“But, Peter, how do we get to Neverland?”
“Fly, of course.…It’s easy.…All it takes is faith…and trust and a little bit of pixie dust. Now think of the happiest things. It’s the same as having wings.”
—From the Walt Disney film Peter Pan
SPEAKING OF FLIGHTS OF FANCY, is there any better way to describe a Democratic quest to win back the governorship of Texas in 2006? It would seem easier to defy gravity. Texas is the reddest of red states these days, with Republicans in control of every power base “from the courthouse to the White House,” as the saying went in LBJ’s heyday. Democrats have no statewide officeholders, no source of money, no obvious candidates. Meanwhile, the lone announced challenger to incumbent governor Rick Perry is singer-novelist-humorist Kinky Friedman, who will run as an independent, but only if he can get the necessary 45,539 signatures of registered voters who didn’t participate in either party’s primary.
The first question that comes to mind is, Should the Democrats just forget the whole thing? “We’re not ready to win yet,” says Austin-based political consultant George Shipley, the leading Democratic consultant in the glory days of the Democratic party, who helped elect the likes of Lloyd Bentsen, Bill Hobby, Bob Bullock, and Ann Richards. “The numbers aren’t right.” But no serious political party can allow the opposition a free pass at the top of the ticket. Even if a Democratic victory is next to impossible, there are still local candidates for Congress, for the Legislature, and for county offices who need a standard-bearer to articulate the party’s message. And the way the current legislative session is going, there may be a lot to articulate, such as putting tax cuts ahead of education.
Another reason the Democrats have to field a candidate is that Texas gubernatorial elections have been nothing if not unpredictable. In 1972 the backlash from the Sharpstown scandal wiped out Preston Smith in the Democratic primary and elected Dolph Briscoe. Six years later John Hill upset Briscoe in the primary and was poised to waltz into the Governor’s Mansion until Bill Clements exploited Jimmy Carter’s unpopularity to become the state’s first Republican governor since Reconstruction. Clements was regarded as a shoo-in for reelection, but Democratic attorney general Mark White rode the crest of a national anti-Republican fervor to oust him in 1982. Clements returned the favor in ’86. And who could forget how GOP oilman Claytie Williams had the 1990 race sewn up, until Ann Richards reaped the benefits of his self-inflicted wounds? That surprise was matched in ’94 when a certain political newcomer with a certain famous name beat Richards despite her widespread popularity. But the past two elections have produced the expected easy victories for George W. Bush and Perry.
So let the search for a sacrificial lamb begin. The strongest Democratic candidate would be one of the big-city mayors: Laura Miller, of Dallas, who insists she has no interest in state politics, or Houston mayor Bill White, who likewise says he is running for reelection, not statewide office. White has a large political base, a business background, personal wealth, and bipartisan support (albeit for a nonpartisan office). But he is still in his first term, and he would be foolhardy to rush into a race while the Republicans are at the peak of their strength. He can afford to serve three 2-year terms and take another look at political trends in 2010, which should be more favorable to Democrats.
Thus far, only one Democrat has been willing to test the water in public: former Houston congressman Chris Bell, who was defeated in the 2004 primary after the Tom DeLay–inspired congressional redistricting map redrew his district to make it predominantly black. After announcing an exploratory effort to consider the race, the tall, silver-haired Bell has been traveling the state, practicing a traditional Democratic stump speech, cracking jokes about DeLay on Al Franken’s radio show, hiring consultants, and raising money. On a recent spring morning, I dropped in to see Bell sip coffee with about 85 west Houston party faithful at the Tracy Gee Community Center. He elicited appreciative laughter when he mentioned the ethics complaint he had filed against DeLay, which resulted in an official admonishment for DeLay’s conduct. But he also drew gasps from the crowd as he recounted the tale of a San Antonio child who had starved to death because state budget cuts had left Child Protective Services too shorthanded to make a timely intervention. “Budgets are moral documents,” Bell told the group, taking a swipe at Perry. “They reflect our shared priorities. What would Jesus do? I don’t think he would balance the budget on poor children.”
It is not unheard of for a Texas congressman to win a statewide race: Lyndon Johnson won a Senate seat in 1948, and Phil Gramm did likewise in 1984. Far more have tried and failed—Kent Hance, Jim Chapman, John Bryant, and Ken Bentsen, to name a few. The problem is that congressmen get little publicity back home (Gramm, a national figure, was the exception) and lack the statewide name recognition that a gubernatorial candidate must have. Name recognition can be bought, but at a price—say, $10 million.
The rest of the Democratic field consists of familiar veterans. Billionaire banker Tony Sanchez, a big loser to Perry in 2002, has said publicly that he’s considering another run. (Don’t bet on it.) Former state comptroller John Sharp, who lost close races for lieutenant governor in 1998 (to Perry) and 2002 (to David Dewhurst), isn’t talking publicly, but supporters believe he’s interested in making the race. Jim Turner, another former congressman who lost his seat in redistricting, has expressed interest in a statewide race, and former Austin mayor (and 2002 attorney general nominee) Kirk Watson won’t rule one out, though each is likely to seek an office other than governor. Another name that gets tossed around is Roy Spence, an Austin advertising executive, giving birth to the jest that his firm’s name, GSD&M,