Who Let the Dogs In? (30 page)

The short, easy version is that Richards lost because of President Clinton. In Florida, where Clinton was at 42 percent in the approval ratings, Governor Lawton Chiles pulled it out. In Texas, where Clinton hovers around 36 percent, there just wasn’t a shot. Another short, easy version is that she won by 100,000 votes last time against a gloriously inept opponent, and in the meantime, 120,000 people have moved into the state and registered Republican.

The more complex and more accurate version is that George Dubya ran a helluva campaign and Annie ran a dud. Their race became a peculiar black-and-white negative of the 1992 presidential race between George Dubya’s daddy and Clinton, with Richards as the stay-the-course, no-vision candidate and Bush as the proponent of change, change, change. George Dubya’s campaign was full of ideas and plans (of dubious merit, but whatthehey), while Richards neither successfully sold what should have been limned as a brilliant record nor projected any enthusiasm for a wonderful future. The New Texas disappeared. The television ads were lousy.

A lot of they-sayers believe Richards & Co. underestimated George Dubya, who ain’t no Claytie Williams. I thought she took him seriously from the git-go, which is why she flip-flopped on federal protection for Caddo Lake, thus royally annoying the enviros. But dismissing him as a “jerk” set off the now-famous angry-white-male vote. I’m not sure what Richards could have done to win over that vote; my personal opinion is that some men feel threatened by a strong woman, especially one with a quick tongue.

Of the hundreds of distinguished appointments that Richards made, which will surely include the black, brown, and female leaders of the coming years, only a literal handful were gays or lesbians. But the Christian right, using the fear-mongering hyperbole for which it is so noted, managed to imply that the capital had become a sink of iniquity. Richards’ veto of the concealed-weapons bill set off the gun nuts. I still think it was statesmanship of a high order.

As for Richards’ real record in office, to the extent that the governor of Texas is really nothing more than a salesman for the state, I’m not sure we’ve ever had better. Ann Richards is as popular outside Texas as she is inside. And although her sense of humor may have cost her votes with the angry white males, I think she has definitely proved again that it is possible to hold high public office and be witty, too.

Her biggest mistake in my book was early on, when Bob Bullock had the guts to come out for a state income tax and Richards left him out there, slowly twisting in the wind. (So did the bidness community, which has quietly been in favor of same for many years.) That was gutless.

In the bidness community’s books, Richards’ appointments in insurance, environment, and nursing home regulation were “too militant.” They felt they were perceived as the enemy when they went in to deal with those folks, and no one likes that. There’s an extent to which it was a real problem with some of Richards’ more purist appointments and an extent to which it was nothing more than willful misperception. Besides, anyone who doesn’t make enemies in office isn’t worth spit.

Richards said in a farewell interview with the press corps that if she’d known she was going to be a one-term governor, she would have “raised more hell.” I wish she had. But these are relatively minor quibbles with what is, overall, a distinguished record. My political memory of Texas governors goes back to Allan Shivers, and I know that in that time we have not had a governor who worked nearly as hard as Ann Richards. Who was nearly as gracious as Richards. Who made more good appointments than Richards. Who set a higher standard of honesty than Richards.

A special thanks is due Richards from recovering alcoholics and addicts all over the country. Her grassroots work in this field, done in addition to her duties as governor, has been tireless, inspirational, and quite simply extraordinary. From mansions in Dallas to prisons all over the state, she has changed lives. To see the governor of Texas sitting in a circle with convicted criminals saying simply, “My name is Ann, and I am an alcoholic,” is to learn a great deal about recovery.

What our notoriously weak governors actually do is set a tone for the state. So let it be recorded that for four brief shining years, Ann Richards gave the joint some class.

Good on ya, Annie. So now go camping and have some fun.

January 1995

The Lege

W
E
DIDN’T ASK
for it, we don’t want it, we’re not ready, and we haven’t done anything to deserve it; nevertheless, the Texas Legislature is about to start again.

Veteran Texans know that the only solution is to hunker down and laugh, since the one thing we can count on our Lege for is Pure D, top-grade, high-octane entertainment. Better than the zoo, finer than the circus, pratfalls, fistfights, clowns, animals—what could be better? It’s representative democracy, Texas-style, in full-blooded action. As former state senator Carl Parker used to say, “If you took all the fools out of the Legislature, it wouldn’t be a representative body anymore.”

A brief recap on some of our major players:

A lite gov can, both by the Texas Constitution and by force of personality, be far more powerful than the gov, as Bob Bullock has been. Perry hired some good staff people, and all were hopeful. Then word hit the Capitol that Perry proposed to replace Senator David Sibley of Waco as chairman of the powerful Economic Development Committee.

Sibley is widely regarded as one of the best and brightest of the Republican senators, a class act, and Bullock (never one to waste talent) gave him some big jobs. A perfect storm of rumors attended the alleged effort to remove Sibley, including one that Bush intervened.

The whole thing led to a come-to-Jesus session between Perry and the Republican senators, and now no one says anything for the record. Speculation is that Sibley keeps his chairmanship but that some of his power is stripped by moving jurisdiction on tort questions to another committee.

In general, Perry is regarded, both by philosophy and by campaign contributions, as entirely a creature of the business community, especially big business.

Wohlgemuth distinguished herself last session by killing off about fifty bills with a parliamentary maneuver because she hadn’t gotten her way on an unrelated matter. That means several dozen bill sponsors will be out gunning for anything she puts up.

We can also count on some of those jolly hot-button issues being brought up. The anti-abortion forces are determined to push parental notification through this session. School vouchers will be a big issue; they are supported not only by Republicans but also by many Chicano reps who support Roman Catholic schools and some black reps who have been convinced it will im-prove inner-city education. The generous campaign contributions of James Leininger, the San Antonio millionaire who favors vouchers, are also a factor.

Personally, I favor Jim Pitts’ old idea of handing the death penalty to eleven-year-olds—as long as we give them hot milk and a teddy bear before we slip ’em the needle.

Tax relief is in sight, but the gov’s proposal to give it all in property tax relief will get a fight. The state doesn’t even have a property tax. Sales tax relief makes more sense, especially since the sales tax weighs more heavily on poor people. And you must admit that there is a certain contradiction between saying you want to improve the public schools and making all your cuts in the tax that supports the schools.

The most promising and important initiative that the state could take (aside from putting some serious money into the schools) is in health care for poor children. This is not only high payoff in terms of cost savings down the line, but there’s a 3-to-1 federal matching program (as rich as it gets), so we could cover every poor child in the state for as little as $150 million. That’s out of a projected $2 billion surplus.

January 1999

Sympathy for the Shrub

S
TRANGE
PEACHES IN
the media world. As one who rarely identifies with Governor George W. Bush, I find myself in odd sympathy with the Shrub these days just because media people keep turning up in Austin to ask me about him. I seem to be on the list because I’m one of the few people who will say anything negative about the man on the record. What chaps me is the kind of questions I’m asked.

I offer to explain how Bush flubbed the tax-reform proposals last session—couldn’t even get his own party to go along—and the visiting journalists want to know if he ever used drugs.

I describe his one legislative triumph—a tort reform bill that has so completely reversed the state’s old reputation as a trial lawyer’s paradise that we have now become an insurance company’s paradise—and the visitors want to know if I’ve heard any gossip about his love life.

Give us a break!

I reluctantly agreed to do one more TV interview the other day because this crew said it had come to cover the issues. They said they were particularly concerned that Bush was so vague on so many important questions, and they were here to pin him down. Great, says I—this is public service.

It’s one thing to try to straddle the abortion issue when you’re governor of Texas and have no power to do anything about it; it’s another matter to straddle on abortion when you’re running for president and will be naming people to the Supreme Court. It becomes necessary to clarify what has been a singularly muddled bunch of mush, on this and other topics.