Patrick faces challenge in black community

SPRINGFIELD -- The pews of St. John's Congregational Church filled quickly Wednesday night for Deval L. Patrick, the first major African-American candidate for governor in state history.

Right from the start, Patrick's words resonated deeply in the black church, especially his stories about growing up poor on Chicago's South Side.

''Anybody know about gettin' over?" Patrick asked, meaning, does anybody know about surviving?

Amens, mm-hms, laughs, or nods followed just about every line. Patrick, in many ways, was in his element.

But even as Patrick courts African-American communities like this one in his run for governor, he's confronting two challenges in winning over black voters: His socially liberal views, particularly his support for same-sex marriage, are putting off some culturally conservative black ministers and church-goers. And his primary opponent, Attorney General Thomas F. Reilly, has close ties to the African-American community.

The result is that Patrick, despite his natural appeal to the African-American electorate, cannot take the support of black voters for granted.

African-Americans make up roughly 6 percent of the state's population, according to 2004 Census figures, so any statewide candidate must appeal to a far wider audience to win office. But the fight for black voters, both in the Democratic primary and in the general election, is shaping up to be a unique aspect of the 2006 gubernatorial race, in a state where some of the most prominent black politicians have been Republicans.

Patrick faces criticism from some well-known and respected ministers that he's out-of-touch with the social values of many blacks; they think he's just plain wrong on gay marriage. At the same time, the communities where those ministers have their churches have elected liberal Democrats, several of whom back Patrick's campaign, to the Legislature, suggesting that issues such as gay marriage aren't as crucial to voters as they are to some of the clergy.

The delicate balance Patrick must strike was evident at St. John's last week. The second question he got came from a man who carried a red Bible to the microphone. How, the man asked, could Patrick support gay marriage and abortion rights if God doesn't?

Patrick treaded carefully. He said he believes decisions on abortion should be made by women, and not by the government, and that the law should regard everyone as equals, regardless of their sexual orientation.

''In politics, we need to get past this point where the view is, unless we agree on everything, we can't work together on anything," Patrick said, adding that people are far less concerned about gay marriage and abortion than about paying their rent and heating bills. The answer drew thunderous applause.

Elsewhere, though, the reception is not nearly as friendly.

''I am not supporting the guy who's my same race but does not support my principles," said the Rev. Alex Hurt, pastor of Kingdom Church in Brockton, who calls gay marriage ''a nonstarter in my community" and believes it's helping to erode the traditional institution of marriage.

''He's a witty guy, a smart guy, he gets the black community issues," Hurt said. But, he said, ''Deval is so left-of-center, I just don't know that he can connect with a culturally conservative community."

Bishop Gilbert Thompson, president of the Black Ministerial Alliance of Greater Boston and a close ally of Governor Mitt Romney, has inveighed against Patrick at his Jubilee Christian Church International in Mattapan, one of the state's largest churches. (Patrick's sister and brother-in-law are deacons there.) When Patrick addressed a BMA meeting at Jubilee last year, some participants felt he did not address his social positions with great sensitivity.

''He just came right down the pike with his personal beliefs and sort of wore that as a badge. I remember the place getting very quiet after that," said the Rev. Jeffrey L. Brown, pastor at Union Baptist Church in Cambridge and cofounder of the Boston TenPoint Coalition. ''If you're an African-American candidate and you're coming to a group that represents, in large measure, much of the African-American community [and] addresses them on a Sunday-to-Sunday basis, perhaps you ought to be a bit more diplomatic in how you present your beliefs."

Patrick dismisses the criticism as a ''tempest in a teapot," and he rejects any suggestion that the black ministerial community -- or the black community overall -- is a monolithic thing with one prevailing viewpoint.

''What I find is that . . . there is no monolithic, in terms of black ministers, in the same way that there's not a monolithic 'black community,' " Patrick said over breakfast at his Milton home last week.

But he defends his positions strongly, arguing that the public gets cynical about politics when elected officials don't stand by what they believe.

''I am not going to pander to anybody for anything," Patrick said. ''I respect differences of opinion, but I have a point of view which I think is right on the law and right as a matter of fundamental fairness."

To Tito Jackson, a 30-year-old community activist who lives in Grove Hall, the black community has to decide what its pivotal issues are. In an interview, he expressed doubt that gay marriage is truly one of them. He asked: ''Would Jesus be OK with the . . . murders that occurred?"

''When it comes down to it, you can sit and care about who gets married all you want," Jackson said. ''But you know what? You're not caring about that if you don't have a job. You're not caring about that if you don't have healthcare. You don't care about that if you don't live in a safe neighborhood. You don't care about that if you can't feed your kids."

Ultimately, said Melvin B. Miller, publisher and editor of the Bay State Banner, a newspaper serving the black community, many people will decide that it's foolish not to support Patrick because of gay marriage. ''I mean . . . we're not going to support a candidate of those qualifications? . . . That's not good enough?" said Miller, himself an opponent of same-sex marriage. ''That's ridiculous."

Patrick, a 49-year-old former civil rights prosecutor under President Clinton and former corporate executive, makes clear he doesn't want to be defined by his race, and he believes white voters care just as deeply about everything he talks about-- from high property taxes to inadequate public schools.

''Yes, I'm a black man. I know that. Other people know that. I'm proud of that. I'm completely at ease with that," he said in the interview. ''But that's not all I am."

He made a similar point in Springfield, telling the crowd of more than 200, ''I do need to be not just the first black governor, but the best governor you've ever had."

But he has to beat Reilly first.

Reilly is well known in the African-American community here, and he has influential black allies such as former US attorney Wayne Budd and former Suffolk district attorney Ralph C. Martin II to help him nurture those relationships.

In fact, Reilly grew up in Springfield, just a few blocks from St. John's. From his childhood on, some of his closest friends and colleagues have been black. Budd, who's known Reilly since their youth, said Reilly has always been at home among African-Americans -- from his law practice to the basketball court. (Reilly was a scrappy guard, he said.)

''He just developed, both professionally and socially, a solid reputation among a lot of people of color," Budd said. ''Tom has just been there for a long time, and people don't forget that."

Martin added: ''When you're in communities of color, whether it's cracking jokes or whether it's sitting down and eating someone's home cooking, I'm telling you, the guy is as authentic as they come."

Reilly once opposed gay marriage but now supports it, saying he was moved by the many same-sex weddings after they became legal in 2004. Some in the black community said they see Reilly as more moderate on the issue than Patrick, though, and more sensitive to concerns about it.

Patrick's background -- he rose from modest means to attend Harvard College and Harvard Law School -- and his campaign invite comparisons with Barack Obama, the Illinois senator who won over black and white voters alike in his 2004 victory. Some say Patrick, though lesser known, is generating a buzz all his own.

''On a national level, African-Americans in particular are really proud to see him continuing his life in public service," said Minyon Moore, a top Clinton White House official who now works in Washington, D.C., as a principal with the Dewey Square Group, a public relations firm.

Obama and Alexis Herman, former US labor secretary, have hosted fund-raisers for Patrick, and Clinton confidant and lawyer Vernon Jordan sent out a personal fund-raising letter in the fall. ''We've experienced many firsts in our lives," Jordan's letter said, which went on to note that Patrick would be the first black governor of Massachusetts.

When Patrick began telling friends and supporters about wanting to run in a state with a checkered history of race relations, the response, he said, was: ''Oh, my Lord."

''Our reputation outside of Massachusetts is of a not-very-hospitable place for black people," he said.

Patrick remembers. He arrived at Milton Academy from Chicago on a scholarship. He remembers one night in the early 1970s when he and friends drove to a McDonald's on Gallivan Boulevard. The parking lot was full of high school students. Patrick remembers being jeered at and threatened.

Fast-forward three decades, and Patrick is sitting in the kitchen of an expansive Milton home where he once delivered papers. He's reflecting on how blessed he's been, how his experiences help him connect in neighborhoods he recognizes.

''When some 16-year-old kid [comes up] who lives in a broken neighborhood, in a broken home, whose eyes light up when they absorb the idea of what it is you're trying to do, you know, you do get the sense that maybe they stand up a little straighter," he said. ''Maybe their sense of what's possible is a little broader."

''And you see," Patrick continues, ''what I have learned from my improbable life is a lot about what's possible."

Scott Helman can be reached at shelman@globe.com.