“What do you think? Can the mayor be beaten?.”
– Josh Resnek asking a question to the mayor’s Blue Suit
By JOSH RESNEK
In Everett political circles, there’s one major question about the upcoming September 21 primary and the following election November 7.
Can the mayor be beaten?
This is the major Everett political question until the evening of September 21.
For the sake of my sanity and to show I really want to
know what folks believe, I put the question to my buddy, the mayor’s Blue Suit on Monday morning.
I met him at the corner store in Everett Square where he was buying cigarettes and scratch tickets. I know. I know. How low can the Blue Suit go? But then, he does live with the mayor inside the polished marble mansion on Abbott Avenue. He can’t help but be a bit like his boss, the man who has enslaved him for years wearing him around and abusing him.
Inside my car, I put it to him.
“Can Carlo be beaten?”
“Jes… Josh, don’t you think about anything else? Is Carlo all that’s on your mind? Cause if he is, I can show you how to get to you to check in to a padded room and get you some medication to take the edge off your paranoid existence,” the Blue Suit answered.
We shared a laugh as we drove down Broadway past the Parlin Library, past Central Station.
The Blue Suit was scratching a ticket when he let out a yell.
“Woe!” he exclaimed. “Pull into the gas station.” I turned into the parking lot. He showed me the ticket.
“Five hundred! Nice. Real nice. What’s better than that in Everett on Broadway in the morning in my Honda Fit while we’re sharing a laugh.”
The Blue Suit was beside himself. He leaped from the car, went inside the station’s market area, and cashed the ticket.
When he got back into the car, he handed me a c-note.
“Carlo would never do this. I can guarantee that. He’s too cheap and greedy at the same time,” the Blue Suit said.
I swept the c-note out of the Blue Suit’s hand. I stuffed it in my pocket.
“You know where I want to go now?” the Blue Suit asked me.
“Yeah, “I said as I drove around Santilli Circle. We headed for the casino.
“Can Carlo lose?” I asked again.
“Yes, he can,” the Blue Suit answered.
“Is that what you want to hear, Josh?”
“I want a truthful answer, please.”
“Is it likely he can lose or is it a dream?” I asked him.
“It is a bit of both,” he said. His answer was like watching two movies on split screen at the same time.
I parked the car right out in front of the casino entrance. My buddy Jason parked it for me next to a Bentley in the private parking space in front of the hotel.
“Looks nice next to that Bentley, doesn’t it?” I said to the Blue Suit.
He looked at my red 2007 faded Honda Fit.
“Yeah. Looks real nice next to the Bentley,” he gushed. “Let’s head inside,” he added.
We ended up seated in front of $5 slot machines.
The casino was mostly empty, but the ringing of winning bells and electronic noises floated about on the air in a steady hum as we dropped $5 coins into the slot machines. The Blue Suit sipped a Johnny Walker Black Label on the rocks.
“That time Capone had over the weekend pissed the mayor off. It got him scared and angry, more angry than scared,” the Blue Suit told me.
“What’s he angry about?” I asked.
“That getting re-elected is not going to be a guarantee,” the Blue Suit said.
“But what about his comments that he is the mayor forever, that he can’t be beaten?” I asked.
“That’s the thing, Josh. It depends who you are talking with. If you’re talking with Eric Demas or Jerry Navarro, they tell you straight out, Carlo can’t be beaten. But this time around, even they know he can be beaten. They can feel it. They’re not complete idiots,” the Blue Suit told me.
The mayor had his spies at Capone’s time. The spies were amazed at the crowd – about 300 as one of them told the mayor. That drove the mayor crazy. Not one of those 300 is going to vote for the mayor. Worse than that, Capone’s time showed his candidacy is having a strong impact, much stronger than when he was starting out.
About this time, the Blue Suit ran out of the $500 he had just won with the scratch ticket. All of it went into the $5 slot machine.
We walked off the slots floor into the hotel lobby and back to my car.
“You know,” I said, “I went around to three random house’s displaying DeMaria for Mayor signs. I knocked on the front doors. I met the tenants and owners. All three that I visited couldn’t speak English.
One said he wasn’t sure who the mayor was. The other two had no idea. What do you think of that?” I asked the Blue Suit.
“I’ll have to talk it over with Anthony (DiPierro). He’s the mayor’s director of signage,” the Blue Suit answered.
“Out of the 500 signs, how many of the people living inside the homes where they’ve been placed are going to vote for Carlo do you think? 500? 400? 300? 250? 150?” I asked.
“What are you getting at, Josh?” he asked me.
“Lately, I’ve been picking up strong hints that the mayor no longer owns the vote of the city workforce any more than he owns the votes of the people inside the houses dis- playing his signs. He’s forced city employees to do political work and to donate money – but no one wants to do this anymore. Why should they? That’s what all of them should ask themselves. For what? If Fred Capone or Gerly Adrien get elected, working for the city will return to normal – no threats, no forced sign-holding, no more costly mandatory political contributions. I get the feeling that city employees have the feeling that enough is enough. This is a major development. Don’t you think?”
The Blue Suit shrugged.
“I’m so pissed off at myself for losing that whole $500. That’s how Carlo would have done it,” he added.
“What did you say, Josh? Can you repeat your question?”
“Are city employees telling the mayor they’re going to vote for him to appease him until primary day when they vote for anyone but him?” I asked.
“You could be right about this,” the Blue Suit said.
“When you come right down to it, Josh, why should city employees be loyal to the mayor when he is not loyal to them?”
“I think you’ve got that right. Carlo, I know is worried about his support. From my perspective, he should be terrified.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Because I can feel a change is coming. That’s a bad, bad feeling when you like to think you’re going to be the mayor forever,” the Blue Suit said.