If DiCarlo Hadn't Messed Up, Would Bulger Still Have Become Senate President?

Saturday, January 23, 2021

Joseph C. DiCarlo died on Tuesday, October 20, 2020, at the age of 84. The notice of his death appeared in The Boston Globe five days later.  It said he had waged a courageous battle against cancer and "left this world peacefully, bathed in spirit, beauty and love." It listed his survivors, who include his wife of 62 years, his three children and their spouses, four grandchildren, one great-grandchild, three brothers and a sister-in-law. (A fourth brother had died before him.)  The notice ended with a suggestion of an end-of-life care agency to which the aggrieved could make contributions in DiCarlo's name; a statement that funeral services would be private; and the website of the funeral home handling the arrangements, where persons could leave written condolences.

There was nothing in the notice about DiCarlo's professional activities, nor about his substantial accomplishments in the political arena.  Once a highly regarded public schoolteacher, he had been elected from his hometown of Revere to both the Massachusetts House and Senate back in the Sixties.  In the Senate, he  represented a three-county district anchored in Revere and encompassing the communities of Everett, Saugus and Winthrop. 

In the upper branch, DiCarlo rose and flourished like a fast-growing pine.  

First elected to the Senate in 1968, he was by 1971 the Assistant Majority Leader of the Democrats. 

Senate President Kevin Harrington of Salem promoted him to Majority Leader in 1973. 

There was nothing in the death notice to indicate he had once been a powerful figure on Beacon Hill, a politician of natural gifts perceived as a likely future president of the Senate and even as a potential governor of the Commonwealth one day.

Newspaper death notices are not obituaries, which are news stories on the deceased written by reporters.  Rather, they are customary advertisements paid for by families of the deceased and placed by funeral directors at the behest of families. Families put what they want into death notices and omit what they don't want.

To my knowledge, no Boston-based newspaper, television or radio station produced a standard, comprehensive obituary on Joe DiCarlo.  If one had, they almost certainly would have mentioned his federal district court conviction in 1977 on charges related to the shakedown of a construction management company, McKee-Berger-Mansueto, which was responsible for supervising the construction of the UMass Boston campus. This became known as "the MBM scandal."

DiCarlo and another member of the Senate, Ronald C. MacKenzie, a Republican from Burlington, had been jointly charged and convicted in the case. They were found to have extorted money from MBM in exchange for ensuring that a Senate oversight committee would render a favorable report on the company's planning and quality control work at the newly-relocated/newly-built university complex at Columbia Point.

In a February 26, 1977, article, "2 Massachusetts State Senators Are Convicted in Extortion Case," The New York Times reported:

"The Senators were both found guilty of the entire eight-count Federal indictment.  It included one count of violating the Hobbs Act, which makes it illegal to extort money under threat of economic injury or through the misuse of public office; five counts of violating the Federal Travel Act, which outlaws the use of interstate transportation or communications in connection with the committing of an illegal act, and one count each of conspiracy to violate the Hobbs Act and conspiracy to violate the Travel Act....

"Senator MacKenzie was accused of taking money from the construction company on at least five different occasions.  Senator DiCarlo was not accused of actually taking money, but was charged with being part of the 'criminal venture' because he was chairman of the committee that was investigating the construction contract." 

After their convictions, DiCarlo and MacKenzie both refused to resign from the Senate, so action to expel them commenced.  

On March 31, 1977, the day before the Senate Ethics Committee issued its report on their offenses, MacKenzie resigned.  DiCarlo continued to resist calls for his resignation.  

On April 4, 1977, the full Senate voted 28 to 8 to expel DiCarlo, the first time any member of the body had ever been thrown out like that.  DiCarlo then ran in the special election held to fill his seat -- and lost to a young alderman from Everett, Frank Mastrocola.  

DiCarlo and MacKenzie served nine and ten months, respectively, in federal prison.

After doing time, DiCarlo and MacKenzie became model citizens.  DiCarlo worked in various professional jobs.  The disbarred MacKenzie, after working for years as a paralegal, won back his license to practice law.

DiCarlo was 41 years old when his life in politics came crashing down, meaning he lived another 43 years.  I do not think it's fair to define Joe DiCarlo's 84 years on earth by the MBM scandal 

None of us wants to be judged entirely by our worst choice, our darkest moment, our biggest mistake, nor should most of us be so judged. 

Some of us pay a much stiffer price for our mistakes than others. 

That was true for DiCarlo, MacKenzie and countless other public office malefactors through the ages. Their falls from grace, their public shamings, their ruined political careers, exceed by geometric proportions the defeats and humiliations endured by average (private) citizens. 

As justice required, DiCarlo and MacKenzie paid dearly for their transgressions.  And, long ago,  they earned the right to forgiveness.

As I see it, there's only one good reason now to resurrect this case.  At the time of his indictment and arrest, Joe DiCarlo was a certifiable political phenomenon, a charismatic, silver-tongued orator in the prime of life. He was riding high in the legislature, the odds-on favorite to succeed the near legendary Harrington.

As it turned out, the man Harrington named to replace DiCarlo as majority leader was William Bulger of South Boston, who, in the following year, 1978, would be elected by his peers as Harrington's successor.  

For the next 17 years, Bulger ruled over the Senate, accumulating and wielding great power. He had a run at the top unlike that of any comparable Massachusetts figure in modern times.

Maybe Bulger would have become Senate President one day whether or not DiCarlo got into trouble with the feds.  Maybe not.  Maybe the stars were aligned for him only in that precise moment 42 years ago and would never again line up with such force and  finality.  In one sense, it is not at all a stretch to regard the late Joe DiCarlo as the man who made Bill Bulger.


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