But what was supposed to be a victory lap turned into a legislative mess–and the closest thing Bush has had to a season of political “crisis” as governor. Facing opposition from various GOP brethren, Bush found himself backpedaling on the session’s two biggest issues, tax cuts and the regulation of HMOs. But rather than risk dramatic confrontation on either, he cut his losses, kept his head down and found a way to claim credit later for outcomes he’d initially opposed. The season foreshadows the kind of president Bush would be: adept at duck-and-spin, wary of taking on his own right wing. “We beat him badly,” recalled Democratic Rep. Garnett Coleman of Houston. “But the guy is very shrewd. He knows how to spin a defeat.”
He needed all his spinning skills in 1997. Bush knew he had a problem with the HMO issue. On the advice of his corporate allies, he’d vetoed a sweeping “patient’s protection” bill in 1995, and had been roundly attacked for it. To quell the criticism, he’d allowed his insurance commissioner to adopt many of the bill’s provisions as regulations. But by 1997 the anti-HMO forces were back, this time with an even more sweeping bill, and backed not only by doctors (many of them Republicans) but by the state’s powerful trial lawyers.
Bush was where he hates to be: between a rock and a hard place. Business leaders loathed the tough regulations in the bill, and were apoplectic about a companion measure that would give patients the right to sue HMOs. But Bush was raising his national profile as a “compassionate conservative,” and wasn’t eager to be known as a heartless governor with a penchant for vetoing HMO-reform bills. Bullock was no help; in fact, he was a chief strategist for the other side. Publicly, Bush’s aides issued veto threats. Privately, Bush fumed that “trial lawyers are Democrats.” But in the end, he caved. He agreed to sign the regulatory bill, though refusing to do so at a public ceremony. He let the right-to-sue bill become law without his signature. On the campaign trail these days, he claims credit for Texas’s leading role in HMO reform.
Bush didn’t want an HMO bill, but got one. Just the opposite with tax reform: he proposed a $3 billion tax overhaul, and didn’t get it. Eager once again to show his new-wave conservative credentials, Bush proposed rewriting the Texas code and reforming the funding of education. The idea was to both cut taxes and reduce the schools’ reliance on property taxes. But to avoid levying an income tax–anathema in Texas–Bush had to propose raising myriad fees and business taxes.
Ladling out the charm, he invited House Democrats one by one to his office. They supported him, but did so realizing something Bush apparently either didn’t see or didn’t want to face: that the conservative Republicans in the state Senate–tax-cut purists all–would kill the deal, and that Bullock wouldn’t stop them. Bush settled for a far more modest tax cut–just large enough for him to brag about later in New Hampshire.
Bush and Bullock (who died in 1999) remained fond friends. But it was clear to observers who was boss. Visiting the governor’s office on another matter, Bullock smiled and pointed to his allies in the room. “Governor, we’re going to screw you on this one,” he said. Bush chuckled, got up from his chair and walked to the corner of the office. “Well, you’re going to have to come over here and kiss me first,” Bush joked. Bullock laughed, but didn’t move, and got his way in the end.
