Malone ranger

Part 3

by Michael Crowley

It's no surprise, then, that Malone's current political bind has given Beacon Hill that schadenfreude feeling.

The trickiness of his situation arises from Bill Weld's recent flirtations with running for a third term. Malone has ruled out a challenge to Weld, as well as a run for any office besides governor -- even if the state term-limits law, which will force him out in 1998, is overturned. And it's hard to win campaign contributions when you can't even guarantee that you're running for anything.

By contrast, Malone's rival for the GOP nomination, Lieutenant Governor Paul Cellucci, can say he'll at least be seeking his current job again, if not going for the grand prize -- either way, he can start building a war chest. Indeed, it's widely speculated that Weld's public indecision was designed to benefit his boy Cellucci by freezing out Malone.

And yet there may still be hope for Malone in the event of another Weld run. Although the governor's mysterious behavior has turned Beacon Hill into a soup of rumors, the prospect of a Weld-Malone ticket appears to have grown beyond mere gossip. Sources close to both Malone and Weld say members of the governor's circle have been pressing the idea on him -- although Malone backers are far more conspicuous about pointing this out.

Weld isn't about to throw Cellucci overboard. But it is true that Cellucci, saddled by an unseemly mountain of personal debt that stood near $750,000 last summer, has become a drag.

"There are people around Weld who feel very strongly that Cellucci cost him the Senate race," says one Republican off Beacon Hill, "and that he would be a real detriment in any race against Joe Kennedy."

What's more, given his debts, it makes sense that Cellucci might want to leave government for a fat-salaried job with a private law firm.

Despite Malone's enemies, as well as the time he's lost to Weld-induced inertia, most observers agree that if Weld takes a pass on running, Malone would have an edge on Cellucci in a GOP primary. Cellucci has Weld's backing and is well-connected among party-machine heavies. But the nomination is decided by the votes of about 200,000 party activists -- a group that, of late, has been flocking Malone's way.

Malone, though, has lately been picking up some baggage of his own. Last month the Boston Globe unleashed a four-part investigative series on the state lottery, which Malone oversees as treasurer. The series painted a bleak picture of the culture of addiction and wasted savings surrounding the lottery, and that has hardly helped the cause of its steward.

The Globe also reported some pretty dubious -- and possibly illegal -- lottery practices that seem to lead to Malone's door, like the fast-and-loose distribution of about $80 million in lottery-printed coupons, which may have been used to get around the advertising-budget cap imposed by the legislature.

Needless to say, that report thrilled Malone's foes in the State House -- and faster than you can scratch a ticket, a Senate investigation was underway, one sure to make for some high political drama when Malone is called up to testify. (Malone is also bracing for the impact of a report on the lottery due this spring from state auditor Joseph DeNucci.) Malone has already indicated that he will ask the legislature for a ban on any new video Keno licenses.

But what stings Malone worst is the charge of patronage on the lottery payroll. One Globe story mockingly detailed a "Waltham High reunion" -- complete with old yearbook photos of Malone and three of the many friends he now has on the payroll. (And almost as embarrassing were those haircuts from Brady hell.)

Technical questions about an advertising cap aren't too likely to catch the attention of voters. But the idea that Malone found jobs for friends and relatives -- especially after denouncing Bob Crane for treasurer's-office patronage in 1990 -- cuts at the very core of his identity as a pol who does things differently.

Malone protests that he's trimmed the lottery's staff overall, from 532 employees to 445. But he does admit to having hired friends.

"If I was adding on people in order to please the people that I know, then shame on me," says Malone. "I just don't buy this idea that because I've known someone they should be disqualified."

Ironically, all the ill will Malone has engendered in the State House now serves as a convenient way to refute attacks by his enemies. At times like this, it comes in handy indeed. Says Malone's press secretary Eric Fehrnstrom of the Senate's lottery inquiry: "It's as if Billy Bulger never left the Senate."

More . . .

Michael Crowley can be reached at mcrowley[a]phx.com.