"The Dean." There's something about the title and role I find interesting...and I don't really know why. It has to do, I think, with its paradoxical place in the legislative scheme of things -- a place where meaninglessness and significance strangely combine.
Being the dean -- that is, the officially recognized longest-serving member of the body -- is an honorary deal. The dean does not, for example, get a bump in pay or a special State House office with The Dean on the door.
And the dean does not get to duck any of the normal duties, responsibilities or problems of a state representative. As for the responsibilities of being the dean, those are like being a member of the British royal family: you're mainly there to make people feel good.
Members of the House are fond of hailing the dean and enunciating his title before audiences small and large, as in, "You're looking especially dapper today, Dean," and "It's time, now, that we hear from The Dean in this debate."
Whoever is dean is not supposed to get too puffed up about his title and (honorary) stature, except in a mock serious way, as perfected by the late David Flynn of Bridgewater, who was the dean one dean ago.
The ideal dean, rather, wears the honor lightly and thereby enhances the ways in which the use of the title can lighten the mood in the chamber, like the sun breaking through the clouds of the turgid action on the floor.
However, once every two years, the dean gets to exercise actual authority. For a brief spell, the senior member holds the reins of power usually held fast in the grip of the speaker.
It happens on that day in early January when the representatives elected or re-elected the previous November have taken the oath of office and the members of the majority party have gathered in one place to choose their leaders for the new two-year legislative term. The dean is the official presiding officer of that caucus.
On those occasions, if the dean is on good terms with an incumbent speaker waiting to be re-elected, he will dispense with his duties speedily and hand the gavel to the speaker.
If the opposite is the case, as has been the case since Angelo Scaccia of Boston became dean in 2012, the dean will do as much as possible to drag out the process. He will deliberately prolong his time in the spotlight to get under the skin of the speaker, Bob DeLeo in this case, who's held the position since 2009, and the speaker's leadership team-in-waiting.
A digression is in order to explain the endearingly generous way the House allots deanship "points"...
There are representatives like the late David Flynn, and like Ted Speliotis of Danvers and Tom Walsh of Peabody, who have served in the House, left to take up other professional endeavors, and later ran for the House again and were re-elected, sometimes decades later. In every such case, their "gap years" are treated as if they did not exist when it comes to designating the dean. In other words, the House bases dean eligibility on the very first time one takes the oath of office as a representative. Flynn, for example, served from 1964 to 1972, was out of office from 1973 to 1997, was elected to the House again in 1998, and stayed in the House for 12 years before retiring at age 78. When Flynn "re-upped" in 1998, he was, by House custom, immediately recognized as the dean because his eligibility was rooted in the year 1964, the first year of his first term. Flynn was that rare bird, an instant dean!
Now back to the main narrative..
Scaccia's decision not to seek re-election this year -- and a reasonable decision it was, given his age (77) and the 40-plus years he's served as the representative from Hyde Park -- has created the opportunity for a new dean to step up in 2021.
Waiting behind Scaccia, in terms of longevity in the lower branch, are Ted Speliotis and Tom Petrolati of Ludlow.
Speliotis has had two House stints, the first beginning in 1979. Petrolati started in the House on Jan. 7, 1987, and has served there continuously since. Neither will become the dean in 2021 because both are retiring from politics at the end of this year.
Waiting behind Speliotis and Petrolati, longevity-wise, are Rep. Kevin Honan of the Brighton section of Boston and Tom Walsh, both of whom were sworn in for the first time on Jan. 7, 1987, more than 33 years ago, in the same freshman class as Petrolati.
In cases like those of Honan and Walsh, whose eligibilities for dean are both measured from 1-7-87, the tie is broken, by House custom, by date of birth; that is, the older one wins. Walsh was born on July 15, 1960, and is nearing his 60th birthday; Honan was born on June 5, 1959, and is 61 years old, meaning he will get the prize -- provided he's re-elected in November.
To take dean honors, Honan needs to prevail in a fight for re-election against Jordan Meehan, an energetic, young (29) challenger. If Honan loses, Walsh will be the dean.
I intend no disparagement of Mr. Meehan when I say that I hope Kevin Honan is re-elected, number one, because I have tremendous respect and admiration for him as a human being, and, number two, because I know he will make a great Dean of the House.
UPDATE: Kevin Honan as the next Dean of the House is now a certainty! He beat Jordan Meehan in the primary, 4,260 to 3,598 votes, a comfortable margin of more than 8% of all votes cast, and has no opponent in the November final.
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