It wasn't even nine o'clock yet and already the Chinese food was getting cold inside Mike Mackan's campaign party at the McKeon Post.

The forty or so folks who were still there had already devoured a plate or two of Ocean East's finest- and a couple of Buds to boot. You didn't need a political science degree to know that this 'victory' party had peaked just around the time the polls closed.

Mike Mackan lost every single precinct in Suffolk County last Tuesday night, except his own. Good old 17-13, the Lower Mills Library, didn't let him down.

Mike got swamped in the campaign for Registrar of Deeds by Mickey Roache, the city councillor whose name recognition rivals that of his cartoon namesake in some parts of this city. People call him Father Mickey and mean it as a compliment.

Roache is the former police commissioner, a likeable, friendly guy who topped the ticket almost every time he ran. Roache is the envy of nearly every modern-day politician and a consultant's worst nightmare. He can run- and win- without breaking a sweat. No poll coverage. No door knocking. Just get the name on the ballot, throw up a few house signs and let the voters take it from there.

Just ask his old campaign team: they're all here at Mackan's headquarters. Neponset and Adams Corner guys, mostly, marveling at how their buddy Mike got licked so bad by a guy who was stumped a few weeks back when someone asked him what the Registrar of Deeds actually does.

"He said, 'I'm going to find out as soon as I get there- and I'll get back to you,'" one former Mickey-hand was saying back at the McKeon. "And he meant it too. Mickey's always on top of the constituent stuff."

An Irish band blared away as Mike Mackan entered the room just after nine, waving and sort-of-smiling, but not really. Not much of a politician, to be honest. Mike skipped the concession speech and went right for the food line, where a birthday cake with his campaign colors was waiting to be cut. Mike's birthday had passed in the haze of the final push last week. In the early morning of election day, as he scrambled to 'dress the polls' before daybreak, he'd choked down a half-a-slice of supermarket cake that a friend sent over. This one, the handiwork of his pal Marie Edith from the Cakery, looked a lot more appetizing.

Mike's younger brother, Tiger, grabbed the mic a few minutes later and delivered the obligatory bad news to the knowing crowd. Mike followed with a brief talk about how much he appreciated everyone's help. About how he never dreamed he would someday be a candidate, after having worked for years as a volunteer for countless others. About how pleased he was that he'd won the library.

About how maybe he'll do it again someday.

And that was about it. Mike Mackan, the candidate, quietly morphed back into Mike Mackan, the neighborhood guy who loves nothing more than to talk politics over the counter at Pat's or Patty's. It was a subtle transformation, because Mike the candidate never put on any airs, never played the part. Okay, he'd put a suit and tie on a couple of times. But that was about it.

Plain-spoken, unassuming, unaffected. Mike stayed true to himself and his family and he kept it real. Even his campaign slogan, 'I'm Backin' Mackan' was authentic. He went from Chelsea to Mattapan Square giving out backscratchers instead of nail files. That's right, backscratchers. How did this guy lose?!

There were no regrets from Mike Mackan last Tuesday, no second-guessing. Mike could've gone negative about his old friend, Mickey, but that just wasn't his style either. He didn't tell tales out of school. Mike signed Mickey's nomination papers and Mickey signed his right back. No hard feelings.

Later, on television, I watched a couple of 'experts' wondering aloud why no one bothered to come out and vote. All these millions of dollars spent on the governor's race, records broken, and still the polls were quiet.

Then, I remembered what Mike had said back at the McKeon about the fact that his name had never even appeared in the Globe or the Herald throughout the whole campaign. Not once in six or seven months. And just forget about the TV stations. I wonder how many people can say the same thing- state rep wannabes, governor council candidates. Democrats and republicans and everything in between.

Of course, no one's going to get too worked up about the Registry of Deeds, right? But would it kill 'em to give up a few lines?

All politics is local, supposedly. But, nowadays, it seems like all the signals we get from the outside world are just the opposite. If it wasn't for the neighborhood papers and cable access, how many people would've known that there was more than just a governor's race going on last week?

In the last few days, I spent a lot of time watching TV, laid up with an injury. I swear, I must have seen that woman in Indiana beat the daylights out of her kid fifty times. Almost as many times as I saw the Manson cousins gang tackle that poor baseball coach in Chicago. It should come as no surprise that they apparently did it to get on TV.

Maybe if Mike had dropped his nice-guy persona and drop-kicked Father Mickey at last week's Adams Corner rally, he would have gotten some attention. If it were captured on video, of course.

There are a lot less people running for office these days and it's no coincidence that there's a lot less people pulling the lever, too. Even after all that craziness last September, all the ra-ra flag waving and the 'stampede' to the polls for the Congressional special.

It all seems to have been an illusion, another myth of the mass media.

The one hope we have is people like Mike Mackan. He knew the odds. He knew the reality. More people left their ballots blank than voted for him.

But, without Mike Mackan and people like him we don't have election day.

Now, maybe that would make a good story.