THE BLUE SUIT
Private Conversations between the mayor’s favorite blue suit and Leader Herald Editor Josh Resnek.
Let’s face it, The mayor is a powerful guy. In Everett, there is not a man or woman more powerful than the mayor. Since he got himself elected in 2007, he has consolidated his power, oiled his various platforms, and arrived at a place where he appears to be an untouchable.
Many people who are opposed to the mayor, who opposed his re-election effort last year, quite often wonder aloud, “How has he managed to survive the rough equivalent of a series of cyclone bombs and go on and on as the mayor of Everett?”
This is a great question.
Is he protected and if so, from what and by whom?
We don’t have sufficient answers to any of these questions. Regrettably, we have no answer other than anecdotal thoughts and beliefs that point to one thing or another, and without evidence, notes, videos, witnesses and on and on, whatever we might think cannot be proven.
Over the weekend, the Boston Globe published two pieces, both about the mayor, in one way or another.
What did he think about these pieces?
Did he read them?
Did he comment to friends about them?
Did he speak with his lawyers about them?
Did they cause him a moment of dismay?
“Of course he was bothered by those Globe pieces,” the Blue Suit told me in no uncertain terms Tuesday afternoon.
“Do you think he is not human, Josh?” the Blue Suit asked me.
“Whoa. Go easy now big boy,” I told the Blue Suit.
“I haven’t said anything bad, have I?” I asked the Blue Suit.
“Sorry, Josh. I’m a little edgy after the Globe’s weekend slate of stories. They were just plain bad. They kind of ruined the weekend for me. I was ruined first by the Thanksgiving dinner I ate. I was so full I could barely move by the time I was finished. I mean I must have eaten at least three pounds of turkey, a half-gallon of turkey gravy poured onto a pound of mashed potatoes so rich with butter and sour cream I felt as though my heart might stop. Then came an apple pie dessert and I was immobilized. I just wanted to be in my closet, on my hanger, with no one bothering me,” the Blue Suit recalled.
“Instead, I had to hear a lot of noise from cell phone calls, and then there was the noise from the flatscreen and so much football I thought I was going to die. Finally, the moment came when I was in my bedroom, hanging on a hanger, and stuffed nicely into a rack of clothes inside the closet. Then it was quiet and I could think. You do know I like to think?” the Blue Suit asked me.
“Hey guy, we’re buddies. Of course I know you like to think. You are one of the brightest people I know,” I answered.
“I know it isn’t easy being you,” I added.
“What do you mean by that?” the Blue Suit shot back.
“You are always under pressure. That’s what it’s like at the top, isn’t it?”
“You’ve got that right, Josh,” he said to me.
“I mean, think about what your life would be if you were living with a department head instead of the mayor. Can you imagine a situation like that?”
“No I can’t,” he said. “That would be really bad,” he added.
“Look, I’ve been with the mayor for more than a decade. I’ve been through all the good times and the bad. He’s gotten plenty of wear out of me. He cannot complain about me not producing. I produce for him every time when he puts me on and shows me off. Remember, Josh, with a nice tie and shirt, I help the mayor took the way he wants to look. That’s the only reason he’s kept me for as long as he has.”
“There’s more to this, as you can imagine,” he added.
“What do you mean?” I asked the Blue Suit.
“I don’t know if the mayor really likes me after all these years. I don’t know if he really cares for me. The worst part of my existence is never knowing when my end is going to come – when I will have outlasted my welcome with the mayor. That’s pretty troubling, Josh.”
I felt badly for the Blue Suit but then, I wondered to myself, am I losing it. Have I gone crazy? Can I possibly be communicating with the mayor’s Blue Suit?”
I came back to my senses – whatever that means – and started in anew.
“What’s going on for Christmas?” I asked the Blue Suit. “A nice trip to Aruba, maybe?” I asked.
“That’s a possibility,” the Blue Suit replied.
“Hey, by the way, when you are in Aruba, have you ever gone to the casino at the Marriot?”
“Yes. I was there quite a few times. I used to meet friends there. I knew a gray suit from Malden who used to meet me at that Marriott. We’d gamble sometimes the entire evening and into the next day. Those were fun times. But they aren’t fun anymore in that way.”
What do you mean?” I asked the Blue Suit.
“Everything has changed,” he replied. “Everything is always changing. People go from being your best friend to being your worst enemy – and then sometimes it gets angry between people who used to get along. I don’t get it how that happens so often but that’s life, as Frank Sinatra might sing it.”
“Wow, that was pretty eloquent,” I told the Blue Suit.
“I know how hard it must be to do the right thing every time for the boss. It’s like you are performing all the time. After a while, performing constantly becomes more of a drag than a pleasure, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah. I get it. But I’m growing tired. I’ve been having very intense bad dreams about my world coming apart,” the Blue Suit told me.
“Maybe you have COVID. I heard that COVID can cause really bad dreams that seem startlingly real.”
“No. I don’t have COVID. Just bad dreams. Nightmares, really. I always have in the back of my mind that my life could unravel and that I could be tossed away into a Salvation Army dumpster. It really freaks me out,” he added thoughtfully.
“I understand,” I said.
“Here, take one of these. You’ll feel better in a matter of minutes.”
He took an edible out of my hand. He deposited it in his mouth. He waved at me gently as he walked away from my car heading back to his home on Abbott Avenue Tuesday afternoon.