The Passion of the Doc

John Dougherty's unexpected bad day

by Mike Newall

why polls are stupid

Michael T. Regan SURPRISE ENDING: Election Day was supposed to be a victory lap for the union head. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

There was a feeling of impending coronation in the schoolyard of Furness Horace High School. It was not yet 7 a.m. on Election Day, it was cold, and John Dougherty, the front-runner for the First District state Senate seat, had yet to arrive at his polling place to cast his vote for himself. But a dozen of the candidate's men — imposing young men, union men squeezed into expensive suits — mulled around expectantly, blowing into their fists and cracking jokes. Spirits were high.

Frank Keel, a Doc spokesman, held court. A large, likable bricklayer of a man with slick hair and a deep voice, he's a fitting figure for a cold Election Day on South Philly's Two Street.

"That asshole Larry was just here ranting for the cameras about how he was starting his day in Doc's backyard because of how this would be ground zero of voter intimidation tactics," said Keel of Doc's opponent, Center City lawyer Larry Farnese. "It was high comedy, I'm sorry you missed it."

Indeed, many expected a contentious day at the polls in this race between Doc, the longtime business manger of the electrical workers union Local 98, and Farnese, the would-be successor of Doc's bitter enemy, Vince Fumo, a powerful state senator who abdicated his throne after suffering a heart attack and a 139-count federal corruption indictment. Political watchdog group The Committee of Seventy had flooded the district with 140 poll watchers, and Department of Justice officials were at the ready to investigate complaints.

That morning, though, it looked like the race would be a cakewalk. Doc's internal polling had him leading Anne Dicker by 16 points, and Farnese by 19. Farnese was expected to clean up in Center City, but Dicker would peel off some votes in Society Hill and Queen Village, allowing Doc to run-up his South Philadelphia and riverward tallies. The black Point Breeze vote was expected to put him over the top.

"It's going to be a good day," said Keel.

The candidate was all smiles when he arrived to a round of cheers, holding the hand of his wife, Cecilia. "I woke up feeling good this morning," he yelled to reporters. But there was something odd, uncomfortable even, about watching Doc — so long the back-room operator, the intimidator, the bloody-knuckled street general — jog across the gymnasium floor and into the polling booth. The street fighter was the candidate now. One man, one vote. He was in and out of the booth quickly.

"Yeah, it's awkward," said Doc afterward in the schoolyard. "The table's turned. My guys are telling me to just keep out of it and be the candidate today."

He was asked about the corruption allegations that have stuck to him like so much mud throughout this campaign, and in his Cagney-esque spitfire voice, said, "Allegations without details ... veiled innuendos ... nonsense." Then he shuffled back into his car for a daylong ride around the district, a valedictory tour of the kingdom cometh.

Along Pennsport's Two Street corridor, where Doc has lived all his life, recreation centers, ballparks and swept-clean corners offered validation for Doc's candidacy.

"I coached John in baseball as a kid and knew his father well," said Nicky Armata, a committeeman of 42 years. "He's always done right by us down here."

Nicky wasn't having any funny stuff at the poll he was at with a couple of guys named Tommy and Bim. "I don't let anyone pressure anyone," said Nicky. "We just hand them the sheet and say, 'Can you help us?' and, 'Thank you.'"

In fact, things were quiet all over the district. Voter turnout was steady but not heavy, and there were no fireworks — just some "nickel-and-dime bullshit," as Keel would later say, such as minor flare-ups over the hanging of placards and the distribution of misleading handouts.

Truth be told, it didn't seem like Doc would need any extra help. Black voters seemed to be turning out in good numbers. Kimberly Washington volunteered for Doc at the Courtyard Apartments at Riverview on Fourth and Washington.

"He's a fair person," she said of Doc. "I don't know what he's done in the past but he's come to our homes to meet us."

Lawrence Farnese Sr. was handing out literature for his son at the Capitolo playground at Ninth and Federal with a young woman named Julie Robinson.

"There's been no trouble from Doc's fellas," said Farnese Sr., nodding toward the half-dozen guys hanging around the entrance. "They're overrepresented in numbers but nice guys just the same."

This was the case all over the district. Six to eight Doc guys to Farnese's two.

"But," Robinson observed, "a lot of these guys aren't even voters. They work in the city but live in South Jersey."

Later on, at Doc's lush gala at Galdo's at 20th and Moyamensing, it did seem that, if Doc's men were Philadelphians, then every last white Irish Catholic still living in the city had to be employed by the electrical workers union. There was a DJ and two bars and two heaping buffet tables and a tent outside to hold the overflowing crowd of union workers. Doc's holographic face was cast above the building's entrance.

The Flyers were heading into overtime and the beer was flowing. Poll returns seemed a distant thought. Doc was holed up with advisers at his campaign office preparing remarks when all attention suddenly turned to the television. His 14-point lead was evaporating ... 9 points ... 4 points ... 0.02 points. With 95 percent of the vote reported, Doc inquired if a few divisions he knew to be loyal had yet been counted. When told they had been, Doc said, "OK, we gotta go make a speech."

So, as Fumo led the "Doc is dead" chants at Farnese's victory celebration at Paradiso Restaurant on Passyunk Avenue, Doc took the stage at his own party, now a funeral, and thanked his family and the union. Over and over, he assured his stunned supporters that he wasn't "going anywhere."

(editorial@citypaper.net)