By JEFFREY GETTLEMAN, Times Staff Writer
TALLAHASSEE, Fla.--Tom Feeney and John McKay are
two very different politicians, but the convening of a special
legislative session presents them the same golden opportunity: a
chance for a full-fledged comeback.
Six years ago Feeney was considered a political jinx. As Jeb
Bush's running mate, his ultraconservative beliefs were thought to
have cost Bush his first bid for the governor's mansion. Four years
ago, McKay was disgraced by an extramarital affair with a lobbyist,
a resignation from a top committee and a very public divorce.
Now the two Republican lawmakers--Feeney, speaker of the
Florida House, and McKay, president of the Senate--have a shot at
redemption, at least in the eyes of their like-minded colleagues.
Starting today, they will lead the Republican-controlled Florida
Legislature into uncharted and potentially hostile territory as
lawmakers meet to consider a measure to secure Florida's votes and
the presidency for Republican George W. Bush.
"If this is handled discreetly, cautiously and diplomatically,
people will respect these men and their leadership," said Steve
Uhlfelder, a Tallahassee lawyer. "But this is an enormous challenge.
What they're about to do is very risky, and they know it."
The pressure is tremendous, squeezing from all directions:
lawmakers who have constituencies that voted for Al Gore; big-shot
lawyers hurling obscure, colliding legal arguments; and Florida voters,
thousands of whom have marched in the streets to protest legislative
intervention.
If Gore concedes, Feeney and McKay said they will disband the
special session and return to the business of the Sunshine State.
But if Gore gains traction in his election-related lawsuits, Feeney,
42, and McKay, 52, will find themselves squarely in the spotlight as
they orchestrate an unprecedented power play to directly appoint
electoral delegates and block the Democrat from the White House.
The two have parallel beliefs but divergent styles. Some of
their contrasts reflect the differences in the chambers they lead, with
the House more rambunctious and the Senate more genteel.
Tom Feeney is ambitious, dogmatic, acutely partisan and brash, a
political time bomb tick, tick, ticking, ready to rip open any minute
with an explosive sound bite or uncouth remark.
"We call him Ready, Fire, Aim Feeney," Tallahassee lobbyist John
French said.
When asked last week about a special session, Feeney said he
"had his helmet on" and was "ready to rock 'n' roll."
John McKay is a straight arrow, somber and cool to strangers.
He hates cameras and loves research.
Despite Feeney's urgings, McKay held off calling a special
session until he had studied numerous reports and consulted with the
Democrats' lead constitutional expert to hear the arguments against
appointing delegates. Democrats had argued it was unnecessary and
illegal for lawmakers to take action because a set of delegates had
already been certified for Bush and an elaborate court process was
in motion to resolve Gore's contest.
But Republican legal experts painted a dark picture of Florida
being left out of the electoral college because of all the litigation and
vote-counting disputes. McKay agreed.
"With a heavy heart we go into this," McKay said Wednesday
about calling a special session to directly appoint presidential
delegates. "What we will do may impact the course of the country."
The two men have both overcome troubling legacies.
Feeney, the son of schoolteachers, was born, raised and educated
in Pennsylvania and moved to Florida in 1983. Since then, he's been a
real estate attorney in Orlando.
He jumped into politics at age 32 when he won a state House
seat and quickly established his conservative credentials. He pushed
school prayer and school vouchers. He fought hard against abortion
rights. He backed a resolution that called for Florida to secede from
the Union if the federal deficit didn't shrink. He tried to ban yoga in
public schools, saying that it "hypnotized" kids.
In 1993, he was named the Christian Coalition's legislator of the
year.
"He's very ideologically driven and unabashed about it," said Bob
Henriquez, a Democratic state representative from Tampa. "That
works fine as a representative. But no one really knows how he's
going to handle being speaker."
In 1994, Jeb Bush tapped Feeney to be his running mate in his
quest for the governor's mansion. Bush narrowly lost. Bush's
opponent targeted Feeney and his conservative crusades.
"At that point, he was considered all that was wrong with the
Republican Party," said one Tallahassee political analyst. "He was
considered a joke, a liability."
But he came back. He returned to the House in 1996 through a
special election, and now, thanks to term limits, is one of the most
experienced members of the Legislature. He was chosen as speaker
last month and has his sights trained on higher office, his colleagues
say.
"Tom's evolved a lot," said Ron Sachs, a Florida political
consultant.
McKay's credentials are a little different. He is pure Floridian,
sixth generation. He grew up in Winter Haven, went to college in
Tallahassee and has been involved in the real estate business one
way or the other for 30 years. He now lives in Bradenton, outside of
Sarasota, and develops strip malls.
McKay won a Senate seat in 1990 and rapidly climbed the
Republican ladder. And then came 1996. During a divorce, his wife
accused him of having an affair with a young telecommunications
lobbyist. The newspapers ran with it. A week later, McKay admitted
he was involved with the woman, resigned as chairman of the state's
powerful Ways and Means Committee but denied he gave any
special treatment to the lobbyist. The two later wed.
He kept a low profile until recently. He backed conservative
legislation for school vouchers and other programs but also
introduced social welfare ideas, such as a commission on
homelessness and the mentally ill. Last month, McKay was elected
president of the Senate, and some local journalists called him a
phoenix.
"It took a lot of guts for this guy to run for president after what
he's been through," Uhlfelder said.
This week will be the biggest test the two have faced yet. The
special session starts today and is expected to stretch over four
turbulent days. Feeney and McKay will control it all, from the rules
of debate to committee assignments to the language of the historic
measure that many in the Legislature have spent the last two weeks
gearing up to pass.
"Whatever happens this week," said Sachs, the Tallahassee
political consultant, "nothing these two guys ever did and nothing
they'll ever do will be remembered as clearly as this week."