BOSTON (AP) – In this city of long memories and tribal political loyalties, Ed Flynn and Patricia White share more than just famous last names and an eye on a city council seat.

They also learned the art of Boston’s legendary neighborhood politics at the knees of two of its masters – former mayors Kevin White and Ray Flynn.

Their fathers led the city for a combined quarter-century, through the darkest days of the city’s school busing crisis in the 1970s to its fabulous resurgence in the early 1990s.

Now, as another legendary Massachusetts politician once said, the torch is being passed to a new generation.

On any given afternoon, Patricia White, 35, who just gave birth to her first child, is out knocking on doors from the city’s teeming North End with its rehabbed brick tenements to leafy outer neighborhoods like West Roxbury and Roslindale.

Boston has changed from the days of her father, but its passion for politics runs deep, especially among those like 74-year-old Ann Murphy. She was a precinct captain during Kevin White’s four campaigns for mayor, and has transferred that dedication to his daughter.

“Look at her face. Doesn’t that face look like Kevin White?” said Murphy, widow of a boxer named Irish Bob Murphy.

“She has the same stamina, the integrity, the love of the city and the around-the-clock energy. I don’t know how she does it with a new baby. She’s just fabulous.”

Ed Flynn, 37, also has his father’s face – an introduction is hardly necessary as he greets passers-by outside the Eire Pub, a famed Irish watering hole in the city’s Dorchester neighborhood that has seen its share of politicians stopping by to raise a glass, including Bill Clinton and Ronald Reagan.

Like White, Flynn has also has a new baby. Just weeks old, Stephen Flynn and his older sister Caroline, 3, have also been out on the stump, as have Ed’s wife and parents.

Martin V. Hanley, an ex-merchant marine and former newspaper machinist, praises Flynn and his father with a brogue in this most Irish of American cities.

“I think Ed Flynn is the most surprising young candidate that has appeared on the Democratic ticket,” Hanley said, looking at least a decade younger than his 88 years. “His father came up the hard way and never lost his roots. He could speak any man’s language, whether he’s a laborer or a lawyer or an architect.”

That kind of loyalty could help Flynn as he makes his first stab at elected office.

But Patricia White, whose grandfathers and a great-grandfather also served on the city council, found history couldn’t guarantee her victory when she first ran for city council two years ago and fell short by about 800 votes out of 66,000 cast.

White and Flynn are facing a daunting challenge. They are among 15 candidates vying for just four at-large seats. Three of those seats have incumbents running for re-election.

Patricia White said her earlier campaign was more than just a lesson in Boston’s hard-knock politics. It helped her more fully appreciate the legacy of her father, now 75 and suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.

Kevin White helped steer Boston through some of its toughest times, from 1968 to 1983, including the seething racial divisions uncorked by a court ruling that desegregated the city’s schools. He helped transform the old dilapidated Faneuil Hall marketplace into a major tourist attraction.

He quixotically dubbed himself “a loner in love with his city” to soften his image. But during Patricia’s first campaign, people she’d never met would recall small favors her father extended to them decades earlier.

“I certainly have learned a lot from my father in terms of public service and passion and commitment to the city,” she said.

“He has let me breathe and given me a lot of space. He certainly didn’t push me into this in any way. It was my decision 100 percent. This requires a lot of personal sacrifice and passion,” she said.

Flynn, like White, says he’s running as his own candidate, not just his father’s son.

His attention to the small annoyances of city life are reminiscent of his father’s populist style. When a passer-by points to a trash can bent and blocking the sidewalk, Flynn makes a note to call someone for a repair.

“Even if you’re not in office, you’re still doing constituent services,” Flynn joked.

Ray Flynn led the city from 1984 to 1993 as it emerged from the racial turbulence of school desegregation and saw its economy surge back to life – and its housing costs skyrocket. He earned the nickname “Raybo” for his penchant for showing up at the scenes of fires and crimes. He even refused to take an unlisted home phone number.

Flynn said his father’s dedication to the job is one of his greatest political lessons.

“It would not be uncommon to get a call at 3 a.m. from some woman whose heat was off and she felt she could call the mayor at home,” Flynn said.

“When I told him I was running for city council, the advice he gave – other than working hard and being honest – was if you are not willing to address those calls we used to get, you shouldn’t be in the race.”