April 1- 7, 2004

city beat

Bill of Stale

Haunted house: Campaigning in his first election in Philadelphia, Rafael Collazo railed against state Rep. Bill Rieger. Using an empty chair as a prop, Collazo called Rieger a legislative "ghost." Photo By: Michael T. Regan

A legislative ghost finally faces a tough challenge.

by Brian Hickey

Rafael Collazo is standing outside an elementary school near Fifth and Erie. Parts of the building are surrounded by barbed-wire fencing. Metal grates keep people from climbing in the second-floor windows. The short, suit-sporting, 29-year-old aspiring pol is flanked by 15 supporters. They stand in a semicircle behind an empty leather chair.

Once the lone TV-news camera starts rolling, Collazo launches into an assault against his Democratic primary opponent, state Rep. Bill Rieger of the 179th District, which includes Hunting Park, Feltonville, Olney and Frankford.

Neglected neighborhoods. Self-centered politicians. These -- and standard pitches for cleaner streets and afterschool programs that he makes during daily door-to-door canvassing strolls -- are the angles Collazo works in his first foray into Philadelphia politics.

But what’s with the chair?

"For over 20 years, Bill Rieger has been on vacation," declares Collazo, an activist who says the empty seat signifies a lack of legislative representation.

That an aspiring politician uses photo-op props is nothing new, but what Collazo hands every reporter who’s listened to his spiel is a stroke of political luck. For inside those blue binders is a stack of harsh newspaper stories about the incumbent.

On top is the April 2003 Inquirer story that explains how Rieger -- the longest-tenured pol in Harrisburg with 37 years on the job, so to speak -- missed 97 percent of the hearings during a four-year span for a committee he co-chaired. Also that month, a Rieger aide was called out for renting her basement as a district office at a rate higher than those for neighborhood homes. Then there are recent stories about how legislators have been stuffing pieces of paper into Rieger’s voting buttons so it looks like he’s there when he isn’t.

Those stories are at the heart of the 179th campaign, the latest race that speaks to just how crazy Philadelphia politics can be. Remaining to be answered before the April 27 primary are these questions: Will the Democratic political machine send this man back to Harrisburg, or will a long-neglected sliver of North Philly rise up to change its destiny? And is it finally possible for Philadelphia to add another Latino politician to its current Harrisburg roster of one? (The short answer, according to the local FOP and a national Hispanic caucus, is hopefully.)

"Growing up here, I saw neighborhoods decline and a representative not even raise a finger to stop it," says Collazo, a Hunting Park native and Columbia University graduate whose father once unsuccessfully tried to unseat Rieger. "It’s time for this to stop."

Rieger is calling from Harrisburg to apologize.

An hour earlier, one of his staffers hung up on a reporter. Granted, the entrenched, party-backed pol was nowhere to be found, but when the woman answering the phone was asked to take a message, she said, "We just don’t take messages." Click.

Learning of the exchange, the co-chairman of Philadelphia’s legislative delegation tried to make amends, explaining that the staffer is "just old" before discussing what could be the challenge of his political career.

"I’m probably the only perfect-living guy in Harrisburg -- been married 61 years," the 81-year-old explains. "I do more things to help people that you’d never know about. I’m doing whatever I can to get things out of Harrisburg for my district."

A contender: Emilio Vazquez Photo By: Michael T. Regan

After explaining that illness has rendered him unable to attend many sessions -- an excuse his opponents don’t buy -- Rieger’s asked what exactly he’s done. He claims he once "saved Temple Dental School by getting $32 million off [former Gov. Bob] Casey," but he offers no specifics or plans for the district’s future. Rather, he goes on about the family friend with "cancer all over" for whom he helped find the best treatment. And the son of a staffer who went to prison "for murder or something." Rieger got him moved closer to home so his mother could visit. Cleaner streets, he says, are City Council members’ problem.

"Don’t ask me why all these people are saying all these things about me. One of those reporters used to live up the street from me, so maybe that’s why," says Rieger during a 10-minute babblefest. "They can write anything they want. I don’t see much of a problem [getting re-elected]. I know what I gotta do. If you had to bet on a horse, you better bet on mine. I’m a sharp guy. There ain’t no two ways about it."

Perhaps he’s nonchalant because he still has the city’s Democratic committee support. (This, even though the Hispanic Caucus chair for National Democratic Committee, Alvaro CiFuentes, endorsed Collazo. CiFuentes says it’s a key race because there’s only one Latino, Angel Cruz, in the statehouse. Locally, FOP chief of staff Gene Blagmond says they had decided not to endorse anyone -- "Rieger’s still alive?" he asked -- until a member of the Spanish American Law Enforcement Association recommended Collazo.)

But, says city Democratic Party Treasurer John Dougherty, Rieger’s "senior status in Harrisburg warrants him not only a little respect, but a little flexibility. It would take Bill’s replacement years to earn the institutional knowledge that he delivers. … Are we looking for someone to jump into pools or represent the community as best they can?"

Emilio Vazquez is wearing a suit, so people take a curious second glimpse as he stands outside his North Eighth Street home. They’re more accustomed to seeing the 36-year-old former Parking Authority ticket writer and one-time anti-graffiti office worker toting trash bags to vacant lots for cleanups. But today is different. After waiting for anyone to ask, he’s publicly talking about his candidacy.

A half-block away sits a police department RV that magically arrived recently across from one of Rieger’s "offices." (The barbershop sign still hangs outside.) Should someone believe what they read in a recent Inquirer column, Vazquez is nothing but a "shill" for Rieger, thrown into the race to drain votes away from Collazo.

"I want Rieger out of office just as bad as anybody else," explains Vazquez, who’s lived here since 1972. "I don’t know where they’re getting this stuff."

He leads a parade of supporters up Eighth saying hello to just about everybody he passes like they were old friends. Vazquez’s platform, like Collazo’s, is simple: Clean streets. Arrest drug dealers. Rehab vacant shells and rent them.

Noting that he’s never seen Collazo doing grunt work, Vazquez says, "What he’s saying is good and dandy, but it’s not what we need. We need to roll up our sleeves like I’ve been doing for the past 16 years and clean these lots and clean these streets. I’m already doing the job, without the salary."

A contender: Virgil Addison

Virgil Addison is sounding a lot like Vazquez.

The one-time District Council 33 shop steward and Democratic committeeman in Rieger’s home ward -- well, in the ward where he listed a questionable home address -- also used to work at the Parking Authority. And he’s also mad about being painted as a Rieger straw man.

"This man just got comfortable doing nothing. It’s just terrible," says Addison, 45. "It’s time for the up-and-comers to make some noise."

The contest’s lone African-American candidate, Addison says he’s been trying to cross racial lines to form a "rainbow coalition." (Thanks to a hotly contested redistricting that saw Latino advocates crying foul because they wanted a Latino-heavy voting area, the population is now roughly 30 percent black, 30 percent white, 30 percent Latino and 10 percent Asian.) All three challengers say they’ve been working door-to-door; only Collazo says he’s gotten threatening phone calls about running.

"We need a lot of work up here and it ain’t gonna happen overnight," Addison says. "I tell these guys we’re not running against each other, we’re running against Rieger, and that regardless of what happens, we need to all sit down and talk about how to bring this district back. Everybody can make speeches about how they’ll change everything, but none of us really knows what’s waiting in Harrisburg."

Not even, it seems, a man who’s been serving there longer than any other state politician.