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I Was A Twentysomething FRINGE DELEGATE

I was a fringe candidate once. A Larry Agran getting little respect. A Tom Laughlin stepping from the movies to the stump.

Now the American Dream says that any-one can grow up to be President. Some dispute this claim, but the bigger question is, can anyone grow up to be a delegate to the Massachusetts state Democratic Party issues convention?

Last Saturday hard-core Massachusetts Democrats gathered across the state in caucuses to pick delegates to the state issues convention. With little clue of what I was doing or what I was fighting for, I mounted a drive for the delegateship.

The woman at the Democratic party headquarters gave some invaluable advice when she learned of my quest.

"Make sure you go early," she told me. "And schmooze."

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Ward Eight's caucus was at the Peabody School on Linnanean St. The secretary, an elderly woman, and the treasurer, an older man, of the Ward 8 Democratic Committee were sitting quietly at a table when I walked in the front entrance.

I immediately announced my intentions.

"I would like to run to be a delegate," I proclaimed.

No microphones were thrust in my face. The crowd didn't go wild.

The Ward 8 voters declined to turn out in droves for this caucus. There were eleven of us. If you've got six fingers, you could count them on two hands.

It was time for shaking hands and kissing babies. At least shaking hands. Make a favorable impression: earnest, young man who just wants to help Massachusetts' future.

I introduced myself to one man, David Osborne, who was gathering signatures for State Sen. Michael Barrett's (D-Cambridge) reelection campaign. Told him who I was and asked him to consider voting for me as delegate. He said he would definitely consider it. Little did I know that Osborne would emerge as my biggest political foe. First political lesson: you never know who your friends are in politics.

Met another man--an older guy who handed me his business card at the end of our conversation. A lawyer and a real nice character. He was interested in talking about politics, and so was I. So we talked for a while.

But I forgot that the caucus would begin in just a few minutes. I forgot that this man was just one vote. I forget the politician's duty to shake everyone's hand in the room. Big mistake.

We sat down to begin the nominations. Phyllis, the chair, sketchily explained the rules. Everyone there besides me seemed to know each other and be veterans of this process. I straightened my tie and tried to look worthy.

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