Crazy Eighth

For city-council candidates in Boston's pivotal Eighth District, overcoming voter apathy is only the first issue they'll face

by Ben Geman

Throughout this horribly hot summer, when the biggest political news involved booze and breasts at Massport, there's been a quiet street-level power struggle going on in the staid Back Bay.

Tom Keane is retiring as the Boston City Council's representative from the Eighth District, which also includes Mission Hill, the Fenway, and Beacon Hill. And no fewer than seven candidates are looking for enough votes to make it through the September 21 preliminary, which will winnow the field to just two.

The sheer size of this pack means that district's voters will have had the chance to hear a lot by the time the election rolls around. But here are a few things you won't hear any of the contenders say:

I love the proposed Millennium tower over the Massachusetts Turnpike. Let's make it 100 stories high!

I stand for rats running freely through city streets.

I don't mind if long-time Mission Hill residents are displaced by insane housing costs.

The Boston public schools? I wouldn't change a thing!

No, there's no real disagreement about the main issues in this race: just about every candidate is pledging to support affordable housing, fight for community input into the development frenzy gripping the Fenway and Back Bay, and, closer to the ground, combat the trash piling up in the streets and the rats that freak Fenway residents out. They do part company when it comes to the Red Sox' proposal for a new Fenway Park, but none is satisfied with the plan as it stands.

But that doesn't mean there's nothing separating the contenders: they differ widely in temperament and style, and those differences could mean a lot. The Eighth District seat has always been an interesting one, in part because the district is heavily populated by students and other educated transients, not by long-time residents. That means this councilor has a chance to serve as an independent voice. "The interesting thing about this seat," says Keane, "has been that people in this district give their representatives an enormous amount of latitude and are happy to see them strike an independent course."

And the last two councilors to fill the seat have offered radically different models of how to use this opportunity. Keane, the departing incumbent, has been a thoughtful, measured voice at City Hall, socially progressive but fiscally conservative -- his political model is Paul Tsongas, the late US senator. David Scondras, whom Keane defeated narrowly in 1993, was more fiery, a left-leaning populist who served in what now seems like a very different era -- a time when liberals like Bruce Bolling, Rosaria Salerno, and John Nucci joined him in the council's chamber, and US policy toward Central America could surface alongside a discussion of potholes.

Now that Keane's moving on, what will the voters be looking for? That's far from clear, especially since the race has been so under-the-radar until now. "There are probably those in the community who would vote for David or someone like him in a second," says Audubon Circle resident and community activist Dolores Boogdanian, "and others who thought David was confrontational and a little too out there and would prefer someone like Tom, who was more measured in his approach." Multi-candidate fields are by definition unpredictable, but three candidates appear to be slugging it out for the lead: wealthy Back Bay real-estate broker Suzanne Iannella, Beacon Hill upstart Mike Ross, and low-key Democratic foot soldier Alana Murphy, with Mission Hill firebrand Anthony Schinella and Back Bay attorney Tom Massimo a step behind.

---

Suzanne Iannella, who is widely viewed as the front-runner, is cast in neither the Keane nor the Scondras mold -- she would fit into a category all her own. Self-described as "flighty," Iannella, a member of the state's alcoholic beverages control commission, is a Republican in a largely Democratic district -- and she chose her party affiliation, she says, for no reason other than to be a "rebel" in a family of Democrats.

That family, by the way, is the one that the city council chambers in City Hall are named after -- her father, the late Christopher Iannella, served for years, and her brother Richard was on the council earlier in the decade. It's thanks to that citywide name recognition, along with plenty of cash, that many observers see Iannella as a lock to make it through the preliminary. This is her second attempt at continuing the family tradition -- two years ago, she finished fifth in the running for one of the city's four at-large council seats.

Of the leading candidates, though, the 48-year-old Iannella seems least poised to make much of the position. She says up front that she does not expect to submit a lot of legislation if she makes it onto the council. Like her peers, Iannella stresses housing and education, calling for higher teacher salaries and lower property taxes for landlords who keep rents affordable. When pressed on how to create more housing, she mentions expediting development of city-owned lots. And she opposes the proposed Millennium tower in the Back Bay. "We don't want high-rises all over the city," she says. "Boston has a nice European feel, and it is such a nice livable city. We don't want to become Manhattan."

But her bread and butter, Iannella says, would be rats and trash. Ask what her agenda is, and the first thing she mentions is a plan to require new restaurants to store their trash inside: "They do this in Manhattan and everybody is pleased that Manhattan has been substantially cleaned up." (She says this with conviction, but she admits she doesn't know how long those rules have been in place.) The ads she has run in local papers stress her opposition to Millennium, but then it's constituent services all the way, pointing out the "issues hotline" she has set up for local residents and emphasizing her concern with garbage, rats, and scofflaws who flout the city's valet-parking laws.

Not that there's anything wrong with those issues, but you wouldn't exactly call her a firebrand. "I won't get up and make wonderful speeches so you can have sound bites," she says, noting that her upbringing taught her that "you always get more with honey than vinegar."

---

If a choice about where to get a cup of coffee says anything about a candidate, consider this: call Iannella and she'll offer to meet you at Sonsie. Alana Murphy? How about McDonald's?

Of the top contenders in this race, Murphy, 53, may be the hardest to spot in a crowd. Call her the anti-Iannella: less slick, more earthy ("How's yourself?" is a characteristic greeting), less flush with cash, more political. For years, she's served on the Democratic wards and state committees, and she's a past president of the Fenway Community Development Corporation. She also was director of policy for former lieutenant governor Evelyn Murphy and advised former mayor Ray Flynn on women's issues. But this is her first run for public office.

The sleepers When you combine a tight field, low voter turnout, and a district with perhaps more resident turnover than any other in the city, predictions could mean nothing. At least that's the hope of the underdogs in the field to replace outgoing city councilor Tom Keane. That list includes Carmen Torres, a psychologist and long-time Mission Hill activist who, at 53, is making her first run for public office. The left-leaning Torres is like plenty of other politicians when she says she'd make affordable housing a priority -- but, unlike many, she can back up her words with a solid record as a tenant advocate. Similarly, she can speak from experience about the problems facing the city's public schools -- her son attended them, and she worked in student support services for the public school system for three years. Across the district, Back Bay lawyer Tom Massimo takes a less idealistic, more utilitarian view of the city council -- he'd focus on "basic city services," the same quality-of-life issues identified by fellow Republican Suzanne Iannella. "My strategy is to talk about a few primary, achievable issues," he says. "Listening to some of my opponents, and with all due respect, some sound like they are running for Congress." Also running is Lynda McNally, who's been active in several community organizations and says she hopes to be the glue that binds the district's diverse constituencies together. McNally, who's making her second attempt at the seat, collected fewer than 800 votes when she challenged Keane in 1997.

No one could accuse Murphy of stressing style over substance, if only because there's so little style. She has yet to master the sound bite, speaking instead in short bursts studded by "um"s. No one doubts her smarts, savvy, or credentials -- but even ideological soul mates wonder how smoothly they would translate into action. "Alana is bright and progressive, but . . . there is not a lot of fire there," says one community activist.

All the same, Murphy says she'd speak her mind on development and housing policy. She complains that the Menino administration plays too "reactive" a role when developers come knocking, instead of taking the initiative in planning for the city's future. "Over the past few years, the city council has been focused on a minimalist approach to city government," she says. "There has been a dearth of intellectual energy and creativity." She says she'd press for passage of state bills creating and preserving housing, and fight for an increase in "linkage" payments by developers, which fund affordable housing.

Murphy has a good list of endorsements behind her -- including ones from the National Organization for Women's PAC and the Massachusetts Women's Political Caucus. If she can make it through the preliminary, her years of party grunt work could help her against Iannella: she might be able to paint the race as a partisan clash, and that would work to her advantage in the Democratic district.

But Murphy can't take the city's Democratic political machinery for granted -- not when Mike Ross, a former aide to Mayor Thomas Menino, is working from that base as well. Many observers think it will be one or the other of them who emerges to challenge Iannella. Indeed, it was likely Ross who denied Murphy the Ward 5 Democratic Committee nomination, taking several votes when the group met in June; it failed to endorse anyone, but it may do so when it meets again this month.

Ross, who is just 27, has run perhaps the most aggressive and well-organized campaign in the field. This is his first stab at public office as well, but like Murphy, he has ties to the political community -- his father is a long-time Jewish community activist and Holocaust survivor who founded the New England Holocaust Memorial. (A win would make Ross the first Jew on the city council since the 1950s, he points out.) He's won endorsements from the Beacon Hill Times and the Greater Boston Labor Council, among others. Perhaps more relevant, though, are his connections to City Hall.

Those connections, of course, are a mixed blessing for Ross at a time when not everybody trusts the mayor. On the one hand, Ross says he could get things done: "My ties to City Hall are relationships and understanding how that building works." But if he can claim to know the ropes, he could also get tangled in them. Many Bostonians, especially in the Fenway, fear that Menino is getting too gung-ho about development at the expense of city neighborhoods. And if the Fenway, where turnout is usually pathetic, is catalyzed by this race, Ross's City Hall lineage may not be a plus. "For some people, that's reason not to vote for you," says one Fenway community activist. "The person who gets elected will have to be very independent of City Hall and willing to disagree with the mayor."

Ross bristles at any suggestion that the Menino machine is trying to install another friendly face on the council, despite the help he's getting from top mayoral aide Howard Leibowitz and other staffers. "This is not a Menino race," he says. "This was my decision to run and no one else's." He's willing to push the administration, saying the city needs to "step up" its affordable-housing efforts. Ross himself offers a fairly detailed plan; for example, he'd support "inclusionary zoning," which requires developers to include a certain number of affordable units for every number of units built. He also proposes turning undeveloped city land over to community groups and applying an earmarked portion of city tax-revenue growth to an affordable-housing trust fund.

Ideology aside, Ross obviously wants this bad. In the Fenway on a recent evening, he seems animated by an almost obsessive energy, zeroing in on any human form that moves through his field of vision, pitch at the ready. "I'm hungry
for this thing," he says. "I'm a younger, dynamic candidate. Does that mean I have more energy? You better believe it.

"Hi, I'm Mike Ross . . . "

---

Anthony Schinella might contest Ross's title for the energy thing. It takes some juice, for example, to bellow, "You are out of order! You work for us!" at Boston Redevelopment Authority director Tom O'Brien, as Schinella did a couple of months ago at a contentious meeting about establishing a task force to guide Fenway development.

At the heart of this, his third run for public office, is the 34-year-old's contention that Boston residents have become too removed from neighborhood planning. His solution? Community-benefit councils that work with councilors to get residents' voices into City Hall. Developers, he says, "need to come to the community before they start to put pen to paper, and prepare to talk to the neighborhoods and say we want to do something here and we want to do something that you want and need."

Schinella's gonzo populism is refreshing. "I am the only one who will fight like hell to stop it," he says of the Red Sox' plans for a new Fenway Park. On the city's housing policy, which he calls "unacceptable" in its timid approach toward preserving affordability, he says the tight market gives this message to working people: "Get the fuck out. We are more than happy to have you wait on us, but we don't want to look at you." He is an aggressive candidate who may surprise some people with his tenacity and ability to connect. "He's the only one raising certain issues," says one Fenway activist, who doesn't want his name used because he says he'll need to work with whoever is elected. "He is the only one being really critical of the City Hall agenda, the tension between the planning and redevelopment agenda [of the BRA], and he has been addressing class disparity, the widening gap. There are votes there."

By the same token, though, he'll have a tough time straying beyond his Mission Hill and Fenway base into the tonier, more sedate Back Bay and Beacon Hill. Not that that bothers him. "I've always been someone," says Schinella, "who spoke truth to power."

---

In Boston, a common political sport is pointing out how irrelevant the city council can seem, and often in the Pax Menino, that perception has been reality. The strongest tool in a city councilor's kit is the ability to stall the city budget.

At the same time, many issues facing the district could offer the right councilor a chance to step beyond the office's limited institutional role. When something as important as development is at stake, a councilor who's both smart and committed can serve as an advocate and voice for neighborhood interests in a way that transcends specific votes.

But representing neighborhood interests means attracting voters, and they're not easy to draw in. When the sun is out and the economy is strong (at least for some) and there's no mayor's race topping the ticket, most people rank city elections somewhere between watching late night C-SPAN and reading the phone book. Even someone as organized as Mike Ross has all he can do getting people to listen to him ("I'm kind of, like, in the middle of something," said one potential voter when Ross rang the bell). In the last city election, voter turnout in the Eighth District was a paltry 18 percent.

For the winner, though, the race could mean bringing more than a new trash plan to the table. "If whoever gets elected is savvy about it, this is a seat that can have a substantial amount of leverage," says Carl Koechlin, executive director of the Fenway Community Development Corporation. "If someone can effectively speak on behalf of the community on issues that the community cares about, there will be a lot of people that pay attention."

Ben Geman can be reached at bgeman[a]phx.com.