Boston Globe, MA
March 12 2009
At public memorial, former speaker Keverian mourned
By Michael Levenson
Globe Staff / March 12, 2009
When Angela Ciulla was out of a job, it was, she said, "the lowest
point in my life." So she called a friend from the neighborhood,
George Keverian, who just happened to be speaker of the House. Days
later, she had a job in the records department at Whidden Memorial
Hospital.
Yesterday, more than two decades later, Ciulla was at the State House,
waiting in line on a red carpet behind former speakers, senate
presidents, and a former White House chief of staff to pay her
respects at Keverian's flag-draped casket.
The pomp-filled public memorial service was a quintessentially
Massachusetts rite, part back-slapping political reunion for friends
and political rivals who had served under the voluble and quick-witted
speaker and part heartfelt tribute from the countless workaday
constituents, like Ciulla, whose lives he touched.
"You never forget the good deeds he did," she said after praying over
his casket. "He's touched everybody's heart."
Keverian, 77, who was speaker from 1985 to 1990, was found dead in his
Everett home Friday. Unique in a House known for wrathful and
iron-fisted personalities, he was recalled yesterday as a jocular and
easygoing champion of open debate and fair play. An ardent Democrat,
he was nonetheless well liked by Republicans for his warmth and humor.
"He would have people just screaming with joy," said Bill Robinson,
83, who was the Republican House leader when Keverian was speaker.
"George would go to the floor and most of it would be humor, and it
would be like a knife strike," he said, eyes widening as he leaned on
a pair of canes. "He was a master at the word, just absolutely a
master at the word."
Former White House chief of staff Andrew H. Card Jr., who sparred with
Keverian as a Republican from Holbrook, recalled Keverian's successful
effort to slash the number of House seats from 240 to 160.
"His design for me was to go back to the Planning Board in Holbrook,"
Card said, drawing hoots of laughter from former legislators as he
recalled that the plan, at one point, would have eliminated his own
seat.
"This institution has been stamped by George Keverian," Card said,
turning serious as he spoke at a tribute in the House chamber, "and
most people don't realize the stamp still exists."
The son of Armenian immigrants who had fled systematic killing in
Turkey, Keverian was valedictorian of Everett High School and a
graduate of Harvard. He never married and lived with his mother.
"His family was the members of the House," said former speaker Thomas
M. Finneran. "He was tremendously, tremendously compassionate and
affectionate, and he brought that love and respect for the institution
into that chamber every day."
Keverian was also mercilessly teased about his weight. He deflected
the jokes with cracks of his own, but the barbs stung, friends said.
"He always knew what was being said, and I remember the cheap advice
from me: Don't look, don't listen," said former Senate president
William M. Bulger, no stranger to public criticism. "Not that anyone
is impervious to it, but I think he had a tough time."
"He was a very private guy and, in his own way, a very happy guy,"
said Robinson, the former Republican leader.
At the memorial, lawmakers sat in the House chamber and listened to
tributes, then filed into the marble halls of the State House to view
the casket. A harpist played, and a color guard stood at attention,
clutching rifles in white-gloved hands.
"Ah, this is like old times," said one former legislator, greeting
another with an arm over the shoulder.
"Hey, Richie!" exclaimed another. "How are you?"
Sprinkled among the lawmakers were others who were never as prominent,
people like Dolores Hart, 76, who had known Keverian all her life. The
speaker, she said, did her taxes for free, and his mother would tailor
her son's pants.
"Anything you asked him, he would do for you," Hart said after praying
at his casket. "He was a good man, good all around. He'll be missed."
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
March 12 2009
At public memorial, former speaker Keverian mourned
By Michael Levenson
Globe Staff / March 12, 2009
When Angela Ciulla was out of a job, it was, she said, "the lowest
point in my life." So she called a friend from the neighborhood,
George Keverian, who just happened to be speaker of the House. Days
later, she had a job in the records department at Whidden Memorial
Hospital.
Yesterday, more than two decades later, Ciulla was at the State House,
waiting in line on a red carpet behind former speakers, senate
presidents, and a former White House chief of staff to pay her
respects at Keverian's flag-draped casket.
The pomp-filled public memorial service was a quintessentially
Massachusetts rite, part back-slapping political reunion for friends
and political rivals who had served under the voluble and quick-witted
speaker and part heartfelt tribute from the countless workaday
constituents, like Ciulla, whose lives he touched.
"You never forget the good deeds he did," she said after praying over
his casket. "He's touched everybody's heart."
Keverian, 77, who was speaker from 1985 to 1990, was found dead in his
Everett home Friday. Unique in a House known for wrathful and
iron-fisted personalities, he was recalled yesterday as a jocular and
easygoing champion of open debate and fair play. An ardent Democrat,
he was nonetheless well liked by Republicans for his warmth and humor.
"He would have people just screaming with joy," said Bill Robinson,
83, who was the Republican House leader when Keverian was speaker.
"George would go to the floor and most of it would be humor, and it
would be like a knife strike," he said, eyes widening as he leaned on
a pair of canes. "He was a master at the word, just absolutely a
master at the word."
Former White House chief of staff Andrew H. Card Jr., who sparred with
Keverian as a Republican from Holbrook, recalled Keverian's successful
effort to slash the number of House seats from 240 to 160.
"His design for me was to go back to the Planning Board in Holbrook,"
Card said, drawing hoots of laughter from former legislators as he
recalled that the plan, at one point, would have eliminated his own
seat.
"This institution has been stamped by George Keverian," Card said,
turning serious as he spoke at a tribute in the House chamber, "and
most people don't realize the stamp still exists."
The son of Armenian immigrants who had fled systematic killing in
Turkey, Keverian was valedictorian of Everett High School and a
graduate of Harvard. He never married and lived with his mother.
"His family was the members of the House," said former speaker Thomas
M. Finneran. "He was tremendously, tremendously compassionate and
affectionate, and he brought that love and respect for the institution
into that chamber every day."
Keverian was also mercilessly teased about his weight. He deflected
the jokes with cracks of his own, but the barbs stung, friends said.
"He always knew what was being said, and I remember the cheap advice
from me: Don't look, don't listen," said former Senate president
William M. Bulger, no stranger to public criticism. "Not that anyone
is impervious to it, but I think he had a tough time."
"He was a very private guy and, in his own way, a very happy guy,"
said Robinson, the former Republican leader.
At the memorial, lawmakers sat in the House chamber and listened to
tributes, then filed into the marble halls of the State House to view
the casket. A harpist played, and a color guard stood at attention,
clutching rifles in white-gloved hands.
"Ah, this is like old times," said one former legislator, greeting
another with an arm over the shoulder.
"Hey, Richie!" exclaimed another. "How are you?"
Sprinkled among the lawmakers were others who were never as prominent,
people like Dolores Hart, 76, who had known Keverian all her life. The
speaker, she said, did her taxes for free, and his mother would tailor
her son's pants.
"Anything you asked him, he would do for you," Hart said after praying
at his casket. "He was a good man, good all around. He'll be missed."
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress