That didn’t take long.
Nine months after he came crashing into state government, Jim Aloisi has been tossed overboard. Or, rather, he’s, uh, decided that his work here is done. And by “work here,” we mean, “alienating the legislature he was brought on board to woo, and driving down his boss’s poll numbers for good measure.”
The Globe reports that Deval Patrick pushed the guy aside. Tim Murray, of course, denies it. He shouldn’t protest so much. Throwing Aloisi in the dumpster is the first sign of solid political instincts we’ve seen from the administration in a long, long time.
Aloisi, of course, was last seen on this corner of the internet crowing about how he couldn’t possibly disappear from public life because he’s “passionate” about T riders, his advocacy on riders’ behalf has been “unprecedented,” adding that it’s “my destiny … to be their spokesperson.”
The amazing thing in all of this is that Aloisi, while universally reviled on Beacon Hill, was brought into the administration for the sole purpose of repairing the governor’s relationship with the legislature. Instead, he made it much, much worse.
But how did it happen that Patrick came to call on Aloisi in the first place? I asked that very question of a Beacon Hill source I trust a little while ago. And here’s the story that question elicited.
Remember Bobby Trav’s elaborate Senate portrait unveiling? Sure you do. Well, that thing was MC’d by one Jim Aloisi. Aloisi put on a big show of cracking wise and busting balls and generally playing the part of smarmy Beacon Hill insider. And that was the point. Apparently, the whole thing was Aloisi’s idea. With Trav off the Hill, Aloisi’s access to the levers of power had been severed. He needed a way to get that access back. So he convinced Trav to have his portrait painted, and then suggested himself as an appropriate MC for the ceremony that was his idea in the first place.
Aloisi put on a show that day, and the administration came away more convinced than ever that this was a guy who was connected, who was well-liked, and who could get things done for them. So when they needed a Beacon Hill fixer, they came calling.
In hindsight, Aloisi’s first press conference as secretary was incredibly telling. The guy barged into the room, sidled up to a conference table, and started blinking at a battery of television cameras. He was already sparring with Therese Murray. On his second day. He sat down, a dumb look on his face, and just stared. Then he asked, “Am I supposed to start talking?”
Somebody really should’ve told him, “NO!”