The outsiders' state of mind

WORCESTER -- The Kenmore Diner, a gray shoebox of a place beside the Interstate 290 underpass, is just a few minutes' drive away from the convention hall where 5,100 delegates gathered to set the party's primary ballot today. But the regulars sipping from thick mugs of coffee yesterday morning just shrugged at the mention of the unfolding political soap opera.

They said that other political problems, immigration and gas prices, seemed far more pressing than the question of which Democrat would make the primary ballot by winning the required 15 percent of delegate votes this weekend. Others said that, like politics in general, the convention was an insiders' game they cared little about, largely because they had no hope of influencing it.

``No matter what I say or do, it's not going to matter," said Jim McCluskey, 40, an independent contractor who was having breakfast with three friends. ``I'm nothing; I'm nobody, in their eyes."

The Massachusetts method of letting party insiders choose a slate of candidates for governor before voters go to the primaries is relatively unusual. Massachusetts is one of only about a dozen states that uses a convention process to sort out the ballot, according to the Election Center, a nonprofit organization that monitors voting procedures, party officials, and the states themselves.

Other states that use conventions include Colorado, Connecticut, New York, North Dakota, Utah, New Mexico, Minnesota, California, and Delaware. In Alabama and Virginia, parties have the option of using either conventions or primaries to pick their primary contenders.

Under a rule adopted in 1982, Massachusetts Democrats require candidates to get 15 percent of delegates to win a spot on the primary ballot. The goal was to weed out crowded fields of challengers and try to ensure that the nominee who emerges is a viable candidate. Republicans later embraced the rule for their statewide candidates.

The requirement has often been criticized as an insiders' game that limits voters' choices to party-sanctioned candidates, with the potential of sidelining even big-name candidates. A battle for delegate support nearly ruled out gubernatorial candidacies from former US Labor Secretary Robert Reich in 2002 and Boston University president John R. Silber in 1990.

But supporters say it can be useful.

``It does have the effect of keeping fringe candidates off the ballot -- and I'm sure you could find some people who would say otherwise, but I think that's a useful thing," said William Mayer, a Northeastern University associate professor of political science. ``I think it does have the effect of winnowing the set of nominees down to a manageable number."

It was hard, however, to find voters at Kenmore Diner yesterday who thought that the rule served them well. Rusty Valery, a 42-year-old Democrat, was one of the few patrons who said he was watching the convention closely, and he said he thought any candidate who got the required number of certified signatures ought to get on the ballot.

``It gives the rank-and-file voters a chance to have their say," he said.

To Ron Perkins, 45, a construction worker who was devouring a steak and cheese omelette at the counter, the 15 percent rule was meaningless, just another bit of jargon he didn't have time to bother deciphering.

``It's all political mumbo-jumbo," he said. ``I'm not into that."

Others said that far more critical political dramas had been consuming their attention lately. Francisco Carrillo, a 20-year-old community college student and an aspiring doctor, said that most of the city's Hispanic community has followed every twist and turn of the immigration debate in Congress, the outcome of which could decide the fate of many local Ecuadoran, Mexican, and Salvadoran families.

``Basically no one's paying attention to what's going on in Worcester," he said.

His girlfriend, 21-year-old Jackeline C., agreed with him. She is a student and declined to give her last name because she is the child of an undocumented Ecuador an immigrant.

Her father is in the process of being deported. ``We're praying night and day," she said.

As the campaigns readied for a vote in Worcester today, political operatives juggled cellphones and checked lists of delegates. But the process was lost on John Licoski, 43, a Democrat who said the only reason he was aware of the convention's arrival was because he saw a banner welcoming the delegates in front of a new strip club downtown.

``I didn't stop, though," he added with a grin, ``I was just driving by."

He and his friend, Michael Dalbec, a 39 year-old Democrat who installs heating and air conditioning systems, said their biggest topic of conversation lately has been the price of gas.

``You put $20 in, and you don't get a quarter of a tank," Dalbec said. ``We're self-employed businessmen. We have to travel all the time."

The construction workers, UPS drivers, and retirees attacking scrambled eggs and hash browns yesterday morning said they were happy for the business the convention would bring to Worcester, which is struggling to make a comeback after years of economic hardship.

But most said they were not following the convention drama.

Licoski said he used to vote, but stopped a long time ago, because he felt as if the candidates he liked never got elected. He couldn't even remember their names.