The eyes of America were upon him - Case Study - profile on Texas' lieutenant governor Rick Perry

Most Texans have no idea how powerful the Lt. Governor's position is, so jockeying for the job has become a backroom game, heavily influenced by high-stakes players.

After $22 million and a close finish, Texas elects a not-so "lite" governor, Republican Rick Perry

Rick Perry started a new job in January. It only pays $7,200 per year, but he had wanted it badly. So badly he gave up a position paying 10 times more to get it - but that was the cheap part.

Perry's sales pitch to his prospective employers cost nearly $12 million, and hardly a penny was wasted. His competition spent over $10 million. True, the other fellow had a much deeper resume. But Rick had better people skills, and - truth be known - a lot of pull from the top.

The lieutenant governorship of Texas is probably the most powerful part-time job in any state government. In the state Senate, the LG is a virtual czar, appointing all committee members and chairs. He also holds sway over the all-powerful Legislative Budget Board. By all estimates of the Austin political cognoscenti, the "lite" governor (a derisive nickname given to powerless lieutenant governors in most states) is a major force to be reckoned with in the Lone Star.

But 1998 put even more chips on the table, many with national implications. Gov. George W. Bush (R) was not only a prohibitive favorite to win re-election, he was the early frontrunner for the GOP presidential nomination in 2000.

During the year or so he is expected to be on the national campaign trail, Bush would need a friendly Number Two. And if Bush should win the White House, the lieutenant governor would become Number One in the nation's second most populous state. That would be particularly important during the redistricting year of 2001. Legislative lines will be redrawn in Texas, along with 32 congressional seats two of them new.

Crown Prince and the Cowboy

At first, there was nothing extraordinary about the announcements that trumpeted Democratic Lt. Gov. Bob Bullock's press conference for June 5, 1997. He always held a confab for Capitol reporters at the close of each legislative session. But this time, something at the bottom of the press release caught the eye: Bullock was inviting friends to stay on after the conference for "cookies and coffee."

Bullock fit the classic mold of a Texas lieutenant governor: a pro-business, fiscally conservative Democrat, a good ole boy par excellence and deal-cutter extraordinaire in the tradition of Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson.

Most Texans have no idea how powerful the LG position is, so jockeying for the job has become a backroom game, heavily influenced by high-stakes players. Only someone with a proven track record is likely to win their confidence. Bullock, for example, had started in the state House, progressed to the Senate, and served tours as Secretary of State and Comptroller.

The Bullock mold has served the Establishment well, and it has been loath to risk a change. Even as Republican tides swept across the state in the past two decades, familiar, business-friendly Democrats had been left standing at the budget gate. But now, Bush's enormous popularity (approval ratings in the mid-70s) was brewing a GOP tsunami.

Austin buzzed about the significance of Bullock's "cookie invitation." Would he actually challenge Bush? Was he switching parties? Or was it just an intriguing way to kick off his re-election campaign and raise some early cash. Few were prepared for the actual announcement: the Democrats' best hope against a total blowout at the statewide polls in '98 was stepping down. Health was cited. But Republican Rick Perry was already training his sights on the post, and Bullock knew it.

A rancher by trade, Perry was regarded as a Reaganesque politician: long on charisma and short on governmental knowhow. While a Democratic legislator in the late-1980s, he had been courted by the conservative Farm Bureau into running against state Agriculture Commissioner Jim Hightower (D), a populist firebrand of national renown who had endorsed Jesse Jackson for president in 1988. A polarizing partisan figure, Hightower was a hero in most Democratic circles, so it behooved Perry to join the Republicans, who warmly embraced his ambitions.

Campaigning with a poster that displayed him in chaps and boots, Perry evoked the Marlboro Man mystique, and successfully portrayed Hightower as a radical-left ideologue. Then-President George Bush even cut an endorsement spot for him, mindful no doubt of Hightower's speech before the 1988 Democratic National Convention which termed Bush Sr. "a toothache of a man...[who] was born on third base and thinks he hit a triple."

Perry edged Hightower and became a rising, as one of only two Republicans to win statewide in the house-cleaning year of 1990. But the ensuing years created a vague uneasiness about him in Austin's insider circles, centered on his flirtations with the ideological right and apparent prospering while in public office. They had no such qualms about Democrat John Sharp, who seemed perfectly tailored for the traditional role of a lieutenant governor.

Sharp's credentials for the post stretched clear back to his days fresh out of college: as a young legislative committee staffer, he introduced the concept of zero-based budgeting. Like Bullock, he had gone from the state House, to the Senate, to a downballot statewide office (Railroad Commissioner) before getting elected state Comptroller in 1990. There, Sharp won national attention as an innovative penny-pincher, handing out "Silver Snout" awards to shifty government contractors and instituting "Texas Performance Reviews" which assessed the efficiency of state policies and practices. Sharp's admirers credited his reforms with saving the state 8.5 billion, taking a million people off welfare rolls and forestalling a state income tax.

To those who paid heed to the second-tier of state government, he seemed a model of nonpartisan resourcefulness. That high regard translated into Sharp's being named one of America's "Most Popular Politicians" by Campaigns & Elections magazine in 1994.

In light of tradition and his perfectly-matched resume, Sharp seemed to believe the LG job was his by right, and not many among the Austin "In Crowd" disagreed. "He certainly appeared to be the more qualified candidate," assesses political reporter R.G. Ratcliffe of the Houston Chronicle. But that was only one part of it. "People forgot Perry had better electoral experience," points out Ratcliffe. "Sharp never had a tough race."

They're Off!

Although it was widely assumed from the beginning that Sharp and Perry would eventually face off in the general election for lieutenant governor in 1998, it initially appeared they both might have spirited primary competition. Democrat Paul Hobby, a former Bullock aide, certainly had the blood line. The son of Bill Hobby, a revered LG in the '70s and '80s, his grandmother had been the top female soldier of World War II and later Treasurer of the United States. In the other potential intramural, wealthy businessman and GOP fundraiser David Dewhurst could be expected to muster the resources to overcome his lack of name recognition.

The Candidates: Handlers, Wagers, Payoffs

                   Rick Perry (R)           John Sharp (D)

Manager            Jim Arnold               George Rakis
Media              David Weeks              David Axelrod
Pollster           Mike Baselice            Greenberg, Quilan

Expenditures       $11,754,085              $10,574,274
Vote Percentage    50% (1,858,837 votes)    48% (1,790,106 votes)

But scarcely after the cookie crumbs had been swept out of Bob Bullock's conference room, the statewide tickets had been more neatly arranged: Dewhurst would run (successfully) for Land Commissioner, an office being vacated by Garry Mauro, the Democrats' sacrificial lamb for governor. Hobby was persuaded to seek Sharp's job, a race he would lose by a hair's breadth.

Significantly, Hobby and Sharp were the only entries on the 16-slot Democratic statewide ticket who refused to back Mauro's bid against Bush, and they were the only ones to come close to winning. Each stressed practical centrism and sought to distance themselves from the liberal image of the national Democratic Party. At times, Sharp's attempts at nonpartisan were a bit startling. In January, he unveiled a crime plan calling for the death penalty for repeat child molesters and drug traffickers.

The move seemed a direct appeal to the Republican bastion of Plano, a sprawling Dallas suburb where a dozen teenagers had died of heroin overdoses in little more than a year, and the scene of a notorious rape and murder of a 7-year-old girl in 1993. Perry derided the plan as a repackaging of old Republican proposals and focused his own crime initiative on making life tougher on drunk drivers, with a mandatory three-day sentence for first offense and a lower blood-alcohol standard.

In a harbinger of the political pyrotechnics that would emerge down the stretch, Sharp charged Perry had voted for a 1987 bill that led to the early release of dangerous prisoners. Perry countered that he had voted for the bill after being pressured by Democratic leaders, and noted Sharp had voted for a similar bill four years earlier.

The candidates also competed fiercely for the favor of small business. Claiming to have eliminated over 230 rules and regulations on agriculture, Perry favored tightening business' exposure to law suits and proposed lowering the unemployment tax on new businesses from 2.7 percent to 1 percent during their first 18 months of operation. Sharp advocated eliminating the franchise tax on businesses earning less than $250,000 a year, a move he calculated would cost only $58 million and greatly reduce the relatively high cost of paperwork among small operators. Both men touted their tax relief plans as job-generators.

Partisan divisions between the candidates were more apparent on social programs, particularly for education. Sharp proposed taking $200 million from the state's legal settlement with tobacco companies and using it for school construction. He was cagier about where he would find the funds for his other major school programs - giving every teacher a $4,000 raise and every needy student with at least a B average a college scholarship - saying only that the state's budget surplus "provides an opportunity." Perry's initiative for education was far more conservative: a $5,000 bonus for teachers who achieved a "Reading Master" certificate, and another $2,000 for those who agreed to teach in low-performing schools.

Turning Up the Heat

The March 10 primary results must have given Democratic strategists pause. The turnout divisions were startling when placed in historic perspective. Republican ballots had been requested by 47 percent of the voters, up from 37 percent in 1990. As late as 1974, only one in 25 voters had taken a GOP list. Given the fact Republicans almost always poll well above their proportion of the primary vote in November, the horizon looked bleak for Democrats.

Sharp's attacks on Perry had turned more personal. He claimed the Republican had built up a $3-4 million fortune while in office through sweetheart deals.

"The hints of corruption about Perry - along with his right-wing partisanship had served to keep [George W.] Bush at a distance," says a Sharp campaign operative who requests anonymity. "Jeb Bush [the Governor's brother, now governor of Florida] had been forced to drop his LG running-mate because of her husband's business dealings, and it caused him a lot of trouble. That must have weighed on G.W.'s mind."

A key focus of the Sharp offensive was Perry's relationship with a major contributor, James Leininger. A San Antonio manufacturer of specialty hospital beds, Leininger was a national leader and benefactor of several conservative causes, particularly school vouchers and tort reform. On January 24, 1996, Perry gave a speech at a luncheon in San Antonio attended by Leininger. That same day, he placed an order for stock in Leininger's company, just as a group of California investors began buying a major portion of it.

For weeks, Sharp hounded Perry about his finances, challenging him to release his tax returns. On Tax Day Eve, the Republican finally did so, but the revelations were far from crippling: Perry reported he had earned $1.3 million his first seven years as Commissioner, but had a net worth of only $675,000. Details about his 1997 income were not forthcoming, as he had only filed an estimate with an extension request. The returns showed a 1996 profit of $38,000 trading stock in Leininger's company, but Sharp's returns contained their own embarrassment: a $16,000 consulting fee from a developer of low-income, state-subsidized housing. The net effect of "Return-gate" was a wash.

"After that, [Perry] and his campaign gained a new confidence; they felt they could weather anything," admits Sharp campaign spokesman Kelly Fero. "Thereafter he settled down, stayed on message and became a better candidate."

Another April boost for Perry came in the person of his old fan, ex-President Bush, whose appearances at the Commissioner's fundraisers in Dallas and Houston netted over $1 million each. It no longer seemed as if the Republican Establishment was holding Perry at arm's length, but another old ally was about to pull the plug.

E-I-E-I Ouch!

On May 6, the Texas Farm Bureau endorsed John Sharp's candidacy for lieutenant governor. As most Texas pundits credit that organization with launching Rick Perry's career in statewide politics, and given the fact the GOP nominee had served as agriculture's top man in state government, the news raised eyebrows above the hairline.

The Perry campaign claims it was prepared for the worst: "We would have loved to have had it, and worked for it to the end," admits general consultant David Carney, a former White House political director, now based in New Hampshire. "But Sharp was the ultimate insider."

The endorsement announcement was somewhat muted, as Farm Bureau officials emphasized it had been a difficult decision choosing between "two great candidates." The initial, official reaction from the Perry camp was also gentlemanly, acknowledging that Sharp's relationship with the Bureau was of longer standing. But soon, both groups were pitching into the manure: "We were told we would get the endorsement on the condition that we would not use it negatively against Perry," reports Fero. "But Perry used it negatively and set the FB officials off."

It started almost immediately, with a few scattered Farm Bureau locals repudiating the state organization's decision and circulating petitions of support for Perry. The Republican campaign soon chimed in, emphasizing the choice had been made by secret ballot behind closed doors. Also noted: the son of FB executive director Vernie Glasson worked in Sharp's office, and the Bureau controlled an insurance company regulated by the Comptroller.

By May 9, FB president Bob Stallman was calling Perry a "dangerously partisan" commissioner who didn't care about farmers. The Bureau bought billboards across the state trumpeting a "Bush-Sharp" ticket, and a "hit squad" of FB officials hit the road, extolling their choice and trashing the man they had helped elect to oversee their industry. "I knew them both when we were all at [Texas] A&M," recalled one. "John Sharp was the student body president and Rick Perry was the yell leader. Neither of them has changed much since."

Soon, the Perry camp had its own surrogate hit team touring the state, armed with opposition research that concentrated fire on Sharp's vaunted Texas Performance Reviews. "We went through every TPR recommendation," reports Carney, "and found a lot of sleight-of-hand stuff and recommendations for a lot of spending."

"The TPRs were the most important part of our research," agrees Perry manager Jim Arnold. "We foiled John from using them in his media campaign...But we couldn't get the [Capitol] media to use any of it. Sharp had cultivated a relationship with them." But another means of disseminating the discrediting information was found. A quasi-independent group called the Associated Republicans of Texas (ART) recruited a set of GOP state legislators to travel the state, meeting with editorial boards and talk show hosts, with Perry's research in hand. This unusual earned media effort was complemented by an ART radio spot that featured two alleged convicts urging support for Sharp, as he had once proposed tapping into a federal school lunch program for prison food.

Sharp spokesman Fero admits the ART campaign was damaging, if disingenuous: "It's tough to explain innovations like TPRs, so it's tough to defend them against charges that they have been oversold."

While Republicans were closing ranks behind Perry, Sharp was openly at odds with the Democratic ticket. When Mauro attacked Gov. Bush's commutation of a death sentence for a murderer who had recanted his confession, Sharp called the statements by his party's standard bearer "irresponsible." In turn, Mauro threatened to undermine Sharp with the party's activist base, and Sharp was cut out of the Democratic coordinated campaign. Not that the Comptroller was offended by being disassociated from the top of his ticket: A Texas Poll released September 1 gave Bush a staggering 67-20 percent lead, while Sharp trailed by only six points. That margin was more than covered by the 7 percent support for Libertarian Anthony Garcia, whose largely Hispanic support was expected to drift Democratic down the stretch - particularly after the Republican Secretary of State ruled him ineligible to serve, as he had not reached the constitutional age prescribed for the office.

Coasting on Coat-Tails

The only televised debate of the campaign took place in San Antonio on September 26. Sharp had asked for more such confrontations, but Perry was loath to comply, knowing the Democrat had a better grasp of state government, and that the lower the profile the race maintained, the longer Bush's coattails would be.

In the end, Sharp made little of his only face-to-face opportunity. "The [popular] expectation was that Sharp would blow him away, and he didn't," says Perry media man David Weeks. "We considered it a win."

Sparks flew only on the issue of private school vouchers, which Perry - perhaps mindful of Leininger's strong support conditionally advocated. Sharp attacked the proposal as a $2 billion drain of vital school resources that would benefit out-of-state interests.

Both candidates launched their TV campaigns shortly after Labor Day with positive spots touting their accomplishments, but the airwaves would soon be full of fireworks.

Sharp had made no secret of the fact he planned to hit Perry on his 1987 vote for the early release of prisoners, and latched onto a particularly loathsome character named Ken McDuff as his poster boy. But the Democrat's campaign was so open about its intentions, Perry spokesman Ray Sullivan was able to defuse their missile before it left the ground, pointing out McDuff had been released before the '87 law took effect.

Stymied, the Sharp media team substituted an even more repugnant symbol: Gary Ethridge, who had raped and murdered a 15-year-old girl after being unleashed. To drive the point home, related testimonial spots were shot with the victim's mother and a hero of law enforcement, Wise County Sheriff Phil Ryan.

Given plenty of warning (again due to their opponents' lack of confidentiality), the Perry camp went into full damage control mode. Backed by Bush-appointed prison officials, they distributed information that indicated most of Ethridge's time-off credits had been accumulated under the 1983 law Sharp had voted for. They approached the aggrieved mother, and helped persuade her to ask that her footage be kept off the air. They even got Sheriff Ryan to relent for a time, but so alienated him with their distribution of the news, he reversed himself again.

The Ethridge spot was quickly pulled, in part to appease the Sheriff, but largely because the Perry response team had effectively undercut its credibility. The crime issue was beginning to cut against Perry, however, boosted by Sharp's endorsement from the Combined Law Enforcement Associations of Texas.

"That sheriff's spot was effective," allows Arnold. "We saw our support drop while it was up."

In fact, the race was now a dead heat-despite Bush's 40-point spread - and the momentum was with Sharp. But Perry was receiving critical last-minute reinforcements: an avalanche of cash, directed in part by Bush, and including a $1.1 million-dollar loan secured by Leininger and two associates. In all, Perry collected nearly $7 million in the last six weeks of the campaign, more than three times Sharp's total for the same period.

The late Leininger loan would seem to have been new issue fodder against Perry. But by that time, Sharp media consultant David Axelrod was committed to ending the campaign on a positive note.

"We had to get to a major faultline - independence," he explains. "If we didn't get to it early enough, we wouldn't move enough to win... That million-dollar loan from the voucher people should have been explored [by the media].... But TV news just isn't propelled by downballot races."

Perry's late infusion of cash enabled him to increase his paid TV schedule for the stretch drive by 50 percent, and the time buying was devastatingly strategic. Weeks and Carney noted that Sharp had bought most of his late slots in August, and at pre-emptible levels to get cheap prices.

"He bought up good slots, and told people he had frozen us out," crows Carney. "But as our fundraising improved, we bumped him [by paying a higher rate], and it was too late for him to buy back."

Was this last-minute turn of events serendipitous? Apparently not.

"We knew if we needed more money late, it would be there," says a calmly confident Arnold. "It was needed, so we went out and got it."

Axelrod didn't do the Sharp campaign's media buying, but he still sniffs at boasts from the Perry team about their purchasing prowess. "They paid a lot more money for a lot less," he notes.

Another eleventh-hour fast one involved a radio spot broadcast by three Mexican stations located on the south bank of the Rio Grande. Delivered in Spanish, the message denounced Sharp as anti-Hispanic and advocated votes for Garcia. Perry campaign officials deny complicity, noting that their Spanish-language media, produced by Lionel Sosa of San Antonio, was so effective that they didn't need to play games.

During the last week, both campaigns relied almost entirely on a single TV spot. Axelrod's final effort for Sharp was a positive profile, aimed at slicing the Bush coattails with an emphasis on independence. After his accomplishments are recited, Sharp promises, "I won't be anybody's man but yours."

The finale for Perry was more comparative, but used both Bushes for a powerful, double-barreled testimonial endorsement. Perry operatives acknowledge they had a heavy-duty attack ad in the can, ready to run at the end; Axelrod contends it was vetoed by Gov. Bush.

On election day, Sharp suffered from a lack of normal Democratic support in the Rio Grande Valley and the Dallas metroplex. He did well, however, among rural, conservative "yellow-dog" Democrats, even carrying Perry's hometown of Haskell.

Perry won by a 1.8 percent margin, running 21 points behind the top of his ticket. Clearly, if the popular governor's re-election had not been on the ballot, Sharp would have been elected.

"Texans felt it was important to elect a team," explains Axelrod. "They assume Bush is running for president."

If he does run for the White House, he'll at least have the security that back home, a friendly Republican will be lying in wait.

David Beiler is a freelance writer and political analyst. He is also an elected member of the Stafford County, Va., Board of Supervisors.

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