The worm turns. Former Republican House Majority leader Tom DeLay is resigning his seat in Congress. The news came 72 hours after the second of two former top aides pleaded guilty to running a “criminal enterprise” from inside DeLay’s office. Their admissions are part of the wider-ranging congressional-corruption probe into the activities of conservative lobbyist Jack Abramoff, who has pleaded guilty to his central role in an influence-peddling scheme.

DeLay is already under indictment in Texas and awaiting trial for charges that he laundered money and violated state campaign-finance laws as a result of his successful bid to replace Democrats with Republicans by radically gerrymandering 32 Texas House districts. In coming months, the US Supreme Court will rule on the constitutionality of those moves.

While DeLay has yet to be indicted in the Abramoff scandal or named as a target by federal investigators, a third former DeLay staffer has been so named. In an unrelated investigation, one of his most prominent campaign contributors has pleaded guilty to crimes including conspiracy; wire, tax, and mail fraud; and corruption of public officials.

The noose, it appears, is tightening around the neck of the man who was once the most powerful in Congress — and perhaps the nation. His fellow Texan, George W. Bush, may be president. But it was DeLay, perhaps even more than Vice-President Dick Cheney, who, in most domestic matters, pulled Bush’s strings from his once seemingly impregnable House power base. And although Abramoff has told associates that he has nothing on DeLay, nobody is saying what DeLay’s former aides are telling investigators.

DeLay’s surprise resignation from Congress may save him from certain political defeat. But his legacy of sleaze will live on. From his days as right-hand man to the now-disgraced former Republican House Speaker Newt Gingrich, who is enjoying a surprising political rehabilitation thanks to the collective amnesia of the American public, DeLay (or “The “Hammer”) has wallowed in his reputation as a political thug. He wore the jackboots of the GOP’s top thought cop with vengeful pride. And to secure his preeminence, DeLay masterminded the election of that amiable clod from Ohio, Dennis Hastert, to be Gingrich’s successor — hardly a competitor for power. Along the way, he never encountered a compromise he didn’t despise.

The pathetic and internationally embarrassing impeachment of the undeniably popular Bill Clinton would not have succeeded but for DeLay’s smarmy muscle. But that outrage at least had the patina of legality. DeLay demonstrated his penchant for mob rule when, during the tense days following the stalemated 2000 presidential election, he stage-managed a riot by a teaming horde of preppily clad Republicans (it may sound surreal, but it’s true) inside Miami’s downtown Government Center, so spooking the Dade County canvassing board reviewing local election returns that the board summoned police and stopped its proceedings. This was the little-appreciated but pivotal event that propelled Florida’s 2000 presidential election before the US Supreme Court.

It’s quite a record, and all beyond legal — if not historical — rebuke. Not that DeLay cares.

However, as any fan of Hollywood B-grade pictures knows, the arm of the law is long. Like so many power-crazed zealots, DeLay’s downfall was due to overreaching. Like Richard Nixon, his lack of sense of proportion did him in. DeLay was the principal architect of the so-called K Street Project, named after the Washington neighborhood where so many top lobbyists and key trade associations are headquartered. Not content to allow these pimps of the influence-peddling business to maintain bipartisan bordellos, he moved to have them employ only Republican harlots. K Street was not amused. And now DeLay is gone, having forgotten that elected officials come and go, but special interests are, well, special.

DeLay’s resignation will probably preserve his seat for the Republicans. But DeLay, who worked as a pest exterminator before entering politics, probably sniffed a power change coming in Washington. Bush’s Iraq war and the DeLay-sponsored Abramoff scandals could cost the Republicans their majority in the House of Representatives. It was bad enough for the once supremely powerful DeLay to be merely influential as a rank-and-file member of the Republican-controlled House. (His odds of beating his pending Texas charges vary, but are probably somewhere near 50-50.) But the thought of being in the minority was just too distressing. If that were to happen, censure of his boy Bush would be probable and impeachment possible. The odds are not auspicious. Time, he figured, to cut and run.

When Texas authorities fingerprinted DeLay as a result of his money-laundering charges, he flashed a broad and determined smile. “My prayer,” he explained, “was basically: ‘Let people see Christ through me. And let me smile.’ ” In England, patriotism is said to be the last refuge of scoundrels. Here, it’s religion. We’re praying for another indictment.

Historic health care
What Bill and Hillary Clinton and the US Congress failed to do, Massachusetts has accomplished. This state has made national headlines and — more important — history by adopting a universal health-care plan that covers nearly everyone. We’re the first in the nation to do so. And it was accomplished by expecting the government, business, and individuals to share the burden.

Its provisions are not perfect, but as compromises go, this plan is a very good one. It took five months of negotiation by Senate president Robert Travaglini, House Speaker Sal DiMasi, and Governor Mitt Romney to seal the deal, which, not unimportantly, will save the state $385 million in federal funds. Here was a rare instance in which the two legislative bodies worked together and with Romney. Even more rare, Romney’s ambition to be president prompted him to actually do something positive for Massachusetts.

It’s a big and complicated measure, but it’s hard to imagine achieving anything better at the moment. As far as experts can tell, it’s not too onerous for small businesses, which in this age of monopoly already have a tough time competing. And it should get most — though not all — of the working poor insured. That is perhaps its most solid accomplishment. At a time when national government so overwhelmingly favors the haves over the have-nots, it’s a step, a crucial step, in the right direction.

On the downside, mandated coverage will be expensive — some think unfairly so — for young healthy people. It could encourage business to provide cut-rate insurance plans. And it could encourage some businesses to cut coverage altogether; pay what is, in effect, a fine into a dedicated fund; and transition employees to new discounted personal plans.