 |
||||||||
 |
||||||||
|
||||||||
|
Budget battle a family feud
By STEVE BOUSQUET, Times Staff Writer
He seemed to have it made: a thriving law practice, a seat on the School Board and a father-in-law who was mayor. Today, he is speaker of the Florida House of Representatives, one of the most powerful elected officials in the state and one of the most conservative. He despises taxes, opposes expanded gambling and favors school vouchers for all and caps on medical malpractice judgments. The first bill he ever filed barred Florida from recognizing same-sex marriages. Old friends marvel at Byrd's rapid rise to power and his political evolution. "He was always pretty cool, growing up," said Mike Godwin, Brewton's district attorney and a Democrat. "I was real surprised that he became a Republican." Growing up in tiny Brewton, Byrd was a tall, laid-back kid with an easy smile who played lead guitar for a band, the Masterbeats, at high school dances. He was once suspended from school for three days for not getting a haircut. He became a trial lawyer who won a million-dollar judgment against Alabama Power. He was conservative, but he was a Democrat. He went to church, but he wasn't fond of quoting scripture as he does now. If Byrd changed, one thing stayed the same. "He's a strong person, and he's definite in what he believes in," said Barbara Page, a high school American government teacher. "You won't find him wishy-washy." That's apparent to anybody who has watched Byrd prepare for Tuesday's start of his first session in charge of the 120-member House. While others wring their hands over budget cuts, Byrd is serene. His even-tempered style and ever-present smile suggest a man rarely in doubt. Lately, however, Byrd has showed signs of uncertainty. He scratched a controversial telemarketing proposal after a torrent of criticism. He scaled back his public appearances. House Republicans recently felt compelled to rally behind him when there were rumblings of dissatisfaction. On a recent Wednesday, Byrd, 52, is having a lunch of chicken and rice with a reporter in his spacious Capitol office. He's recalling his early days in the House, when chief of staff P.K. Jameson interrupts. "Your 1:30 is here," she says. "Give us a few minutes," Byrd says quietly.
"I didn't get invited to any dinners, or anything like that. We were sort of stiff-armed," Byrd later told House members. "My wife and I used to sit out in the parking lot of Motel 6 and watch the sun go down over the Capitol, and have a cold drink with the truck drivers." He didn't get mad. Instead, he decided to become speaker. It was an audacious goal for a newcomer who only a decade before was a victim of small-town Alabama politics. Brewton, Ala., is a town of 6,000 people six miles north of the Florida line, with a pungent paper mill, the rumble of logging trucks, and stately houses built with timber money. In the mid '80s the economy went flat and Byrd decided to leave. He also found himself on the losing end of a political battle with Dale Garner, an iron-fisted but popular school superintendent. "The coffee-shop talk was that he lost some friends and support over this," recalled Joe Thomas, who covered schools for the Brewton Standard. "He was kind of an island, all by himself." Byrd's wife, Melane, says money, not politics, influenced their decision to leave. "The future in Brewton did not look bright for us," she said. "It was strictly an economic move." While the school superintendent stayed, Byrd left the School Board after two years. "One day I woke up and said I want to move to the fast lane," Byrd said. He chose Plant City, where a college friend of his wife's lived. Halfway between Tampa and Lakeland, Plant City hardly seems like the fast lane. It is America's winter strawberry capital. The downtown could pass for Mayberry. A railroad line runs through the middle of town, just like Brewton. Byrd found the fast lane soon enough. He was a Democrat when he arrived in 1988. His break came eight years later. By then he was a Republican. Plant City Rep. Buddy Johnson unexpectedly quit a week before the filing deadline, and Republicans needed a candidate fast. They rallied behind Byrd, president of the Chamber of Commerce and a member of a prominent law firm. Byrd was not the darling of the Christian right; Ronda Storms was. But he worked hard and defeated Storms by 106 votes in a runoff. It soon became clear to Byrd that he could be more than a small-town lawmaker. He could become one of the most powerful men in the fourth-largest state in the country. Lunch is over. The reminiscing ends. The speaker of the House has people waiting. Two visitors from Tampa, Don Webster and Ralph DeVitto of the American Cancer Society, get to the point: Florida has the second-highest cancer rate in the country but ranks 19th in spending on cancer research. Byrd listens intently. His passion is finding a cure for Alzheimer's disease, which claimed his father, and he's on the board of the Florida Dialogue on Cancer. The familiar Byrd smile fades when DeVitto suggests a solution. Raising the cigarette tax would generate $500-million in five years, DeVitto says, and the higher taxes would discourage people from smoking. Byrd doesn't say a word. "I've read how you feel about taxes," DeVitto says. "So we'll see." Byrd's silence speaks for him. The philosophy of Johnnie Bryars Byrd Jr. can be distilled to about a dozen words: "less taxes" and, as written in his statement of principles, "less government, more personal freedom, more individual responsibility and empowering Florida's families." "Johnnie has certainly evolved and become, if not more conservative, certainly appears more conservative than when he first got elected," said Wayne Garcia, a campaign consultant who helped Byrd in his 1996 race. "In his heart, he probably hasn't changed, but his public profile has changed." Term limits propelled Byrd to power. He was lucky, too: His 1996 class of House Republicans was very small. His most likely rival, Rep. Adam Putnam, left to replace Charles Canady in Congress after Canady kept a term limits pledge and retired. Term limits also forced out veteran lawmakers, leaving a leadership void for newcomers to fill. Byrd, who claims a net worth of about $217,000, needed money to finance his ambitions. A cadre of Plant City businessmen formed the Committee for Responsible Government and raised nearly $300,000 so Byrd could travel around and build support, one lawmaker at a time. He locked up the speaker's job before most people knew his name. "Nobody asked, 'Who is Johnnie Byrd?' " said Rep. Dwight Stansel, a North Florida Democrat. "Nobody still knows, other than he's an attorney who was raised in Alabama and is a far-to-the-right Republican." Byrd's fast lane is riddled with potholes. His press coverage as speaker has been tough. In a time of deep budget cuts, he spent $614,000 to hire 13 public relations staffers. He wanted to promote the House through telemarketing, but dropped it after much criticism. He angered Republican senators when he staged a news conference to accuse them of a secret plan to raise taxes. It wasn't true. He blocked the use of federal grants for women's health and other programs, but reversed himself after an outcry. Melane Byrd, who is relaxed and has an engaging laugh, said she gave her husband some advice. "Lighten up a little bit," she said she told him. "Sometimes, you lose your sense of humor up here." The controversy he stirred started whispers of a rebellion from within. So the House Republican caucus took the unusual step of calling a meeting to shore up support for Byrd. At one point during the caucus, Byrd left the speaker's rostrum and spoke wistfully of simpler times. "I won't get to be down here, in the fray," Byrd told the caucus. "I won't get to be a barbarian with you guys and fight and kick in the aisles. I have to be up here and be more subdued, and more collegial. ... If y'all would let me talk from the floor again, it's a really good feeling." -- Times staff writer Lucy Morgan contributed to this report. Johnnie B. Byrd Jr.: House speaker, RepublicanPERSONAL: Born Feb. 8, 1951, in Brewton, Ala. Moved to Florida in 1988. Married to Melane Sherer of Brewton. Four children. Lives in Plant City. PROFESSIONAL: Lawyer, Trinkle, Swanson, Byrd & Coton, Plant City; member, state House of Representatives, 1996-present. EDUCATION: B.S., Business Administration, Auburn University, 1973; University of Alabama School of Law, 1976. 2003 LEGISLATIVE GOALS: Increased funding for Alzheimer's research, expanded prescription drug coverage for seniors abd higher teacher salaries. Six other lawmakers will play important roles in the 2003 session:SENATE Sen. Ken Pruitt, R-Port St. Lucie Even in tough times, controlling the budget equals power. Pruitt, 46, a father of five, runs the Senate Appropriations Committee. Once a conservative House firebrand, he now is a leading advocate for changing the tax system, saying it fails to meet the state's needs. Pruitt led the charge last year to end tax exemptions, and he seems eager to take on the House this year. Sen. Tom Lee, R-Brandon The 41-year-old Hillsborough home builder heads the Rules and Calendar Committee. He's also the Senate president-in-waiting, and will succeed King in 2004 if Republicans are still in charge. Sen. Rod Smith, D-Alachua This former Gainesville state attorney is one of the few Democrats with power. He heads a committee figuring out how to implement various constitutional amendments passed by voters in 2000 and 2002. An aggressive debater, Smith also has greater ambitions. He's expected to run for statewide office in the future. HOUSE Rep. Allan Bense, R-Panama City A 51-year-old Bay County contractor and golf course owner, Bense is a force to be reckoned with in the House because he's the speaker-to-be, chosen in advance by House members to succeed Johnnie Byrd in 2004. He also chairs the Procedures Committee. Rep. J. Dudley Goodlette, R-Naples Described by Byrd as "the brains of the operation," Goodlette is much admired for his knowledge and work ethic. The 54-year-old lawyer and former Army intelligence officer is handed the tough assignments such as medical malpractice. In an era of term limits, he compensates for the collective lack of experience in the House. Rep. Bruce Kyle, R-Fort Myers If you said "Bruce who?" you're not alone. Kyle was a surprise choice by Byrd for the most powerful chairmanship -- appropriations -- because, in his first four years, he never served on the budget panel. The 34-year-old prosecutor is a loyal lieutenant of Byrd's who shares the philosophy of lower taxes and less government. -- COMPILED BY TIMES STAFF WRITER STEVE BOUSQUET
 © 2006 • All Rights Reserved • St. Petersburg Times
490 First Avenue South • St. Petersburg, FL 33701 • 727-893-8111 
|
From the Times state desk
From the state wire
|
