The first thing you need to know if you’re going to do politics in Texas is that the laws passed by the Legislature haven’t gotten any better since they took the margarita machines out of the Capitol.
Yes, Texans once enjoyed an amiable age of spirits. Call it the Imbibious. It was a golden – or maybe blush or umber – time, and while its duration may not rival that of our blessed Carboniferous Period, it lasted, as they say, awhile. The Carboniferous is when oil got put in the ground so we could take it out. It is considerably older than 6,000 years, a fact that causes much unease in the Baptist precincts of Midland, where great and devout men made vast fortunes off fossil bones buried in the Earth before God created either bones or Earth, according to the Biblical drillers.
Anyway, the epic length of the Imbibius Age is much less controversial. It was estimated by studying the rings of the ancient oaks on the Capitol grounds. I shan’t disclose the insight that led to that particularly study, since discretion, at least in public, is the better part of political survival in Texas. That’s the second thing you need to know if you’re going to do politics here.
There are two curious facts about the New Temperance. It happened in the early ‘90s on the watches of powerful Democratic officeholders: Gov. Ann Richards and Lt. Gov. Bob Bullock. Before veterans of the New Temperance take their sharpened axes to my door, let me say some words of praise for them. With courage uncommon in political animals, Richards and Bullock overcame alcohol addictions and lived their last decades sober. There were no prohibition orders from the two. Mostly, the drinking slowed down simply out of respect for them. Or was it that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and a talent for flattery is the courtiers’ special gift?
The second curious fact is that these leaders didn’t get any credit for their attempts to replace what had been an uncanny sense of happy hour’s approach with a sense of duty and responsibility to the state. George W. Bush quit drinking, too, so he should have at least thanked Richards for helping rid the Capitol of temptation before he arrived there.
When great historical epochs like the Imbibius end, notable things happen to mark the passing. This is convenient, because it makes history books easy to organize and multiple-choice tests more likely. In this case, Richards got beat (in ’94), Bullock went home (in ’99), and the Republicans wound up with every statewide office. See what I mean about multiple-choice tests? A college freshman who had to deal in an essay exam with this disaster, well, it just wouldn’t be fair.
One of the most important things required for politics in Texas is an aptitude or appreciation for subtlety. Irony is liberal and forbidden. Republicans believe it leads to wanton sex and communism, even though communists were the least ironic people in history. But it takes a subtle (and supple) imagination to understand that Gov. Rick Perry advocates secession only in the spiritual sense.
In honor of nuance, I have to point out that drinking only really declined within the Capitol itself. There was still an Austin Club and fancy hotel bars where, over cordials, legislators and lobbyists played chess and Go, pined for their spouses back home, and puzzled over Biblical inerrancy and oil.
There was also, for the rest of us, La Zona Rosa, the greatest bar to ever open its doors in Texas, I heard. Ultimately, the New Temperance (or something) caught up with it and it closed. These exceptions or contrary shadings only reinforce a main point here, that the link between sobriety and good government can only be considered ironically.
It was only after everyone started drinking again that I decided to quit, and that points to the most important rule for doing politics in Texas: always do the opposite of what the politicians are doing. This will help you avoid the attentions of law enforcement. If they’re wearing dark suits, wear jeans. If they’re wearing jeans, put on a three-piece. However, don’t do this in a spirit of contrariness. Do it as homage. If you’re in jeans, tell the pol what a fine dresser he is. If you’re in the suit, say how you admire his man-of-the-people look. This is subtle, and no one will ever know you have a plan.
A suggested addendum: I think subtlety is best employed when cloaked in outrageous grandstanding. For example, Rick Perry didn’t send the Rangers to recon the border to keep out the drug dealers. He did it to remind embittered 50+ white boys that he hates Mexicans.
Even more subtle is the “F*ck You” he sent to Hispanics, for even Perry knows that the Rangers are as popular in La Frontera as liberals are in Midland. When charm doesn’t work, Perry always turns to fear.
This is the way I see things, though I still think that our state and its festering politics are best viewed through the bottom of a cocktail glass.
Is this site always going to broadcast the solid left’s mantra? Is anyone here going to be taking a look around from somewhere close to the middle…from a place that, like standing on a hill, allows one to take in much more of a view and allows one to develop a much broader prospective?
I hope so. I’ve read some good pieces here in the last several days, but the same old slant to all of them grows old.
I disagree with your labeling. Truth is, I share a good deal of the values of many Texans — family, responsibility for ourselves and for one another, the importance of friendship and fellow-feeling. I oppose corruption and authoritarianism, two characteristics of Republicans holding power. So, if there is a slant, it’s against those things, and I can’t do a thing about those who indulge them. By the way, it’s telling that support for better health care, better transportation, better schools, more jobs and a return to ethical government are falsely labeled “left.”
Maybe Gov. Richards ended the Secretary of State’s election night parties, and Mr. Bullock’s era saw the end of the “Senate Spoof” and let the fun limited to Ike and Donny’s office, but the real end of the party came in Laney’s first term as Speaker when orders went out to shut things down in the House and the ended the maruading mariachis and margarita machines.
Yes, and Laney deserves great credit for returning some focus, seriousness and civility to the Leg. Thanks for helping point this out.
A groundbreaking piece of political anthropology. It also seemed like the press corps was a little more sober. You also might note that Scholz’s Beer Garden struggled through this period.
Good points all around, Jim. The press corps was never really the same after the Cedar Door got hauled away from 15th Street and it’s next door neighbor, Michelle’s Massage Parlor.