By Dan LaRue | Man-on-the-Street Reporter
GLOUCESTER — It’s a drizzly Tuesday morning in mid-October, and Mayor Greg Verga steps up to the counter at Dunkin Donuts on Washington Street. He orders with the confidence of a man who knows what he wants — a chocolate donut and a single chocolate donut hole.
“Just one?” the cashier asks.
“It’s symbolic,” Verga replies, pointing at the two. “Bringing all the pieces together for a more effective system built for success.”
Across town at the Dunkin’ on Eastern Ave, Paul Lundberg, former City Council President and current mayoral challenger, prepares to knock doors in East Gloucester. He sits at a table sipping a medium black coffee.
“Straightforward. Reliable. Gets the job done,” he says while turning pages on his clipboard. “Also no sugar. That’s me saving taxpayer dollars.”
The two men may not share the same taste in breakfast, but they do share a belief in Gloucester’s quirky soul. The Dogtown Reader spent the day trailing both to get a deeper look at how they’d steer the ship.
Divine Intervention and Gull Politics
Mid-morning at City Hall, a flustered staffer sticks her head into the mayor’s office to relay that reports are coming in from Magnolia that an ancient sea god has emerged off Norman’s Woe and is demanding tribute.
Without missing a beat, Verga grabs his umbrella and heads for the door.
“As mayor, it’s my job to be the face of the city in all negotiations, and this is no different,” he says. “Besides, if we can come to a reasonable arrangement, maybe they can use their powers to move boats around so we can keep the cut bridge in a permanent ‘down’ position.”
Meanwhile, on East Main Street, Lundberg is deep in conversation with a resident.
“I don’t care what the seagull’s name is. It’s out of control,” says David Balbo, gesturing toward an empty sandwich wrapper. “It took the whole thing out of my hand. Just swooped right in.”
Lundberg nods and hands Balbo a piece of his campaign literature.
“We need bold solutions,” he says. “That’s why I’m proposing we elect the gulls to the School Committee. After seven hours of budget subcommittee debate, they’ll be too demoralized to bother with your lunch.”
Eastern Point Rising
At midday, both candidates find themselves at the entrance to Eastern Point for a press event being held by the Eastern Point Liberation Front (EPLF), where the group announces their intention for the neighborhood to secede from the rest of the city.
“This is a matter of sovereignty, respect, and property values,” says EPLF spokesperson Margaret Sterling, adjusting her Burberry scarf. “We pay taxes like everyone else — just more of them. And yet our roads remain deeply unfashionable.”
Verga signals the city’s willingness to hear EPLF’s concerns.
“I’m not here to escalate,” Verga says. “Gloucester’s strength comes from our diversity — our neighborhoods, our ideas, even our hyper-local rebellions. I’m looking forward to negotiations.”
Lundberg nods in agreement with Verga’s sentiment.
“It’s about partnership,” he says. “Apart from Annisquam, Eastern Point has the best views, the best wine cellars, and frankly, I’d like an invite. Let’s talk before they start issuing passports.”
The crowd disperses peacefully after a round of sea shanties — sung from the perspective of the ship owners, not the crew. Both candidates quietly pocket tiny EPLF buttons handed out by organizers.
Boulevard Blockade and the Battle for Quaint
In the early afternoon, Verga heads to Stacy Boulevard, where a group of disgruntled tourists have blocked Western Ave, demanding “more quaint vibes” and a mandatory codfish motif for all signage.
Unfazed, Verga addresses them from behind a police cruiser.
“Thank you for visiting — but you may be on the wrong Cape,” he calls out through a bullhorn. “We are happy with our current ‘quaint’ quotient.”
Lundberg, who happened to be nearby after finishing his canvassing in East Gloucester, also steps in to assist. He begins distributing maps of Rockport to the assembled crowd.
“Sometimes leadership is knowing when to redirect traffic — both metaphorically and literally,” Lundberg says. “If they want artisanal doorknobs and schooner-shaped charcuterie boards, Rockport’s got that covered.”
Library Cards and Line Items
Later that afternoon, Lundberg stops by the newly reopened Sawyer Free Library to return a stack of overdue books.
“As Council President, I was once engaged in a battle of wits with an awakened Man at the Wheel statue for control of the public comment period,” he recalls. “What I learned with my library card saved my life. Knowledge beats bronze every time. Though maybe I should bronze the card — just to be safe.”
He then meets with campaign staff to post a photo to social media featuring his fictional golden retriever, Budget Surplus. The caption reads: “Gloucester welcomes Budget Surplus under Mayor Lundberg.”
Back at City Hall, Verga is in a meeting with the Gloucester Economic Development and Industrial Corporation, discussing strategies to boost local business. Asked whether he’d support installing a Dunks in City Hall to create jobs and boost municipal revenues, Verga gestures at the complexity of municipal procurement.
“It would have to go out to bid,” he says. “We would need to give places like Jim’s, Cape Ann Coffees, Lone Gull, Cake Ann, Castaways, Cove Cafe and all the rest an equal opportunity.”
Closing Time
As the autumn sun sets over Gloucester, both Verga and Lundberg wrap up the day’s business — Verga heading home to the mainland, and Lundberg back toward Annisquam.
One candidate will lead Gloucester into its next chapter. But both, it seems, are fully prepared for the unique challenge and charm that comes with being America’s Oldest Seaport.
Remember to vote in Gloucester’s municipal election on November 4. The Dogtown Reader extends its thanks to Mayor Greg Verga and candidate Paul Lundberg for their actual, real-life responses to our ridiculous candidate questionnaire, which formed the basis for this article.
The Dogtown Reader 