Ping-Pong, Popsicles and Politics

Cambridge Mayor Alfred E. Vellucci isn't kidding.

It's more than a joke for him when he proposes renaming Harvard Square "Piazza Leprechauno." And he has a deadly serious point in mind when he suggests that Harvard should secede from the rest of Cambridge.

Harvard, the mayor explains, often gets a free ride from the city. Most of the University's vast land holdings in Cambridge are exempt from municipal taxes. Even with its large voluntary payment in lieu of taxes, Harvard pays the city less than a private landowner would.

And yet Harvard requires police and fire protection. Harvard creates garbage that the city has to pick up. And above all, Harvard attracts large numbers of students and professors to live in Cambridge, diminishing the city's supply of affordable housing.

So for the past 38 years, Vellucci has been nettling Harvard in his own way, trying "to wake 'em up. Wake 'em up to the fact that they too are on this planet. That they too are in the city of Cambridge."

No matter how bizarre his policies may seem, Vellucci claims a measure of success. He points to one scheme that is still among his most memorable--the 1956 effort to pave over Harvard Yard to make way for a bus depot.

"Once upon a time we couldn't clean our streets," explains Vellucci. "In the wintertime we couldn't plough them, and in the summer-time, during the good weather, we couldn't sweep them. And the reason is that a lot of the students would leave their automobiles parked and then go home, like, to New York and California, on furlough.

"So I went to Harvard and asked them to provide these kids with a parking space so that they could get their cars off the streets. I said to them, 'If you allow them to bring cars, then you must control them. You must provide them with a place to park their automobiles if you give them permission to bring their cars.' And they paid no attention.

"So then I said, 'Pave the Harvard Yard, and make it a big parking space. Chop down all the trees. And then the goddamn kids would get their cars off the streets and into the Harvard Yard and stop being a nuisance.

"So then Harvard bought a bus. They bought a bus. And they opened up a parking lot across the Charles River in the Business School area. And they have a shuttle bus that picks up the kids and drives them across the river. So that's what came out of it."

Last January, Vellucci announced he would not seek another term on the City Council. His decision marked the end of an era in city politics. Since the early 1940s, the City Council has been divided between members of the liberal Cambridge Civic Association (CCA), an alliance of good-government reformers whom Vellucci disparages as the "goo-goos," and neighborhood-based politicians running as Independents.

And then there's Vellucci. Nominally an Independent, Vellucci has functioned as a political party unto himself for the last 38 years, a maverick councillor pursuing his own political agenda.

"I'm not Independent, CCA," he says. "I am Alfred Vellucci. I don't belong to any political parties."

What are Vellucci's concerns? He says his primary goal is to protect his working class constituents. That means protecting neighborhoods from big developers--including Harvard--and upholding rent control. The only city councillor still serving who voted for the city rent control ordinance in 1969, Vellucci describes himself as thearchitect of the system.

But unlike many liberal councillors, Velluccitends to think on the level of the individual. Hisattempts to solve the city's problems can bedisarmingly simple, as when he proposed setting upliving quarters for the homeless in 17 Quincy St.,former residence of the Harvard president andcurrent center for Harvard's governing boards.

"He has a different style of politics than theCCA does," says City Councillor David E. Sullivan."He's less concerned about cosmic policies than heis about helping people."

Although his positions often coincide withthose of the CCA-backed councillors, Velluccifiercely maintains his independence. He bristlesat the suggestion that he votes along with theorganized progressive slate.

"They vote with me," he says. "Younotice how they write in the paper, 'And Mr.Vellucci votes with the CCA.' It isn't 'and Mr.Vellucci.' The CCA votes with Vellucci."

"It's a question of perspective," saysSullivan, a CCA councillor who is also leaving thecouncil next year. "The fact is that we agree on athe issues and we vote with each other. I'll leaveit to the historians to determine who got therefirst."

Nonetheless, there can be little doubt thatVellucci has propped up the CCA since 1973, thelast year in which it held a majority on thecouncil.

Although Vellucci's vote has never been a surething for the city's younger progressives, manysee his departure as one of the greatest dangersto their agenda.

"Although his rhetoric is independent, hisvalues are CCA," says CCA Executive Director NoahM. Berger '89. "Like us, he supports honestcompassionate government and affordable housing."

But former Councillor Barbara W. Ackermannnotes that in her time, Vellucci's powers ofpersuasion were often sufficient to carry amajority of councillors along with him.

"Once or twice I convinced him to vote ourway," says Ackermann. "But more often, if one ofus changed our minds, it would be him changing mymind."

At council meetings, Vellucci presents a markedcontrast to his predecessor as mayor, longtimeIndependent Councillor Walter J. Sullivan, Jr.,who would open and close meetings strictlyaccording to the rules, never saying anunnecessary word.

Vellucci delights in unnecessary words. He cantalk for hours at a stretch, and will oftenbewilder speakers by "reminding" them of eventsthat occurred decades ago.

At times Vellucci can look like the onlydefender of real people's interests in the city.At times he seems an infuriating bully. In eithercase, other councillors tend to listen, becauseIndependents and CCA alike look to the mayor forhis swing vote.

But the mayor's rough-hewn style can provokeangry responses. At one recent council meeting,Councillor Francis H. Duehay '55 accused the mayorof trying to "smear" speakers by digging up thecity's ancient history.

"That was 30 years ago," Duehay snapped inresponse to one of Vellucci's reminiscences. "Mostof these people weren't even born."

"I had some bad fights with him," saysAckermann. "I think sometimes he gets irritatedwhen people see things differently from him."

Vellucci, who worked as a labor organizerbefore entering elective politics, is proud of hisabrasive style, which he says Harvard studentswould do well to emulate.

"I don't see anyone walking out in support ofthe people that are negotiating with Harvard,"says the mayor, pounding on the table foremphasis. "I would refuse to eat. I would havestood up, and I would have started banging disheslike they do in prison."

The Popsicle Business

Twenty years ago, he says, things weredifferent. Harvard's ROTC program and who struckto shut down Harvard were "always jolly and fullof fun." And what does Vellucci say happened tothose students? "Well, they went into the popsiclebusiness."

"There was one time when Harvard was full ofhumor. Now they're frozen icicles," says Vellucci."Something happened--I don't know if it was thepollution in the air or whether it was the changein the atmosphere--but something has happened toHarvard faculty and students. They don't smileanymore. They're like frozen popsicles."

Perhaps Vellucci's sense of humor explains hispopularity for the past 38 years. AlthoughHarvard-bashing has always been a popular sport,the flair Vellucci has brought to his contestswith Presidents Nathan M. Pusey '28 and Derek C.Bok has never been duplicated.

He says he has also carried a grudge againstoutgoing Radcliffe President Matina S. Horner fora while--in fact, for the past 17 years.

"She's terrible," says Vellucci. "She wassupposed to play ping-pong with me and she neverdid."

"I played the Harvard team over there ping-pongbefore she became president," he elaborates."Whoever won that team was supposed to play with[former Radcliffe President Mary I.] Bunting. AndI won. And Bunting went out that week, and thislady came in. And I was supposed to play her atping-pong, because Bunting wasn't there. And I sawher many times, and I reminded her, and shethought it was nice to play ping-pong, but shenever picked up the phone and called me to playping-pong."

But some of Vellucci's contests with theUniversity have had far more serious overtones. In1976, Vellucci initiated a council inquiry intoHarvard's construction of a new laboratory forexperiments with recombinant DNA, touching off atown-gown battle that focused national attentionon Cambridge.

At times Vellucci's concerns seemed never toveer from the strictly local--"They're not goingto pay a damn cent in taxes on that building," hetold The Crimson. Nonetheless, Cambridge wound upsetting a nationwide precedent when it organized acommittee to regulate all recombinant DNAresearch.

No matter how infuriating he can be, Velluccialways retains his compassion for the city's poorand disadvantaged--a unique combination that haskept him in office for the past 38 years.

"People send me flowers," Vellucci points out."I bet they never send Bok any flowers. Theyprobably send him black daggers.