An American Son: A Memoir (25 page)

I didn’t expect any of these changes to be controversial. But multiple media outlets would soon report them as an extravagant waste of public funds, claiming we had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to remodel my office and build a fancy dining room. It was inaccurate, sensationalized reporting, to say the least, and disappointing. Even more disappointing was the failure of Democratic members, the beneficiaries of many of the improvements, to defend my decisions.

The reports were followed by editorials implying I had gone on a wild spending spree in my first days as speaker. It was my first experience with intense media scrutiny, and I can’t say I enjoyed it much. The fact that we had inexpensively furnished an existing space didn’t stop some reporters from claiming I had built a fancy dining room. Neither did the fact that almost all the changes we had made to existing committee office space discourage them from reporting that I had spent thousands to spruce up my own office.

Many of Jeb Bush’s aides were available when he left office. They were smart, talented policy experts who had helped build Jeb’s reputation as an innovative, bold and effective executive. I admired them and valued their expertise and creativity. We hired dozens of them. They were already on the public payroll, so the hires were lateral, which meant they could keep the salaries they had made in the governor’s office. Almost none of them worked for me directly; most of them were hired as staff directors for the committees. They, too, became targets for reporters.

Just weeks in the office, and I was taking quite a beating. I had hoped the press would first focus on the one hundred innovative policy ideas the house would pursue during my speakership. But that was naive of me. The experience taught me an unpleasant although useful lesson about how reporters, especially print reporters, are under constant pressure to uncover controversy and scandal even where none exists.

The year 2007 began with the challenge of Governor Crist’s populist approach to the property insurance crisis, and the different style he brought to the office of governor. Jeb was bold in policy, a man of ideas and ideals. He was mature in judgment and unafraid to hold fast to an unpopular decision if he thought it was right. Charlie Crist was his opposite. He is a polite and pleasant man, but he didn’t really have any fixed ideals or a particular interest in policy. And rather than attempt to persuade an angry public to be careful not to demand policies they might come to regret, he was the first to pick up a pitchfork and storm the castle. He had beaten us in a game of chicken over the property insurance bill, threatening to veto anything that didn’t meet his demands. We won a few concessions and let it go. I had passed a bill I didn’t like. I had been mired in a press firestorm about office construction and staff hires. I had lost Ralph Arza. In February, my chief of staff quit to run for an early opening in the state senate, as did two more of my twelve leaders, including my speaker pro tempore, Dennis Baxley. It had been a rocky start, to say the least.

J
EB BUSH WOULD HAVE BORROWED A TERM FROM JIM Collins and called it a B-HAG, a big, hairy, audacious goal. Eliminating property taxes on homes and replacing them with a consumption tax was the boldest reform in our 100 Ideas project. Soaring property taxes had become a crushing burden on many Florida families. A consumption tax would have taken less of their income. When you ran the numbers for them and showed them their tax burden would be smaller, you could convince them to support it. But it was an easy position to demagogue, and a very heavy political lift. Opponents would focus on the increase in the sales tax, ignoring the elimination of the property tax.

The leadership team debated whether to chance bold reform, settle for a more modest approach or adopt the purely cosmetic changes Governor Crist had proposed during his campaign. We voted to go big.

We unveiled the plan a few weeks before the start of the regular session, and it dominated the news throughout the state. I was pleasantly surprised at the initial reaction. Local governments expressed concern with the proposal, but most political figures offered support for it or reserved judgment. Then the gravity of politics set in, and we had a huge fight on our hands.

Democrats who had at first supported or shown interest in the idea received instructions from their party leadership to begin attacking it, and
retreated to their default position of opposing it as a boon to wealthy home owners. The Florida Senate played the usual Tallahassee game of seizing a major house initiative as a hostage to use in negotiations over the senate’s legislative priorities. Even Republican house members were nervous. Senate veteran legislators employed consultants and lobbyists to warn members they would expose themselves to attacks in the next election for supporting a sales tax increase.

The press, too, became skeptical. Only one editorial board gave the idea fair consideration. The others cast it as some sort of supply-side trick to help the rich get richer and bankrupt local governments. Some even implied I supported the plan because I would personally profit from it, calculating how much I would save on my property taxes if the legislation became law.

We had taken the plunge, though, and there was nothing to be done but fight our way through, win or lose. I was shorthanded in the fight. My chief of staff, who had been instrumental in organizing the leadership and our agenda, had left, as had four of the original members of my leadership team. Then one of my closest friends in the leadership, Stan Mayfield, was diagnosed with esophageal cancer, and would spend most of the session in Houston, where he was treated. We had spent over two years choosing and building our leadership, and creating an esprit de corps among us. Now almost half of them were gone, replaced by people who hadn’t been involved in our planning. We also started too late. We should have begun advocating for the plan in the summer before the election so we could have claimed it as a mandate. Or, at the very least, we should have started when we released “100 Innovative Ideas for Florida’s Future.” But it took much longer than I’d expected to reach consensus in the leadership, and by the time we did there were only two weeks left before the session convened.

Our first task was to shore up support with rank-and-file members. I couldn’t afford to lose more than a couple of Republicans when the issue came to a vote. But I knew winning the public opinion battle was more difficult and more important if we were to overcome Democratic opposition, and the reluctance of the governor and the senate. I traveled the state extensively, attending rallies in support of the plan. I did countless television and radio interviews explaining and defending the plan. Support for the
measure didn’t appreciably increase. It remained a fifty-fifty proposition. But we did succeed in making property taxes the biggest issue in the state.

The experience made me a better public servant. I learned how to fight a big political battle. I had to convince voters our plan was sound and in their best interests. I had to defend it from aggressive attacks. I had to answer tough questions about it from the media. I had to work closely with activists across the state. I didn’t realize it at the time, of course, but the seeds for my election to the U.S. Senate in 2010 were planted in the spring of 2007.

We passed the plan in the house with almost unanimous support from Republican members. But the session would adjourn before the senate took up the legislation, and it was clear to us that Governor Crist was working with senate Republicans to undermine us. I had never had a very good relationship with Charlie Crist. He, and especially his staff, viewed me suspiciously from the outset. I had been close to Jeb Bush, and I had hired several staffers who had worked for Crist’s opponent in the Republican primary. The property tax fight hardened their suspicions, and bred what can be fairly described as mutual antipathy. Crist was determined not to be outflanked on the issue by us. In a press conference, he boasted he would demand that a new law cause property taxes to “drop like a rock.” The plan he had advocated as a candidate to double the homestead exemption (a property tax exemption on the first $25,000 of value you could claim on your primary residence) would have reduced property taxes only negligibly. But that hardly mattered to him. His real purpose was to make certain he got the credit for whichever plan passed.

The senate could wait out the session without taking action on the plan. But it couldn’t avoid it forever—the issue had become too salient. We insisted that a special session be convened to resolve the issue, and the senate had to agree. The governor lobbied the senate to pass his plan. The idea polled well, which was why he had proposed it during his campaign. But I criticized it publicly, explaining to the press and anyone who would listen that doubling the homestead exemption most certainly would not make property taxes “drop like a rock.”

We would do our best, but our plan to replace property taxes with a consumption tax would never be popular enough to prevail. Without the
governor’s support, we couldn’t put enough heat on the senate to pass it. I made the pragmatic decision to give up the idea of scrapping the entire property tax system and push for serious reform of the existing system instead. Many house Republicans were upset with my decision. They had taken a tough vote in the house, and many of them felt they had put their reelection at risk only to see our plan abandoned. Some of the staff thought we were showing weakness by caving under pressure.

It’s always easier in the legislative process to defeat an idea than to pass it. The side that wants something is always at a disadvantage to the side that wants to stop something. Property tax reform wasn’t a priority for senators—they had been forced to do something about the issue because we had made it a priority for Florida voters. But we hadn’t succeeded in making our plan the public’s clear preference.

Time wasn’t on our side, either. I would have a year left as speaker in the next session, and the closer I got to the end of my term, the less clout I would have. I worried, too, that when house Republicans returned home they would be raked over the coals by their local governments, and return to Tallahassee reluctant to take up the issue again. I was convinced the special session in the summer of 2007 would be our last and best chance to pass meaningful reform. Even though it was not our original plan, we had an obligation to get the best deal we could for our constituents.

That summer, the house and senate agreed to substantial reforms. They weren’t as far-reaching as we had hoped, but the bill wasn’t what I called a Tallahassee Special—reform in name only. The legislation made statutory reductions in the property tax code and contained an amendment to the Florida constitution that, if passed by the voters, would have reduced property taxes even further. Floridians would realize real savings on their property taxes.

We held a press conference to celebrate the achievement with the senate president and Governor Crist. The governor brought a rock to emphasize that, with the passage of the bill, taxes would drop like a rock. We hung a sign behind us that heralded the bill as the single largest tax cut in Florida’s history.

If the story had ended there, it would have been an enormous legislative achievement. But before voters had a chance to have their say, the Florida courts declared the constitutional amendment “confusing and
misleading” and struck it off the ballot. The pressure was back on to do something about property taxes, and another special session was convened in October.

The senate was out of patience. Senators had never wanted to address the issue but, thanks to us, had spent most of the year dealing with it. They felt they had acted in good faith and given it their best shot. We had passed a bill, and the courts had struck it down. Now they just wanted to be rid of the issue as quickly as it could be arranged. They lined up in support of Crist’s original plan to double the homestead exemption, a plan I did consider a Tallahassee Special.

That October, in 2007, we put together another property tax reform plan in the house with nearly unanimous bipartisan support and sent it to the senate. In its eagerness to put the issue behind them, the senate ignored it. They took up and passed the Crist proposal, sent it to us and went home. Many of my colleagues were offended, and argued that after creating huge expectations for a bill that would dramatically reduce taxes, we would make a lot of people angry if we settled for the minor changes offered in the governor’s plan. Better to reject it, they advised, go home and fight the issue again next year. They had a point.

But if we rejected it, there would be no property tax relief that year. And in order to get an item on the ballot for a special election in January 2008, the law required we had to pass something by the end of October 2007. I thought voters would be angrier if we passed nothing than if we passed Crist’s proposal. Crist would blame us for the failure, and voters would think we had taken our ball and gone home rather than compromise. I suspected Crist was secretly rooting for us to block the bill, worried that if it passed voters would realize how little it accomplished. I figured he would rather have had a fall guy to shift the blame to than be held accountable for his own position.