SouthCoast Today
Jack Spillane column
Tim Murray is fond of talking about the importance of the "blocking and tackling" jobs in government.
Building and repairing roads and bridges; reforming the loose ethics laws that give politicians a bad name; making sure that cuts to public education happen only in the most dire of circumstances.
Those are the kinds of on-the-ground policies that don't garner big headlines, Murray says, but they're the types of government work that put the lie to cynical folks who think government never does anything right.
"Blocking and tackling" was how Lt. Gov. Murray this past Thursday, described the state's construction of a $320,000 new pier and fuel dock on the tiny island of Cuttyhunk. He had traveled on the New Bedford ferry to the furthest of the Elizabeth Islands to dedicate the dock, which is the remote islanders' only supply line.
The lieutenant governor also took the occasion to hang out with city leaders for a while, helping break ground for the new downtown hotel, and to do the interview for this column. The state funding for the Cuttyhunk dock and a nonprofit grant for the New Bedford hotel are the kinds of "blocks and tackles" that make up the real business of government, Murray said.
The Cuttyhunk dock will protect the island population's very survival, as well as tourist business, he noted, and the hotel is important to the city's revitalization.
"I realize they're not sexy headlines," he said. "They're not going to fill up hours on talk shows. But when the blocking and tackling of government doesn't work, when it breaks, people know it."
Murray, 41, may be the lieutenant governor, but outside of his hometown of Worcester, he's far from the second best-known politician in the state.
A lawyer, city councilor and ceremonial mayor of Worcester (the city has a weak-mayor form of government), Murray used the power base of the state's second largest city to outflank the multiple Eastern Massachusetts candidates running for the same job two years ago.
An unassuming, down-to-earth style, and an ability to talk the common parlance of second- and third-generation Bay Staters, has helped Murray forge alliances with politicians in the state's old industrial-era cities and their inner suburbs, including state Rep. John Quinn of Dartmouth.
The son of a history teacher and a nurse, the lieutenant governor seems like a guy on your after-work softball team, your brother-in-law who teaches public school, or your uncle who was the first member of his family to graduate college.
"I love this state," he says. "It's been great to my family," he said, noting that three of his grandparents were Irish immigrants.
Murray's affable personality fit well with Democratic gubernatorial nominee Deval Patrick in the 2006 campaign, and the governor has since given him a seat at the governing table equal to cabinet members.
He has his own portfolio representing the state's post-industrial cities, the place with evaporated economies that Patrick and Murray have determinedly dubbed the "Gateway Cities."
In that job, Murray's been a godsend to the mayors, representing their interests in a way that's probably been absent since Mike Dukakis was governor. So while the public at large may not know Murray well, Scott Lang, Bob Correia and James Harrington in Brockton certainly do.
Bringing more attention to the old urban centers was a big part of the reason he ran for lieutenant governor, Murray said. That, and his conviction that the majority of the state's government is focused on Greater Boston, at the expense of the central, western and southeastern parts of the state.
"I thought, if nothing else, that if I got elected, municipal officials were going to have somebody to pick up the phone and talk to," he said.
Murray argues that it's in the suburbs' own interest to make sure the state's cities revive. "None of us can hide, no matter where we live, from some of the issues and challenges that we face," he said.
The urban centers continue to be the medical, educational and architectural hubs of the state's different regions, he said.
Murray walks and talks like a true son of the middle class. There's not a whiff of limousine liberal about him, nor a taint of an elite, university hot-house type.
That doesn't mean Murray, a history buff and Fordham graduate, is blue-collar.
It simply means that he seems like a guy who's still grounded in the world of mortgage bills and college tuition. In fact, he seems much more a child of the city neighborhoods than the Ivy League-educated Patrick, or any number of other recent Democratic gubernatorial nominees for that matter.
Murray says he and the governor are presently trying to just hold their own as the winds of the greatest economic downtown since the Great Depression whirl around them.
"Right now, the focus of the administration is to try to manage our way through this fiscal crisis in a way that, as best as possible, maintains the integrity of core services," he said. The administration is interested in spending taxpayer money wisely, providing value for the dollar; and new programs will have to wait for a better economy, he said.
But as lieutenant governor, Murray said he's had a seat close enough to power that he has seen the great opportunities, as well as the challenges of the big job.
"I'd love to be governor some day," he said.
He acknowledges that the measure of he and Gov. Patrick will be how well they respond to the tough challenge of the present bad economy. But that's an opportunity for greatness too, he said.
Perhaps with a bit of the traditional Irish love of poetry, he tried to recall a poem he said that someone on the Southcoast -- he forgets who -- told him on one of his trips down here.
"It's easy to be captain of the ship when the seas are calm. But you really demonstrate what type of captain you are when the storm has hit, and the sea is whackin' the boat," he said.
That sounds more like your next-door neighbor than poetry.
Murray thinks a bit more, reaching back for the actual words of the poem. Then he finds it, inspiration and all.
"It's easy to be captain of the ship when the seas are calm and the sun is shining," he said. "It's a lot harder when the storm is raging and the waves are pounding."
Contact Jack Spillane at jspillane@s-t.com
Related story: Cuttyhunk dedicates new 'lifeline' dock
Jack Spillane column
Tim Murray is fond of talking about the importance of the "blocking and tackling" jobs in government.
Building and repairing roads and bridges; reforming the loose ethics laws that give politicians a bad name; making sure that cuts to public education happen only in the most dire of circumstances.
Those are the kinds of on-the-ground policies that don't garner big headlines, Murray says, but they're the types of government work that put the lie to cynical folks who think government never does anything right.
"Blocking and tackling" was how Lt. Gov. Murray this past Thursday, described the state's construction of a $320,000 new pier and fuel dock on the tiny island of Cuttyhunk. He had traveled on the New Bedford ferry to the furthest of the Elizabeth Islands to dedicate the dock, which is the remote islanders' only supply line.
The lieutenant governor also took the occasion to hang out with city leaders for a while, helping break ground for the new downtown hotel, and to do the interview for this column. The state funding for the Cuttyhunk dock and a nonprofit grant for the New Bedford hotel are the kinds of "blocks and tackles" that make up the real business of government, Murray said.
The Cuttyhunk dock will protect the island population's very survival, as well as tourist business, he noted, and the hotel is important to the city's revitalization.
"I realize they're not sexy headlines," he said. "They're not going to fill up hours on talk shows. But when the blocking and tackling of government doesn't work, when it breaks, people know it."
Murray, 41, may be the lieutenant governor, but outside of his hometown of Worcester, he's far from the second best-known politician in the state.
A lawyer, city councilor and ceremonial mayor of Worcester (the city has a weak-mayor form of government), Murray used the power base of the state's second largest city to outflank the multiple Eastern Massachusetts candidates running for the same job two years ago.
An unassuming, down-to-earth style, and an ability to talk the common parlance of second- and third-generation Bay Staters, has helped Murray forge alliances with politicians in the state's old industrial-era cities and their inner suburbs, including state Rep. John Quinn of Dartmouth.
The son of a history teacher and a nurse, the lieutenant governor seems like a guy on your after-work softball team, your brother-in-law who teaches public school, or your uncle who was the first member of his family to graduate college.
"I love this state," he says. "It's been great to my family," he said, noting that three of his grandparents were Irish immigrants.
Murray's affable personality fit well with Democratic gubernatorial nominee Deval Patrick in the 2006 campaign, and the governor has since given him a seat at the governing table equal to cabinet members.
He has his own portfolio representing the state's post-industrial cities, the place with evaporated economies that Patrick and Murray have determinedly dubbed the "Gateway Cities."
In that job, Murray's been a godsend to the mayors, representing their interests in a way that's probably been absent since Mike Dukakis was governor. So while the public at large may not know Murray well, Scott Lang, Bob Correia and James Harrington in Brockton certainly do.
Bringing more attention to the old urban centers was a big part of the reason he ran for lieutenant governor, Murray said. That, and his conviction that the majority of the state's government is focused on Greater Boston, at the expense of the central, western and southeastern parts of the state.
"I thought, if nothing else, that if I got elected, municipal officials were going to have somebody to pick up the phone and talk to," he said.
Murray argues that it's in the suburbs' own interest to make sure the state's cities revive. "None of us can hide, no matter where we live, from some of the issues and challenges that we face," he said.
The urban centers continue to be the medical, educational and architectural hubs of the state's different regions, he said.
Murray walks and talks like a true son of the middle class. There's not a whiff of limousine liberal about him, nor a taint of an elite, university hot-house type.
That doesn't mean Murray, a history buff and Fordham graduate, is blue-collar.
It simply means that he seems like a guy who's still grounded in the world of mortgage bills and college tuition. In fact, he seems much more a child of the city neighborhoods than the Ivy League-educated Patrick, or any number of other recent Democratic gubernatorial nominees for that matter.
Murray says he and the governor are presently trying to just hold their own as the winds of the greatest economic downtown since the Great Depression whirl around them.
"Right now, the focus of the administration is to try to manage our way through this fiscal crisis in a way that, as best as possible, maintains the integrity of core services," he said. The administration is interested in spending taxpayer money wisely, providing value for the dollar; and new programs will have to wait for a better economy, he said.
But as lieutenant governor, Murray said he's had a seat close enough to power that he has seen the great opportunities, as well as the challenges of the big job.
"I'd love to be governor some day," he said.
He acknowledges that the measure of he and Gov. Patrick will be how well they respond to the tough challenge of the present bad economy. But that's an opportunity for greatness too, he said.
Perhaps with a bit of the traditional Irish love of poetry, he tried to recall a poem he said that someone on the Southcoast -- he forgets who -- told him on one of his trips down here.
"It's easy to be captain of the ship when the seas are calm. But you really demonstrate what type of captain you are when the storm has hit, and the sea is whackin' the boat," he said.
That sounds more like your next-door neighbor than poetry.
Murray thinks a bit more, reaching back for the actual words of the poem. Then he finds it, inspiration and all.
"It's easy to be captain of the ship when the seas are calm and the sun is shining," he said. "It's a lot harder when the storm is raging and the waves are pounding."
Contact Jack Spillane at jspillane@s-t.com
Related story: Cuttyhunk dedicates new 'lifeline' dock
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