'65 City Election: New Balance of Power?

There's a little place in East Cambridge--it used to be a synagogue--where Portuguese Americans whoop it up every Friday night. Ernie Souza's combo plays in one corner and a bar stretches along the back wall. As Al Vellucci enters, the noise and the laughter shifts towards the door.

"HEY, AL."

"HIYA BEEN, AL."

Ernie's band strikes up "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow," and Vellucci weaves among the tables clasping hands and patting shoulders. He edges toward the microphone.

"The other day my wife and I were talking about our trip to Europe. I asked her where she'd like to go if she could return." Vellucci pauses momentarily to let the tension peak. "Quick-like she replied 'PORTUGAL.'" That snapped the silence and the shouting and clapping began again.

Al Vellucci, like his eight colleagues on the City Council, is taking inventory this year. Each surveys his own stock of votes: Vellucci in his East Cambridge strongholds, Thomas H. D. Mahoney (chairman of the history department at M.I.T.) at evening coffees and cocktail parties in the affluent Brattle Street neighborhood, and Dan Hayes in North Cambridge. When the ballots are counted on Nov. 2, each will know whether his assets are still negotiable.

Competition in the 1965 campaign market is tight. All the nine incumbents are seeking re-election, but there's a good chance that at least one of them will get bumped off. Though this may not seem very exciting, or even very tight, it is--and it could change the very ground rules of the city's politics.

Delicate Balance

Political power in the Council is on a delicately balanced scale. Councillors endorsed by the Cambridge Civic Association--a group largely composed of people from the Brattle Street area--hold four seats, including the mayor's chair. The independents--those unendorsed--have the other five.

"The one thing that's true about the independents," a common cliche goes, "is that they're independent of each other." Thus, although the mayor is elected by the Council, and although the independents have had 5-4 majorities for the last two sessions, they have been unable to elect one of their own to the job. One independent--it has been Al Vellucci both times--has always defected and voted for CCA-endorsed Edward A. Crane '35.

But 1965 offers the possibility that the independents will come up with six seats on the Council, and the talk in some political circles is that there will not only be a new mayor, but also a new city manager. That would be quite a change. There have been only two managers (the manager is a full-time professional who runs the city day to day) since Cambridge adopted this form of government in 1941. The present manager, John J. Curry '19, has held his job for nearly 15 years.

But talk is only talk, and the rumors of bold change by the independents assume two things: 1) that they will indeed get their sixth seat; and 2) that their larger majority will work together.

Proportional Representation

Frankly, many politicians are skeptical about both questions. But they will agree that it is the first--the sixth independent seat--that is most important, and here their doubt is greatest. The city's weird electoral system--proportional representation (PR)--simply works against the election of a sixth independent.

PR operates this way: a voter can vote for as many candidates as he pleases. He lists the candidates in order of preference (1. 2. 3...etc.). All the ballots are first given to the candidate who has the "number one vote." On the basis of total turnout, a quota (1/10 of the vote plus one) needed for election is determined. If any of the candidates has enough number one votes" to meet the quota (two or three men usually do), they are declared elected. Then any of their votes in excess of the quota are distributed to the person who is in the number two position on each ballot. Simultaneously, those candidates who have the lowest total of "number one votes" are eliminated, and their ballots are given to those in the number two position. The elimination of low-scoring candidates and redistribution of their votes continues until nine people have met the quota. The whole process takes days and has important implications for the nature of Cambridge politics.

Keeping "Number One Votes"

Electioneering is not city-wide; politicians for the most part, appeal to narrow geographical or interest groups (East Cambridge or University people, to take just two examples). The successful councillor wins and holds his "number one voters." As an incumbent, he spends most of his time trying to keep them happy. He answers their questions, attends their parties, makes sure their garbage is collected, sees to it that a signal light is installed at the corner or a sidestreet repaved. Consequently, by the time election time rolls around, a large percentage of Cambridge voters have, in effect, already pledged their "number one votes."

Thankless Task

In this very personalized brand of politics, the challenger faces a formidable--and probably thankless--task of campaigning. If he ever expects to win, he will usually have to spend one race just getting himself known, and then the next two years solidifying the personal ties he has made. Still, he may leave a weak and politically worthless impression: "George is a nice guy, and I'd like to give 'em my number one, but--has been a good councillor, and besides which, he got cousin Joe a job."

And so, what makes the 1965 race exciting and tight? A man named William Maher. "If Maher weren't in it," says one politician, "there wouldn't be a campaign."

Maher was narrowly defeated for the Council in 1963 (he was 10th), but that's only half his story. Maher is--or was--a cop. Back in 1963, he was a detective. After the election, Chief Daniel J. Brennan transferred him to traffic duty, and Maher charged the change was political revenge. The City Council held a public hearing, but that was all, and Maher continued waving on the cars. This summer Maher asked the chief for a six month leave of absence in order to run for the Council again. Chief Brennan refused the leave, and Maher resigned.

From the two years of simmering controversy, Maher reaped a bonanza of free publicity--and probably sympathy. The incident has provided what is probably the only issue (though largely a silent one) of the campaign: whether police should be active in politics. Legal and practical sense may counsel against activism, but a good many voters may be moved to vote indirectly for it.

"Maher," explains one political pro, "has done his work." Work means two years of making and solidifying friendship--winning votes. This prorates Maher a sure bet for the Council. Others aren't so sure, but even the cautious give him a 50-50 chance of gaining a seat.

If Maher wins, someone on the present Council must go. The who is the question that no one can seem to answer. Mayor Crane, Councillor Walter J. Sullivan (normally the vote-gettingist candidate), and CCA-endorsed Mrs. Cornelia Wheeler are usually conceded to be safe. Al Vellucci is safe, though his security isn't as well-established as either Sullivan's, Crane's or Wheeler's.

The Vulnerable Five

Any of the other incumbents is a prime candidate for elimination. "What you have," observes one politician simply, "is six candidates for five seats." Two of the five threatened office-holders are CCA-endorsed Thomas Coates, a Negro, and Thomas H. D. Mahoney, the professor from M.I.T. Mahoney ran ninth last time, and, on the face of it, might be considered the most vulnerable. But remember one important feature of PR: candidates siphon their votes mainly, from relatively restricted areas or groups. The plain truth is that neither Mahoney or Coates draw their major support from the same elements that Maher must tap. But that doesn't mean they're completely out of trouble.

Coates, for example, has two Negroes running against him. It's troublesome for the incumbent, but only truly threatening under special circumstances. Right now Coates has