Cambridge City Hall has been undergoing a massive facelift for the last five months, as the base of the Romanesque building has been covered in scaffolding and city officials have conducted business amidst constant construction.

But when all the windows in the City Council chamber are replaced and the outside limestone edifices scrubbed anew, there is one fixture in the building that will remain the same.

Cambridge resident William C. Jones, 80, with his trademark tweed hat, grey jacket and well-chiseled chin, has been roaming the chambers of City Hall for the last four decades, attending City Council meetings as if it was a weekly religious duty.

"I'm here every morning at 9 a.m.," says Jones, who spends a majority of his time during the week in City Hall. "I've been here a good many years."

Since 1941, when Jones first ran for the Cambridge School Committee, he has been a constant in city politics. He ran for City Council every other year for the last several decades without fail, although he has now officially retired his long-standing candidacy.

Jones himself only went to high school for two years followed by two years of night school, but his education has not stopped him from being involved in local government and trying to represent Cambridge.

"I grew up the hard way," Jones said of his education. "The closest I got to college was walking through Harvard Yard."

While Jones has never been elected to public office, he is a city staple.

"Mr. Jones is a living institution," says Councillor Marjorie C. Decker without hesitation. "I treasure him."

With a vast knowledge of city happenings over the last half-century, Jones provides a living testament to the city's past.

Speak to him even briefly, and he'll rattle off the names and terms of every mayor and city manager Cambridge has had since he has been following the council.

"He has a great institutional memory," says Councillor David P. Maher. "His stories are fascinating."

Sarah Boyer of the Cambridge Historical Commission has spoken to Jones on several occasions for research into the history of Cambridge politics as well as for the Commission's Central Square oral history project.

"He has a photographic memory of Central Square," Boyer says. "I did a walking tour with him, and he told me back to the '20s what was there practically for every business and restaurant."

"No one has a memory like Bill Jones has about [Cambridge] businesses and City Hall politics," she adds.

Jones remains in the spotlight every week at City Council meetings. The council offers an open microphone for residents to speak at the start of weekly meetings, which Jones takes full advantage of. He routinely tells the council his opinions on the day's agenda and broader topics, from the serious to the mundane.

Before meetings, Jones meanders around Sullivan Chamber where council meetings are held, speaking with local residents--whether they know him or not.

Jones watches the meetings on a television from a council staff room next to Sullivan Chamber. He is the only non-city staff allowed in the room.

Upon hearing his name called from the weekly sign-up sheet for public testimony, he strides into the room and heads for the microphone.

"You got some good orders," he tells the council every week, after lambasting problems in the city, from rising rents to homeless women to greedy landlords.

"He's the heart and conscience of the city," Decker says. "Every Monday night, he's up there talking about the needs of poor people."

For Jones, the most pressing problem facing the city remains the constant crunch for low-income housing.

"I wish they would have rent control back," he says. "We got to start working on low cost housing. I haven't seen a poor landlord yet, and I've traveled this city."

Councillors agree that Jones has become a welcome part of each week's meetings.

"He's terrific," Councillor Jim Braude says. "On any Monday night, there is no more eloquent speaker."

In fact, last December the council dedicated the podium used for public comment to Jones. A gold plaque on its front face reads, "The Cambridge City Council hereby dedicates this podium to William C. Jones in recognition of his many years of effective public testimony at its meetings."

Jones relishes the praise, showing the plaque to other residents attending the meeting without modesty.

"I talk pretty good, but I'm getting forgetful," Jones says of his speaking time.

And he's not afraid to speak his mind, even if it conflicts with the council.

"He's a straight shooter," Decker says. "He's not afraid to tell the City Council exactly what he thinks they should be doing. He's been doing that long before I was here."

But the councillors say that he usually has the best interest of the city in mind.

"He likes to try to come off as a tough guy, but he's really a softy who cares a lot about those who have struggled in our city," Maher says. "In many ways, he's the conscience of the city."

Jones says his love of the city and how it operates keeps him interested, and his good relationship with council members has made him feel at home at City Hall.

"The council's very good to me," Jones said. "I admire all the councillors. They treat me with respect."

And councillors return the admiration, saying he has come to symbolize the unique character of Cambridge.

"No one loves the city more than he does," Braude says.

--Staff writer Imtiyaz H. Delawala can be reached at delawala@fas.harvard.edu.