While Kevin H. White took his ceremonial last walk down the State House steps, 200 retarded children romped at a Christmas party inside at the lobby of the Massachusetts House of Representatives. Santa Claus sat in the House Gallery anxiously eyeing the proceedings on the floor, and Rep. Edward J. Dever (Dem-Arlington) roared to his fellow legislators. "I want to go back to my district not as Judas but as John the Baptist."

Wednesday, December 20, 1967, was a great day for Massachusetts' legislature, the General Court. It was on that day, early in the morning, that a $94 million tax bill was sent to and was signed by Governor John A. Volpe. In return for the successful enactment of the tax bill, Boston Mayor-elect Kevin H. White resigned as Secretary of State at noon. At 2 p.m. the children, students at "state schools" and the guests of the General Court, arrived for their annual Christmas party. A little later in the afternoon, despite the atemps of Rep. Dever (who likened House Speaker Davoren to Brutus) and a few other disgruntled legislators. John F. X. Davoren (Dem-Milford) was elected Massachusetts' new Secretary of State. And a little bit later in the day the House--under the watchful eye of Santa Claus who apparently finished his Christmas party duties--elected House Majority Leader Robert Quinn (Dem-Dorchester) the new Speaker of the House.

Quinn proclaimed himself "the happiest man in Massachusetts." But Kevin White should have been even happier. On that day he witnessed the successful completion of a very risky and daring political ploy. The tax bill which Volpe had signed that morning was one designed to enable the state government to assume the costs of all local welfare programs. In the summer of 1967, the General Court authorized the Commonwealth to take over all the welfare programs administered by the cities and towns. In essence, the Welfare Re-Organization Act meant the elimination of all municipal welfare agencies and replaced them with a state-run welfare department. Aside from assuring higher welfare care standards throughout Massachusetts, the state take-over also meant a considerable easing of the local tax burden. Municipal real estate taxes--until now the chief source of welfare funds--could be eased or the money put to other uses. For cities like Boston with huge tax rates and high welfare costs, the state's assumption of these costs would be a life-saver.

Although the General Court authorized such a takeover and decreed it effective July 1968, it neglected to set any taxes to pay the costs of welfare. Last autumn a tax bill was introduced but Speaker Davoren and the rest of the Democratic leadership weren't too interested in raising taxes and the chances of passing an adequate financing bill were meager. In other words, the Welfare Re-Organization scheme was strictly a paper one.

Davoren, with an eye to the gubernatorial election in 1970, was interested in gaining a more prestigious position than that of Speaker and had his sights set on replacing. White as the Secretary of State. At some point White connected the dire need for state welfare cost assumption with Davoren's lean and hungry look. He then did the inconceivable. On December 8, White announced that he would not resign as Secretary of State until the legislature had financed the welfare re-organization scheme.

Massachusetts politicians often talk about something which they call "the system"--the unwritten, rigid rules which govern life up on Beacon Hill. White's ultimatum was in utter defiance of "the system." Indeed, "the system" decreed that the price White would probably have to pay for his interference with the legislative process would be the scuttling of legislation that he might propose as Mayor of Boston. The risk was a great one but White probably realized or at least sensed the sharpness of Davoren's desire to replace him and also sensed Quinn's quietly seething ambition to become Speaker of the House. White also was aware that Davoren would probably so relish the prestige and elegance on White for his interference. Indeed, on his election as Secretary, Davoren beamed to reporters and legislators, "My cup runneth over."

White could sense too that Quinn, the new Speaker, would also have reasons for not wanting to punish him. The image of the House of Representatives, essentially because of its fidelity to "the system," has not been a good one in the last few years, and Quinn is not without pride or ambition. Furthermore, Quinn is a representative from Boston--the Dorchester section--and to injure legislation beneficial to Boston's plight would not sit well with the home-folks. In light of the long-standing awe and respect that exists for doing things "the system" way. White's decision to force passage of the tax bill was, nonetheless, a courageous one. Chalk one up for His Honor.

In the exuberance generated by their spectacular success on the Hill, the White people attempted, shortly after the January 1 inaugural, to get a replacement for Boston Police Commissioner Edmund L., McNamera. McNamera is not an unpopular police commissioner (indeed a telephone poll conducted on WHDH-TV's "The Big Question" revealed overwhelming popular support for McNamera). The closeness and familiarity with Boston that make him popular among his men and most Bostonians are the facts which his critics invoke when arguing for his removal. Some Bostonians--the ones who have White's ear--feel that a man a little bit more detached from the Boston Irish would make a better police commissioner.

White had been quietly talking with Police Chief Charles Ingersoll of Charlotte, N.C., about the likelihood of his replacing McNamera. One day, shortly before Ingersoll was to come to Boston for talks with White, a Boston newspaper reporter was visiting White's Mount Vernon Street home for a folksy interview with Mrs. White. While there he noticed Ingersoll's name on some note-papers on White's desk. He did some checking and the story of White's "attempt" to remove McNamera made the press. Instantly dozens of people, including the Massachusetts Chiefs of Police Association, shocked by a supposed conspiracy against McNamera, came to his defense. Ingersoll kept his appointment with White, but afterwards issued an elaborate statement denying interest in the job and insisting that his work in Charlotte was not yet complete.

It's hard to say what motivated White to try to remove McNamera so early in the term--perhaps it was that same sense of the dramatic that allowed him to be photographed, during last week's cold weather, sitting by a cot in his City Hall office prepared to stay the night answering phone calls from freezing citizens. Had he waited until he had a surer grasp on his office. White probably could have devised a plan to remove McNamera. It's doubtful that he can do it now: McNamera's friends are on guard. Indeed one White insider says, "It looks to me like McNamera will finish out the four-year term [former Mayor] Collins gave him last year."

Most of White's appointments have been excellent. His own personal staff is very strong and Hale Champion, the new Boston Redevelopment Authority administrator, is a veteran of California politics. If White were willing to call upon these people for advice and to ignore those who'd drag photogenic cots into the Mayor's office and declare a state of emergency every time a traffic light fails to work, he'd probably have many more successes like the Welfare financing incident and very few blunders like the hasty and careless attempt to remove Commissioner McNamera.