By Camilo Smith
By Craig Malisow
By Jeff Balke
By Angelica Leicht
By Jeff Balke
By Sean Pendergast
By Sean Pendergast
By Jeff Balke
Legislators had been in Austin barely long enough to break in their leather chairs when Comptroller Carole Rylander confirmed that the state was enjoying a robust budget surplus. Enough money would be available to pay for current expenses with a couple or three billion dollars left over for good measure. With that much gravy on the table, there would be some haggling, but nothing so tantalizing as to capture the interests of average Texans or the imaginations of lawmakers themselves. This had the makings of a legislative session with no sense of urgency. It was in search of a purpose.
Governor George W. Bush, who had been elected to a second term by an unprecedented two-thirds majority, provided that purpose. But the purpose was all about George. Buoyed by a voter mandate, the wildly popular chief executive could have invested his political capital to commandeer bold government reforms. He could have continued what he started in 1997, an ambitious and courageous effort to overhaul the state's regressive tax system, and by doing so address the malodorous way the state finances its public schools.
Although legislators sunk his efforts at tax reform in 1997, Bush to this day maintains that major tax reform is necessary if Texas schools are to prosper in the next century. But instead of pushing for what he thinks is imperative for Texas's future, Bush backed off. He was a man more interested in the present.
Two weeks into the legislative session, Bush stood before legislators who gathered on the House floor to hear his State of the State address. The first words out of his mouth were: "We begin this moment with a national spotlight on us. I have been asked about it. You have been asked about it. You didn't ask for it, but it's here anyway. And we can either view it as a distraction or seize it as an opportunity to show the world what limited and constructive government looks like."
Based on the past five months, limited and constructive government looks like whatever makes Bush look good on the presidential campaign trail. Instead of risking another bloodletting on tax reform, Bush helped guide the legislative agenda on sales tax cuts that one Republican legislator (and Bush backer) calls "hokey" and property tax cuts that a second Republican legislator (and Bush backer) thinks won't satisfy his suburban constituents. The sales tax cuts are on over-the-counter medicines, Internet service and -- should shoppers dare brave the malls during a special three-day sales tax "holiday" -- clothes and shoes.
"Not everybody buys blue jeans," says Representative Tony Goolsby, the Dallas Republican who called the cuts hokey. "We're targeting a select few, and I don't think that's fair and equitable."
The governor doesn't see it quite that way. "One of the things I've learned: It's important to be bold," Bush says, referring to the tax cuts combined with $3,000 across-the-board pay raises for public school teachers and librarians.
Bush sought $600 million in reductions for sales and business taxes; he came away with $506 million. He sought $2 billion in property tax cuts; he secured $1.35 billion. The governor may have fallen almost $750 million short of his goal, but on top of a $1 billion property tax cut from 1997, Bush can claim $2.85 billion in tax relief when voters inquire of his accomplishments.
Think how that number will sound in the hamlets of New Hampshire or Iowa. But to Representative Jerry Madden of Richardson, this year's $1.85 billion tax cut means he's going to have some explaining to do. "I suspect that my constituents will have heard about nearly $2 billion in tax cuts, expect to see them, see nothing and then come ask me, 'Where are my tax cuts?' " says Madden, who would have preferred more tangible savings, such as those created by an across-the-board sales tax cut.
It's not much different from 1997, when legislators gave Bush the $1 billion property tax cut as penance for killing tax reform. "That amounted to about $150 per homeowner in my district, and I'll tell you that I never got a single letter of thanks from a constituent," says Senator John Whitmire, a Houston Democrat. He expects the same level of gratitude this time around. "You could say these tax breaks this session are important to Texans, but I'd say they're more important to the people of New Hampshire."
The people of New Hampshire also might find it important to assess what Bush did not do this legislative session. Democrats have criticized Bush for not taking a stand on key legislation, the most notable being laws against hate crimes.
Yet Bush always has been a governor with a focused agenda and a tendency to eschew anything too controversial. Although it's not new for him to decline taking a stand on something hot, his silence on the hate-crimes bill is -- to some Democrats at least -- the defining moment of this legislative session. The proposed law would have increased penalties for violent crimes against certain groups that are targeted because of bias or prejudice. It listed gays and lesbians as one of the groups, and that became the sticking point. Far-right Republicans on the national scene warned Bush against signing a bill with such a provision. Democrats figure Bush avoided the decision by making sure the bill never reached his desk.