Bob Brady

Mayoral candidate; U.S. representative; chairman, City Democratic Committee


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Published: May 2, 2007

When the 2007 primaries become part of political lore, the Bob Brady vignette will likely center around how he ambled into his Inquirer editorial-board meeting and declared, "I already know you're going to endorse Nutter."

So why this nugget, as opposed to when he came by our offices and declared that the Mummers qualify as one of Philadelphia's cultural offerings? For one thing, it's because it speaks to the party chairman's willingness to write himself off in the eyes of a media that wrote him off. (As in, let's acknowledge upfront that this is a charade.)

For another, his supporters already get a kick out of telling it. Which means it'll be retold until it becomes, "Brady rented a banner plane to circle 400 North Broad with the message and he flew it himself!"

And finally, it's because the dude called it proper.

What the story won't recount, however, is what Brady did the day the Inquirer endorsed Nutter. So let the record reflect that the affable, every-guy party chairman was at Ocean Harbour Seafood Restaurant in Chinatown for a fundraiser that evening. Which, coincidentally, was happening as the Brady bunch gathered at his Overbrook Farms home to celebrate his mother's 85th birthday.

Yet there the besuited congressman was, smiling and shaking hands as a dapper Asian chap he'd nicknamed "Jimmy Walnuts" led one fund-provider after another to the stage for their requisite "Photo with a Powerful Politician." From there, Brady noticed I was sipping a Tsingtao. Solo. To which he told his finance guy, "Don't let him drink alone." From which his finance guy gleaned that he should get a Scotch so bossman could join me. After which I realized Brady is my kind of guy.

Not because of drink selection, or because he demanded I stay at the table as his guest. (Though, in talking about booze, Brady told me that he didn't start drinking until he was in his early 30s.) But because it seemed like he was the type of person who likes to make sure everybody around him is taken care of.

"Taken care of" is an interesting way to put it, too, because the impression that he, as party boss, is to blame for all of Philadelphia's corruption is why he knew all along that none of the papers would endorse him. (I got the sense, though, that he's more about having a gentlemanly grandfather's disposition than being someone who works the system for personal or egotistical gain.)

We didn't get too deep into that because Brady Ã¢â‚¬â€ the type of guy who taps you a lot during conversations Ã¢â‚¬â€ was too busy talking about his "friends," in this case meaning three of his four primary foes. Each, it seems, has at one point or another served as the representative's public servant. And he doesn't talk smack on friends.

"You're not going to hear me say a bad word about any of them," said Brady, before saying some bad words about Tom Knox. "I just hope we can help as many people as he's hurt. I'm tired of hearing him talk about all these backroom deals and pay-to-play. Not one of our names has ever come up in any of that. I don't know Corey Kemp. I didn't know Ron White.

"I got a record. You either like me, or you don't like me. I am what I am."

After he noted that he wished the media would do a better job of investigative reporting Ã¢â‚¬â€ point taken Ã¢â‚¬â€ we veered away from the politics and the ongoing 527 controversy that had him parting ways with a trusted adviser just days earlier. He made a good show of sampling the jellyfish portion of an eight-course meal (this, after he suggested I not try it, a tip I probably should have heeded) and then asked me to guess what was in the soup. ("Fish guts," he declared with a laugh.)

Taking the stage to thank Mr. Walnuts and the fellow attendees, he left after about 90 minutes, only after working the room of about 30 supporters to shake each hand again. On the drive back to Overbrook Farms, he was asked why he'd want to leave D.C.

His response: Aside from feeling that his hometown needs him, it takes too long to get things done, and man, is it annoying to see so many "pet projects" tacked onto bills. Then, he was out of the car, strolling up the driveway with his jacket flung over his shoulder. He looked tired and none too keen about the 8 a.m. live-radio debate that'd be here in mere hours. But, all that could wait. It may have been another long day, but he had a birthday party to get to.