'I'm a more serious candidate . . . than I was two years ago'
Matt O'Malley no longer calls himself a ''geeky kid" with a fondness for Little Debbie Nutty Bars. He doesn't blog about run-ins with dogs on the campaign trail. And he has stopped drinking milk with dinner.
Since his first run for councilor at large two years ago, O'Malley, 26 years old, has grown up, so to speak. And the carrot-topped Irish Catholic from Roslindale now talks about changing the Boston Redevelopment Authority, fixing public schools, and expanding crime-prevention initiatives in the city.
''The bottom line is I'm a more serious candidate, a more serious person than I was two years ago," O'Malley said one morning last week at a Jamaica Plain T station.
Family members and friends attribute much of his growth to one woman: Andrea Cabral, the Suffolk County sheriff. O'Malley managed her campaign last year, and the experience transformed him from a fringe candidate with no name recognition and no money into a polished, pin-striped-suit-wearing politician with connections.
''He learned an awful lot," said his mother, Marianne.
Still O'Malley seems reticent at times on the campaign trail, standing back while others plunge in. His sincerity comes through in one-on-one conversations, though, and no one seems to doubt his drive.
The son of a schoolteacher and a contractor, O'Malley said he doesn't come from the wealthy, politically connected background typical of many Massachusetts politicians, and in some ways he relishes that outsider status.
''I'm young, I'm tough, and nobody owns me," said O'Malley, who has a decidedly chipper outlook on his uphill battle against three incumbents and the children of two former mayors for an at-large seat on the City Council.
He tools around town in a red, Chrysler Sebring convertible sedan filled with campaign materials and a copy of wrestler-come-governor Jesse Ventura's book on tape, ''Do I Stand Alone? Going to the Mat Against Political Pawns and Media Jackals."
O'Malley was the first City Council candidate to have a web log during his run for office in 2003, and the subjects were anything but typical political fare.
He chronicled trips with his friends to ''Dunkies" and talked about an affection for Barry Manilow.
These days, his web log is considerably more restrained.
''I have always maintained that if one hopes to represent a citywide constituency, s/he must attempt to assemble a citywide organization and campaign in all neighborhoods," O'Malley wrote in one entry. ''I am confident that we've been able to do just that."
He still eats the Nutty Bars, which are fudge-covered peanut butter-flavored wafer bars. (Cabral said he survived on them for months during her campaign.) And he still lives at home with his parents, but he is not eager these days to discuss either matter. ''Can't we just spin it that I live with an elderly couple?" he asked.
His mother says O'Malley's fascination with politics began at age 2, when she read Time magazine to him at bedtime. Four years later, family friends predicted that he would become mayor. In middle school, O'Malley volunteered for his first City Council campaign, stuffing envelopes for Councilor Peggy Davis-Mullen.
He has volunteered on numerous campaigns, though some have ended unhappily, including Shannon O'Brien in her 2002 gubernatorial run and Bill Bradley in his 2000 presidential campaign.
O'Malley majored in political science at George Washington University in Washington, D.C., where he made ends meet with a variety of jobs, including telemarketing for a cleaning supply company and promoting high-end kitchenware at Dean & DeLuca.
In his first City Council run in 2003, he drew about 7,000 votes, but did not win one of the four at-large slots.
This year, he garnered more than 12,000 votes and said he expects his numbers to grow even more in the general election on Nov. 8, when a somewhat more liberal and diverse electorate is expected to turn out.
O'Malley is relying heavily on a network of volunteers who helped Cabral, who is black, to secure a victory over a longtime city councilor, Stephen J. Murphy, who is white and Irish Catholic.
The feat was touted as the realization of New Boston's might at the ballot box. Though more than half the city's residents are people of color, few politicians of color had tapped into their voting potential.
O'Malley is now promoting himself as the ''crossover candidate," and he is eager to point out the diversity among his supporters. (At the Green Street T Stop in Jamaica Plain last week, O'Malley noted that there were two black women and two lesbians handing out his campaign materials.)
For their part, supporters say that O'Malley's ability to build support across racial and cultural divides can be chalked up to his youth and a desire to learn about different points of view.
''He represents an openness in the upcoming generation," said Edward Cook, the founder of DotOUT, a political advocacy organization for gays and lesbians in Dorchester.
''It's always a good sign when you can overcome the stereotypes of your background," said Maureen Monks, a Cabral volunteer who is working for O'Malley. ''We saw that with Matt in the Cabral campaign."
Standing next to Cabral at the Green Street T station last week, O'Malley watched as she worked the crowd. Dozens of passengers, some toting briefcases, others bearing backpacks and iPods, stopped to talk with the sheriff.
''Good morning, how are you? That's Matt," the sheriff said over and over, smiling broadly, and gesturing toward O'Malley. ''Please consider Matt for City Council."
Still, many blew past O'Malley, but he took it in stride. After all, he has been on the campaign trail for three years straight, after taking a leave from his job working for his father, the home improvement contractor.
''It's an emotional roller coaster, running for office," he said later. ''Some people can be so mean, then some can . . . well, they remind you why you're doing this."
Donovan Slack can be reached at dslack@globe.com. 