It was the second week of October, and Kerry Healey had launched a scorching attack ad, highlighting Deval L. Patrick's support for rapist Benjamin LaGuer. Polls suggested that she was cutting into Patrick's lead.
Democratic Party leaders' advice to Patrick was blunt: Respond in kind or face defeat. Those urging him to attack Healey included former governor Michael S. Dukakis and US Senator John F. Kerry, who saw their presidential hopes collapse when they failed to fight back. One party leader suggested Patrick air an attack ad taking aim at a state tax break Healey's husband received.
But Patrick would not budge. He told party leaders he was confident he could withstand Healey's attacks because he had established an unusual bond with voters, in part by eschewing such tactics. If he tampered with that relationship, it would destroy his candidacy.
His gamble paid off. Healey's ads backfired and his lead over his GOP rival rebounded. Her unfavorable rating shot up 10 percentage points to more than 50 percent, a death knell for any candidate.
"It was one of the most amazing things I have seen in politics," said Philip W. Johnston, state Democratic Party chairman. "I would even say it was an act of singular political bravery such as I have not witnessed."
Patrick's willingness to shelve the advice of experienced political figures underscores his unconventional approach to politics. It also shows a key part of the strategy that allowed him to accomplish what no one has done in modern Massachusetts history: Enter the race for governor having never held, or even run for, public office and win.
Several factors contributed to his victory: the desire for change among the electorate, the antiRepublican mood. But less widely known are the behind-the-scenes decisions of a novice candidate with unusual confidence and a fierce protectiveness of what he viewed as his relationship with voters.
Patrick declined to follow the rules that typically shape an underdog's candidacy: the aggressive pursuit of media coverage at almost any cost, the attempt to get attention from more established candidates -- and elevate one's own profile -- by criticizing them.
Instead, he built a separate and devoted audience, using the Internet, beginning in 2005 with the scant remnants of the Robert B. Reich gubernatorial campaign in 2002 and eventually expanding to every corner of the state.
And when opportunities arose for more traditional headline grabbing, he took a pass and focused on retaining and building the online audience.
In January, when Attorney General Thomas F. Reilly, then the front-runner in the primary election, was struggling over reports that he had contacted a district attorney in connection with a fatal Southborough car crash, Patrick's advisers discussed whether he should criticize Reilly -- as Healey and Governor Mitt Romney were doing at the time.
Patrick stayed on the sidelines.
In June, when the Legislature gave a dying, retired legislator special pension benefits, Patrick was restrained in his comments. Reilly, under pressure to show independence from Beacon Hill, sharply criticized the move, angering lawmakers close to former representative J. Michael Ruane of Salem .
"Deval was clear that he didn't support that pension, but we chose not to go overboard," said Doug Rubin , his senior strategist.
Patrick's basic approach, Rubin said, was to allow voters to get to know him, and block out the rest. The online network helped create enthusiasm and generate donations, but it also created an infrastructure so that "meet Deval" events could be set up all over the state. And the fervent online supporters persuaded their friends and neighbors to show up, so that unlike many first-time candidates, Patrick would arrive in a small town and be greeted not by a few dozen people, but by hundreds.
There were anxious times, too. In July and August, Patrick and his aides watched as Reilly and his other Democratic opponent, Christopher F. Gabrieli, flooded the TV airwaves with ads. None attacked Patrick, but they helped Reilly and Gabrieli draw closer to Patrick, who was trying to maintain the modest lead he had established after winning the Democratic Party's nomination in June.
Again Patrick and his aides sat tight and husbanded their resources for the final primary push. He never lost his lead.
The decisions became more tense after the primary, when Patrick was no longer an upstart candidate, but the person the Democratic establishment was suddenly relying on to win back the corner office after 16 years of GOP rule.
The campaign felt most pressured in October, when the Healey crime ads started to erode Patrick's standing in the polls.
Rubin, along with campaign manager John Walsh and pollster Tom Kiley, monitored nightly polls. They agreed to air an ad criticizing the Romney/Healey administration for property tax increases, but would not attack her personally or go near her husband's tax break.
And they went back to what had worked: stroking their Internet-based supporters, convincing them Patrick was being maligned and urging them to spread the word. "We had an intense amount of communications with our supporters that week," Rubin said. "We basically empowered them to go back to their sphere of influences and neighbors to say these are just scare tactics. "
By then, his aides said, the Internet-driven operation could reach 400,000 to 500,000 field volunteers, supporters, and potential supporters with one e-mail blast.
When troubles roiled the candidacy, the campaign could communicate directly with the network, sending messages, videos, tributes, anything that would counteract the negative news.
For the general election yesterday, the organization was put into motion again, with 20,000 volunteers working to run out the vote -- far more than the Republican presence on the ground.
The connection that Patrick forged with supporters has blossomed into the most powerful political organization in Massachusetts since the Dukakis comeback election of 1982. And Patrick made it fully wired and fully modern, giving it immediacy and broad reach.
"No rational person would have predicted the kind of exponential growth that he created in key points in the campaign," said Jack Corrigan, a longtime Democratic strategist. "He made people believe in him and the politics he was offering."![]()