Right now, the party's biggest annoyance can be summed up in two words: Shaun McNally
Running Man
The Democratic establishment in Eastern Connecticut wants Jim Sullivan
to run for Congress, but Shaun McNally is punching back.
by Dan Levine - June 17, 2004
DAN LEVINE PHOTO
Feature
Shaun McNally, standing, and a campaign worker.
With control of Congress up for grabs this November, the nation's eyes will turn to the rivers, farms and small towns of Eastern Connecticut. Both Republicans and Democrats have targeted Connecticut's Second Congressional District as a key battleground, and they will direct millions in special-interest dollars into their candidates' campaign coffers.
The attention comes because the incumbent, Republican Rob Simmons, is perceived as especially vulnerable. Simmons strongly supported President George W. Bush's Iraq policy, now unpopular and fast unraveling.
And on the domestic front, Simmons is under intense criticism for failing to address the high cost of prescription drugs. That shouldn't be a surprise -- pharmaceutical giant Pfizer is located in Simmons' district, and the company is the congressman's largest campaign contributor, donating $26,000 so far this election cycle, according to the Center for Responsive Politics, a campaign finance watchdog.
So Democrats have reason to be optimistic. But right now, the party's biggest annoyance can be summed up in two words: Shaun McNally.
McNally, a former state representative, is waging a primary fight within the Democratic Party against Jim Sullivan, a Norwich alderman.
Sullivan is the party establishment's candidate, having secured the caucus endorsement last month and the backing of such overlords as U.S. Sen. Chris Dodd, who heads the state Democratic ticket this year. Sullivan also holds a substantial lead in the money race.
By making Sullivan fight a primary -- and spending precious resources against a fellow Democrat -- McNally opens himself to scorn from loyalists looking to unseat Simmons at all costs. So why does McNally fight?
"This is not a coronation," he responds.
With a pledge to refuse donations from special interests and Washington lobbyists, McNally posits his campaign as a noble experiment to see if a grass-roots effort fought on the issues can succeed against big money.
But McNally's detractors see him as a conservative trying to hide his past in a progressive cloak that is not rightfully his. They point to his time working for the Connecticut Business and Industry Association -- a major pro-business group -- as a sign of where his real inclinations lie.
"'CBIA' and 'progressive' are an oxymoron," says Tom Swan, executive director of the progressive Connecticut Citizen Action Group.
Talk to McNally, and he is clearly fluent on policy details and can articulate them well. He came into politics admiring Bobby Kennedy, got involved in Dodd's first Senate campaign in 1980 and then went to work for Congressman Sam Gedjensen, who held the Second District seat for 20 years before losing to Simmons in 2000.
Politically, though, McNally's record was forged as a fiscal conservative in the late 1980s, during the income tax wars.
As a leading member of the House Democrats' moderate caucus, McNally fought progressives who wanted to create an income tax. Eventually he voted for one, McNally says, because the General Assembly opted for some fiscal discipline by creating a spending cap, which limits how much money lawmakers can budget in a given year.
McNally also played a key role in one of the most legendary events in state politics: ousting liberal Speaker of the House Irving Stolberg in favor of Richard Balducci. As one of the Democrats voting with House Republicans to install Balducci, McNally landed a committee chairmanship. Balducci and McNally are still close.
Read McNally's campaign website, and he appears to be an old-fashioned liberal Democrat. He wants to repeal the Bush tax cuts, increase the minimum wage and protect workers' rights to organize and collectively bargain.
After his time in the legislature, though, McNally went to work for the CBIA, which lobbies in the state Capitol against bills meant to protect workers' rights. McNally says he is proud of his work at CBIA on behalf of small businesses, though he says he disagreed with some CBIA positions, like regulating the Sooty Six power plants, for example.
But even though he repudiates some of CBIA's stands now, McNally is clearly paying the price for his affiliation. Organized-labor PACs are pouring money into Sullivan's primary campaign -- the machinists, ironworkers and carpenters unions contributed $5,000 each. McNally speculates that support stems from his time at CBIA.
However, McNally argues that the fight against Simmons will be won by building a grass-roots effort and connecting with voters, because the Republican incumbent will always have an edge in the money race.
"If it becomes a TV war, then guess what? We lose," he says of his party.
