`Schmoozer' immortalized.

Byline: Robert Z. Nemeth

COLUMN: ROBERT Z. NEMETH

He is not a distinguished scientist or a celebrated medical professional. He is not a business leader or political honcho. He is not a fat-cat philanthropist who would donate huge sums of money to good causes. But when the new 500,000 square foot, $400 million, state-of-the-art interdisciplinary research and education center is dedicated at the University of Massachusetts Medical School, it will carry the name of Albert Sherman.

As the story goes, when the Legislature agreed to appropriate $90 million for the facility, it insisted on naming it after "Albie," a one-of-a-kind character known as "the face of the medical school at the Statehouse." His official title is vice chancellor for university relations, and his responsibilities include government liaison. (But don't call him a lobbyist. I made that mistake about 15 years ago, and he confronted me at a social event, poking his finger in my chest in protest.)

"I'm a schmoozer," he told me recently. "I've done things for the Legislature over the years, and they've done things for me. I've never lost a piece of legislation I've pushed." He likes people and seems genuinely fond of lawmakers - "most are decent human beings doing public service," he said - and they like him back, overlooking his occasional over-exuberance with a shrug that Red Sox fans used to reserve for Manny Ramirez: "Well, you know, Albie is Albie."

He possesses total knowledge of inside politics and the intricacies of the legislative process, along with an encyclopedic memory of names, facts and rumors. He knows where political bodies are buried and what skeleton rattles in whose closet. His loyalty is legendary, regardless of whether the subject of his affection is influential or out of favor. He speaks fondly of former Senate and UMass President Bill Bulger ("one of the finest human beings I've ever known") and former House Speaker Tom Finneran, who once considered donating him a kidney.

Interviewing Albie Sherman is like trying to control an avalanche. His mind goes in all directions. You mention a name and that triggers an anecdote. The anecdote will branch out into three more stories that are only vaguely connected to the original topic. The fast-paced monologue is punctuated by gestures, whispered asides and amusing punch lines. Listening to him leaves one with almost too much information and slightly exhausted.

Competing with his interest in politics and health care - he is in his fourth term on the Massachusetts Health Council, the policy and regulatory oversight board of the Department of Public Health - is his devotion to Jewish causes and the state of Israel. He has served on the boards of the Jewish Community Relations Council, Combined Jewish Philanthropies, Anti-Defamation League and New England-Israel Business Council, as well as of a leading teaching hospital at Tel Aviv University. A pharmacist by trade, and an expert on manufactured controlled substances, he has been a staff consultant with the Boston Police Department Training Academy and is a member of the state Anti-Terror Advisory Council. There are stories about Albie driving to appointments in a fast car with blue lights flashing and a siren blaring.

He collects and electronically distributes to selected recipients daily news reports and commentary from Jewish wire services, CAMERA Alert, and Honest Reporting, presenting Israel's point of view on events, often to refute purportedly biased material in the general media. Since 1985, he organized and led 14 fact-finding missions to Israel, sponsored by the JCRC. The participants included legislative leaders, lawmakers, government officials, heads of social agencies and business people. These guided excursions provide access to places and people not usually available to tourists, and serve to broaden understanding of Israel, its accomplishments and challenges.

Mr. Sherman has faced his own challenges as well. An early-age treatment with steroids left him with a slight hunch. Kidney disease led to a 14-month search for a donor and subsequent surgeries to replace the failing organ and save his life. The frantic effort was orchestrated by his wife, Linda, to whom he lovingly refers as the "kidney Nazi" because of her aggressive methods. Minor aches and pains remain but he seems to do remarkably well for a man of 71.

The son of Ukrainian immigrants who met at a dance in Malden, he was born in Boston and graduated from the Massachusetts College of Pharmacy and Health Sciences. He was associate vice president for development at Boston University before coming to the medical school in 1989. His brother, Arthur, is a retired judge. ("He was the second Jewish kid accepted at Boston College," he noted.) A resident of Brookline, he has three grown children in their late 30s or early 40s, and three grandchildren.

When the immense Albert Sherman Center, featuring an Advanced Therapeutics Cluster, opens in 2012, it is to produce hundreds of new jobs, including dozens of top-notch faculty positions, attract more government research funding and generate an estimated $1 billion in statewide economic impact. It is expected to inspire the invention and manufacturing of new therapeutic products based on UMass Medical School science and solidify Worcester as a hub for life sciences.

And when the complex is finished, it will bear the name of a schmoozer who made good things happen. Not bad for the son of poor immigrants who came to this country in pursuit of the American dream.

Robert Z. Nemeth's column appears regularly in the Sunday Telegram.