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	Bad Episode Doesn't Negate a Fine Career By Joan Vennochi Boston Globe December 23, 2010 http://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/editorial_opinion/oped/articles/2010/12/23/one_bad_episode_shouldnt_negate_senators_fine_career/ AS STATE Senator Marian Walsh leaves public office, a cushy job that she never took shouldn't define her legacy. When the clergy abuse scandal broke, Walsh was the only member of the state Legislature to call on Cardinal Bernard Law to resign, and urge that he be prosecuted. When the attorney general argued that no statute existed to hold Law accountable for knowingly putting children in harm's way, she championed legislation to protect them from future abuse. She stood up for gay marriage in a conservative district, where the political consensus ran overwhelmingly against it. And she was the only senator to say no to each of three seekers of corporate welfare: Raytheon, Fidelity, and the Boston Red Sox. With a record like that, Walsh could be departing Beacon Hill as a political heroine. But to much of the public, this Harvard Divinity School graduate is a hack. And, it's all because Walsh said yes to a job that Governor Deval Patrick asked her to take. In 2009, Governor Deval Patrick announced that he was appointing Walsh to a $175,000 position at the Massachusetts Health and Educational Facilities Authority. She would jump-start reform, Patrick said, at one of the state's secretive, quasi-public authorities, but the public and press saw it as a greedy grab and a way to up her pension. Blasted by harsh reviews, Walsh walked away from the appointment. Patrick survived the controversy and was reelected. But Walsh's reputation as a principled politician morphed into a one-dimensional caricature that highlighted only avarice and self-interest. She didn't seek reelection. It's one of the risks of public service. An unpopular vote is cast, a poor choice is made, a political firestorm erupts and suddenly an ugly picture eclipses everything else a person tried to accomplish. Take Matthew J. Amorello, who was a well-liked if underwhelming lawmaker. Then he took a job as chairman of the Massachusetts Turnpike Authority, and ended up scapegoated as an evil incompetent after a woman died in a Big Dig tunnel collapse that happened on his watch. A shocking mugshot of Amorello taken after his arrest last summer for drunk driving illustrated how far he had fallen. James DiPaola, meanwhile, was the big-hearted, unselfish sheriff of Middlesex County. Then he made headlines when the Globe reported on his plan to maximize his state pension by exploiting a loophole in the law. What drove DiPaola to suicide a week later has not been disclosed. But his personal identity was deeply tied into his job. It can't be easy to face the world after you're tarnished as a double-dipper who changed his mind only when confronted with the truth. Sometimes, ideology tempers public reaction to alleged wrongdoing; liberal politicians in Massachusetts often get a pass from their colleagues, the press, and the voters. Tapping into that dynamic, Salvatore DiMasi kept supporters in his corner for a long time, despite serious questions about how he was conducting business as speaker of the House. As the scrutiny intensified, the leader once celebrated as a gregarious back-slapper and advocate for the poor finally resigned and was eventually indicted on various corruption charges. Yet DiMasi's push for health care reform still draws accolades, even if his legacy is tainted. Walsh did not have that same buffer. For a long time, the liberal establishment, especially women, scorned her because she is pro-life. Though she was an advocate for poor people, public education, affordable housing, and substance-abuse treatment, she also stood with the church against abortion. That last stance put her at odds with progressives until the gay marriage debate. In farewell remarks on the Senate floor, Senator Cynthia Creem, a longtime friend, spoke about the fallout for Walsh after she announced her support for gay marriage. "The anti-gay marriage forces leafleted her car while she attended Mass and at times she was denounced in her own parish. Marian never wavered. She never flinched. She stood fast for what she knew was right," said Creem. The $175,000 job that Patrick offered Walsh was a bad idea, poorly executed, but it wasn't a crime. It shouldn't erase the entire story of her career. Contact: vennochi@globe.com
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