Reporter
The Unkindest Cut
The merits of redistricting are arguable, but one thing is not: David Dewhurst has wounded the Texas Senate—and his own reputation.
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On July 28, just before the start of the second special session, eleven Democratic senators fled to Albuquerque. Early in the boycott, I visited John Whitmire, a thirty-year veteran of the Legislature, in the lobby of the Marriott Pyramid Hotel, where the senators had made camp. I'd been looking forward to my visit, since the state Republican party Web site promised me that the Marriott was "one of the most luxurious resort-like hotels in Albuquerque." After the big buildup, I was a little disappointed by the plastic greenery and faux waterfall.
During the regular session, Whitmire had enjoyed a close relationship with Dewhurst. Since Whitmire served as dean of the Senate, the freshman lieutenant governor often sought his counsel. In July, as the Senate hurtled toward disaster, Whitmire spoke to Dewhurst almost daily. "I urged him to honor the two-thirds rule," he told me. If lawmakers had to secure only a simple majority, he said, "you wouldn't have to reach out to the opposing view." Members of both parties support the rule. "Those of us that represent rural areas would not want to see the rule changed permanently," said Republican senator Robert Duncan, of Lubbock. "It is not even a partisan deal."
Dewhurst cites several occasions in which the Senate has disregarded the two-thirds rule, notably in 1992, when then-lieutenant governor Bob Bullock dispensed with it to pass a Senate redistricting plan. But Whitmire and other senators there at the time say Bullock had a back-room understanding with his colleagues: Everyone agreed that a bill should be passed quickly so judicial review could begin immediately. Like most Democrats, and most of the Capitol for that matter, Whitmire believes that political ambitions guided Dewhurst this summer. "I assume he believes that if he doesn't take care of the hard-core partisan voters, he won't be [in office]," Whitmire said. "I argued that he could withstand the pressure from the right. I kept telling him that they couldn't touch him—he's got great name identification, wealth, looks, smarts . . ." And, once upon a time, a record of bipartisan leadership.
Whitmire's strong belief in the two-thirds rule inspired him to join the boycott; it's also why he abandoned it a month later, just after Labor Day. Each day the Democrats stayed away, support grew among Republican senators in Austin for dispensing with the rule. Whitmire said that at the outset of the boycott, there were six votes among Republicans to change the Senate rules. Under pressure from Perry, he said, that number has grown to ten. "I decided if we were out there any longer, we were going to lose the two-thirds rule and the integrity of the Senate," he told me. Before he agreed to return, Whitmire said he got Dewhurst to back reinstatement of the two-thirds rule for future issues. "There has been that commitment made to me," he said.
THE BOYCOTT BEGAN WITH A TIP from a Republican House member: "They are going to sine die [adjourn] the first session, lock the doors, and change the rules," Whitmire recalled. Senate Democrats quickly huddled to review their options. Leticia Van de Putte, of San Antonio, the chair of the Democratic caucus, said her "mama's instincts" had prompted her to prepare for a quick departure on July 28. She had scouted out-of-state cities to meet a short list of criteria—a Democratic state, near Texas, with a good heart hospital, since Lucio had recently suffered a heart attack—and had arranged to have airplanes standing by.
Whitmire raised the question of how long the boycott would last. A lawyer present at the meeting said he thought he could quickly obtain a court order barring the arrest of senators in Texas; if that occurred, they would be gone about a week. It was agreed, though, that they should be prepared to stay the duration of the second special session. Eleven of the Senate's twelve Democrats agreed to leave the state; Ken Armbrister, of Victoria, whose district is dominated by Republicans, stayed in Austin.
Sensitive to charges that they were "not on the job" or "on vacation," the Democrats assiduously kept to a schedule in Albuquerque. Convening early each day in a hotel conference room lined with gifts from admirers across the country (the Oberlin College Democrats, for instance, sent cookies), they held strategy meetings and press conferences and read supportive mail aloud to each other. The exercise took on the ambience of a religious retreat. Solidarity was stressed, since the defection of only one member would give the Senate a quorum and sink the whole enterprise.
But Whitmire fretted that an unhealthy psychology had taken hold. Anyone who questioned the boycott was assailed. Meanwhile, Perry vowed to continue calling special sessions, meaning that the boycott would have to continue indefinitely. There was no "exit strategy," and senators began talking about staying until December.
Whitmire was also concerned that the group was taking its cues from consultants and lawyers flown in by the national Democratic party, which was using the Texas boycott as a fundraising opportunity. As the weeks wore on, the Democrats' message, he said, became increasingly shrill. Eventually, his colleagues, all of whom represent predominantly minority districts, played the race card. They sued Dewhurst in federal court, arguing that his decision on the two-thirds rule violated the rights of their constituents. The weakness of the argument is its assumption that only Democrats can represent ethnic minorities—a sweeping stereotype itself.
Back in the Senate, Republicans were livid that they were being labeled racists. "The rhetoric has raised this to another level of irritability," said Duncan. The GOP senators felt justified in voting to fine the absent members because the boycott could set a precedent allowing a small number of senators to shut down the body. "Quorum-busting," Duncan said, "could become a routine end-of-session thing." But that's true only if the two-thirds rule ceases to exist.
WHILE WHITMIRE WAS FACING bitter criticism from members of his own party for breaking the boycott, Republican Bill Ratliff, of Mount Pleasant, was undergoing similar treatment from members of his own party. Ratliff, chosen by his fellow senators to serve as lieutenant governor when Perry ascended to the governor's office in 2000, earned the affectionate nickname Obi-Wan Kenobi, after the venerable Star Wars character, for his unfailing grace and wisdom. Though Dewhurst forced him out of the 2002 lieutenant governor's race with financial muscle, Ratliff's influence among his peers continued this session.
But the first special session ended with an impasse after Ratliff agreed to sign a letter with ten Democrats, announcing their intention to block debate on redistricting. Dewhurst blames Ratliff for the impasse; he believes he had a commitment from Ratliff to support a new congressional map that fairly dealt with northeast Texas, which Ratliff represents. Once he lost Ratliff's vote, he says, he had no choice but to dispense with the two-thirds rule. Ratliff denies he made any commitment to Dewhurst and says a "number of Republican senators" encouraged him to take a stand against the issue, because they opposed it as well. "I knew at the time it was going to be hard for some of them to acknowledge they had come to me," Ratliff said. "They were rather clandestine conversations."
Their objections may lie partly in the map adopted by the House. Craddick drew a new congressional district for his hometown, Midland, which has unpopular repercussions in neighboring areas. Duncan, the chairman of the Senate committee overseeing redistricting, objected to the map because it pairs his hometown congressman, Randy Neugebauer, with popular Democrat Charlie Stenholm, of Abilene.
SO WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN June 10, when Dewhurst reaffirmed his support for the two-thirds rule as an essential civilizing influence on the Senate, and July 16, when Dewhurst decided to abandon the two-thirds rule? The answer is, he was for the rule as long as he thought he had 21 votes, but not after he realized he didn't have them. "It's political suicide for any Democrat to support redistricting and for any Republican to oppose it," he said, "lieutenant governor included."
After Perry called a third session in mid-September, and the Democrats announced their intention to show up, Dewhurst expressed hope that the Senate would quickly adopt a fair map and put the redistricting issue behind it. He told me he had no regrets over dropping the two-thirds rule; indeed, he would "do it again." The hard feelings, he said, would fade over time, because "bruises heal." The Senate is "on track" to come together and work constructively on issues he's anxious to address, including school finance. "This wasn't my idea of how to spend the summer," he said ruefully.
Now he'll spend the rest of his tenure as lieutenant governor trying to get the partisan genie back in the bottle. The Senate has a long history of moderates' setting the tone: in the eighties Democrat Ray Farabee and Republican Bob McFarland; in the nineties, Ratliff, fellow Republican David Sibley, and Democrat John Montford. The fight over the two-thirds rule allowed hard-core partisans like Todd Staples, of Palestine, Tommy Williams, of the Woodlands, and Troy Fraser, of Horseshoe Bay, to gain influence inside the Republican caucus, a development that will make it much harder for Dewhurst to restore the bipartisanship he says he wants.
Maybe the evil-twin theory isn't so outrageous after all.
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