Boston Common - Niche Media - A side of Boston that's anything but common.
Issue link: http://www.ifoldsflip.com/i/327657
" He first said he wanted to run for mayor when he was 13. Imagine that?" MARY J. WALSH I n the rituals of Dorchester life, nothing beats a funeral mass for a prince of politics. On an unseasonably warm January morning, ward bosses and downtown power brokers gathered to pay respects to Robert H. Quinn, the former state attorney general and Massachusetts House speaker. As the dons of Beacon Hill and City Hall exited Blessed Mother Teresa Parish, blinking in the winter sun, Martin J. Walsh, looking more like a funeral attendant than the newly minted mayor of Boston, stood by the open door of the hearse. His head slightly bowed, the mayor solemnly received a hosanna of "howahyahs" and handshakes while offering reassuring words of his own. Walsh, who had taken the seat in the legislature once held by the beloved Quinn, grew up on nearby Taft Street. His eyes scanned the crowd pour- ing out of the church, which is still known as St. Margaret's among the faithful who never accepted the renaming of the parish for the canonized nun. His inauguration had taken place 11 days before, but this was a com- ing-out of a different kind. The themes that echoed throughout his speech that day—of second chances, courage, redemption, and hope—took shape in the streets, playgrounds, and union halls of this blue- collar neighborhood. Over the coming months, the same themes will be invoked again and again as the plain-spoken mayor draws from his own "Boston Strong" story—beating cancer, alcohol, and a bullet—to console a city still grieving over the marathon bombings and to comfort the families of firefighters killed in a Back Bay blaze. Walsh instinctively identifies with the underdog. Asked about his highest priority at the moment, he answers, "Poverty. That's the root of the underperformance and the achievement gap in our educational system." Born to Galway immigrants, Walsh, 47, grew up in a union household with his father and uncles swapping political stories around the kitchen table. "Marty always loved politics, always loved talking about it," says his mother, Mary J. Walsh, sitting in her parlor with the gust of Connemara in her accent. "He learned how much it could do for people. He first said he wanted to run for mayor when he was 13. Imagine that?" But Walsh barely made it to 10. At age seven, he was diagnosed with a rare cancer. The doctors gave him six months. Relatives from Ireland f lew in to see him walk alone up the aisle at a special Christmas service that was as much a wake as a first communion. His red hair fell out. He missed school and was held back a grade. But he survived—the miracle child of St. Margaret's. Walsh was an indifferent high school student, just getting by and having a few pops with the boys before taking a brief stab at college. He joined the family trade with the lads of Laborers Local 223. By then, his drinking had progressed from beery nights to blackouts. He had more responsibility at work, promoted from hauling Sheetrock to serving as the union's benefits officer, but the booze threatened to bring it all crashing down. At age 22, after a long night at the bars, he was struck in the leg by a bullet fired by the angry loser of a brawl with one of his drinking pals. He hit bottom not long after, awaking disoriented on a Sunday afternoon, his life in thrall to ethyl alcohol. Tearfully, he sought help and checked into rehab. His last drink was on April 23, 1995. Recovery, a process of continued on page 46 VIEW FROM THE TOP A Breath of Hope and Healing THERE'S A NEW MAYOR IN TOWN, AND BOSTON COMMON TAKES AN INSIDE LOOK AT THE PERSONAL STORYINCLUDING BOOZE, BULLETS, AND BROTHERHOODBEHIND THE POLITICAL FORCE KNOWN AS MAYOR MARTIN J. WALSH. BY BRIAN WRIGHT O'CONNOR PHOTOGRAPHY BY KEN RICHARDSON BOSTONCOMMON-MAGAZINE.COM 45 Superlatives PEOPLE, CULTURE, TASTE, TREASURES