E-Mail This Article to a Friend The price of loyalty (continued)
	Related links Kerry Healey, lieutenant governor of Massachusetts Healey’s official state Web page. It’s My Party Too PAC New political-action committee formed by Christie Whitman, the former New Jersey governor and Environmental Protection Agency secretary, to bolster moderate Republicans nationwide. A possible ally for Healey if she makes a gubernatorial or congressional run.

She seems to have changed her mind quickly. Before Mitt Romney jumped into the race, there were two obvious candidates for the Republican lieutenant-governor’s slot: Patrick Guerreiro, Jane Swift’s second-in-command, and Jim Rappaport, a Republican die-hard who challenged US Senator John Kerry in 1990. As an openly gay man and a holdover from the troubled Swift administration, Guerreiro clearly wasn’t a good fit for Romney, and he took himself out of the race in late March of 2002. Rappaport, however, believed he himself was the right man for the job.

Romney had other ideas. Shortly after committing to a run, he made it clear that Healey was his preferred candidate. In April 2002, the delegates at the state Republican convention rebuffed their newly arrived savior, voting 55 to 45 percent to endorse Rappaport. But Romney didn’t give up. Instead, he showed up at televised LG debates wearing a Healey button, helped fund TV ads touting a Romney-Healey ticket, and made a point of praising Healey in the local media.

Why the effusiveness? As always, Healey’s deep pockets were an asset: indeed, the soon-to-be lieutenant governor would spend over $1 million of her own money over the course of the campaign. Gender, too, probably played a role; having Healey on the ticket ultimately helped mitigate whatever advantage Shannon O’Brien, the eventual Democratic nominee, enjoyed with female voters. In the end, Romney and Healey saw their respective gambles pay off when they defeated O’Brien and her running mate, Chris Gabrieli, on November 2. The Savior of Salt Lake had a new job. And Kerry Healey had finally won an election.

ROMNEY’S ROLE as Healey’s political mentor has created a delicate situation. On the one hand, it’s clear that Healey’s and Romney’s interests no longer coincide. If Healey ends up running for governor, for example, she’ll be ill-served by the jibes Romney has directed at his home state while working the national Republican circuit (see "Great Golden’s Ghost!", News and Features, February 25). And any late-term accomplishments that bolster Romney’s conservative credentials — e.g., a successful veto of the stem-cell legislation currently being weighed by the legislature — could prove even more problematic. Conversely, with Romney’s plans unclear, Healey still has to play the part of the governor’s loyal sidekick — laughing at his jokes in public, even if she doesn’t think they’re funny, and arguing for his policy proposals, even if she thinks they don’t make sense.

But does Healey ever struggle with this cognitive dissonance? Don’t ask the lieutenant governor, because she probably won’t say. This week, for example, Healey told the Phoenix that she’d never had a substantial disagreement with Romney. Then, a moment later, she hinted that creative friction is actually a hallmark of the administration. "When we’re forming policy in this administration, it’s a very open and collaborative and sometimes loud process," she said. "But in the end, the governor decides what the policy of the administration is. That’s what being governor means."

Right now, Healey’s ideological opacity allows liberals to imagine her as a Republican in the mold of Bill Weld — as a fiscal conservative and social liberal who, as governor, would be more interested in working with the Democrats than in doing battle with them. For example, some gay-marriage supporters cite Healey’s aggressive efforts on behalf of openly gay Republican candidates — and her low profile during the ongoing marriage battle — as signs that, unlike Romney, she probably supports civil unions at the very least. Or take the issue of abortion rights: while NARAL Pro-Choice Massachusetts gives Romney a "mixed-choice" rating, Healey — on the basis of a candidate questionnaire she filled out in 2002 — is labeled "pro-choice," just like Democratic gubernatorial frontrunner and current Massachusetts attorney general Tom Reilly. "We gave the governor a mixed-choice rating because he supports some restrictions on abortion," explains Melissa Kogut, NARAL’s executive director. "The lieutenant governor gave us a solid questionnaire."

Like any governor, Romney has given Healey enough freedom to make the administration look good, but not enough freedom to steal the spotlight. In addition to serving as Romney’s point person on criminal-justice issues, Healey was given the unenviable task of reaching out to local officials during the height of the budget crisis; thus far, these have been her two main responsibilities. Some of the alliances the LG has made in the process — for example, her noticeably warm collaboration on crime policy with State Senator Jarett Barrios, a liberal stalwart and aggressive Romney critic — make the notion of Healey as a throwback, centrist Massachusetts Republican seem plausible.

It’s a notion Healey seems eager to foster. During her interview, she described herself as a "Republican along the Weld model," and dismissed the idea of a right-wing ascendancy in the national GOP. "That’s so dated," she complained. "The people who are genuinely in the mix right now in the Republican Party are people like Pataki and Giuliani. These are moderates — these are not people who can be pegged as far right. Even someone like McCain doesn’t fall cleanly into one category." And Tom DeLay, the archconservative majority leader of the US House? "I doubt that he is going to be in the leadership of the party in the long run," Healey said coolly.

Still, something doesn’t quite fit. If Healey and Romney have different views on abortion, for example — and if the Romney administration fosters the kind of freewheeling debate Healey describes — how can the LG say she’s never had a major disagreement with her boss? It’s this kind of disconnect that gives credence to another interpretation of Healey — that instead of being a genuine Weldian, she’s a political chameleon who does what’s expedient. "I think she’s a blank slate," another prominent Democrat argues. "I don’t think she’s some kind of closet Nelson Rockefeller Republican."

A HEALEY gubernatorial run may not be in the cards. After all, no one knows what Romney’s going to do — and if he does leave, some political observers think Healey would make a congressional run against US Representative John Tierney or take on State Treasurer Tim Cahill instead of seeking the top job in Massachusetts politics.

Whatever Healey’s next move is, though, it’s clear that Romney — the man who gave her political life — won’t be hanging around the State House forever. If Healey doesn’t want to go the way of Patrick Guerreiro — or Jane Swift — she’ll be working, in the coming months, to stake out a political identity that can help her survive after her patron has moved on.

In fact, it’s already happening. During our Phoenix interview, Healey took aim at the widespread belief that she’s a snooty, mansion-dwelling, out-of-touch millionaire. The truth, the lieutenant governor said, is that she grew up in modest circumstances in Florida, the child of a schoolteacher and an Army vet whose heart condition kept him from working for the last 30 years of his life. She worked three jobs in high school. Her parents "made every sacrifice" to send her to Harvard, where she received copious financial aid. Furthermore, Healey pointed out, her husband wasn’t born into wealth either; rather, he was a Marine brat who ended up at Harvard too.

"I need to do a better job of getting the message out about where I came from and where my values came from," Healey concluded. "The notion that we didn’t work for everything we’ve got is a misperception — and shame on me for not being more open about my background. When you first become a politician, it’s hard to open up and talk about painful stories — especially painful ones about your father being ill, or where you came from and what you’re about. And I’ve certainly learned the hard way that if you don’t tell people who you are, other people will fill in the blanks, and certainly not correctly."

So they will. Now Healey needs to take her own advice.

Adam Reilly can be reached at areilly[a]phx.com