Standing in the powder-blue Senate chambers, hovering over a wooden desk with busts of presidents Washington and Lincoln on each side, Senate President Therese Murray might as well have been an auctioneer.
"Allthoseinfavorsayaye, opposedno, theayeshaveit, amendmentadopted," she said, not even pausing to take a breath on matters that had already been determined in private. At one point late Tuesday afternoon, she steered the 40-member body to decide on 10 amendments in just one minute, one every six seconds.
Lawmakers remain divided on rescue plans for Turnpike Authority. B4
As the Legislature's 2008 session speeds to an end tonight in a frenzy of horse-trading and late-night sessions, lawmakers are wading through mounds of unfinished business that they have left until the last minute.
This week members have flipped from a complex debate over global warming to a proposed ban on pet rentals, from an eye-glazing rescue of the Massachusetts Turnpike Authority to a successful push to allow out-of-state gay couples to marry in Massachusetts. Sometimes they act without discussion.
The atmosphere this week has been like those last few days of high school, when stu dents cram for exams and stay up late. But these are the state's top officials who have been caught proscratinating, and under legislative rules they have until midnight tonight to finish their business for 2008.
Major items that remained on the agenda late last night and today included whether to allow residents to register to vote on election days, proposals for curbing rising healthcare costs, and deciding which of the governor's $122.5 million in budget vetoes to override.
"Everyone panics," said Representative Martin J. Walsh, a Democrat from Dorchester. "You have so much stuff that's moving. It creates this perception of craziness."
Sometimes it's more than a perception. Memories of the notorious late-night budget session in 2000 still linger, when members drank beer and wine, slept during debates, and were caught voting for other members. That year, Salvatore F. DiMasi, then assistant majority leader, gaveled for "order in the Animal House" as members chanted, "Toga! Toga!"
In the major subplot of this year's waning days, DiMasi is again at the center of things. This time he is House speaker, and he is trying to contain a House chamber that is rife with intrigue over his own political problems.
For months, the speaker has been facing allegations that he has steered legislation to benefit his friends and business associates. The Globe reported yesterday that two of his close associates were tied to
The reports have contributed to an atmosphere of unrest in the House and questions about whether DiMasi will remain as speaker. The speaker took members of his House leadership team into his wood-paneled office Tuesday and indicated he plans to continue his term, said sources briefed on the meeting. He also phoned the two men who are competing to take his place, House Ways and Means chairman Robert A. DeLeo and majority leader John H. Rogers, to tell them to stop their jockeying, said a source briefed on the discussions.
Both Rogers and DeLeo have insisted that they would not try to unseat DiMasi, but by collecting commitments from their colleagues they are fueling rumors that he may step down. Both sides are counting votes and maintaining spreadsheets. Some lawmakers are on both lists, and each side is pointing fingers at the other for starting the latest round of support-gathering.
"They're getting desperate," said a DeLeo ally.
"It seems like desperation, because they're behind," said a source in the Rogers camp.
DeLeo, as chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, has a distinct advantage: He controls the purse strings for billions of state tax dollars. He gets to decide which local projects sought by individual lawmakers get funding in bond bills, and which don't. That can help him build support.
House members have a name for this: DeLeo Dollars. Under a bond bill that came out of his committee, for example, a stadium in Haverhill would receive $7 million for improvements. Worcester officials would get $4 million to restore the Loew's Poli Palace Theatre. There would be $8 million for a parking garage in Natick.
Most of the hardnosed political action takes place behind closed doors. A member of the public visiting the State House would see lawmakers milling in the hallways, mingling with lobbyists, and waiting to be summoned by the speaker. When the speaker wants them to report to the chamber to cast votes, a court officer steps into the marble hallway and bellows, "Roll call in the House!" so loudly that he can be heard on every floor of the building.
The frenetic pace can make the legislative action difficult to follow. The House last week decided that it would adopt amendments to a $3 billion bond bill without even reading them aloud. Waiting until the last minute increases the pressure leaders can wield to their advantage, and force opponents to make deals. But it also has to do with the nature of procrastination.
"Most people work better on a deadline," said Representative Joseph R. Driscoll, a Democrat from Braintree. "It's when inspiration comes."
Meanwhile, Governor Deval Patrick is largely staying out of the thicket - he was holding a town meeting last night in Athol - but plans to be at the State House until midnight today, spending his 52d birthday wrapping up any last-minute legislation.
The governor is also planning what he hopes will be a more dignified affair, an end-of-the-legislative-session bash for all House and Senate members at his estate in the Berkshires.
Matt Viser can be reached at maviser@globe.com.![]()


