The not-so-sweet science of Revere politics

Fists-up tradition fuels calls for change

REVERE - City officials are routinely threatened, their cars and homes vandalized by angry residents or disgruntled city workers. Political challengers report similar intimidation, and even ordinary citizens fear reprisal if they speak out against entrenched leaders.

Politics in this city goes beyond angry outbursts and face-to-face screaming matches. Insults are thrown, sure. But sometimes, so are punches.

Last year, a city councilor investigating trash complaints was slugged in the face by a constituent. And last week, in a tragicomic twist on Revere's bare-knuckles brand of politics, a city councilor and public works superintendent scuffled at a wake.

The widely publicized altercation, coming at a well-attended wake for the wife of a former city councilor, has cast a harsh light on the state of local leadership. And it dragged front and center the city's rough-and-tumble political culture of short tempers and long memories.

"All in a day in Revere," sighed Al Terminello, a former president of the Chamber of Commerce who now works as a freelance photographer. "This wasn't the first fight, and it won't be the last."

Even in a working-class city that prides itself on its plain-spoken style and combative, colorful reputation, the altercation has struck a nerve, stirring outrage and embarrassment. For longtime residents who chafe at the city's seedy image, it marked still another setback. For relative newcomers, it confirmed their cynicism with local affairs as an insiders' game marred by feuds and personal vendettas.

And for those already furious at city leaders for a series of high-profile controversies involving pensions and expenses, it was a last straw.

"It's a disgrace," said Stacey Rizzo, a local real estate agent who has run for the School Committee. "It's tiring. It's disheartening. And people have just had enough."

Adding fuel to the fire are several local blogs that routinely trash city leaders and traffic heavily in rumor and innuendo, including a report that Councilor Anthony Zambuto had recently gotten in a fistfight at a restaurant in East Boston. Zambuto said the encounter in question occurred in late April and was not physical.

Zambuto acknowledged in an interview that the city's political culture has become more "contentious, to say the least."

After insisting he seeks to remain above the fray, Zambuto barely paused before taking aim at his colleagues on the board. He dismissed George Rotondo, a councilor with a maverick reputation, as a "bomb-thrower" more interested in his own career than the city. He then slammed John R. Correggio, the councilor involved in the fight with DPW director Donald Goodwin, for telling the press that many students who played hooky at Revere Beach in late April were carrying weapons. It was an exaggeration that could hurt the city, Zambuto said.

"You don't make comments like that," he said angrily. "We're trying to sell condos and attract developers. To throw the city under the bus like that, it disgusts me."

Correggio conceded he is "getting a lot of anger from a lot of people."

"It seems like everyone, whether they are in politics or not, are on edge," he said. "People are depressed and intense. We're getting the full brunt of it."

In many ways, Revere's political scene is a throwback to a more parochial time, when old-boy networks ruled. The current 11-member City Council, for instance, is entirely male. While city leaders fight relentlessly among themselves, they unite against perceived outsiders and criticism, observers say.

"It's incestuous," Rotondo said of the city's political culture. "It's more than unique [to Revere]; it's absurd."

Rotondo said he is still frowned upon as an outsider for growing up in Everett and for inviting controversy by criticizing council policies.

"There's a sense of Omerta, that every wants to shut things up and sweep things under the rug," he said, referring to the code of silence in criminal organizations. "This is not the Revere I want my children growing up in."

Rotondo said he has received anonymous death threats and his car has been vandalized too many times to count. His wife once found dead birds on her windshield, he said.

State Representative Kathi Reinstein, a Revere resident in her sixth term, said the entire front of her car was vandalized just the other day. Growing up as the daughter of Revere's mayor, she remembered the family car being set on fire.

It's good that Revere residents care about politics, Reinstein said. But sometimes, they probably care too much.

"People are very passionate, but sometimes the passion takes over," she said.

Some of the city's most charming and coveted qualities, namely residents' disarming bluntness and strong sense of community, wind up hurting its politics, local observers say. Many liken the political scene to a close-knit, dysfunctional family.

"Brothers and sisters fight," said Terminello, 71, the former chamber president. "Who hasn't fought with their parents? It happens. It's a city whose politics are inbred, and whose fights carry on for a long time."

The atmosphere of rancor and recrimination, local observers say, discourages some people from running for office and overshadows the city's progress. But the fall election is shaping up to be highly competitive, with many City Council candidates touting their outsider status.

"I am totally a newcomer to Revere politics," said Joe Lavino, a 30-year-old who vows not to "knock anyone else down to get ahead."

"The only people I care about are the neighbors, and they are sick of business as usual," he said.

With a hint of sadness, Terminello said he believed the funeral home fight, which was the culmination of a long-running feud over the council's scrutiny of spending at the Public Works Department, could mark the end of an era. The culmination of disagreements that were once handled in-house are now drawing outside attention, presumably from tipsters alerting the media.

"Things are going to be different now," Terminello said. "You can't talk about anything like before."

At a City Council meeting Monday, councilors were chummy, smiling in private conversations and slapping the backs of officials and members of the public. They handed out citations and a college scholarship, and posed for several photo-ops. Afterward, Zambuto requested the floor.

"I just want to say it's nice to get some good press once in a while," he said.

Boston Globe