The Ten Best and The Ten Worst Legislators
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As usual, on of the Legislature’s premier bill passers; so versatile that he ranked as one of the top killers as well. Turned around votes during debate to beat a bad ol’ bill letting contractors off the hook for negligence in constructing public projects; also killed in the closing hours a bill he discovered could be used as a vehicle to store nuclear waste in Texas. Tackled the long-standing squabble between commercial and sport fishermen—ignoring the adage that anyone who fools with a fishing bill had better enjoy private life—and somehow managed to pass fish and shrimp conservation bills that made him the hero of both sides.
Godfather of the Killer Bees; spent the session flailing his colleagues for being beholden to the lobby with comments like “If God himself came out here today and told you to vote against this bill, you still wouldn’t do it.” Harangued, threatened, cajoled, and—always—lectured his fellow senators: got away with such constant moralizing by being a charter member of the Senate club. Feuded constantly with the other charter member, Bill Moore of Bryan; by harping on his old enemy’s excesses and taunting him into near-fistfights, Schwartz has neutralized the Bull of the Brazos, who now has trouble passing bills.
Never free of criticism, blamed by a few for running a sloppy Natural Resources Committee, by a few more for not contributing to the negotiations on issues like consumer protection. There is some validity to both counts, but critics ignore Schwartz’ ultimate role: a man to let others solve what they can already see and show them what they cannot.
Craig Washington, 37, liberal Democrat, Houston. The best natural politician in the House, as born to his medium as Mikhail Baryshnikov is to dance. Whether he’s trying to kill a bill, add an amendment, or cut off the enemy’s retreat with a parliamentary maneuver, Washington is the show other members most like to watch.
Provided the House with its one unforgettable moment of the session during debate over his bid to raise child welfare payments. Washington pulled out a bag of clothing and toilet articles purchased at a cut-rate store to illustrate what the current $32.58 a month can buy: a pair of cheap jeans, crepe-sole shoes, two pairs of socks, deodorant, toothpaste, and shampoo (but no food) for $27.27. “You know what that leaves?” he asked. “Pocket change. I want you to look at what you’re giving your children. You’ll see them again. You’ll see them going to the Texas Department of Corrections. Gut up one time, members. We vote on all kinds of rotten things in the appropriations bill. Gut up this one time and you’ll be doing yourself a favor.” The vote: 103-37 for gutting up, the first time the House had voted such a raise in ten years.
Eloquence was only one of his weapons; foremost among the rest was an asset originally observed in Theodore Roosevelt: he had an absolute sense of political pitch that enabled him to strike the notes the chorus awaited. Was the House in a mood to duck an issue? Washington would move to postpone it, as when he scuttled a bill absolving doctors of negligence during emergencies. Was the House disgusted with the Senate? Just after the Senate passed its abysmal version of deceptive-trade “reform,” Washington stalled an anti-union bill by suggesting that representatives should let the Senate cut itself up on the bill first. Was welfare being identified as a black issue? He pointed out that 57 per cent of the kids on welfare are white, only 14 per cent black.
Enhanced his effectiveness by keeping his distance from the Gang of Four. Underscored that he was a member of the House first, a black second, and an ideologue last. Refrained from attacking Clayton and the team; made a seconding speech for the Speaker and praised conservatives like Nub Donaldson from the microphone.
If he had a flaw, it was that he sometimes failed to recognize that there is a larger political arena beyond the House floor. Lost some of his welfare gains by failing to lobby the Senate; also failed to follow up a floor victory to improve permanent funding for Prairie View A&M until it was too late. Could be even better than he is, but to criticize his shortcomings is a little like lamenting that cats aren’t like dogs: there is enough satisfaction in what he is without dwelling on what he is not.
The Ten Worst
Betty Andujar, 66, Republican, Fort Worth. Sigh. We don’t really want to do this. As one old Capitol hand put it, “She’s such a good-hearted gal, you hate to criticize her.” But he did—and so does everyone else.
Her basic problem: she just doesn’t understand. The same theme—her lack of intuitive political sense—runs through every Andujar story. Never was this more evident than during the confirmation hearing for Joe Bishop, nominated to the University of South Texas board of directors. Andujar described him as “not a quality man,” gave colleagues copies of anti-Bishop petitions signed by faculty members, and distributed a letter accusing him of improper personal conduct. If it sounds like Andujar was out to bust him, think again: she was his sponsor! Since Bishop was her constituent, Andujar could have defeated him simply by invoking senatorial courtesy, but she just couldn’t do it: one senator was for him, another wasn’t, it was just too confusing. “There’s a great deal of politics in this,” she complained. What did she expect to find in the Senate?
Political complications always seemed to baffle her. In four sessions, has never learned how to pass a bill. Rarely had the votes lined up in advance; only after she’d tried, and failed, to clear a bill for debate did she go from desk to desk to find out what the objections were. Couldn’t make connections: when a colleague proposed funding battered women’s centers with a $5 increase in the marriage license fee, she thought he was kidding. Very flaky: during the running battle over a separate presidential primary, she’d tell opponents of the idea, “I’m with you this week.” Every senator reneges now and then, but they don’t advertise it in advance.
Despite all the foregoing, we thought that some weight should be attached to the fact that of all the senators, she’s the one who does the least intentional harm. But that was before the last day, when she killed a bill designed to prevent hospitals from denying treatment to emergency patients who can’t speak English. Said Andujar, a physician’s wife: “My solution is they had better learn English. If I were sick in Hong Kong, I would be in trouble.” Just as we had pulled our Worst net out of the water, she jumped right into the boat.
Arnold Gonzales, 40, liberal Democrat, Corpus Christi. The archetypal legislative cockroach: the problem wasn’t what he carried away but what he fell into and messed up. Ruined, among other things, any hope of meaningful Sunset legislation emerging from the House Government Organization Committee, where he was often the swing vote on a closely divided panel. Alas, Gonzales always seemed to be swinging in the same direction: away from the determined coalition of Republicans and liberal Democrats struggling to make Sunset work.
The overriding issue of Sunset—whether licensing and policing agencies like the Real Estate Commission and the State Bar would be run for the benefit of the professions or the public—escaped him entirely. Couldn’t see beyond his personal experience: opposed efforts to merge the perpetually feuding cosmetology and barber boards because he likes to get manicures. Can’t see the connection? Neither could his frustrated colleagues, who had counted on Gonzales as a vote for consolidation. Also reneged on forcing the State Bar to put its money in the State Treasury. “He was a complete toady for the professional groups,” a discouraged committee member sighed. “All they had to do was get a Mexican American professional to call him.” Like a feather pillow, Gonzales retained the impression of the last person to sit on him.
Constantly reminded the House he possesses a PhD, perhaps, the best evidence that education doesn’t equal intelligence. When the discussion got over his head, which was frequently, asked colleagues surly questions like “What makes you think you’re so smart?” The combination of arrogance and stupidity led him to make the worst error of judgment of the entire session: a baseless accusation that a former House member, now a Dallas lawyer, had “lied under oath” to a committee while testifying about one of Gonzales’ bills. Only the intervention of Billy Clayton and other intermediaries saved him from a lawsuit.
Disastrously inept at the legislative game. Asked by a group of veterans to introduce a bill, Gonzales procrastinated until they turned to his hometown Mexican American rival, Hugo Berlanga. Then when Berlanga introduced the bill, Gonzales accused him of stealing it. Spent the rest of the session sniping at Berlanga and Berlanga’s legislation: forbade his staff to speak to Berlanga’s and once rushed to the microphone to interrupt Berlanga and chide him for a mispronunciation, a performance that did nothing for their ability to work together effectively on common local problems. If, after two sessions, Gonzales still thinks that’s how the game is played, it’s time he looked at the scoreboard.
Forrest Green, 57, conservative Democrat, Corsicana. Classic furniture who had the misfortune to get into a position where he was required to do something; sure enough, he couldn’t. Planned to quit after last session but came back at Clayton’s request to take the chairmanship of the Agriculture and Livestock Committee. Why he wanted it remains a mystery.
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