The Ten Best and (Sigh)…The Ten Worst Legislators
Could any public body, anywhere in the world, be quite like the Texas legislature?
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In addition to the Ten Best and Ten Worst legislators, several members deserve honorable—and dishonorable—mention. In the Senate, Bob Gammage (37, Houston) led the fight for the new constitution and also sponsored other significant legislation, including authorization for health maintenance organizations (which passed) and a state alcoholism program (which died in the House). Gammage is a likely candidate for a future Ten Best list if he can learn to do his homework and work the floor; this session his press clippings were better than his legislative technique. Perhaps Gammage was just tired; his workload during the Constitutional Convention would have exhausted two lesser men. Oscar Mauzy (48, Dallas) survived a rocky start this session to retain his usual status as one of the best senators, even allowing for his role as water carrier for the more venal interests of the lawyer lobby. More than any other legislator, he shaped the final school finance bill. Bill Patman (48, Ganado), a maverick who is not a member of the Senate “club,” nevertheless single-handedly managed to stop the most flagrantly bad bill of the session—Bill Moore’s attempt to raise interest rates on small loans. The top Senate newcomer was Ray Farabee (42, Wichita Falls), whose work on the Senate Finance Committee impressed his colleagues. His skill and sensitivity on budget matters proved he has the ability to challenge the system of pork barrel tradeouts that has long been the bane of the appropriations process in both houses.
In the House, two exceptionally able members let ambition cloud their talent: both Craig Washington (33, Houston), who supported Speaker Billy Clayton, and Buddy Temple (33, Diboll), who didn’t, decided not to rock the boat because each would like to be Speaker himself some day. Another highly skilled member who didn’t quite fulfill his promise was Ronnie Earle (33, Austin); he, too, may have his eye on higher office—a district judgeship. Gene Jones (41, Houston) continued to rate near the top in his second term (like Temple, he received honorable mention in 1973); Jones was by far the best member of a mediocre Harris County delegation and one of a handful of members with thorough knowledge of the House rules. Lynn Nabers (35, Brownwood) was one of the stalwarts of the Clayton forces—a tough, savvy figure on the House floor—but removed himself from contention for the Ten Best list by doling out pork barrel projects as chairman of the Health and Welfare Committee. Finally, we were glad to see Jim Nugent (53, Kerrville) abandon most of the sneaky tactics which earned him the nickname “Super Snake” from his colleagues and a place on the Ten Worst list from us in 1973. This session Nugent’s manifest skills and independence brought him close to the top of the list where he could have been all along.
Alas, there were disappointments, too. Chet Brooks (39, Houston), who showed signs of emerging as a force in the Senate two years ago, returned to mediocrity and was found all too often in the lap of the lobby. In the House, one of the most irresponsible performances of the session was chalked up by minority legislators during the floor fight over school finance. Matt Garcia (47, San Antonio), an otherwise able legislator, was back home practicing law when the bill reached the floor for debate. The genesis of that issue, you’ll recall, was the Rodriguez case, brought by Mexican-American parents from the Edgewood section of San Antonio. No bill was more important to minorities; yet their side lost the crucial vote, 74-71, with one Mexican-American (Garcia) and four blacks (Wilhemina Delco, Craig Washington, Sam Hudson, and Senfronia Thompson) being the only House members who failed to record a vote. Bill Hollowell (47, Grand Saline), who once had a reputation as something of a populist, degenerated into a petty, obstructionist demagogue. Hollowell is respected by members for doing his homework, but that only makes matters worse because they often pay attention to him when they shouldn’t.
A special place should be reserved for freshman Calvin Rucker (34, Cedar Hill). Rucker was so bad that he accomplished the near-impossible feat of making his colleagues long for Ben “Jumbo” Atwell, a clear choice for the Ten Worst list in 1973, whom Rucker defeated in the Democratic primary. Rucker tried to undo reform legislation passed two years ago and held a fundraising dinner in the middle of the session for which lobbyists were solicited to buy tickets (almost getting himself into hot water with Travis County District Attorney Bob Smith), but managed to escape the Ten Worst list by spending an inordinate percentage of his time mercifully sleeping in the Members’ Lounge. At least he doesn’t snore.
The best and worst lineup contains few repeaters from last session’s lists. Representatives Neil Caldwell and Ray Hutchison and Senators Babe Schwartz and Max Sherman are once again on the Ten Best list. Senator Bill Meier and Representatives DeWitt Hale, Dan Kubiak, and Craig Washington failed to make the cut. Senator Jim Wallace resigned to take a judgeship and Representative Hawkins Menefee was killed in an automobile accident. Only Senators Glenn Kothmann and Mike McKinnon and Representative Doyle Willis reappear on the Ten Worst list. Five of last session’s worst—Representatives Ben Atwell, Charles Finnell, Lindsey Rodriguez, Henry Sanchez, and Wayland Simmons—failed to return to the legislature this session. Representative James Nugent vaulted to honorable mention and Representative Tim Von Dohlen was simply overshadowed by this session’s worst.
The Ten Best:
Neil Caldwell, 45, Liberal Democrat, Alvin. A popular, eight-term member who briefly held power (as Chairman of the Appropriations Committee in 1973), then suffered the uncomfortable predicament of losing it again (as a supporter this session of losing Speaker candidate Carl Parker). Could have degenerated into a sulking, uninterested back-bencher, as Parker did; instead, he remained a strong force in the House through sheer ability, hard work, and the personal esteem in which he’s held by other members. When he takes the microphone, the usually tumultuous House quiets down to a hush; there is no more incontestable tribute than that. Never castigating, never loses his temper—the legislative embodiment of the Reasonable Man.
Ranks fourth in House seniority but still looks like he’s pushing age 30, making him a most untypical Grand Old Man. Not the liberals’ chief tactician (that role went to Dallas’ Jim Mattox) but more than ever their chief strategist and philosophical Father Confessor. Liberals never made a major move without consulting him; conservatives asked him to carry some of the toughest, most controversial—and important—portions of the appropriations bill in floor debate.
No one in the House understands the budgetary process better than he, and both sides know it. As a member of this year’s Appropriations Committee, he played an important role in patiently eliminating pork barrel deals which proliferated under the new rules that allowed other committees to share in the appropriations process. Liberals and conservatives alike were outraged when Clayton failed to name him among the five House conferees on the appropriations bill; even the Speaker’s allies thought he’d clearly earned it, but the two men’s animosities go back a long way (Clayton once tried to recruit someone to run against Caldwell).
Maintains a sense of humor, which he puts to skillful use in debate. An artist (painting, music, cartoons, sculpture) whose temperament lets him see things sub specie aeternitatis; does any other member hang melancholy Old English gravestone rubbings on his office wall?
Ray Hutchison, 42, Republican, Dallas. One of the Ten Best in 1973 as a freshman, now the consensus choice as the House’s most outstanding member. Has, and displays, more innate intelligence than anyone else there; nobody approaches the lawmaking process more logically, or does more to make rational argument penetrate the often flippant House atmosphere. Has mastered the legislative technique without resorting to Good Old Boy tactics. Manages to outclass his colleagues without making them resent him for it, perhaps the most difficult achievement of all.
An articulate conservative who wins some battles with facts, others with skillful use of complex language (nobody wants to admit they don’t understand what he’s saying)—but almost always wins. Probably the one delegate at last year’s Constitutional Convention most responsible for its failure because of his insistence on a right-to-work provision. He dropped that idea this year, and became the one legislator most responsible for passage of virtually the same document, which will go to the voters this fall; his energetic leadership may yet earn him the sobriquet that Price Daniel, Jr., aspired to have: “Father of the Constitution.”
Expertly handled the volatile Equal Rights Amendment as chairman of the Constitutional Amendments Committee; held hearings far into the night, kept tempers cool and let both sides have their say, then complied with the earnest wishes of his colleagues by bottling up the issue in subcommittee for the rest of the session, rescuing them from the awful prospect of having to vote on so controversial an issue.
Espouses a thoughtful, even progressive brand of conservatism that has been all too rare in Texas politics. Has single-handedly made it respectable to be a Republican in the legislature; denies any ambition for higher office, but if the Republican party needs a gubernatorial candidate, he’s the best thing they’ve got going for them.
Grant Jones, 52, Conservative Democrat, Abilene. Last year’s Constitutional Convention was a sink-or-swim situation for state senators, who were outnumbered 150 to 31 by their House colleagues. Quite a few of them sank. One who didn’t was Grant Jones, largely on account of the same qualities that have kept him near the top this session: fine intelligence, a judicious attitude, and meticulous preparation.
A quiet, hardworking West Texan whose personality is the antithesis of pizazz. Puffs away on his pipe, doesn’t say much, but knows exactly what’s going on. Probably the best-briefed senator of all, and does most of it himself. Staffers on the Education Committee were astonished when they got a glimpse of Jones’ “bill books”—the looseleaf binders in which each senator keeps copies of the legislation pending before the committee; some members just give the books a passing glance and depend on someone else to explain what the real issues are, but Jones’ copies were underlined and annotated like the first draft of a doctoral dissertation.
Willing to tackle tough subjects foreign to his own constituency or personal interests: assigned on five minutes’ notice to a three-man panel considering Gulf Coast land subsidence, the senator from Abilene completely outshone his two Houston colleagues.
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