Beacon Hill's quiet leader
There was no doubt last week where Senate President Therese Murray stood on the repeal of a law preventing out-of-state gay couples from marrying in Massachusetts: All for it.
But where was she standing when Governor Deval Patrick signed the bill into law? Not in front of the cheering advocates and legislators assembled in the State House. Not beside House Speaker Salvatore F. DiMasi or the bill's champion, Senator Dianne Wilkerson.
Instead, Murray was in her office meeting with her fellow senators and staff members on bond bills and evading the limelight that so many political leaders crave.
"I don't need to be a star. I like to get things done. I like to make good policy," Murray said last week during an interview in her ornate office. "I don't need to stand up and say 'I, I, I.' "
The legislator of 16 years quietly builds support behind the scenes, uses her withering, glasses-down-the-nose glare to keep her colleagues in line, and spends time driving wonky policy initiatives such as her ambitious, important, but not-at-all flashy plan to rein in healthcare costs.
"If you're a close observer of Terry Murray, I think you can't help but be impressed," said Warren Tolman, a former state senator and gubernatorial candidate and now a political analyst on Fox 25 morning show. "But if you're John Q. Public, then you don't necessarily see a big footprint from her. And I think that's deliberate. I don't think she cares as much as other leaders about the wake she leaves in the public mindset as she does being effective and getting things done."
The farther people are from Beacon Hill, the more they may be wondering: Where is the Senate president? At the end of her first session as leader of the Senate - while the freshman governor stumbled and the House speaker was tripped up by repeated controversies - the Senate's first female leader did not fill the void with noisy demonstrations of leadership or capture the public's imagination.
Beyond the State House, the public gets little sense of how much power she may or may not wield behind the scenes, said one political analyst.
"She plays it very close to the vest, which leads a lot of people to think that she may not be playing at all," said Paul Watanabe, professor of political science at the University of Massachusetts at Boston. That can be shrewd when the speaker and the governor are bickering, as they were early in her tenure, Watanabe said.
Her sometimes apolitical style is refreshing to many.
"She's not a big gladhander and backslapper, but that can be a relief," said the Senate's legendary former leader, William M. Bulger.
Legislative sources say that Murray has no trouble flexing her muscle behind the scenes and that she held increasing sway as the session came to a close last week, particularly with her insistence that the Legislature advance her healthcare cost-containment measure.
At a press conference that Murray did attend Thursday, she was praised for her dedication to the difficult issue. "Without her effort and commitment in this area, this bill would not be a reality today," DiMasi said at the press conference.
Often described as tough or prickly, she created one magnificent dustup this year, not for her own political agenda, but to advance her favored presidential candidate, Hillary Clinton. Murray lambasted powerful male politicians for not supporting a qualified female candidate.
"I'm like that all the time," Murray said of her remarks about Clinton. "As my sister would say, 'I don't know how you became a politician.' Because usually, I am very honest with people."
Both Patrick and Lieutenant Governor Timothy P. Murray said in interviews that they appreciate her candor. "She's very, very candid, to the point of being blunt sometimes in our leadership meetings, which I like," said Patrick. "You're not wasting time trying to interpret what she said. You know where she wants to go."
Murray's colleagues appreciate her willingness to share power and credit. Though in the past she was said to bear grudges, she surprised her colleagues by letting her rivals keep their leadership posts when she became president.
In sharp contrast to some of the legislative powermongers of years past, she is also viewed as open and accessible to fellow senators, as was her friend and predecessor as Senate president, Robert E. Travaglini.
But unlike Travaglini, the former budget chairwoman also knows how to say no, her colleagues say. Last week, she made clear to the House that she would not entertain endless veto overrides of the governor's budget cuts. The House ultimately asked to restore less than half of the total amount vetoed.
Senator Michael W. Morrissey, a Quincy Democrat, recalled how Murray told him in front of their colleagues that she wanted him to withdraw an amendment he was circulating on community hospitals. Morrissey told her he would have to discuss it; he already had six or eight supporters, he said.
"She looked around and smiled and said, 'Not anymore,' " he recalled, an account she confirmed.
Some senators are happy they have a leader who is not attracting headlines right now, and they are glad that Murray is not capitalizing on the speaker's moment of weakness to elevate her stature. DiMasi faces new scrutiny about his financial ties to lobbyists and state contracts, as well as pressure from members who regard his tenuous position as a chance to seize power.
"I don't like that tactic, stepping over someone's body," said Senator Robert S. Creedon Jr., a Brockton Democrat.
Sometimes, Murray has quietly proven herself to be bolder and more decisive than the boisterous speaker, sources say.
Last year, as the newly elected Senate president, Murray had the job of presiding over a Constitutional Convention on same-sex marriage rights. The state's high court had ruled that the Legislature had to take a vote on a gay marriage ban, and Murray scheduled it for June 2007.
Just minutes before the scheduled vote, DiMasi called the Senate president, urging her to postpone it again. DiMasi was afraid he did not have the House votes to preserve same-sex marriage rights, said a senator who was in the room with Murray. An administration source confirmed the account.
"It was finally the moment of truth. Right before we were ready to go down into the convention, the speaker called her panicking and said, 'We don't have the votes,' " said the senator. "She said: 'I don't care. We're going forward with this.' She was very resolved."
The ban went down to a decisive defeat. 