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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Bill Sullivant, 35, Conservative Democrat, Gainesville. An honest, thorough, legislative craftsman who has made a place for himself more by dint of hard work than by any excess of natural talent. Low-key, passive personality; alert but cool, an unusual combination for a successful state representative.
Performed impressively as a freshman in 1973, then rose to prominence during the Constitutional Convention with outstanding work on the finance committee. Teamed with Ray Hutchison to guide the new constitution through the House this session.
First supported Fred Head for Speaker, then helped engineer the bolt from the Head camp that cinched Clayton’s election; was rewarded with the chairmanship of the politically sensitive Environmental Affairs Committee and soon became a rare and endangered species: a House committee chairman who ran things fairly and evenhandedly. Faced with a committee whose members had been handpicked by chemical industry lobbyist Harry Whitworth, Sullivant kept important legislation moving and won the respect of environmentalists and industry representatives alike.
Among the most enigmatic of the rising young members. Ferociously ambitious, with an expansive sense of his own importance; wants to be Speaker, but has so far generated little support. Thoroughly capable; yet no one seems quite sure what makes him tick, and they’re not willing to trust him completely until they do. Maybe it’s just that he’s not a Good Old Boy.
Sarah Weddington, 30, Liberal Democrat, Austin. Best known as the attorney who persuaded the United States Supreme Court to declare most criminal laws against abortion unconstitutional. Continues to be interested in feminist issues like the rape bill (which she handled effectively on the House floor), but is definitely not just a one-issue legislator. Carries a large and diverse legislative program—too large and diverse in the opinion of many liberals, who fault her for spreading herself too thin.
Persuasive and respected in debate. Her best performance on the floor came during the fight over presidential primary legislation—Tom Schieffer’s so-called Bentsen bill. By the time she had finished with Schieffer, it was clear that he was taking things personally, a bad mistake that cost him votes.
May be the hardest working member of the House. Here is a typical performance in the session’s closing days: on the floor one night until a 2 a.m. adjournment; at 8 a.m. the following morning, headed the House Study Group strategy session on malpractice insurance; and at 2 a.m. that night, won approval of an important amendment requiring insurance companies to pre-file their rates with the State Board of Insurance.
Has a knack for making her male colleagues feel at ease in discussing serious subjects, which has helped her win the genuine respect of old-style House members like Clayton and Dick Slack who might have been predisposed to ignore her. Her feminist principles lead her into hopeless battles, such as an attempt to knock out a rider in the appropriations bill prohibiting the use of state money for abortions; surprisingly, these futile efforts have damaged neither her effectiveness nor her morale. Not afraid to work with Conservatives—a trait that has helped her break down prejudices but has also cost her the trust of kamikaze liberals. Has probably overcome more obstacles to reach the Ten Best than any other legislator.
John Wilson, 36, Conservative Democrat, LaGrange. The biggest star of the 64th Legislature, proof that the most underrated members can show convincing leadership under the right circumstances. Came to the House as a hot-headed country boy whom most representatives didn’t bother to take seriously; grew steadily in stature, broadened as a person, came into his own during the Constitutional Convention, and established himself this session as a respected force high on everyone’s Top Ten list. Not bad for a three-year career.
Prepares carefully; presents well-thought-out arguments, and is rewarded by his colleagues’ respectful attention (that may seem like a small thing until you see them cruelly ignore a member who has nothing worthwhile to say; it happens all the time). His influence is all the more remarkable considering he’s not very tall, has an utterly forgettable face, and is completely devoid of charisma. Does it all by sheer irresistible drive, like a tractor plowing a field.
In the best tradition of East Texas rural populist conservatism, spent much of the session fighting large concentrations of economic power—bank holding companies, road builders, utility companies. Led the floor fight in the House for strong utility regulation and passed a tough bill—against opposition from the Speaker—with only 29 dissenting votes, a remarkable achievement. Said one Capitol newsman: “You could put in a very small room the people up here who are really on the public side, and he’s one of them.”
Tenacious and tough once he’s latched on to an issue. Some would even say stubborn: he occasionally gets committed to a position too early, persuades himself with his own arguments, and won’t bend. But given the oversupply of flaky legislators every year, it’s a pleasure to find one who isn’t.
The Ten Worst:
O.H. “Ike” Harris, 43, Republican, Dallas. Good-natured playboy of the Senate set. Has the best job he can imagine: security (a safe district with constituents who’ll let him loaf provided he reminds them now and then that he’s “conservative”), prestige (all the status that a former student body president of SMU could wish for), ego gratification (lots of pretty girls to decorate his office), and influence (every special interest in Texas would love to know him better). Never mind that he’s a double zero as a legislator; that’s not the point.
A sad case of unapplied talent; he’s perfectly capable of being an outstanding member (he’s not dumb), and his colleagues like him, but he doesn’t care enough to try. Sits through committee meetings looking bored and restless, as though he were daydreaming at a sermon. Regards attendance at Senate sessions as a burden to be tolerated for the sake of the after-hours fringe benefits.
Seems to operate on the principle that if you represent enough special interests, eventually you’ll have a majority of the people behind you. Authored some of the session’s sleaziest bills. One would have required citizens to pay for a peek at “open” public records. Another—backed by contractors—weakened state laws requiring fire escapes in new buildings. A third would have delayed, from seven to fifteen years, the time after which uncashed travelers checks would escheat to the state—a strange proposal for someone who harps on the need to save taxpayers’ money, since it would have cost the state treasury $150,000 a year and given the funds to companies like American Express.
Isn’t even interested in Republican party legislation, which he leaves to Fort Worth Senator Betty Andujar. Has a long history of talking like a Republican back home and voting compliantly with the Democratic Senate leadership in Austin. Was the decisive vote this year against a party purity amendment which would have strengthened the Republican primary. Very interested in parties, however—just not the political kind.
Fred Head, 36, Liberal Democrat, Athens. Has anyone fallen farther than Fred Head? Once a serious contender for Speaker, he has now alienated practically everyone in the House; even his former supporters won’t defend him. A toxin in the legislative bloodstream. Not the least bit above using cheap, strong-arm tactics to get whatever he wants. Tried to bludgeon the Dean of the LBJ School of Public Affairs into hiring his former campaign aide as a faculty member at $36,000 a year; unsubtly reminded the astonished Dean that he was “Chairman of the House Higher Education Committee” and gave him a 24-hour ultimatum to comply. Because UT appropriations were subject to Head’s whims, the aide was hired; a few days later, Regent Allan Shivers found out about it and forced him to resign.
Head’s pork barrel performance as committee chairman left other members thunderstruck; it had the wild abandon of Reconstruction carpetbaggers gone berserk. Took huge chunks of money recommended for UT-Austin and Texas A&M, then scattered it willy-nilly among his political allies; at one point, he and his fellow committee members had jockeyed $38 million worth of largesse into (or near) their home districts (much of it in defiance of Legislative Budget Board recommendations). Even tried to shut down the Institute of Texan Cultures in San Antonio by drying up its funds. Head apparently was hoping less-favored members would come submissively and try to make a “deal”; instead, they were repulsed.
Tries to play power politics without understanding what power politics is. Fights some of the right battles (stopping vague, “lump-sum” budgeting at UT) in all the wrong ways (his head-on confrontation was doomed to failure because he hugely underestimated UT’s political clout, an error which practically anyone could have pointed out to him). Made exactly the same kind of mistakes as redistricting chairman last session. Said one retired lobbyist who has watched the legislature for years: “Fred Head uses power less effectively than anyone else there.”
He also consistently abuses it. When the legislature passed an emergency appropriation for colleges and universities early in the session, Head claimed the schools were not supposed to use the money to increase faculty salaries—although the bill clearly permitted it. When he heard that some colleges were granting faculty pay increases, Head was infuriated. He tried to pressure the comptroller’s office into blocking all funds going to the colleges, including physically retrieving the pay warrants. After the comptroller’s office refused to comply with this extraordinary demand, Head voted throughout the session to cut the comptroller’s appropriations.
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