John Fitzgerald’s defeat in 1907 to the ineffectual George Hibbard was seen as an affirmation that his two years in office were so beyond the pale that Boston voters would never again countenance his return to City Hall. The scent of scandal and impropriety that surrounded Honey Fitz might have finished the careers of most political leaders. But Fitzgerald’s ambitions burned with an intensity that made Boston’s most hardened political leaders take note. Upon leaving office, Fitzgerald announced that he was planning for the next election.

As the 1910 election approached, and Fitzgerald planned his mayoral comeback, the city’s self-appointed reformers and business elite decided that the political system that bred and sustained Honey Fitz had to be destroyed. They proposed a change to the city’s charter, placing extraordinary powers in the hands of a mayor chosen once every four years in a non-partisan election. This is the basic electoral model still in place today in Boston. Party affiliation would, under this non-partisan theory of government, give way to the election of the best person. Incredibly, the reformers did not imagine what their handiwork would accomplish in the hands of a rogue mayor. Fitzgerald embraced the reform movement’s plan for reorganization of city government – not because he was committed to change, but because the reform proposal would offer the next mayor unprecedented powers over city government for an expanded, four-year term. And he was determined to be that mayor.

Another Fitzgerald term was unthinkable and unacceptable to many of the city’s business leaders, and they sought a man of stature and probity to finish off the wily Honey Fitz. The reformers and business leaders found their man in James Jackson Storrow, a man generally recognized as among the best of his generation, a natural born leader with a strong track record in civic affairs. Storrow’s lineage was pure Boston blueblood. His father and paternal grandfather were Harvard graduates, and his mother traced her own lineage to Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry.

Civic duty and a commitment to hard work filled and formed Storrow’s life. Storrow played a critical leadership role in the historic reclamation and improvement of the Charles River. He bravely took on the wealthy residents of homes on the water side of Beacon Street who feared that a reclaimed Charles River would attract the poor and middle class who would gravitate to the river bank for rowing, boating, and other recreation. Storrow was undeterred by the opposition, and the Charles River that we know today, full of sailboats and rowers, and the Esplanade full of runners and strollers, are living memorials to the efforts of James Storrow and his wife Helen nearly a century ago.

Storrow was elected to the School Committee in 1901 as a member of the reform-minded Public School Association. He championed keeping the schools open after hours so children could have a safe and focused environment to study, or to participate in athletics. Storrow’s work on behalf of the city’s school children burnished his growing reputation as a fair civic leader, and won him the praise and endorsement of the city’s prominent Catholic newspaper, the Boston Pilot, which editorialized that “Mr. Storrow is a Protestant but he has hosts of friends and admirers among the Catholics, clergy, and laity alike, for his philanthropy which knows no test of religion nor of color.”

Fitzgerald and Storrow were very different people, and the gap between them was the deep chasm between the Boston Irish immigrant community and the established Yankee ruling class of Boston. This was a clash between titans, a battle for power between a man for whom politics was a means to an end, the pathway that led him from poverty and despair to a comfortable life for his family, and a man for whom public service was a duty, something one did not for power but out of obligation, something one did not because it led to lucrative opportunities, but because it was the way you repaid society for all of the privileges you enjoyed. One had demonstrated a determination to bridge the city’s ethnic divide; the other a desire to manipulate divisions for his own purposes.

The wealthy Yankee class that controlled Boston’s businesses – and jobs — had long distanced itself from practical on-the-ground politics. It was a distinct disadvantage for Storrow that he had no real experience in the rough and tumble of ward politics. His civic engagement had been at a high level, and he did not need to fight to have his voice heard. Now, facing the rigors of a high-stakes mayoral campaign, Storrow found himself at a loss when it came to matching the political skills and experience of Honey Fitz.

Fearing that Storrow would have a significant financial advantage, Fitzgerald called for each campaign to agree to a spending cap of $10,000. Storrow, who would have access to and spend much more than that, scoffed at the request, but it was the beginning of Fitzgerald’s smart and effective effort to raise questions about the amount of Storrow’s spending, and where the money was coming from.

Fitzgerald then challenged Storrow to public debates, knowing that Storrow was a notoriously wooden public speaker. Storrow played into Fitzgerald’s hand by refusing to meet him in debate. Fitzgerald was relentless in his attacks on Storrow, shamelessly playing the class card. “Mr. Storrow’s record has been made chiefly on State Street, as my record has been made chiefly in public life.” Fitzgerald attacked Storrow’s integrity and accused him of fiduciary improprieties as a director of several corporations. Stung by the attack, and not accustomed to having his integrity questioned, Storrow defended himself in his typically understated way. “I don’t pretend to be any better than 100,000 other men in Boston. I have made mistakes. If you elect me mayor, I may make some more. I can only promise to do my level best in the interest of all.”

Fitzgerald’s attacks on Storrow increased in fervor, and the usually mild mannered Storrow began to lash back. Storrow raised the question of Fitzgerald’s performance in office. “Fitzgeraldism” became Storrow’s way to describe a level of political corruption and venality that he could not imagine the voters would endorse. Sensing a tight race, Storrow began to attack Fitzgerald with a more strident tone. Honey Fitz was “a cold-blooded, deliberate spoiler of our city, and real friend to no man but himself.” Fitzgeraldism was responsible for the “degradation” of the city, with “hundreds of thousands of dollars wasted or stolen.”

Fitzgerald, who was used to giving as well as he got, declared Storrow’s attacks were based on the “preposterous theory that a mayor of Boston is personally responsible for any fraud or waste which take place under his administration.” Storrow shot back: “I am willing to have my ‘preposterous theory’ apply to me if I am elected mayor.”

The campaign took on a frantic pace. In the age before radio or television enabled candidates to deliver political messages easily to large groups of people, the candidates were left with little but their own personal stamina. One evening, Fitzgerald spoke at seven different events across the city while Storrow appeared at eight. On one occasion, Fitzgerald was reported to have been “literally on his toes from early in the evening until long after midnight,” appearing at five dances, two Democratic Party meetings, one fraternal organization meeting, a whist party, and a banquet, delivering nine different speeches. Fitzgerald’s last minute pleas went to the heart of class warfare: this was a “fight of manhood against money,” a “battle of the ordinary citizen against the great wealth represented by a man of unlimited means.”

On Election Day, 95,000 Boston voters cast ballots – an astonishing 90 percent of eligible voters coming to the polls. It was a tradition for people to gather on lower Washington Street, the block known as “newspaper row,” because the papers would post or call out the election returns in what was then the best approximation of “real time.” It was a close election. In the end, John Fitzgerald defeated James Storrow by 1,417 votes – 47,172 to 45,755. For Fitzgerald, the victory was personal: “For the sake of my boys and girls,” he said, “I wanted to win the election as a vindication.” Honey Fitz would return to City Hall. What would that mean for Boston?

Jim Aloisi is a former state secretary of transportation. His most recent book is The Vidal Lecture.