Decision time
Part 2
by Michael Crowley
Like it or not, thanks largely to the early momentum of a
media-saturated governor's race, the '98 campaign season has arrived. That
became an indisputable fact this month, when Joe Kennedy opened a state
campaign account -- a move that's considered an unofficial declaration of his
candidacy for governor.
"This is the time that everyone has to make their decisions," says Democratic
consultant Mary Anne Marsh, who expects to remain neutral in the race. "If you
haven't made your decision by Labor Day, you're behind the curve." (And in the
Eighth District, where GOP opposition is a quaint formality, the vote that
counts isn't in November -- the September 1998 primary is the
election.)
So the moment is at hand. And yet, puffing a Newport Light on his Senate
office balcony one recent August morning, Birmingham is still a man in limbo.
What if Joe Kennedy officially announces for governor tomorrow?
"Then I'd quickly have to make a decision," Birmingham non-answers.
Massachusetts's Eighth District seat has a distinguished lineage. It was the
ticket to Washington for John F. Kennedy, and later for former House Speaker
Tip O'Neill. From 1943 to 1945, it was even occupied, for a term, by the
infamous James Michael Curley. In 1997, its geography is especially promising
for Tom Birmingham: encompassing Somerville, Watertown, Belmont, and half of
Boston, the district contains most of his Senate district and his hometown of
Chelsea.
Birmingham is tempted by a fleeting window of opportunity: the seat hasn't
been vacant since Kennedy claimed it after O'Neill's 1986 retirement, and
probably won't be again for years to come -- since the power of incumbency, for
Democrats at least, appears undiminished in Massachusetts. As Birmingham puts
it, an open seat "is a brass ring that comes around as often as Halley's
comet." And having rocketed to the top of the Senate in just six years on
Beacon Hill, Birmingham no doubt feels he has political momentum on his side,
momentum toward grander political glory.
"It's a national stage," Birmingham says, "a bigger stage dealing with
national and international issues."
In other words, no more State House tedium. Instead of sewage treatment in
Revere, nuclear-arms control. Instead of haggling over state licensing of
optometrists, sermons on the morality of affirmative action.
And yet. Birmingham notes that Democrats could languish as the minority
in Congress for years. The institution is publicly reviled. Birmingham has two
young daughters, and a wife who refuses to move to DC. And -- although
Birmingham doesn't bring it up -- Congress would mean a sizable pay cut.
(Birmingham earns $81,000 as Senate president, but he is allowed to maintain an
outside practice as a labor lawyer to the tune of more than $100,000 annually.
Congress pays $133,000, with no outside income allowed. Net loss: at least
$52,000.)
Above all, does Birmingham want to give up perhaps the second-most powerful
job in state politics in hopes of adding a few amendments to GOP bills here and
there? "Were I to run for Congress," Birmingham says, "at the very best, it
would be a lateral move -- perhaps not even a lateral move -- in terms of my
ability to influence public policy."
And what if he loses? Yes, he could return full-time to his law practice. But
at 48, Birmingham would surely feel the sting of unfulfilled ambition and yearn
to rejoin the fray. That wouldn't be easy, however; few things taint a pol's
stock more than entering a race as a favorite and blowing it.
Meanwhile, out of Birmingham's continued indecision has grown fanciful
speculation. A rumor recently landed in the Boston Globe that
Birmingham might be interested in replacing Attorney General Scott Harshbarger,
a '98 gubernatorial hopeful. That would allow Birmingham to use the $400,000 he
has in a state campaign account -- which can't be applied to a congressional
race -- to steamroll into the AG's job, and avoid a family-straining move to
Washington.
"Pure fiction," Birmingham says of the report. "I hadn't even thought of it. I
think my current job is more varied and interesting than that."
Michael Crowley can be reached at mcrowley[a]phx.com.