Truth or Consequences

Two years earlier, when he was county judge, Lindsay had made the Austin rounds triumphantly, escorted by assistant Don Lee. Rather than hanging out, he made "appearances" as a power player to whom others gravitated. "Before, Don did the legwork, and this time he was doing it," says the lobbyist of Lindsay's lobbying work. "You could tell he wasn't used to it."

Lindsay had only two clients the whole session, one a California telecommunications company interested in providing dial tones for apartment complexes, the other the Greater Houston Convention and Visitors Bureau, which late in the session tried to push through a bill to devote car rental fees to the fine arts -- with a provision allowing the revenue to also fund new sports stadiums. That provision contributed to the sinking of the legislation, according to one lobbyist, leaving some arts supporters bitter. Although convention bureau president Eddie Webster says the lobbying contract was with the Vinson & Elkins law firm, Lindsay was paid $10,000 directly from the bureau.

Lindsay agrees he did not enjoy the role of a capital lobbyist.
"Yeah, it's kinda hard work," he deadpans. "You're not really in the mainstream of what's going on up there as a lobbyist, unless you stay up there all the time. I just didn't want to stay up there all the time." Actually, he spent only two nights in Austin during the session, otherwise driving from Houston to the capital each morning and returning by car in late afternoon. That sort of schedule is not the most productive use of a lobbyists' time and energy.

Lobbying opportunities back in Houston, where Lindsay retained plenty of clout, proved more lucrative. During the past year, Lindsay says, he's lobbied the city on waste disposal issues for Browning-Ferris and on the privatization of wastewater treatment operations for PSG, a subsidiary of a giant French conglomerate. Although he made calls on behalf of downtown hotel bidder Wayne Duddlesten to freshman Councilmembers Orlando Sanchez and Robb Todd, Lindsay denies receiving any payment. "And you can see how successful I was," he adds. Todd and Sanchez, both conservative Republicans, eventually opposed both Duddlesten and his competitor.

Lindsay figures that he'll continue his lobbying in the city even if he wins the Senate seat. It's an activity from which some Harris County legislators have derived income in the past, even though the Legislature brokers a myriad of city and county issues. Lindsay says he sees no problem with such lobbying, as long as it would present no direct conflict with legislation he might be voting on.

The Port of Houston Authority, half of whose board he helped appoint while county judge, provided Lindsay's biggest local payday -- a $120,000 contract to consult with state officials and others on funding for additional rail links to the Barbers Cut Terminal. It was a job that some critics argued could have been performed by the Port Authority's staff. Among the itemized $5,000 monthly billings Lindsay submitted were ones for "touring the site and visiting with potential users and participants" and another for "continuing dialogue" with Southern Pacific Railroad and state transportation officials. The contacts in state government he made in developing the Hardy Toll Road, Lindsay says, made him the logical choice for the Port contract. He's notified the Port that he's wrapping up his work on the project next month, and will cap the deal after receiving $60,000.

Port Authority chairman Ned Holmes was also the chairman for Lindsay's last big fundraiser before he left office. That infusion of cash replenished Lindsay's campaign fund, which he then tapped to pay his legal bills, provide contributions to his wife's campaign fund and those of other political friends and, more recently, to fund his current political venture. While initially raising only $7,900 for his Senate bid, Lindsay is conducting a last-minute TV advertising blitz using some of the $300,000 he budgeted from the campaign account he amassed as county judge.

The table centerpieces for the Holmes-chaired fundraiser were toy trucks loaded with gravel, as succinct a summary of Lindsay's philosophy of mixing politics and public construction as one could ask.

"Yeah, I kept one," Lindsay says with a laugh. "When my grandson gets big enough, he'll start playing with it."

Along with the toy, the proud grandfather is also in a position to educate the boy on what to do should the district attorney come calling.

Perhaps the best untold story of Lindsay's legal troubles concerns a visit that Johnny Holmes made to the judge at his office in the county administration building in the summer of 1994, after the district attorney learned Lindsay had used campaign funds to buy and refurbish the boat for his son Steve.

Unknown to Lindsay, Holmes was wired for sound when he dropped by, and he proceeded to engage the judge in a candid conversation. Since the perjury indictments are under appeal and have never made it to trial, the contents of the Holmes' tape have never been revealed. Lindsay believes the tape exists, but refuses to discuss his chat with the D.A.