PHILADELPHIA — If you want something done in this town — something like, say, landing a national political convention — you ask Bob Brady.

That’s the word among union workers, ward leaders and Democratic Party power brokers who regard Brady — a low-profile, rank-and-file congressman in the minority in Washington — as a kingmaker back home, one of the last of the big-city bosses.


Brady, the chairman of Philadelphia’s Democratic Party since 1986, played an instrumental — if less nationally prominent — role in Philadelphia’s winning campaign to host the 2016 Democratic convention. He wouldn’t be the one you’d see on cable TV talking up the city. But the people who really know how Philadelphia beat out Brooklyn and Columbus know it wouldn’t have happened without Brady’s behind-the-scenes legwork, a quiet orchestration of meetings and phone calls and getting influentials on board.

“I’m a workhorse; some people are show horses,” he said in an interview in the city’s Democratic office building, which bears his name. Tall and heavyset with thick white hair, he rocked back and forth in an armchair and munched on a cookie, speaking in simple, declarative sentences about his years of work to help secure the convention.

“I have relationships because I’ve been here so long,” Brady said. “You know, I get people together, tell them we’re trying to get this thing done.”

Brady has been “the single most influential Democrat” in the area over the past two decades, said former Pennsylvania governor and Philadelphia Mayor Ed Rendell, strong words from someone who hasn’t exactly been a diminutive figure in Philly politics himself. Rendell also played a starring role in securing the convention — after Brady asked him to serve as the lead host.

“Governors come and go, mayors come and go, but he’s the party chair,” Rendell said.

Brady, 69, is a carpenter by training who grew up in west Philadelphia, located in the 1st District that he is now representing for a 10th term. He didn’t go to college (though he now teaches graduate students at the University of Pennsylvania), instead rising through the ranks of union halls and party committee politics. He’s a big believer in the importance of personal relationships and is far more likely to tout knowing a local party official for three decades — something he does constantly — than he is to mention sponsoring a piece of legislation.

Some Democrats here credit his ability to mobilize a vast business and local party network with setting the 2016 bid into motion.

Brady, who lives just a few blocks away from his childhood home, has been agitating for his city to host the convention since 2010. At the time, the mayor, Michael Nutter, felt that the city wasn’t financially prepared to host in 2012. Brady, who lost a mayoral bid against Nutter in 2007 and has clashed with him on several occasions since, backed off.

But by 2013, he was pushing again. He and his consultant, Ken Smukler, reached out to the team at the firm New Partners, which consulted for Charlotte, North Carolina’s hosting of the 2012 convention. They were eager to have a credible group on board as the process got underway. By August of that year, they had assembled a group of about 25 civic leaders to gauge interest. By last winter, the number grew to roughly 75.

Brady said he called each of the leaders personally.

“Did Bob Brady raise a lot of money? No, I raised the most money,” Rendell said. “Did he do any work to put the bid together? No. But without Bob Brady bringing us all together and saying, ‘Come on guys, let’s roll,’ we never would have been here.”

Brady’s MO in Philadelphia also includes an old-school belief in the utility of favors, which some might call patronage, a throwback to the days when big party machines were common in cities such as Chicago and New York. He speaks freely about expecting that those he’s helped will help the party. A politician whom Brady helped elect, for example, is expected to look at a résumé sent over by the party — or risk getting an earful from the congressman. Brady admits he doesn’t hesitate to remind officials “where they came from” — and that place often involved some previous beneficial interaction with him.

“I do what has to get done behind the scenes,” Brady said, stressing that he has never believed in “arm-twisting.” He sat for an interview with POLITICO before and after offering an endorsement for a state Supreme Court candidate who is “putting some of our people to work,” he told a gathering of local Democratic ward leaders over lunch at the building.

Brady, a ward leader himself, can be a tough talker as he details various things that “piss me off,” though he’s just as likely to give hugs and enthusiastic greetings (“Hey hon! How ya doin’?” for instance). He also has a penchant for crude jokes. “My wife used to go to bed with his brother,” he said by way of introducing one union friend, before clarifying that meant only that his wife wore the brother’s campaign T-shirt as pajamas.

And like a character straight from Central Casting, the half-Irish, half-Italian Brady made a reference to a “Godfather” movie during the afternoon a reporter spent with him this week. The son of a cop, Brady grew up in a home that considered the Democratic Party to be the working people’s party. He seemed surprised when asked how he became a Democrat, as if any other option was unthinkable.

His early foray into politics included a job working for the city council president, a gig that entailed a lot of driving the principal around, and a stint as deputy mayor of labor. He can’t stand the stagnation in D.C., but he enjoys delivering for the district.

Bob Brady

Age: 69

Position: Democratic congressman from Philadelphia, serving his tenth term

Education: St. Thomas More High School

Career: Carpenter; carpenters’ union; sergeant-at-arms, Philadelphia City Council; deputy mayor for labor; chairman of the Philadelphia Democratic Party, 1986-present; Pennsylvania Turnpike Commissioner; member of Congress

Family: Wife, Debra; two children; three grandchildren; one great-granddaughter

Cheesesteak order: “Wit wiz” (as in “with Cheese Whiz”) and a cherry soda. Brady believes it must be eaten while standing up and leaning toward the sandwich. He gave this advice to former President Bill Clinton in 1996.

“Listen, he’s the boss,” said ward leader Shawn Dillon, who has known Brady 40 years. He added, “If you want to get elected in the city of Philadelphia, you need to go through Congressman Brady. You need to get anything done, you go through Congressman Brady.”

Not everyone is so impressed.

“Congressman Brady should really get the credit for initiating this conversation, for doing it, no question,” former Rep. Allyson Schwartz said of his role in the convention drive. Brady asked Schwartz to join the host committee. But noting all of her own conversations with Democratic National Chairwoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz, she added, “There are a good many people who have come together and worked very hard to make it happen. The team on the ground, Ed Rendell, Mayor Michael Nutter, myself, we all did our part.”

A national Democrat familiar with the convention proceedings agreed that Brady was not the central player at the national level, calling the congressman “a booster for the bid.” A Nutter spokeswoman noted that the mayor was the first to receive a call from the Democratic National Committee with the news that Philadelphia had prevailed.

That Brady hasn’t received as much national attention as his Democratic colleagues seems to be a sore spot for his devotees: At least one person at the party event grumbled to him about Rendell and Nutter taking all the credit (though Rendell made a point to praise Brady early on).

And a state senator thanked Brady for, in her estimation, almost singlehandedly bringing the event to Philadelphia. Brady, who had only positive words for Rendell and Wasserman Schultz, appeared more miffed at the mayor’s office for appearing in the spotlight so much last week, when he feels that the mayor needed convincing to get on board. Other people familiar with the process say that while Nutter was slower to sign off on pursuing a bid, given all the considerations a mayor has to weigh, once he did, his presence was vital.

“We haven’t [tried] to ‘take credit’ — we hosted every possible person at the press announcement, I give regular ‘credit’ to everyone including Brady, but this is not a high school project where everyone gets a ‘blue ribbon,’ this is adult work and we all have roles to play,” Nutter said in a statement. “And when the City does well, that’s good for all of us, and so everyone should just be happy!”

When asked about the issue of credit for landing the event, Brady responded, “Eh, whatever.” But his anger flared at other times, such as in recalling a dispute over a casino Brady wanted in his district that was initially nixed by Nutter.

Tension with the mayor aside, Brady is enjoying his city’s triumph and the recognition from his peers that’s come with it. He believes accessibility has been the key to instilling the loyalty he engenders.

Brady peppers his conversations with promises of, “whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.” In his parlance, allies are “my guys.” And he is constantly on his Samsung Galaxy smartphone, sharing his personal cell number freely, including with a reporter. (“I’m not scared of you,” he says.)

“I return all their calls,” he said of pols and constituents, during an afternoon drive through the district that included a stop for cheesesteaks at Pat’s, where he and Rendell once accompanied former President Bill Clinton. “… Sons’ weddings, daughters’ weddings, [I go]. I like people. Especially people who vote for me.”