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