Getting his party started
Tito Jackson has to be leading the only City Council campaign that has its own dance.
“Want to see the Tito Shuffle?’’ he asks.
We were at his Dudley Square headquarters when someone called up a tune on a laptop, and Jackson, several campaign workers, and a couple of his cousins began to shake it in unison, doing something that looks a lot like the Electric Slide.
Jackson’s is officially the fun campaign. That’s no surprise to anyone who knows him. For him, every day is St. Patrick’s Day - as someone once wrote in reference to another politician.
With a week to go, Jackson finds himself in the middle of a crowded field. He placed sixth in the September preliminary. While moving up to become one of the four winners is not impossible, it is a daunting challenge.
He has some experience with challenges though. And he hopes to capitalize on growing up in a politically active Roxbury family, and having the support of a vast network of young professionals to bring out the vote.
Jackson is one of seven children. He is among the four who were adopted. His father, Herb, was a fixture in the Greater Roxbury Workers’ Council, which labored for years to get people of color into union-controlled construction jobs. His mother is a child-care provider. Jackson grew up in Grove Hall during the difficult days of the late ’80s and early ’90s.
“It was tough,’’ he recalled. “A lot of the violence was in a 10-block radius of where he lived.’’
Jackson wasn’t about to be part of any violence, with his close-knit family watching over him. He eventually became a METCO student, and in a serious culture shock, attended the University of New Hampshire.
Over the course of his time there, he went from advocating for the school to take diversity seriously to being elected student body president. Needless to say, he was the first black president in the school’s history.
Like some of the other under-40 candidates who have made the City Council race so interesting, he discovered his passion for politics early, tagging along with his parents to rallies and to volunteer in campaigns.
“My parents’ rule was that you couldn’t just hang out,’’ he explained. “You had to be involved in something.’’
Jackson is not, frankly, all that focused on policy. He would like to see the achievement gap closed, and crime drop. Who wouldn’t? He believes colleges and universities should get more involved in the Boston Public Schools, maybe through tutoring programs. That isn’t a groundbreaking position, either.
His real pitch is simply that voters should elect somebody like him. Meaning someone young, bright, and personable, with deep city roots. His campaign is a textbook example of a cult of personality.
This year’s campaign is an interesting paradox. The city appears poised to reelect a four-term mayor, representing the stagnation at the top of Boston politics.
Look a little deeper though, and the picture is different, with an interesting generation of younger City Council candidates - including Jackson, Andrew Kenneally, and Ayanna Pressley, among others - scratching at the door.
Of course, everyone can’t win, and the days leading up to next Tuesday are fraught with anxiety. At Jackson’s campaign they were searching for new ways to reach voters, giving up on the time-honored practice of knocking on doors.
“We can’t knock on doors at night in Roxbury,’’ strategist Ron Bell explained. “Nobody will answer the door.’’
Conventional wisdom holds that if a candidate runs an energetic campaign that falls short, he emerges in perfect position to try again at some point. Not surprisingly, Jackson isn’t prepared to think in such terms. To hear him tell it, the party - make that the campaign - is just getting started.
“We have momentum going,’’ he said, hopefully. “I started late, but my people will vote early.’’
Adrian Walker is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at walker@globe.com. 
