E-Mail This Article to a Friend Don’t take it personally Why the last chapter of Tom Finneran’s political autobiography doesn’t ring true BY ADAM REILLY

THE FINNERAN FRENZY started Friday, when word leaked out that the five-term Speaker of the Massachusetts House — long one of the most respected and reviled figures in state politics — was about to resign to become president of the Massachusetts Biotechnology Council. It peaked three days later, just before noon, when Finneran made his departure official in MBC’s Kendall Square headquarters. His bald pate gleaming under the fluorescent lights, Finneran proudly reviewed his accomplishments as Speaker. He waxed eloquent about the challenges of his new job. And he insisted that his exit was a purely personal matter. "Donna [his wife] and I have been talking about this for any number of years, really," Finneran said of his decision to step down. "For the last two or three in particular, I’ve been thinking about what different challenges might be. It’s nothing to do with either the judicial or the political climate."

This claim fits neatly with the political autobiography Finneran offered in the same press conference — one in which, determined "not ... to be chased, hounded, or in any way nudged from office," he leaves Beacon Hill "on my own time and on my own terms." But that doesn’t mean we should believe it. Finneran has a keen intellect, and he knows his own heart and mind better than anyone. Yet the thorny fact remains that he is the subject of a grand-jury investigation linked to his role in the 2001 legislative-redistricting process (see "Speaker on the Spot," News and Features, May 14). And until this week, the Massachusetts Republican Party was poised to cast him as Public Enemy Number One in this fall’s state House and Senate campaigns. Those distractions may not have forced Finneran’s hand. But to say they played no role in his decision strains credulity.

FIRST, CONSIDER the grand-jury probe, which US Attorney Michael Sullivan launched this spring. Assessing the course of the investigation and the strength of the case against Finneran is extremely difficult: the former Speaker routinely deflects questions about the investigation; Department of Justice policy prohibits Sullivan from even confirming its existence; and neither Richard Egbert nor Ray Howell — Finneran’s high-profile defense attorney and PR flack, respectively — responded to requests for comment for this story. But we do know this: if Finneran is found guilty of perjuring himself in a 2003 deposition on the House redistricting process, his penalties could include a prison sentence of up to five years.

Despite his job switch, Finneran remains legally culpable for the alleged perjury, yet the former Speaker’s resignation might prove a smart move. Why? In the early 1980s, an ongoing investigation by then–US attorney William Weld helped bring Boston mayor Kevin White’s political career to a close. White was never convicted by the grand jury impaneled to investigate corruption in his administration, but many political observers still believe he and Weld cut a behind-the-scenes deal: the mayor would retire in 1983 instead of seeking a fifth term, and Weld would reward him by letting the case slide. It’s possible that Finneran and Sullivan — a Republican who’s regarded as a possible gubernatorial candidate — arrived at a similar compromise, whether explicit or implicit. (Another parallel: White, who as mayor facilitated Boston University’s expansion, moved on to a professorship at BU; before jumping to MBC, Finneran championed the biotechnology industry and fought against the re-importation of low-cost Canadian drugs.) Even though the public may never know whether Finneran and Sullivan struck such a deal, the scenario is worth contemplating. "It’s possible," says a former federal prosecutor. "Richie Egbert is a very creative guy."

At the MBC press conference, Finneran told a questioner that, on a scale of one to 10, the grand-jury investigation had "zero" influence on his resignation. And for denizens of Beacon Hill, the notion that forces beyond Finneran’s control led to his departure is dubious. "I’m not privy to the innermost workings of his mind, but I would say he’s been looking for an exit strategy certainly for a year," says State Representative Jay Kaufman, a Lexington progressive who’s clashed repeatedly with Finneran. "If anything, the grand-jury investigation may have made it more difficult to pursue some opportunities. I think he was on his way out long before the US attorney stepped in." But Kaufman and his colleagues, who spent the better part of a decade watching an all-powerful Finneran crush dissent in the House, may not be the most objective judges of the situation. Whatever Finneran’s thought process was, Pam Wilmot of Common Cause Massachusetts — which helped pave the way for Sullivan’s investigation — argues that the effect of the grand-jury probe shouldn’t be underestimated. "I think Finneran’s decision to leave was coming sometime in the next few years," Wilmot says. "But I think the redistricting case and the US attorney’s investigation changed the timetable."

Finneran’s decision to leave at this particular moment may have had an altruistic element as well, for there’s every reasons to believe that state Republicans planned to use the controversial Speaker as campaign fodder in battles against any Democrat running for re-election this fall. Governor Mitt Romney had only nice things to say about Finneran during the last week, calling the Mattapan Democrat "unusually charming" and "good to work with." But the state Republican Party, which routinely gets down and dirty so Romney can keep his own hands clean, was clearly prepared to cast Finneran as the embodiment of the oft-invoked "mess on Beacon Hill" between now and Election Day. In a recent fundraising letter, for example, Mass GOP executive director Tim O’Brien described Finneran as "the poster child for patronage, waste, and blocking the governor’s reforms at every turn." As a result, Finneran’s departure has prompted gloating by some state Democratic bigwigs, who suggest their Republican counterparts just lost their only campaign theme. "Mitt Romney planned a campaign of demonization of Tom Finneran," claims state Democratic chair Phil Johnston. "He had nothing of substance to say about education, about health policy, about transportation and the environment. Now he has nothing to say about anything."