"A Texas Original" by Michele Kay was originally published in The Baylor Line, Winter 1999, page 24. Used with permission.

“One a kind.” “Larger than life.” “A living legend.” –Such phrases are often used to describe Bob Bullock. A two-term lieutenant governor of Texas with a Baylor law degree. From his humble beginnings in Hillsboro to the heights of Texas politics in Austin, Bullock has carved out a reputation for resolutely getting things done, modernizing government, and never losing an election. This month, the political career that Bullock began in 1957, will come to a planned, graceful conclusion when he hands over the gavel to his newly sworn-in successor. But Bullock will never truly be replaced, as both friends and foes readily admit. In many ways, Bullock’s departure marks…

THE END OF AN ERA, THE LAST CHAPTER, THE FINAL ACT.

Jan Bullock brought the house down at a dinner in late October honoring her husband, Lieutenant Governor Bob Bullock. More than seven hundred people were on hand at the Austin Convention Center, hoping to honor Bullock’s career before the sixty-nine-year-old politician’s impending retirement.

To their disappointment, they hosted an absent hero. Bullock had undergone pacemaker surgery a few days earlier, Jan Bullock explained to the crowd, conveying his regrets at not being there. Then she paused and, with a well-timed delivery, confessed to having asked the doctors if they could put a peacemaker, rather than a pacemaker, in her husband.
The crowd roared with laughter, but the truth is that Bob Bullock, known as one of the most confrontational politicians in Austin, is also one of the most conciliatory peacemakers in the state.

Newspapers around Texas heralded the Republican sweep of statewide offices in November as a watershed event in state politics. But Bullock’s departure from the helm of the Texas Senate this month—when he turns over the gavel to Rick Perry during the new lieutenant governor’s January 19 swearing-in ceremony—will no doubt be remembered as an equally important milestone.

Bullock announced at the end of the 1997 legislative session that he wanted to call it quits after a career in elected and appointed offices that spans five decades. A Hillsboro native and 1958 Baylor law graduate, Bullock had firmly established himself as one of the most successful, influential, and longest-serving politicians in Texas history. When he won his first election to the Texas House of Representatives in 1956, current Governor George W. Bush was in grade school, and several members who sit in the House today weren’t even born.

Bullock’s upcoming departure marks the end of a colorful era in Texas politics—an era when politicians could afford to be politically incorrect, to set an agenda based on their own intuition and instincts rather than the advice of pollsters and consultants. Despite his keen grasp of government and his long list of accomplishments, Bullock will be remembered as much for his temperament and tone, his courage and leadership, and his uncanny understanding of politics and policies as for the actual work he did, the specific legislation he wrote, and the ideas he brought to the table.

SINGLE AIM, COMPLEX MAN

He is a living legend who is leaving a space that can’t and won’t be filled,” said Bill Miller, an Austin political consultant, friend, and neighbor of the Bullocks. “He is unique, and he created a unique environment. He has the political skills we associate with great politicians of yesteryear—the backslapping good guys—but he also is a state-of-the-art, modern politician who understands good government.”

Bullock has been a political fixture, a repository of more information and insights about state politics and government than most libraries. He is an insider who knows how government works, where the money and the bodies are buried, and how to make things happen. At the same time, he is one of the most complex, multifaceted characters in recent Texas history. A study of contrasts, he is a man who can be angry and adversarial, hostile and hot-tempered, but one who is just as likely to be soft and sentimental, collegial and conciliatory.

Likewise, he symbolizes both loyalty and political independence. If he has never lost an election, if he has earned the respect of politicians and political watchers in Austin, and if he has succeeded in carving out a consistent consensus in the Senate, it’s because he knows how to make the system work to his benefit. He is a master at cajoling, negotiating, strong-arming, and sweet-talking—if that’s what it takes to get his way. And, invariably, his way has helped the state.

George Christian, a longtime political consultant, a former aide to Governor Price Daniel and President Lyndon B. Johnson, and a man Bullock describes as a friend and mentor, sees Bullock’s departure as marking a pivotal changing of the guard.

“He is one of the last of the mavericks who have run this state for a long time—people who are independent, relatively conservative activists and products of the Depression, of World War II, and of hard times,” Christian said.

They called him “Bullet Bob” when he played running back on the Hillsboro Junior College (now Hill College) football team. In Waco and in his native town of Hillsboro, the Baylor law school alumnus is known affectionately as Bobby. But in Austin, he is Bullock—“Governor Bullock” to his face. Never Bobby, and definitely never “Bullet Bob.” In short, Bullock is treated with a mixture of fear, awe, and respect.

“Bob Bullock has to be one of the finest public servants and statesmen we have had in Texas,” said Dr. Herbert H. Reynolds, former Baylor president and current chancellor of the university, who has been friends with Bullock since the 1950s when they met in San Antonio while both served in the U.S. Air Force.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN, AND AGAIN

Born in Hillsboro on July 10, 1929, Bullock grew up near the famous Hill County Courthouse in a middle-class neighborhood. His father, an engineer employed by the city of Hillsboro, died when Bullock was sixteen. Following that loss, Bullock and his mother moved across the street into the home of Bullock’s sister, Louisa, and brother-in-law, Will Bond, who became his surrogate father and mentor.

Bullock attended Hillsboro public schools and graduated from junior college in 1949. He also spent a semester as an undergraduate at Baylor University. After the Korean War broke out, he enlisted in the U.S. Air Force in 1951 and flew supplies to the war zone from a base in San Antonio. After nearly four years of service, he went to Texas Tech, where he earned an undergraduate degree, and to Baylor School of Law, graduating in 1958. In 1956, while still in law school, he successfully ran for his first political office—a House seat from Hillsboro.

“I did not have a campus life when I was at law school at Baylor, but there were a lot of guys my age in law school,” Bullock recalled. “Law school was real hard for me—I was an average student. But what was great about Baylor was that you got a lot of personal attention. If you didn’t grasp what it was about, you could talk to your teachers.”

Those were busy days for Bullock. He was balancing life as a husband, a father, a law student, and an elected official. “During one legislative session, I would get up at 5:30 A.M. and attend classes at Baylor, which started at 8 a.m. Then I would drive back to Austin, where the House would start work around 11 a.m. or noon,” he said. “I had ample time to get back and forth, but it’s the studying that was tough because I was likely to participate in the night life in Austin. There used to be huge poker games,” he added, smiling at the recollection.

Two years later, when the legislature reconvened, he took some classes at the University of Texas School of Law instead of driving back and forth to Waco. But he didn’t like the big classes or the lack of personal attention.

“Baylor is the premier law school. I had great law professors. They taught us practical things. We learned what to do, and we got a lot of attention,” Bullock said. “I feel close to Baylor. The faculty equipped me and provided me with opportunities.”

Bullock was elected to two terms in the Texas House, serving from 1957 to 1959, when he resigned to practice law. He is particularly proud of legislation he authored giving needy senior citizens free prescription drugs and of his efforts—unsuccessful at the time—to require car owners to show proof of insurance when registering the vehicle. In the latter case, he was a man way ahead of his time

Back then, House members didn’t have an office, either at the Capitol or in their districts, and they weren’t reimbursed for their weekly trips home. Their entire staff only consisted of a secretary and a part-time clerk.

Legislators today do a better job, Bullock said, in large part because they have larger staffs. But it’s also because they are better educated, with more specialized knowledge, he added. And he gives today’s lawmakers credit for being more cognizant of the importance of open, accessible government.

“We would have closed meetings. Back then no one knew anything different. I think the people who serve today are more industrious and professional. That’s reflected in the laws they pass,” Bullock said. “And there’s less drinking and late-night poker games among House and Senate members,” he wryly added.

MAKING A NAME

After law school, Bullock was hired by a law firm in Harlingen to work on a water suit in the Rio Grande Valley. The experience fostered in Bullock an interest in water issues, a concern that became evident four decades later when he helped engineer sweeping reforms of state water laws in 1997. Over the next decade, Bullock worked as an attorney in various parts of the state, served as a lobbyist in Austin, joined the Office of the Attorney General, and helped Preston Smith’s successful run for Texas governor.

“I worked for him for free because I thought that if he got elected, I would have a job,” Bullock said. He was right; when Smith won, Bullock became his appointments secretary and general counsel. The position, however, resulted in a series of frustrations. “It was the sorriest job. All three fellows I picked turned out to have felonies,” Bullock said. “And one time, I appointed a dead person to a job.”

Governor Smith eventually made him Secretary of State in 1971 and a year later offered to appoint him to the Texas Insurance Commission. But Bullock failed to get the Senate’s confirmation by one vote. It’s an episode he remembers as painful and humiliating.
“I have preached to the senators to be careful before they turn anyone down. I never wanted to see anyone get hurt the way I did,” Bullock said.

During Bullock’s fifteen months as secretary of state, he engineered several major election law reforms. Then, following a brief return to practicing law, he successfully ran for the job of state comptroller, remaining there from 1975 to 1990, when he ran for lieutenant governor.

As Texas comptroller, he modernized one of the largest and most complex state agencies with an emphasis on fiscal responsibility, setting the tone for other arms of state government and helping create the progressive economy Texas now enjoys. In the process, he elevated the power of the state comptroller’s office and ushered in an era of ethnic diversity among the agency’s staff.

NO IDEOLOGUES ALLOWED

During his two terms as lieutenant governor and president of the Senate (1991-95, 1995-99), Bullock created an unusual degree of bipartisanship among the state’s thirty-one senators, controlling and directing the legislative agenda, waiting patiently for the right opening, and passing a record amount of legislation. He helped deregulate the telecommunications industry, pushed for legislation protecting businesses from suits by foreign plaintiffs, and supported bills eliminating lawsuit abuses.

He pushed legislation on education, juvenile justice, criminal justice, and welfare. In fact, there are few issues important to Texans that don’t have Bullock’s imprimatur.

Loyalty is one of his better-known trademarks. His staff stuck by him, and many worked for him for decades. In turn, he stuck by them. Former Bullock aides populate every level of state government, from the basements of some large agencies to the top floors of others. His network was unmatched, providing him with an immediate source of information and supporters.

He also shows his loyalty through his checkbook, giving millions of dollars to people and institutions that have helped him. In 1997 alone, he gave $750,000 to Baylor University, its alumni association, and its law school.

Bullock, however, is just as renowned for being unapologetically independent. Most recently, he endorsed Governor George W. Bush in the November elections and financially contributed to the Republican’s race, turning his back on Bush’s opponent, Garry Mauro, a longtime friend and fellow Democrat who considered Bullock his mentor.

But that wasn’t the first time he angered Democrats. School vouchers, for example, are anathema to Democrats, but Bullock decided in 1997 that they were worth trying. When some Democrats angrily suggested he join the ranks of the GOP, Bullock stood firm although he was clearly stung.

“I can’t fathom Texas being afraid to try something new. We are dealing with the future. We are dealing with our children,” Bullock said. “There is nothing worse than a child trapped in a non-performing school district.”

Bullock has always seen stagnation more as a reversal of progress than a pause. He believed his job was to improve the lot of Texans, and that meant passing legislation, making strides, and moving forward.

He was clearly frustrated throughout the 1997 legislative session when the Bush tax proposal, which Bullock never totally embraced and which he suspected was doomed to failure, dominated the attention of legislators and distracted them from other bills, most notably the electric deregulation Bullock had wanted to pass. Instead, he waited until the end of the session and created a Senate committee to study the issue in preparation for a deal to be cut in 1999.

“He is not an ideologue,” Christian said. “He just likes to get things done. When he runs into a wall, he backs off and tries something else. He is tireless.”

Bullock was at his most shrewd in 1991 when he realized he was about to lose the income tax battle. He had been a proponent of a state income tax, but when the political winds blew heavily against him, he not only changed tacks but actually pushed for a constitutional amendment that prevents other legislators from enacting the levy. It was vintage Bullock—an act of both vengeance and vindication, a move that endeared him to some Texans but whose Machiavellian twists confused others.

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

What Bullock leaves behind is a state Senate where even controversial bills get passed with a minimum of rancor. If visitors to the Capitol want to hear free-for-all debates, they had better head to the House Gallery. Under Bullock, the Senate has consistently been the more august, deliberative body it was intended to be, with the Baylor graduate presiding as a consummate peacemaker. He certainly argued and pounded away until a consensus was reached, but he did it in private.

“Twist some arms? You bet I did,” he told newspaper editors gathered in Dallas last year. Bullock’s process of coercion usually began by adopting a relatively blank slate—making few promises and even fewer commitments.

“He has an uncanny way of figuring out what people have to have and of sorting it all out,” said state Senator David Sibley, R-Waco, who earned bachelor and law degrees from Baylor.

The result has been that he gives a little here, takes away a little there, and bills get passed with at least the two-thirds majority the Senate requires.

“For a while he wanted unanimous votes. He wanted everything worked out in advance so no one would get cut up at the last minute,” Christian recalled. “But he settled for as few divided votes as he could get. He didn’t lay out a big program. What he did was to mull over the problems of the day with the senators, and together they came up with solutions.”
In 1993, for example, when the unpopular and exceptionally controversial school finance bill was being debated, Bullock managed to keep the legislation on track and to ward off efforts to torpedo the bill. “We had been to court three times and lost. It was a disaster,” Sibley recalled. “We were up against the wall, but Bullock pulled it together.”

Lawmakers who sidestepped him or tried to usurp his power weren’t always treated well. When Governor Bush neglected to tell him in 1997 that he was filing a tax bill, Bullock turned ice cold, giving the governor the chilliest of receptions. Bush never again made that mistake. In fact, during the 1997 legislative session, it was Bush who would stop by to see Bullock, instead of requesting his attendance at the governor’s quarters.

Bullock’s blood pressure rose again in early 1997, when he perceived the Senate’s new Republican majority as a threat to his power. He thought he was being cornered, and he accused Republicans of being power-hungry. In short, he wasn’t going to stand for any of it. “(They) can just all go to hell,” he told a large group of lobbyists and business people gathered at a meeting of the Texas Civil Justice League. Senators took heed, and the flap blew over. The Senate remained bipartisan, with committee chairs chosen from both sides of the political aisle.

BRUTALLY HONEST

Bullock moves a little more slowly these days. His steps are more measured. He has had health problems since 1980, when he suffered a heart attack. He has subsequently undergone bypass surgery, had parts of his lung removed, and battled episodes of depression. But through the fall and early winter he routinely continued to put in twelve hour days, and woe to the staff member who was late, missed a deadline, or didn’t deliver information to his boss on time— and that often meant before 6 a.m.
“He is the dadgummest fella you ever saw,” Christian said. “I don’t think anyone will ever forget Bullock. He is the last of a breed.”

Bullock’s mercurial moods are a significant part of his legend. His temperament is tolerated largely because he can be as kind as he can be ornery.

“Bullock can be as abrasive as sandpaper. I have seen him be shockingly rude,” Sibley noted. “But he can also be charming—a Rhett Butler, a Southern gentleman.”

“He is an individual who is not reluctant to recognize his own shortcomings and frailties and who is more honest than most of us,” Reynolds said. “I admire that honesty.”

Rarely has that recognition of human frailty been more evident than in 1997, at the height of the legislative session, when state Senator Drew Nixon, a Republican from East Texas, was arrested in Austin for hiring an apparent prostitute, who was really an undercover policewoman. The Capitol was abuzz with the story, and reporters swarmed around Nixon. His Senate colleagues were embarrassed and uncomfortable, but not Bullock. He came to Nixon’s defense. No man should cast a stone, Bullock said. Everyone, himself included, was guilty of indiscretions. Weeks later, Bullock went down to the Travis County Courthouse to ask the jury for clemency for Nixon.

“Bullock is the most unusual person I have known in my life,” Sibley said. “The incident with Drew Nixon was unbelievable. Bullock sounded almost like a priest, talking about forgiveness and the redemption of mankind.”

Bullock has been just as forthcoming about his own personal life. He is candid about his bouts with alcoholism, from which he managed to recover, and about his struggle with smoking, which he has not overcome.

When the Texas Daily Newspaper Association honored him in March 1998 for his career in public service, it was Bullock who brought up his problems with alcohol, reminding the editors of the hard times he had survived and thanking them for their support.
“At a time when I couldn’t handle whiskey, when I drank too much . . . you helped me restore my self-respect,” he said. “If you’ve never lost it, you do not know what it means to get it back.”

But when reporters quizzed him relentlessly about his health a few years ago, he became impatient and frustrated, and he started sending them the results of his annual physical exams and lab work. Consequently, statistics about Bullock’s blood and other vital functions have been posted on many newsroom bulletin boards.

Bullock may be ornery, but he is never pretentious. He says it like it is. When reporters angered him back in the 1980s, he thoughtfully sent them gifts of cow manure. And following the decline of his hearing in the 1990s, he simply turned off his hearing aid when he tired of the conversation around him. “I am really hard of hearing, and I am not wearing my hearing aids,” he said in 1997. “But it’s fine. I hear just what I want to hear and nothing more.”

DEDICATION TO THE END

After making public his plan to retire at the end of his second term, Bullock announced that he didn’t believe in lame-duck administrations. Voters had elected him to work diligently for a full, four-year term, he said, and he intended to meet that commitment. True to his word, he created more than twenty Senate committees and put them to work analyzing the state’s problems, searching for fresh ideas, and putting together an agenda for the next legislature.

“Some of the most productive work of the legislature is when legislative committees take the temperature of the Texas public,” said Bullock, who urged committee members to get out of Austin and hold hearings throughout the state.

Now that he is leaving office, the final results of the wheels he put in motion are out of his hands. Bullock will watch the 1999 legislative session from a distance—from a few blocks down Congress Avenue, to be exact, where he will serve as a consultant and advisor on politics and business for Public Strategies Inc., a large public affairs firm based in Austin. But Bullock watchers will continue to see his mark since he has already helped set the agenda for the next two years. No one will be surprised if the Senate takes up many of the issues on the Bullock wish-list—issues such as affirmative action, electric deregulation, gang legislation, health care, and open meeting and open government reforms.
Nonetheless, Bullock intends to keep his promise to stay out of the legislative fray. “When you’re through, you let loose,” he said. “I have been back to the comptroller’s office only once since I left there. When you leave, you leave.”

He tells the story of a lobbyist who used to buy breakfast for legislators staying at a certain downtown Austin hotel during legislative sessions. After Bullock left the House and was practicing law in the Rio Grande Valley, he came to Austin to argue a case before the Court of Criminal Appeals. He stayed at the same hotel, but when he came down to breakfast the lobbyist didn’t invite him to sit down.

“When I first got here, I believed lobbyists who told me how smart I was,” Bullock said. “Then I learned that some are my friends and some are my paid friends. When I was out of politics, the birthday and Christmas cards stopped coming. I didn’t get turkeys or hams, either. Then I would get elected again, and here would come the turkeys and hams.”

Such lessons in political life have provided Bullock with a hard-earned perspective that will undoubtedly continue to help guide him through the years ahead. “You’ve got to keep your head on your shoulders, and you have to understand that when it’s over, it’s over,” he said.

by Michele Kay

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