions. Now he is a lowly Democratic freshman, marooned at the margins of a 435-member Republican Congress. Indeed, Capuano admits to a certain level of frustration in his new surroundings.

So far, he has chosen not to respond -- as some freshmen do -- by shouting from podiums, taking on his elders, and generally making a scene. He has gotten off to a cautious start, typically following the lead of the House's Democratic leadership and his colleagues in the Massachusetts congressional delegation. Which may be the result, in part, of an unwelcome fact: just six months after his election, Mike Capuano is already looking over his shoulder.

And in this corner... John O'Connor says he is "leaning against" running for Mike Capuano's job next year. "You gotta give the guy a chance, and I really hope he succeeds," declares the Cambridge-based businessman, environmentalist, and all-purpose liberal activist. That said, however, O'Connor is quick to start talking the way he's been acting: like a candidate. In fact, just talking about Capuano makes O'Connor rise from his chair to pace his office, his baritone voice booming, his locker-room slang flying. What's clear is that John O'Connor thinks Mike Capuano is vulnerable. And it's hardly an unreasonable notion: freshman congressmen always have a weak grip on their seats, but Capuano seems especially untested. He won last year's Democratic primary with just 23 percent of the vote -- a race in which O'Connor won 13 percent, finishing fourth among 10 Democrats. (No other candidate in that race seems likely to run again.) "He won 23 percent of the vote, and now he's trying to win the support of a majority of the district," O'Connor says, adding that the Eighth District's liberal voters may find the pragmatic Capuano lacking in ideological zeal. "I think he's done a good job," O'Connor continues. "But whether he'll be the progressive activist that this district requires is where the jury is out." If O'Connor's own jury rules that he should run, he could pose a formidable threat to Capuano. O'Connor has the credentials to galvanize liberals around the district into rallying around his candidacy. And he would have almost unlimited resources, thanks to the multimillion-dollar fortune of his wife, heiress Carolyn Mugar. O'Connor spent $2.3 million in 1998 -- or more than $200 per vote -- and could easily top that in a repeat. But O'Connor prefers to be known for his activism, not his wealth. Although he runs a Cambridge company that helps to "incubate" environmental businesses, O'Connor says he spends just 10 hours a week there, devoting the rest of his time to political action. At the moment, for instance, he's helping to organize a ballot referendum calling for universal health care, working with human-service groups to soften the state's strict welfare laws, pushing the fight against a new Logan runway, and making the rounds of various activist events, such as last weekend's state Democratic convention. O'Connor has been so active, in fact, that Capuano requested a meeting with him to gauge his intentions. The two men got together on May 10 at a Greek diner in Cambridge. According to O'Connor, the meeting was cordial, but Capuano was typically direct. "His vision is that there are friends and enemies," O'Connor says. "He said, `John, I can't work on issues with you until you decide if you're running or if you're not running. Because if you are running, then you're an enemy.' " O'Connor states that he would like to cooperate with Capuano on issues such as blocking the proposed runway, but that Capuano has been cool to such overtures. O'Connor says he also encouraged Capuano to be more forceful on two key issues. First, he asked Capuano to do more to question the recent merger between BankBoston and Fleet Bank, a deal O'Connor calls "anti-competitive" and a threat to minority lending practices. "If Joe Kennedy were the congressman, he would have been jumping on the table to stop this merger," he says. (To be fair, Capuano has raised questions about the merger; and many experts argue that, for better or worse, no amount of political pressure can stop the deal.) O'Connor also cautioned Capuano to pay more attention to the district's huge minority population. "The way to keep people like me out of the race is to improve on racial-justice issues," O'Connor opines, calling Capuano's controversial decision to close his Roxbury district office -- which Capuano says was a difficult budgetary choice -- "a very bad move." "He needs to represent everybody," O'Connor says. For his part, Capuano argues that the talk of an O'Connor candidacy is the best thing that could happen to him. Capuano says that after the Boston Globe reported O'Connor's interest in March, he received "tons of calls" supporting him -- including ones from Boston mayor Tom Menino and Representative Joe Moakley. Indeed, several key members of the state's delegation say they take issue with what they believe would be an unwarranted attempt at political fratricide. "As a general rule, to challenge an incumbent when you are essentially in ideological agreement is a mistake," says Representative Barney Frank of Newton. "Liberals have very limited resources. It is self-indulgent to ask liberals to divert their energies from other fights. Absent demonstrable incompetence, there's no justification." Representative Jim McGovern of Worcester says he knows and likes O'Connor. Still, he says, "if you're going to run, you need to point to the distinctions and differences. Just saying `I'd rather be there than him' isn't gonna do. I hope he doesn't run against Mike." Says Bill Delahunt of Quincy: "I know that I'll support Mike Capuano and I'll do everything that I can to see that he's re-elected." Despite that support, however, Capuano may have another reason to sweat: the outcome of last week's Somerville mayoral election, which could bode ill for his power base in the city. Capuano found himself on the wrong side of the Somerville fight, unofficially supporting alderman John Buonomo, who was defeated by former governor's councilor Dorothy Kelly Gay. Kelly Gay may not be hostile toward Capuano. But she is close to some of his rivals. For instance, one of Capuano's most avowed enemies, Somerville alderman Joe Curtatone, is a key Kelly Gay supporter and has joined her transition team. And she is a long-time ally of John O'Connor. Some observers of Somerville politics say Capuano's lock on Somerville, where he won about 7800 of his 19,300 votes, could be in jeopardy. "Politically, there's been a power shift in this city," says one insider. Kelly Gay's win "breaks up a lot of his machine. She's going to get rid of a lot of his people." The prospect of an O'Connor challenge clearly bothers Capuano, who describes it as a distraction and "a pain in the ass." Nonetheless, he insists that he welcomes a fight that would silence critics who suggest his election by a splintered vote somehow lacked legitimacy. "Let him come," Capuano says. "I want one-on-one. Why? So I won't have to do this again. So we'll settle this once and for all."

No sooner had he been sworn in, Capuano says, than he began hearing murmurs about a possible challenger for his seat next year. Thus, he was hardly surprised to see the Boston Globe report in March that the bombastic Cambridge enviro-businessman John O'Connor is thinking seriously about making him fight to keep his job next year (see "And in This Corner . . .," right.)

Fortunately for a reporter torn over whether to raise the issue -- after all, pols should be given at least some time to govern between campaigns -- Capuano himself quickly brings up the subject of O'Connor. And he does so several times, in both direct and indirect ways, over the course of two days. He is, it's fair to say, quite aware of John O'Connor at the moment.

"I'm very conscious of all my votes right now," says Capuano. "And if I miss a roll call, I'm gonna write down the reason why."

Not that he's overly concerned, mind you.

"I'm gonna be here," he says, "as long as I damn well please."

---

Mike Capuano is constantly on the run. Every day brings a schedule that's impossible to keep, a vote on an issue he doesn't really understand, a struggle to catch his breath.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he admits. "I'm still trying to learn."

Over two days in early May, Capuano confronts a daunting range of issues that includes war in Yugoslavia, bankruptcy reform, the BankBoston-Fleet merger, hedge funds, international debt relief, Boston's Tall Ships celebration, and, of course, space exploration. (Mercifully bumped off his schedule: meetings with leaders from the opposition party of Kazakhstan -- which Capuano later dismisses as "Kazakh-fuck" -- and the American ambassador to Azerbaijan.)

"I am so deeply exhausted," he says. "I need a vacation."

Even if he hasn't been in Congress for long, Capuano's fatigue is understandable. He has gone well over a year without a vacation, running at full speed ever since the fateful day in March of last year when Joe Kennedy unexpectedly announced his retirement from Congress.

Kennedy had held the prized Eighth District congressional seat, which represents a diverse territory spanning Belmont, Cambridge, Chelsea, Somerville, Watertown, and much of Boston. The news of his impending exit set off a wild scramble for his seat among 10 Democrats, including Capuano, restless after nine years as Somerville's mayor.

Several of the candidates seemed better positioned than Capuano -- the race included two millionaires, a former Boston mayor, and a state rep turned talk-radio host -- but none had his rock-solid base or his well-oiled political machine. He seemed to come virtually out of nowhere to win the splintered primary (with a mere 23 percent of the vote) and breeze through the general election against token opposition. But Capuano had little chance to savor his victory. He had to wrap up affairs in Somerville, prep for Washington, and deal with a catastrophic water-pipe explosion that flooded his home.

Now Capuano seems dogged by a sense that he's always one step behind. "Remember the pile of reading I showed you last week?" he asks in a meeting with his staff, mournfully holding up a thick stack of papers. "Does it look any smaller?"

It takes time, of course, to become versed in the arcana of Washington -- the complex parliamentary rules of Congress, the difference between an authorization and an appropriation, the partisan posturing and trickery. (And since, like most of his colleagues, he tries to spend Friday through Monday back in his district, Capuano is typically in Washington just three days a week.) So for now, Capuano takes his cues from above: he went four months, for instance, before his first vote against the House's Democratic leadership.

One thing he's learned fast, however, is how little influence a Democratic freshman has in a Republican Congress. He's grown resigned to the powerless feeling of being on the losing side of a 311-105 vote. And perhaps even more distressing for a man used to running the show, he's also learned how little control he has over his own life. Capuano's schedule is routinely stir-fried by the whims of more-senior members or by the House's partisan stunt of the day.

Capuano admits to being frustrated -- and how could he not be? "I'm an over-controlling, maniacal . . . " he once explained, before cutting himself off with a smile. "I like to keep things centralized."

But if Capuano has few concrete achievements to brag about so far -- his defining act has been to combat the unpopular plan to build a new runway at Logan Airport -- his Massachusetts colleagues are quick to sing his praises. "We're very happy with Mike," says Representative Joe Moakley (D-South Boston), dean of the state's House delegation. "He's hit the ground running with his expertise in housing. I think he's gonna be a good, good congressman."

Capuano, says Representative Barney Frank (D-Newton), "has exactly the right combination of values, instincts, and talents. He's obviously not your stereotypical wine-and-cheese liberal. He has great credibility."

Frank, the ranking Democrat on the House Banking Committee (on which Capuano also sits), says the new kid has made an early impact there -- even if Capuano is so junior that he has to sit at a flimsy little table tacked onto the end of the built-in podiums in the committee's Rayburn Building hearing room.

Frank says Capuano was helpful in persuading Housing and Urban Development secretary Andrew Cuomo to boost affordable-housing funding last month. At the press conference to announce the new money, in fact, Capuano was so ebullient that he spontaneously rewarded the HUD secretary with a bear hug.

"That made an impression on Cuomo, I guarantee you that," Frank says.

---

Sitting behind the desk in his small, undecorated office, Capuano has kicked his shoes off, as he often does, to reveal gold-tipped dark socks. His young staffers bustle in and out with messages and memos as he watches a wall-mounted television airing C-SPAN coverage of the House of Representatives.

Today the House is debating an "emergency" spending bill to fund the war in Yugoslavia. In classic form, the Republicans have opportunistically padded the bill with extra billions for all kinds of Pentagon programs. As one Republican moralizes about the need for budget discipline, Capuano stares up at the TV and fumes at the preening young conservative.

"You piece of shit!" he snaps. "Then why'd you vote to load up the bill?"

If Capuano's style seems a little unpolished for the marble corridors of Congress, the dignified history of the Eighth Congressional seat makes his rough edges all the more remarkable.

For decades, the job belonged to legendary politicians: James Michael Curley, John F. Kennedy, Tip O'Neill -- all larger-than-life figures who seemed to endow the seat with mythic import. Yet while some politicians might eagerly embrace the role of epic hero, Capuano is unaffected by such grandiose thoughts. "I don't worry about where I sit in the general scheme of history," he insists.

That's for sure. It has long been Capuano's style to play the role of proudly unrefined Everyman. Once, when asked who his heroes are, he pointed to a photograph of a construction worker that was hanging on the wall. It is what his loyal supporters in Somerville love about him. If Joe Kennedy was royalty, Capuano is The People.

That message comes through unmistakably on a Wednesday afternoon in the Longworth Building, where Capuano meets with a group of chipper interns from his alma mater, Dartmouth College. The interns have come expecting the typical, platitude-filled political spiel. But instead they get an unexpected lesson in the World According to Mike.

"I didn't run for Kosovo, or `Save the Whales,' " he tells the Dartmouth kids, who seem to be wondering whether they've come to the right room. Could this really be the congressman from the liberal hot zone of Boston and Cambridge?

"I just don't think there are enough regular people in government," Capuano continues. "We had two millionaires in my race. What the hell do they know about people struggling to pay for college?"

A question about whether the half-Irish, half-Italian Capuano experiences ethnic discrimination only gets him more revved up.

"I don't give a shit. Italian-Americans can be snotty assholes just like everyone else," he says. "I've been living with discrimination all my life. Maybe not on an ethnic basis, but a socioeconomic basis. I don't talk like half of you talk. I talk like a city kid. But guess what? I'm smart. And it takes [people] a minute to figure it out. I'm not good with my English."

As he proceeds, it's impossible not to think he's got a certain Cambridge millionaire in mind. "I don't care what rich people think, what powerful people think," he says. "Rich people have always been trying to shut me out. Powerful people have been trying to shut me out."

Perhaps detecting startled looks on the students' faces, Capuano pauses for a moment. "I don't give a damn," he declares. "I couldn't care less what you guys think of me. Guess what? For every one I lose, I pick up 10 more people. People like honesty. They can see when you're being sincere. And that's me."

When he's done, the students' professor, a classic white-haired, bespectacled Ivy League eccentric, breaks into a delighted grin.

"We appreciate your honesty!" he exclaims.

---

Yet, for all his fearless rhetoric, it's clear that Michael Capuano is not yet at ease in his new surroundings. At an Italian restaurant a few block from the Capitol, where Capuano dines on spaghetti carbonara and red wine, his waiter -- one of several working people around the Capitol he seems to have befriended -- urges him to take a trip to Italy. But Capuano says he can't. "They'll write that I went on a junket," he says, and once again the ever-present topic of his job security comes up.

"I gotta get one re-election," Capuano concludes, "and then I can go wherever I want."

If that re-election comes, which most people think it probably will, Capuano can exhale. He might even start to get comfortable with life in Washington. For the moment, however, he finds himself off-balance, and maybe a little out of place.

Earlier this month, Capuano delivered his first speech on the House floor, a short address on the most important political issue of all: war. He has been wrestling with his feelings about the bombing of Yugoslavia, but he says he felt compelled to speak his mind.

"This conflict today, we might not like the cards that are dealt, but they are dealt," Capuano explained. "We are sitting here today, we have to deal with it today."

Crammed into the two minutes the House allots to "special orders" remarks, the speech was something less than Churchillian -- as even Capuano admits. "It wasn't the best," he says.

But we already know that Capuano is not a speechmaker. Or, as he puts it, "I'm no great orator. I'm no -- you know."

What is striking is the note of humility that creeps into the voice of this defiantly proud Somerville kid.

"I was nervous," Capuano confesses. "Which isn't usual for me."

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