The man who dares to defy Speaker Finneran
Chris Hodgkins is leading a lonely crusade against autocratic House Speaker Tom Finneran.
Is he democracy's last hope -- or a bitter self-promoter?
by Michael Crowley
For Chris Hodgkins, life as a pariah is at least good for a few laughs.
Earlier this year Hodgkins, a Democratic state rep from Lee, was strolling
down a third-floor State House hallway near the office of House Speaker Tom
Finneran when he spotted a prominent Beacon Hill lobbyist headed his way. The
two were on course to meet near Finneran's door, but the lobbyist did a funny
thing. A few feet before he would have encountered Hodgkins, he ducked around a
corner.
"Geez, what're you doing in here?" Hodgkins said with sarcastic delight
as he popped his head around the corner into the empty, bathroom-size
cul-de-sac where the lobbyist now found himself. The answer, of course, was
obvious: hiding. This lobbyist knew that if you're worried about what Tom
Finneran thinks of you, you don't risk letting him see you with Chris
Hodgkins.
Over the past year and a half, Hodgkins -- once a powerful State House insider
-- has grown accustomed to scenes like these. "They're afraid up here," he
says. "Let's say there was a fundraiser and I was there talking to my
colleagues, and Finneran walked into the room." Before long, he says, "I'm
holding that beer by myself."
These lonely moments illustrate the strange contradictions of Chris Hodgkins's
political life. Though he is largely powerless and often ostracized, he is
nevertheless one of Beacon Hill's most visible figures. Combining media savvy
with a veteran's parliamentary wiles, Hodgkins has waged a one-man guerrilla
war against Tom Finneran's autocratic excesses -- a war that culminated this
summer with a showdown over a package of pay raises Finneran hopes to win for
his House allies. Some colleagues say Hodgkins -- the only Democrat not to vote
for Finneran's re-election as Speaker in January -- is throwing a sustained
tantrum over his political defeats. But it is telling that he has stirred such
a commotion, given that his tactics would once have been viewed as routine
State House dogfighting. Chris Hodgkins wouldn't be such a Beacon Hill
phenomenon if the rest of the House hadn't fallen silent under Tom Finneran.
"Chris is the single most important voice in the State House," a Democratic
consultant says. "He's the only one who has not kowtowed to Finneran. An
endemic sickness has developed at the State House. People are terrified to
speak out. People have been silenced by jobs and dollars, as well as fear, into
taking a legislative body that is supposed to be a place where people take each
other on and freezing it into a very scary silence."
"There has been a conspiracy of silence," echoes Representative Steven Angelo
(D-Saugus), a House veteran who sees Hodgkins as filling the opposition role
the Republicans have abdicated. "I think Chris Hodgkins has probably earned the
minority leader's pay over the past year and a half."
"I might be the opposition of one," Hodgkins says. "But if I could count every
pat on the back as a vote, I might be Speaker."
Michael Crowley can be reached at mcrowley[a]phx.com.