Let’s put it this way. Eighteen hours later, the governor’s staff and budget team were in a state of excitement. This was no ordinary meeting. The governor had spent the night going through the numbers on the state budget. He was trying to find a balance between good management and good politics.
This was an election year. He was a candidate. He didn’t want to do damage to his chances, but he didn’t want to take the sissy way out by making believe everything was OK until after the election. Looking ahead, he saw that as a sure way to destroy his first full term very early in its first year. The deficit would be worse and the options would be worse too. He’d be accused of misleading the voters to win the election and his accusers would be right.
So as Mary Ann Watson, his chief of staff and Morris Houck, his budget director, led their deputies into the governor’s conference room they understood this as a defining moment for Storm and a moment that might effect their own careers, because their careers were tied to his. They would be here as long as he was – generally speaking.
There was the usual small talk while they waited for the governor. Morris peppered Mary Ann with innocent sounding observations about life at the Capitol in the hope something he said, might lead her to offer some insight into the inner workings of the governor’s office. Something he could use to show others he was in the know. Part of the inner circle.
“Is the First Lady fully on board with the campaign,” Morris asked. “The word is it took some convincing.”
“Yeah, yeah. She’s there. Practically her idea,” Mary Ann said as she gently pushed her portfolio at the edges in front of her, fully aware anything she said, even her demeanor might be used by anyone in the room to feed the Capitol rumor mill. She had said all she would on that, but kept nodding her head affirmatively as she smiled, keeping her gaze focused on the table.
“I hear she doesn’t care much for Gary,” Morris said, referring to the governor’s intra party challenger, Senator Gary Stewart.
Mary Ann just shrugged and didn’t plan to answer as the governor walked into the room and everyone stood up. Morris kept his eyes on Mary Ann hoping to read some insight into her reaction to his remark, but Mary Ann simply turned toward Storm and said, “Good morning governor,” on behalf of the entire room.
“Hello everybody, you all look like you are ready to get to work,” Storm said as he laid out a grid lined pad, an iPad and a coffee in his favorite Black Dog mug. As he put it all down three packages of Sweet and Low dropped on to the table out of the hand holding the mug and he pulled them closer with his pinky finger, slowly opening each package and pouring the contents into his coffee while the room watched and waited for his thoughts on the budget.
His aides thought he was concentrating on the coffee, but he was really using the time to collect his thoughts and decide how he wanted to frame his argument, or whether he wanted to argue at all. He expected some push back.
“Here’s the thing,” Storm started, “A $550 million deficit is really a drop in the bucket. There’s no need for a tax increase, but what we do need to do is convince people that unless they do what I’m suggesting, things are going to be even worse.”
Immediately, Storm could see Morris didn’t like what he was hearing. You can’t cut your way out of a deficit of this size he was thinking.
“The problem here is the way we are thinking about spending. We only have a deficit, if we keep spending levels headed in the same direction, because that’s what we always do. For the last thirty years we’ve been increasing the budget by three to 12 percent a year. It’s never been below last year’s levels and it’s never even been held at previous year’s levels. Everybody just gets more money every year. They never even have to ask. That’s the first thing we have to change. Are you with me Mo?”
Morris knew exactly what the governor was talking about, but he also knew the history of state budgeting well enough that there was no way to change it. Yes, it’s true. Budgets go up every year and it’s really only a matter of how much. Suggesting no increase at all is like declaring war on a thousand different programs. It is never considered as anything more than an intellectual exercise. Houck simply nodded, he did not offer any audible support for what the governor was suggesting.
“Well that’s what I want to do,” Storm said. “Except for education and public safety I want to hold spending at last year’s levels. Over the last ten years most programs have gotten spending increases over 50 percent, or more. Not many people have gotten pay raises of that size…why are we handing out this money…that we don’t have…without even putting up a fight?
“So here’s the thing. Here’s my budget. We’re going to hold spending to last year’s levels, except for education and public safety…and any other special exceptions you think we ought to have. No new tax increases. The deficit is now a $300 million surplus under this plan. We are going to use $200 million to make a downpayment on a statewide transportation overhaul. And I’ll describe that later.”
There was silence in the room as they all waited for someone, probably Morris, to tell the governor it would never work. For one thing, his own party would never go for it. Second, it would just be a major shock to accepted practice and be coming out of nowhere.
Morris did speak up. “Governor, it’s a great idea, but I don’t think it will work politically. These guys,” he said, titling his head in the general direction of the state House chamber, “judge themselves on how much more they manage to spend each year. Every one of them has their fingerprints on some program they want to protect and when you are done with the list, there’s really no where to make these kinds of cuts.”
“I know Morris, but they are not cuts. We have to stop thinking that way and talking that way. A reduction in the expected increase is not a cut. It may be a disappointment, but it’s not a cut. We are not cutting the budget, we are limiting the growth of spending. If you are anticipating a ten percent raise next year and you only get five percent, I haven’t cut your salary. That’s the new way we are going to talk about this and we are going to be relentless on it and the people are going to agree with it, because that’s how it is in the real world.”
“But governor,” Mary Ann said, “This isn’t the real world.” Oddly, no one laughed when Mary Ann made that declaration they just turned toward the governor like a crowd watching a tennis match. “And then you are topping it off, by trading cuts in welfare spending for transportation. It’s a horrible choice, you’re asking people to make. Healthcare for grandma versus a new on ramp.”
The governor paused and removed his glasses. He folded his hands and rested his mouth and nose gently on his fists. They didn’t get it.
“Let me put it this way. I’ve been in office two months. Half the state doesn’t know who I am. We are facing a half billion dollar deficit, but it is on paper only and we all know it. I’m running for my own term. The election is eight months away. I was planning on retiring in eight months and playing a lot of golf in between some consulting. I have nothing to lose here. If I lose the election, I retire as planned. I’d rather win. How do I win? By standing out. How do I stand out? By doing something Gary Stewart and Maureen Livingston aren’t going to do. I’m going to tell the God damned truth and people are going to buy into it, because it’s going to make sense compared to what they are hearing from the other side.
“We’re going to balance the budget, without raising taxes and without cutting spending and we are going to invest in the future by creating jobs. We’re going to protect education and public safety and we’re going to make life easier by improving transportation. We have to make the case. We are going to make a case no one can argue with. We are going to present a problem and then show everyone the way out.”
