By Jose Z. Garcia
There were two kinds of cautionary signals from the very beginning. One had to do with the governor’s bullying style — early rumors of highly aggressive behavior, a speech that Sen. Tim Jennings gave on the floor of the Senate complaining about the use of abusive language, the hardball targeting in 2004 of Democrats who had challenged the governor, and other signs of obvious displeasure against legislators or lobbyists who disagreed. The governor appeared to have mastered the advice Machiavelli gave to the prince: It is better to be feared than loved.
The other signal had to do with money: The Richardson administration elevated fundraising to an art form, at an unprecedented level of prominence and glamour, and the dollar amounts broke all records. There were fundraisers in-state, out-of-state, big ones, little ones, fat ones, skinny ones. And people doing business or wanting to do business with the state were at least as encouraged to contribute as anyone else, and probably more. The governor, generous about lending his presence to raise money for others, became a money-raising machine, and very quickly the word got out that the governor’s promise to attend a fundraiser was a guarantee of its success.
Fundraisers received appointments to powerful positions on boards and commissions and in other ways appeared to receive a great deal of face time with Big Bill.
But the governor was hugely popular. With a personality larger than life, a great sense of humor and a captivating ability to speak, he is perhaps the best platform performer in New Mexico political history. Moreover, Richardson let it be known from the beginning that he was planning a return to Washington, possibly in a presidential bid in 2008. In the face of such popularity, why not? In a few years Richardson and those close to him might be batting in the big leagues: Rocking the boat was dangerous, and it seemed downright petty.
Ignoring the warning signals
This combination of the governor’s immense popularity, his success as a fundraiser, his potential political future and his vindictiveness against opposition, stirred and garnished with countless anecdotes, made for a powerful carrot-and-stick soup. People had misgivings from the beginning — about policy directions, about spending decisions (which tended to be lavish), and about the governor’s accumulating power. But these were shared only with the closest of friends. Misgivings disappeared from the visible political radar screen: taboo.
Why two critical sectors of the political class of New Mexico — the news media and legislative leaders of both parties — chose to ignore the warning signals will be debated for years. In particular, the Albuquerque Journal, one of the greatest family-owned newspapers left in the United States and normally an avid reporter of the fine print of gubernatorial action, seemed always to go along, expressing virtually no concerns. One theory is that Richardson astutely hired media persons, such as Bill Hume, into his staff, providing a potential back channel for interpreting eyebrow-raising issues. Another is that the Journal, sensing Richardson had a strong national potential, simply decided to give the big guy a chance at the long shot, hoping his fine print, if ever read, would not reveal too many disappointments. Whatever the case, in-depth reporting about the administration’s down side appeared to cease.
In the Legislature, especially the House, leadership abandoned all pretense of independence, casting off the role of check-and-balancer in favor of the role of chief enabler. For the first year or two this was normal: a honeymoon was to be expected. After a while, though, it became a habit. Speaker Ben Lujan had a highly autocratic style and tolerated little deviation from the (mostly) governor’s agenda.
Eventually a move against Lujan surfaced in 2006, in part because of allegations that he had protected his friend Smiley Gallegos in the face of credible accusations of serious wrongdoing in the administration of state housing programs, but mainly because of Lujan’s autocratic behavior. It is unclear why the speaker was so devoted to the governor’s agenda, but in the wake of current scandals the House will have to work hard to reestablish its credibility as an independent and serious institution, and not all of this can be blamed on the speaker.
Pay to play preceded guv, won’t stop with him
The unique combination of virtues and vindictiveness is unlikely to appear soon in another governor in New Mexico. So worrying about the possibility of another Richardson does not seem necessary. But Richardson did not invent pay to play in New Mexico. State Treasurer Jess Kornegay went to jail in the late 1970s. State Treasurer Earl Hartley was sentenced to jail in the 1980s. State Treasurers Michael Montoya and Robert Vigil are in jail today for sins committed in the 1990s and 2000s. President Pro Tem of the Senate Manny Aragon will be sentenced to jail later this year.
What Richardson did was to flaunt fundraising, suggesting his success at it was a sign he had glamorous friends and national stature rather than a risky adventure to be monitored with deep suspicion. Both political parties succumbed to this fiction long ago at the national level, and in the past few years the signs are clear that many party activists in New Mexico, slurping expensive food and liquor at lobbyist-paid-for party events, have lost their ability to distinguish between “pay your dues,” in the sense of “prove your commitment to our community,” and “pay to play,” in the sense of “let your financial ties to power determine the outcome of public policy.”
Pay to play in New Mexico would be far less serious were it not for its enablers.
If the Albuquerque Journal and members of the House should pause to reflect on their roles in the story of Richardson, the rest of the political class in New Mexico should re-examine its increasing tolerance of and growing addiction to the unprecedented flow of money into New Mexico politics. This will not stop when Richardson leaves the state.
Garcia has taught government and politics at New Mexico State University for 30 years. He has been active in Democratic Party politics in Doña Ana County for many years. He was appointed by Richardson to the N.M. Border Authority and served on it through the end of 2006.