What about Bob?

Senator Robert Bernstein retires after six years on Beacon Hill. Folks fear no one can live up to the respected lawmaker's reputation.

by Kristen Lombardi

Robert Bernstein is a bit overwhelmed by the way people address him these days. On a pleasantly mild Wednesday afternoon, the three-term state senator has just spent two hours sipping coffee at a favorite Highland Street haunt while pondering his six years at the Statehouse. He looks satisfied, perhaps a tad nostalgic.

But then a short, snappily dressed man approaches Bernstein, a Democrat and the 1st Worcester District incumbent, and breaks the spell: "I'm sorry to interrupt."

Bernstein stands in attention, offering his hand.

Pumping the senator's palm, the man continues, "I want to say how sorry I am to hear of your decision. It's a loss for the city." The two then share an awkward pause, holding each other's hand for a moment.

As the man walks away, Bernstein leans in. "Honestly," he confides, "I didn't anticipate all this."

All this, in other words, is the outpouring of emotion the popular politician has received since March 9, when he suddenly informed his district -- spanning from Worcester to Boylston, Clinton, Holden, and to West Bolyston -- that he would not seek re-election. He has remained vague about the future, saying only that the time had come to "move on." Yet news of his retirement stunned the city's political community -- and not simply because his friends and relatives had no idea that, for months, he'd been thinking of quitting. The shock, in part, stems from the general assumption, however cynical, that well-known, well-respected politicians do not leave office without a reason -- often, a damn good reason. By giving up his seat, Bernstein has become the first of his predecessors in 38 years to do so without suffering defeat or without plans to seek another elected office.

"It is shocking," agrees one political observer. "He could have been a lifer if he wanted to be."

Naturally, speculation has swirled. Desperate for answers, people have suspected everything from the benign (wanting a life) to the dramatic (an ill father) to the flat-out funny (chased out of office by Republicans). Even Bernstein's fellow state delegates have proven to be grist for the mill; one theory has him stepping down to escape an incompetent, ineffective delegation.

As one Statehouse watcher bluntly surmises, "He's got these weak-kneed wonders down

there. No one brought anything to the table for Bernstein to work with."

But one thing is for certain: come January, voters will say farewell to an anachronistic politician. Unlike many slick officials, who press the flesh while looking over their shoulders, Bernstein is a bona fide good guy -- admired by Democrats and Republicans. Indeed, he's served in such a deliberate, sincere way that nearly all his accomplishments have gone unnoticed. Now that his departure looms, talk has centered on the race to win his seat, which, so far, has drawn two official candidates, state Rep. Harriett Chandler (D-Worcester) and Republican newcomer Christopher LoConto, along with a suspected third, Joe Early Jr. More important, people wonder whether Bernstein's unexpected retirement will jeopardize Worcester's share of state dollars, especially since the city delegation has historically had trouble comparing to Boston legislators.

"We lost a different kind of politician," laments the Statehouse watcher. "So I'd say the future of the delegation is up in the air."

Bernstein, after all, has fast developed into a kind of elder statesman among the Worcester delegation -- someone who has successfully fought to improve not only his district, but also the overall region. As a result, people have come to expect him to be the visionary, the one who does his homework and thoroughly understands the issues. Those who fear his departure claim that vision is exactly what's at stake. And for someone who doesn't have an obvious reason for leaving, people are left to question why Bernstein chose to walk away.

Of all the speculation about why the 39-year-old Worcester native is stepping down, maybe the most reasonable answer is the job's frustration. For there's no doubt that a senator's life can be tough, even thankless -- fielding constituent calls, listening to countless complaints, passing obscure bills. Add the heightened expectation that comes with being a senior politician and, At-large Councilor Tim Murray, who volunteered for Bernstein's campaign, supposes, "Bob has probably been forced to carry more of the load."

Some politicos go even farther, suggesting that the city's "weak" and "pathetic" delegation, as it's been unflatteringly described, has actually sparked the unforeseen retirement. Bernstein, they reason, distinguishes himself by his ability to grasp not just the issues' nuances, but also the big picture. "We don't have a delegation with a lot of clout or creativity," says one pundit, "and this doesn't make Bernstein's job easier."

Consider, if you will, the delegation record. Observers argue that -- save for some minor projects -- legislators tend to fall back on the megaprojects -- a tactic that's worn thin with voters. Union Station, for one, which benefited from state funds, remains a beautiful shell of a building. And while securing tenants is undoubtedly the city administration's responsibility, the folks who control Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority (MBTA) and its budget -- namely, legislators -- have yet to convince MBTA officials to move into the refurbished station and provide full-service commuter rail. (It should be noted that Bernstein succeeded in persuading his Senate colleagues to include language in a Senate transportation bill that forces the MBTA to provide the city with 10 round-trip trains daily; the language was not part of the House version.)

"You call that clout," exclaims one City Hall insider about the currently vacant Union Station, who then continues, "I don't dislike any [delegates], but they seem to be just there."

Bernstein, for his part, may be the first to end the wild speculation about his fellow delegates' strength and their effectiveness. He acknowledges that people are searching for a simple, "single word" answer, and that his decision seems odd at best. Yet to him, he emphasizes, "It all fits. It's logical and understandable."

Those who know him well agree. Longtime supporter and friend Joe Sacco, who also worked as Bernstein's legislative aide, says he was as startled as anyone by his former boss's announcement. As soon as Sacco heard the news, he inquired about the senator's health. (Bernstein severely injured his back after being hit by a truck during the 1992 campaign.) But then, Sacco recalled how Bernstein's long insisted that he'd never be a career politician.

"Bob doesn't have political tunnel vision," Sacco explains. "He wasn't in it for life. . . . But the political operatives [here] cannot handle this."

Even though Bernstein laughs off the speculation, amused by the fuss, he quickly dismisses talk of an inept and thus frustrating delegation. "There is only one reason I'm leaving," he says, "and it's a personal decision." He later explains, "This is all about Bernstein. I believe that other opportunities are out there."

Besides, any senator is merely as effective as the fellow legislators standing behind him. Bernstein's enjoyed unanimous support from his colleagues, he says, and the Worcester delegation, overall, boasts more influence than it has in recent history -- with three House and two Senate committee chairmanships. Which is exactly why he cannot help but conclude that the city's delegation will survive without him.

"None of us is irreplaceable," he adds. "Someone capable and qualified will take my place."

Until then, the legislator known for his unimposing demeanor will continue to go about his business. Since his election, in 1994, in which he beat former state Rep. David Lionett in a close battle, which was his first and last (he ran unopposed in '96 and '98), he's gained a reputation for being the antithesis of contemporary politics -- for being, as is oft-repeated, "purposeful," "earnest," and "humble." He is, in essence, an ego-less soul who functions in a field that's riddled with ego. Senator Therese Murray (D-Plymouth), a close friend who sits beside Bernstein during legislative sessions, cannot recall one time when her fellow senator spoke in an indulgent, garish, or nasty vein.

"You would never catch him standing up and grandstanding," Murray says. "Bob is so understated."

This type of restraint is something the tall, affable, modest-to-a-fault Bernstein exudes whenever he considers his legacy. Asked how he hopes to be remembered, for instance, he leans back and, with a gentle, slightly uncomfortable smile, responds, "I don't think people will spend much time thinking about me." Pressed further, he cites the moments in which he helped solve long-standing, controversial problems, thus directly improving his constituents' lives.

First, there's the conflict between the town of Clinton and the state-operated Massachusetts Water Resources Agency (MWRA), which, in '94, was the hot-button issue. Though a chunk of Clinton was obliterated to make way for the Wachusett Reservoir, the MWRA refused to provide the town free water services as a form of thanks. After decades' worth of fighting and a lawsuit, Bernstein brokered a deal effectively forcing the MWRA to capitulate.

And then, there's the equally bitter debate among several state environmental agencies, Holden, and West Boylston over failing septic tanks. Bernstein helped craft an unprecedented, $58 million sewer project, which involves as many as 4000 homes and businesses and which is still being constructed today.

"I don't want to say they were my best accomplishments," he muses with typical reserve, "but they impacted people directly."

Bernstein's talent for forging compromise continued, and, by '97, he emerged as a key, indeed crucial, leader in the merger negotiations between UMass Medical Center and Memorial Hospital. He hosted innumerable meetings with hospital administrators and union presidents, as well as mustered support among Senate colleagues. It's fair to say that the merger, once at risk of sinking, remained afloat because of him.

"Bob was the calming influence," claims Kevin O'Sullivan, a former state representative and Worcester politico. "He single-handedly brought the sides together and kept negotiations on track."

Bernstein didn't just build consensus among outsiders, though. Take his legendary alliance with former state Senator Matt Amorello, a popular Republican who left his seat to run for US Congress in 1998. The relationship proved a huge success -- largely because the two men, who were often likened to Siamese twins, eschewed partisan politicking and one-upmanship, instead focusing on their constituents.

"They never split hairs over districts," says one former Amorello aide. "They did what was good for Worcester and Central Massachusetts."

Their relationship yielded results. During the senators' terms together, the city not only landed millions of state dollars for projects like Union Station and the Centrum Centre, among others, but also it also saw groundbreaking of the long-sought Rte. 146--Mass Pike Connector.

Since Amorello's departure, Bernstein has accepted his senior-member role, becoming what one observer calls the "quiet glue" among the city's current state delegation, consisting of representatives Chandler, Vincent Pedone, John Fresolo, John Binienda, and Bill McManus, as well as freshman Senator Guy Glodis. Trusted by all, Bernstein is seen as the one who anchors an often competitive group. "He is the go-to person," explains one aide who works with the Worcester delegation. "Almost all our delegates look to him for leadership and guidance."

There is little question that Bernstein's departure places pressure to deliver on the city's six remaining delegates -- at a time when the delegation's future may be unknown. For Bernstein's district isn't the only one to possibly see new faces. The decision by Chandler, a three-term representative known for her work around health care, to run for the Senate frees up her own 13th Worcester District. And McManus could face a serious challenge for his 14th Worcester District seat.

Of the remaining delegates, though, political observers tend to point to Senator Guy Glodis, who succeeded Amorello in the 2nd Worcester District, to be the one with enough experience and capability to best fill Bernstein's leadership role. And Glodis himself seems eager for the challenge: "If Bobby was the glue," he quips, "it's up to me to be the cement."

Though Bernstein's exit ends an era, Glodis stresses, it also ushers in a new one. So rather than view the departure as a kind of "death blow" to the delegation, Glodis says, he's chosen to focus on its attendant possibility. "We now have an opportunity to see new chemistry among delegates," he explains. "I look forward to increasing my role and helping to shape a more unified and effective delegation."

Just days after the news aired, Chandler had declared herself a candidate. And although some observers bemoan her move because she must relinquish her chairmanship on the Legislature's powerful health-care committee for a position, were she to win, as a freshman senator, most say that her years on Beacon Hill, intelligence, and her diligence make her a strong Senate candidate. Her $64,000 war chest only boosts her standing as the early odds-on favorite.

That said, word among observers is also that local lawyer and behind-the-scenes politico Joe Early Jr., the son of former US Congressman Joe Early, plans to announce his candidacy. Were that to happen, folks would see a real horse race in the Democratic primary in September, especially since the Earlys are renowned for putting on tough, bruising campaigns.

As one observer puts it, "Early versus Chandler would be a fantastic match."

And if Early makes his anticipated announcement, he won't be the only virtual unknown vying for the Senate seat. Even before Bernstein stepped down, a political newcomer named Christopher LoConto, a Republican and an attorney, had emerged as challenger. But while he's maintained a low profile so far, he's hinted at a certain platform, recently telling the T&G, "I want to talk about tax cuts and how to improve our schools."

As for Bernstein, he, like Glodis, is looking forward to new beginnings -- so much so he doesn't intend to return to law to carry on his family's local practice, Weinstein, Bernstein & Burwick. Instead, after his marriage to longtime girlfriend Kristen Paparella this fall, he's considering a move to business and finance. "There is no ultimate plan," he reiterates. "But I am intrigued and excited about the opportunities ahead."

If Bernstein's future seems uncertain, it doesn't appear to bother the retiring senator. He hardly comes across as a bold, daring person but still, he confides, "I do like a challenge and I do like a change."

In the meantime, though, his world will likely remain, as he himself describes it, "one of why and who's next."

Kristen Lombardi can be reached at klombardi[a]phx.com.