Out with the Old?

John Dougherty's opponents say he's done. Dougherty says he's a new man.

by Tom Namako

fumo vs. doc, round 324

"Johnny Doc is not dead," says the voice on the other end of the line.

It's Gov. Ed Rendell. He's just gotten word that City Paper is working on a story about the future of union head John Dougherty, and though he's in a rush — "I don't have much time," he says, "I'm running out the door" — he wants to weigh in.

Evan M. Lopez

This call, which is unsolicited, is one of several that City Paper receives from allies of Dougherty once word of the story gets out. Between 4 and 7 p.m. on Monday night, political consultant Larry Ceisler, state Rep. Bill Keller, and state Sen. Anthony Williams all call in. And they all share thoughts similar to the governor's:

"Obviously," Rendell says, "every time you lose an election, there is at the very least a setback. But I think for Doc, this is a temporary setback. He has too much residual power as the head of the most politically influential union around."

It's worth figuring out where Dougherty sits on the continuum between "dead" and "not dead."

For the past decade, the business manager of the electrical workers' Local 98 has been one of the most powerful figures in Philadelphia politics, deploying money, Election Day workers and a loyal voting bloc to assist candidates he supports. Like a general, he's directed activity behind the scenes, but stayed off the actual battlefield.

That changed this year, when Doc decided to put his influence on the line by putting his name on a ballot (full disclosure: Dougherty's campaign manager was former City Paper managing editor Brian Hickey). At first, the race looked to be a showdown between Doc and his longtime rival, incumbent state Sen. Vince Fumo; when a federal indictment forced Fumo to drop out, Dougherty became the prohibitive favorite.

But last Tuesday, with the help of Fumo's friends, an Inquirer endorsement and healthy turnout among Center City voters, attorney Larry Farnese dealt Dougherty a 3,600-vote loss.

The Dougherty influence had failed just when Dougherty himself needed it most. This left City Paper wondering: What will this mean for Doc going forward? Will politicians still fight to get in his good graces? Will emboldened candidates run against the people he supports? Put simply, will he still have the same clout?

The mere fact that several pols, including the governor, were willing to jump toDoc's defense suggests some continuation of his influence. And, though he resigned his chairmanship of the Redevelopment Authority after his loss, there is a strong case to be made that the main source of Doc's power remains intact. There's a difference, explains Richardson Dilworth, a professor of political science at Drexel University, between what people think of Dougherty and what he can still actually do. "I think the circumstances around this election" — specifically the massive voter turnout for the presidential primary, which usually isn't a factor — "minimized what impact his organization had. Remember, his actual power isn't based on holding elected office, it's based in the electricians union. ... I can't imagine his core constituency or get-out-the-vote efforts [are] hurt in any respect."

Even Fumo, who chanted "Doc is Dead" at Farnese's victory party, concedes that Doc's central influence has not been compromised.

"As long as he stays in charge of that union, he'll have funds and he'll be able to give them out. And that's the way he has, quote, 'power,'" Fumo says.

But Fumo doesn't believe that nothing has changed for Doc. "I think his ability to run for office has been decimated," says the senator, before going on to make the case that, as a candidate, Dougherty has been proven a bad fit for his district.

Whether or not Doc has a successful future run in him, there may be something else that's changed — something less quantifiable, says Randall Miller, history professor at St. Joseph's University.

"It's the mystique of Dougherty, which is hard to measure but real, that has certainly corroded, eroded," says Miller. This was the second time Dougherty got "knocked around" in a big election — the first being his backing of Tom Knox in last year's mayoral primary — and, "this time, with Fumo's giant presence in the background, it was a battle between two alpha males. They were fighting to see who's top dog. Dougherty's defeat wasn't just running for the seat, but the idea that the king-maker was trying to be king and couldn't even get to the throne."

This "mystique," as Miller calls it, is the local lore that Dougherty delivers consistently. "There's still no reason for a potential challenger to outright cross the guy," Miller says. "But the idea that someone won't go into an election because [Dougherty's] union is so powerful, well, something that once looked like a fool's errand looks less so now."

"Do I sound upset? I'm not upset," says the voice on the other end of the line.

This time, it's Dougherty. When speaking with Doc on the phone, one gets the impression that he took a deep breath right before calling and then used all the air to talk, nonstop, for the next 45 minutes. He spends this time explaining that he's not disheartened. In fact, he feels like a new man.

Dougherty says that his advisers had told him to go negative against Farnese, and focus on the lawyer's connections to the indicted Fumo. But he wouldn't do it, he says; he insisted on running on the issues.

"If I went negative," Doc says, "there'd probably be a difference in the outcome."

Instead, he lost — but it was a loss that stands as testament to "what the real, the new John Doc stands for."

That would be grace in defeat, clean campaigning and, most importantly, sympathetic listening.

"I met people on 24th and Federal streets who said they're scared to let their kids out at night; single mothers who are just looking for one [good-paying job], not three jobs to pay the bills," he says. "I listened, I absolutely understand that there are a lot of people out there who need a break."

Of course, Doc's logic can be a bit hard to follow, when, in describing himself as a changed man, Dougherty also says he hasn't changed at all. Asked whether he failed to get out of his Second Street enclave before, he says: "My world has not changed at all besides that I have so many more friends who participated in the election." But state Sen. Anthony Williams says New Doc vs. Old Doc is more about perception.

"I think before, he was seen as parochial," Williams says. "His outreach to the African-American community was important and critical for him personally."

After talking for a while about how he ran a clean campaign, Doc goes on to describe how he feels the Inquirer and Daily News went negative on him — neither paper, he says, focused on his charitable work, or his union's accomplishments, or his efforts at keeping the neighborhood clean. "I was trying to show that there's nothing wrong with being a committeeperson, being a ward leader, being a labor leader or a union member," he says. "I was willing to go up and try to make this a better place."

Eventually, City Paper gets a word in, and asks the New Doc how he feels about his old rivals chanting "Doc is dead" on election night.

Doc starts to answer, then stops himself.

"Let me think about that."

Thirty-five seconds of phone silence.

He begins again, and stops. Another false start. Another 40 seconds of silence.

It's a showdown. Perhaps New Doc and Old Doc are arguing over the answer.

Finally, one side seems to win out. "Those that I knew of, DiCicco, and Fumo, exhibited behavior that I think was beneath an elected public official in Philadelphia. I had many people who both supported and didn't support me who said how embarrassed they were to see that type of behavior," he says. "Let me put it this way: People expect more than second-grade behavior from elected officials. ... That's something I now know for sure."

(tom.namako@citypaper.net)