Page runs as a political survivor

At Large Councilman Donald Page 

ORANGE - The foes of At-Large Councilman Donald Page say he’s a chronic naysayer and grandstander, the kind of councilman who’s been so determinedly anti-administration that if he gains the executive’s chair himself he will short circuit for lack of knowing any role other than agitating underdog.

"Page is a no-vote on the city council," says Tency Eason supporter William Hathaway. "Every time he votes, he votes no. He’s there to bring a negative vibe to Orange."

Page rival Janice Morrell argues that she would do a better job as mayor than Page in part because she would talk to her opponents - in contrast to what she says is the councilman’s inability to speak with any of the members of the majority.

"‘No’ is an ineffective symbol if you’re not engaged in a conversation," says Morrell. "If you asked Donald why he voted no on some issues, I don’t think you’d get an answer."

Moreover, Page’s blowout losses in runs against Sen. President Richard Codey in 2001 and Essex County Executive Joseph DiVincenzo in 2006 made him appear quixotically in search of battles beyond Orange, while politically stymied at home.

Still, his defiance during the Hackett era could now mean political pay-dirt for Page, who during those years when he was snubbed at public events and flailing for support on the governing body, reached out to residents in the projects and in Orange’s seven senior living facilities.

"They know me," says the retired county employee. "They know my name. When both elevators were down on Williams Street, it was me responding and getting the newspapers in there. When they needed someone on the council to go after the problems people were having with bedbugs, it was me. I stopped the unfair ticketing of people on Oakwood."

His record and platform hit responsive chords on the campaign trail: encourage development and redevelopment, but oppose excessive tax abatements: five years, ten years, max, but no 20 year giveaways to developers.

Can the police director.

Appoint strict local judges.

Enforce the residency requirement for directors of city departments.

Continue to oppose tax increases.

Confronted with the argument that Page, first elected to the council in 1996 and an at-large councilman since 2004, at the very least has name identification in Orange, Eldridge Hawkins, Sr., refuses to give the local politician credit.

"Donald Page is often confused with Donald Payne, and of course, he’s not Donald Payne," Hawkins says. "That’s how he’s got name ID."

"They think Page is Payne," concurs Eason.

Morrell, meanwhile, suspects that Page is quicker to obtain press coverage than master solutions to underlying problems in the city.

"Donald’s efforts to get the newspapers to Williams Street got him attention, and got the situation attention," Morrell groans. "But it may have cost 24-48 hours in lieu of making a simple phone call to HUD (Housing and Urban Development).

Page’s supporters, however, counter that their councilman regularly dials those contact numbers at HUD and has in the past produced results, including improved management for project resident’s in the North Ward.

In his campaign headquarters on South Essex Avenue, where allies are busy preparing the campaign’s latest mailers, Page feels confident about his prospects, but not cocky. He has a full slate of candidates he’s running for three at-large seats, including the one he’s vacating in order to run for mayor.

He knows what his critics say about him: he’s a no vote; he can’t work with the other side; he’s been an alien presence on the governing body. While he denies all of it, he clearly would prefer becoming mayor with his own majority.

To that end, his test is two-fold, and greater and more financially draining than other candidates who run alone and argue that while they may not be as well known as Page, they nonetheless would be unhampered in office by past divisions, and could work with whoever ends up in council chambers.

As expected, Page is maintaining a vigorous campaign schedule, particularly in the face of a better financed challenger in Eldridge Hawkins, who’s also 28-years old and making beeline door-to-door drives throughout Orange’s four wards.

Morrell, Eason, and Betty Brown complain that Page enjoys access to the senior communities, total voter population 2,000 - ballpark - while they’re simultaneously denied.

"We’ve called the buildings and asked about distributing literature," says Morrell, referring to her campaign. "They told us ‘no, you have to know people.’ I know people in two buildings but whether we’ll be able to walk all the way through is another story."

When he’s told about the concerns of his opponents, Page is immediately on his cellphone, brow furrowed, calling Walter Kreler of the Newark Multifamily Program Center.

"Why are the candidates not allowed in the building?" he says amid the flurry of activity in his headquarters. "Is there a written policy on that? A lot of people can’t see their candidates, and they should be able to do so."

His opponents would likely call it more grandstanding, irrepressible theatrics even as he attempts to correct an impression of a politician who grandstands more than he solves problems.

Whatever it is, politically to this point, Page has undeniably eked out a way to survive. Now his constituents will decide whether what he’s done has been superficial and contentious, or contentious and real.