Florida Trend | Florida's Business Authority

Bland Office -- Not-So-Bland Candidates

How could a campaign for something as bland as chief financial officer be nasty or even important? It's a bookkeeper, right?
Well, no, it's not. Florida has never before had a competitive race for CFO, an office created four years ago by combining the old comptroller and insurance commissioner. Tom Gallagher, the insurance commissioner at the time, won the job unopposed in 2002 after Comptroller Bob Milligan walked away from the contest.

This time, though, the job is not only hotly contested but touches some of the bigger headline issues. Insurance, for one -- rising premiums, canceled policies, and a government bailout at state-backed Citizens Property Insurance.

The messy execution of outsourcing contracts lets CFO candidates talk about being watchdogs of government spending. The role of state fire marshal lets them champion "first responders" and show anti-crime credentials by attacking meth labs as fire hazards. And because the CFO is one of three Cabinet members, along with the attorney general and the agriculture commissioner, candidates can talk about tax collections, highway safety, state purchases of land for conservation, the state pension fund, financing state bonds and a number of other things that the governor and Cabinet oversee jointly.

And then there are the candidates themselves. State Rep. Randy Johnson, a politically ambitious, family-values conservative from Disney-built Celebration, is the Republican underdog and provocateur. He's a red-meat populist, accusing (for instance) insurance companies of negotiating in bad faith on recent insurance legislation while knowing that they were going to turn around and impose huge rate increases and cut off policyholders. But he was assigned no role in shaping the insurance legislation and was actually gaveled down by House Speaker Allan Bense at one point for "campaigning" in a debate. In addition to his legislative salary, Johnson is the highly paid executive director of the Orlando Sports Commission.

Senate President Tom Lee used to disclaim interest in higher office and has pointedly resisted some Bush legislation like growth management and tax cuts (he preferred more money for education). But he changed his mind about running because he "felt that he had something more to offer our state." And he turned into a crusader for Bush causes earlier this year and won Bush's endorsement. Lee says he's "not an ideologue. I'm a thinker."

Johnson makes thinly veiled references to people who "pretend to be something that they're not." Lee says, "I don't have anything bad to say about this guy."
While Johnson and Lee duke it out all summer in the Republican primary, Alex Sink is assured of the Democratic nomination and can stand above the fray until the primaries are over in September. Sink was Florida president for Bank of America and its predecessor, NationsBank, from 1993 to 2000. She now serves on corporate boards of Raymond James Financial, Raymond James Bank and First Advantage Corp. and is married to Bush's Democratic challenger from 2002, lawyer Bill McBride. She has never sought public office.

Because of her statewide connections through Florida government and business organizations, her candidacy could peel off enough business support from the Republican alliance of business people and cultural conservatives to make her the winner.

Black and blue

Republicans have been worried about their vulnerability this fall. Besides a very unpopular president and a fragmented national party, the state Senate's Republicans had a very public split over such issues as class-size limits and school vouchers. And for all their statewide experience, Republican candidates look like the seven dwarves next to Jeb Bush -- in both height and political stature. They are all jockeying for the leadership in the post-Jeb party, although they may find that Bush continues to have a transcendent role.

Democrats have a real shot this year at regaining a couple of statewide offices, possibly even the governorship. Besides the chance to start rebuilding a bench of future governor candidates, two Democrats could create a stark division on Cabinet issues, on which the governor needs one additional vote to prevail.

Sink is often viewed as the Democrat Most Likely to Succeed. She has no contentious voting record to defend, while Lee is stuck defending the midnight compromise on insurance, and Johnson has to contend with such stands as his support for the Terri Schiavo intervention. Sink says her experience makes her "a perfect fit" for the job.

There's a debate about that, too, of course. Lee says his resume as an executive in his family's homebuilding business and his legislative experience beats Sink's resume in his polling. And Johnson retorts, "Coming from an industry you propose to regulate, I think that is an issue."

Johnson's comment raises one of the oddities of this cobbled-together Cabinet office. To buffer the effect of campaign contributions from industries the CFO regulates, the Legislature gave a good deal of independence to the insurance and bank regulators who are part of the CFO's office. The heads of those offices are appointed and removed by the governor and Cabinet, not just by the CFO, for example. This was a compromise with Comptroller Milligan, who thought the handling of state finances and the regulation of key industries should be entirely separate.

So here we are, these three candidates plus an unknown, Republican Milt Bauguess, who owns a financial company in Tallahassee. Bauguess brings no political organization or fund-raising potency, just the good intentions of a newcomer. There are no runoffs anymore, so whoever has the most votes wins the primary.

The differences aren't really so subtle. Sure, they all talk about financial integrity and better monitoring of outsourcing. They all say they'll be strong advocates for consumers in insurance regulation (a "consumer advocate" works for them, even if the regulatory decisions are made independently). But the outlooks they emphasize distinguish them.

Johnson talks about the "secret handshake" over the insurance legislation. He complains that insurance companies have abandoned the property-casualty market because they've lost money and yet "make billions" from Floridians in other lines of insurance. He would try to require any company doing business here to sell property and casualty as well. Both Lee and Sink say that's impractical. Lee adds, "Hurricanes are the bad guy."

Even to Democratic audiences, Sink speaks of being open and non-partisan. "People are shocked that we elect the position," she says.

Lee says it's a "very partisan" position. "I like to see institutions of government run in a bipartisan fashion," he says. "But there's nothing non-partisan about this job." He talks about filling the "leadership vacuum" after Bush leaves office. "The Cabinet is going to be elevated, the Legislature is going to be elevated, the role of the CFO, and which party holds that office, will matter."

Lee's obviously betting that Florida really is a "red" state and more voters ultimately will prefer a Republican to a Democrat. Johnson wants conservative voters to get him through the primary (bolstered by a name shared with a famous Yankees pitcher), and he'll worry later about the Democratic candidate. Sink will be just down the ballot from Democratic U.S. Sen. Bill Nelson, facing a so-far-underwhelming challenge from Republican Katherine Harris. Sink's non-partisan appeal is a bet that the state is not "red" or "blue" but "purple."

The candidates may actually feel black and blue. But they're doing their darndest to make a campaign for an obscure office more interesting.