Another House speaker raises shadow of doubt

Sal DiMasi is one of several speakers who served under an ethical cloud. (Janet Knott/Globe Staff)

ANOTHER Mr. Speaker is under scrutiny in Massachusetts.

The state attorney general is looking into the financial dealings of House Speaker Salvatore F. DiMasi's personal accountant. The AG's investigation turns up the heat on the speaker - and heightens speculation that the Massachusetts House of Representatives is once again in line for new leadership.

Earlier this year, Boston magazine crowned DiMasi "King Sal . . . the most powerful man in the state." But as the year draws to a close, the king is looking vulnerable to succession. Besides the AG's office, the FBI, state inspector general, secretary of state, and state Ethics Commission are all reviewing the activities of the speaker's friends and business associates. There's an open fight to replace him.

If DiMasi is dethroned, he will join a succession of Massachusetts speakers who left under an ethical cloud. Thomas M. Finneran resigned his House seat in 2004 in the midst of a federal probe into allegations that he lied under oath during a redistricting lawsuit; he ended up pleading guilty to obstruction of justice. Charles Flaherty resigned in 1996 after pleading guilty to tax evasion. He also admitted to accepting gratuities from lobbyists.

What happens to smart, savvy, engaging state legislators like Flaherty, Finneran, and DiMasi once they make it to the wood-panelled cocoon that is the speaker's lair?

They have too many friends who become grifters, and the sudden power magnifies their own hubris.

In that parallel universe known as Beacon Hill, each had a turn at being king of a court filled with acolytes and jesters.

It's "How are you, Mr. Speaker?" . . . "What can I get you, Mr. Speaker?" Every joke is met with howls of laughter. The men and women put in charge of legislative committees follow the speaker's commands or risk losing their leadership position and the extra money that goes with it. The speaker is no longer just a legislator with a district to represent. Together with the governor and Senate president, he is one-third of a powerful triumverate that makes policy and spends taxpayer money .

Today, the power of a Democratic speaker is even more concentrated, when only 19 of 160 legislators are Republican. The speaker can ignore many members and still get what he wants. Dissidents are eunuchs. The feeling of invincibility grows.

It is a false sense of security, as DiMasi knows by now. But, of course, he should have known that from the moment he stepped into the speaker's office.

In DiMasi's case, the grand jury convened by Coakley is focused for now on Richard Vitale, the speaker's accountant and former campaign treasurer, who received large payments from business interests seeking contracts and legislation on Beacon Hill. At the time of those payments, Vitale gave DiMasi an unusual $250,000 third mortgage on his North End condominium at a below-market rate.

Vitale also collected $600,000 from a software company - Cognos ULC - after the company won a pair of state contracts. Cognos also paid big money to other close DiMasi associates. The speaker took an active interest in one of the Cognos contracts, meeting with a state official to push for the purchase of the kind of software Cognos was selling.

For DiMasi, it could all add up to political death by association with friends who benefitted from their cozy relationship.

This was a speaker who could persuade legislators to stop a referendum on gay marriage from advancing to the ballot. He had the clout to stop Governor Deval Patrick's push for casino gambling, as well as other gubernatorial proposals.

Now, DiMasi is resisting calls for the Legislature to return to Beacon Hill for an emergency session. He doesn't want to risk opening a legislative agenda he once controlled to issues unrelated to budget-cutting during the current financial crisis.

DiMasi played a role in unseating another speaker, Tom McGee of Lynn. "He was a strong, do-as-I-say speaker and he wouldn't leave. Even though his time had come," DiMasi told Boston magazine.

DiMasi saw what happened to Flaherty and then Finneran. Somehow, he never thought it could happen to him.

Joan Vennochi can be reached at vennochi@globe.com.