In 1993, Griffin Smith, who was executive editor of this newspaper at the time, decided to implement a project that had long been popular in Texas. Smith, a talented writer and editor, was among the pioneers who helped turn Texas Monthly into one of the finest magazines in the country.
A staple of that magazine is its Best and Worst of the Texas Legislature feature at the end of each legislative session. I was the Arkansas Democrat- Gazette's political editor in 1993 and worked with Smith to assemble a team of reporters, editors and graphic artists to come up with a list for Arkansas. Smith even had his old friend Paul Burka, dean of the Capitol press corps in Austin, travel to Little Rock to teach us how it was done. Burka had joined Texas Monthly in 1973, just one year after the magazine's founding.
We followed Texas Monthly's format and came up with a Best 10 and Worst 10 among the 135 Arkansas legislators. There was an Honorable Mention list for those who just missed out on making the Best 10, a Dishonorable Mention list for those who just missed out on making the Worst 10 and a category known simply as Furniture. The Furniture list consisted of members who showed up, collected per diems and didn't do much one way or another.
A key to the initiative's success was that it wasn't partisan. Members were judged not on whether they were Democrats or Republicans. They were judged on whether they were effective, knew how to compromise to get bills passed and understood how to influence their colleagues. More than once, people I liked on a personal basis made the Worst 10. People I strongly disliked occasionally would be among the Best 10.
The lists proved popular with readers. Lobbyists and other state Capitol insiders called me on a regular basis during sessions to provide off-the-record tips. I left the job of political editor several years later, and the newspaper did away with the feature. I'm not sure why.
In light of this year's contentious session, I've been thinking how I would classify legislators these days. In 1993, the great newspaperman Mike Trimble came up with my favorite line concerning the Arkansas Legislature. The sentence began: "In the House, where the shallow end runs the length of the pool ..."
The Arkansas Senate was once the place where unconstitutional bills went to die. Wise old attorneys on the Senate Judiciary Committee quietly killed crazy bills that came over from the House. These days, it seems that more bad legislation originates in the Senate than the House.
In this new world of Arkansas politics, legislators can now be broken into four categories--Democrats, Know Nothings, a group I call the Cowards and a handful of others.
First, there are the Democrats, who are in 2021 what Republicans were for the entire 20th century in this state--a small group with little influence. Individual Democrats can make noise and manage to get quoted by the media, but as a group they're largely ineffective. It doesn't help that the party apparatus has almost ceased to exist, failing to field a candidate against U.S. Sen. Tom Cotton in 2020 and fielding only a token candidate to run against Gov. Asa Hutchinson in 2018.
Democratic control of Arkansas lasted 130 years. As recently as 2010, Democrats still held large majorities in both houses of the Legislature, controlled all seven statewide constitutional offices and had five of the six congressional seats. The shift to a GOP-dominated state was sudden and dramatic.
The loudest and most influential group during this legislative session consisted of those Republicans I call the Know Nothings. I warned in a column back in December that Know Nothings were in a position to control the agenda in 2021. In a year when time was wasted fighting divisive cultural wars that have nothing to do with state government, my prediction came true. In fact, this session proved far worse than I had dreamed it would be.
"The Arkansas Legislature has always had what I refer to as the Know Nothing caucus," I wrote in December. "I don't use that term because legislators necessarily share the beliefs of the original Know Nothings but because they prefer to be publicity hounds on hot-button issues. That's much easier than doing the truly hard work of crafting an efficient state budget. When asked about budget issues, they typically know nothing. There's no such formal organization, of course, but Arkansas Know Nothings are easy to spot at the state Capitol. ...
"The problem for Arkansas is that their numbers are growing in an era when so many people foolishly rely on social media as a news source. The Know Nothings had rather spout off about social issues that are settled at the national level as opposed to reading, studying and being effective legislators. Many of them don't have full-time jobs. Their largest source of income tends to be the meager legislative salary."
The largest group is what I refer to as the Cowards. They're mostly Republicans, and they realize that issues pushed by Know Nothings aren't good for our state. In Trumpian Arkansas, they're scared of loudmouth constituents back home. They meekly go along with the Know Nothings rather than standing up to bullies in their districts.
I have a question for the Cowards: Is a public office that forces you to renege on your principles worth having?
The fourth and smallest group consists of Republicans who stood up to the Know Nothings. They were fighting a losing battle this year, but at least they can sleep well at night. May their tribe increase.
Senior Editor Rex Nelson's column appears regularly in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. He's also the author of the Southern Fried blog at rexnelsonsouthernfried.com.