LOOK HERE, Chris Lydon. You want to run for mayor of Boston, that's your business. But when you put the knock on Cleveland — my hometown — that's my business.
Lydon, longtime host of the late, not-very-lamented Ten O'Clock News on WGBH, announced Sunday he's in the race to succeed Ray Flynn.
That's OK by me. If Lydon needs a summer activity to keep himself busy until Labor Day, who am I to object? What's not OK by me is his stated reason for running:
"My hometown is in trouble. We seem to be slouching toward Pawtucket or Cleveland."
Foul!
Heaven knows Cleveland has had its problems, some of which drew national scorn back in the '60s (when the Cuyahoga River caught on fire) or the '70s (when the city went into default). "Mistake on the lake," and all that.
That was then; this is now. Maybe Lydon hasn't heard, but as other impressed journalists keep discovering, Cleveland is flying.
Make that rocking.
"Ground officially was broken yesterday at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame," reported the Cleveland paper on June 8, in an "upbeat, hour-long celebration that included fireworks, skydivers, and appearances by such rock luminaries as Chuck Berry, Ruth Brown, Pete Townshend, and Billy Joel. The crowd gave a countdown and the Rolling Stones' 'Satisfaction' blasted in the background."
That was just this month.
In April, Moody's upgraded Cleveland's bond-rating from "Baa1" to "A." Next spring, the Cleveland Indians will mark Opening Day in their brand-new, 42,000-seat stadium. The Cleveland Cavaliers are about to move into their brand-new stadium next door. This year, Cleveland once again ranked No. 1 in per-capita giving to United Way. When Chris Lydon's pre-WGBH employer, the Boston Globe, ran a series earlier this year on "Cities That Work," it was Cleveland that got profiled on Page 1.
Slouching toward Cleveland, Chris? Boston should only be so lucky.
But then, knocking others comes naturally to born-and-bred Bostonians. Unlike my hometown, where people actually smile and say "Hi" to strangers, Boston is cranky. The eminent Bostonian Henry Adams, who lived on Beacon Hill long before Lydon did, wrote of "a certain chronic irritability — a sort of Bostonitis."
For 15 years, I've watched Boston sink as its home-grown critics take potshots at one and all. In the same 15 years, Cleveland got its act together and learned to make things happen.
Slouching toward Cleveland? You wouldn't understand, Chris. But we can talk about it over a beer one of these days, in the new megaplex. I'll buy.
Jeff Jacoby is the chief editorial writer for the Boston Herald.