Why Utah’s Legislative Leadership Contests are Often Cutthroat but Clouded from Public View
For generations, a more genteel Republican Party subscribed to an
unwritten but ironclad “next in line” succession philosophy —
particularly for the military veterans in their ranks — as ambitious
politicians routinely stepped aside for the most experienced to step
forward.
The examples run especially deep in presidential politics, from Dwight
Eisenhower to Bob Dole to John McCain. When the blue bloods were
on the ballot, you waited your turn. Such elder respect is harder to find
on the legislative and local level. And on Utah’s Capitol Hill, it seems as
rare as a successful Utah County Democrat.
Indeed, insiders describe legislative leadership races as intense affairs,
defined by behind-the-scenes posturing, that often tilt on personalities
more than politics. There is also no such thing as “waiting in line” since
House and Senate members know from their first election that all
power is essentially wielded from just 14 leadership slots.
“It is ultra-competitive and there is a ton of jockeying going on,” says
Chris Bleak, a lobbyist and former Utah House Chief of Staff.
“Leadership races start almost immediately once you get up there.”
This week, House Republicans will hold leadership elections after Utah
House Majority Leader Francis Gibson, R-Mapleton, recently
announced he is resigning after 13 years in the Legislature.
Rep. Mike Schultz, R-Hooper, who currently serves as House majority
whip, will replace Gibson as majority leader, running unopposed. Rep.
Jefferson Moss, R-Saratoga Springs, is expected to replace Schultz as
majority whip.
Meantime, Rep. Val Peterson, R-Orem, has announced he will not
throw his hat in the ring for a more prominent leadership seat but
remain as majority assistant whip.
That move has generated speculation, and some whispers, about why
Peterson would essentially let Moss jump him in line. For his part,
Peterson insists he is content to stay put.
“I thoroughly enjoy this position and representing our caucus on the
leadership team,” Peterson wrote in an email to his GOP caucus. “We
have achieved a tremendous number of amazing things over the past
three years and I intend to keep that great streak going.”
Lawmakers say leadership calculations often boil down to simple vote
counts among peers. Lobbying for support also means you know when
you don’t have it. And if you’re not moving up, the mantra moans, it’s
time to move out.
Gibson, for instance, knew he would never be House Speaker and
instead cited a need to focus on career and family as the reason for his
resignation. For the most part, this month’s leadership contest consists
of moving up a chair without controversy.
But over the years, unforeseen forces have occasionally upended Utah
leadership races — from unearthed skeletons to secretive alliances —
turning once-tidy Republican politics into something more
Machiavellian.
‘Intensely Personal and Cutthroat’
On the final night of the 2010 legislative session, Utah House Majority
Leader Kevin Garn stunned conservative Utah by acknowledging he
paid a woman $150,000 to keep quiet about a nude hot-tubbing
incident that took place a quarter century earlier when she was a
teenager. Lawmakers responded with a standing ovation, embracing his
honesty, but Garn resigned from the Legislature two days later.
The lingering froth from that bombshell prompted House members to
choose so-called “placeholder” Rep. Doug Aagard as majority leader
that fall rather than majority whip Brad Dee, who was gunning for the
coveted seat. Place your own Hot Tub Time Machine joke here, but the
scandal cost Dee by association. However, Dee would go on to become
majority leader the following year.
“I’ve always seen it stay friendly,” explains Greg Hartley, who served as
Chief of Staff for Utah Speakers Greg Hughes and Brad Wilson. “In the
end, you have to have a united caucus.”
Leadership on both the Republican and Democratic sides of the aisle
can be a double-edged sword. While you clearly set the state’s agenda,
you often sacrifice work-life balance.
Regular members can run more bills and work on more policy, Hartley
notes, and often play key roles as committee chairs.
“Some folks are content,” Hartley says. “They get into leadership and
realize it’s a lot more time and work. Speaker, it’s pretty much full time.
A lot of people don’t have the time commitment. That’s why you see a
limited number of people who run for leadership.”
Plus, committee chairs have a key hand in the rules and budget. “A lot
of folks want to get to that committee chairman spot and they are
totally content there,” Hartley adds.
Besides the obvious leadership titles, The House Speaker and Senate
Presidents each appoint an appropriations chair, appropriations vice
chair and a rules chair. That collective power, veteran observers say,
can be too intoxicating to resist.
“There’s a whole psychology and mentality that goes into it — they set
the agenda,” Bleak says. “Everybody that’s up there that’s a type-A
personality — everyone wants to be in leadership”
Sometimes, that journey can be short lived. Former state legislator
Chad Bennion once ran for leadership and garnered just two votes.
Presumably, one was his.
Former Rep. Craig Frank, who had to give up his seat in 2011 because
he lived outside his district, received his own, lone vote in an attempt
to crack leadership.
While trying to curry favor with colleagues, alliances can form — and
shift — quickly. Serving as Senate President in 1998, Lane Beattie
retired shortly after the session. Then Majority Leader Lyle Hillyard, R-
Logan, was appointed Senate president in his spot. But before Hillyard
could actually serve in leadership, the new Republican caucus voted
instead for Sen. Al Mansell, R-Sandy.
“These things can be intensely personal and cutthroat,” Bleak says. “It’s
hard to track because it’s secret ballot and that is rare in the
legislature.”
Personality over Partisanship
Throughout his encyclopedic career in Utah politics, former
Congressman (and former House Speaker) Rob Bishop has seen a little
bit of everything. But he maintains three key factors tend to determine
the outcomes with legislative leadership.
First, he points to geography. Leadership cannot be concentrated from
just one part of the state or a single county. In some cases, a member’s
location can hurt their chances if, for instance, existing leaders hail
from the same area.
That is on display this week as Rep. Steve Handy, from Davis County, is
expected to mount a token challenge to Moss for majority whip.
Because Speaker Brad Wilson and incoming Majority Leader Schultz are
from Davis and Weber counties respectfully, Handy’s geography is an
Achilles heel.
Bishop also points to ideology as a component that can make or break a
leadership campaign. “They want somebody who can be middle-of-the-
stream ideologically with members of the body,” Bishop says.
Even though every election circumstance is different, Bishop says the
third, and most critical characteristic, is likeability.
“The most important element is personality,” Bishop insists. “You vote
for people you like. Personality becomes essential.”
Republican Rep. Jim Dunnigan was elected as majority leader only to be
swept aside later, with members pointing to personality conflicts.
Senate veteran Curt Bramble, no stranger to both controversy and
consensus building, has run for multiple leadership posts only to be
consigned to committee chairmanships.
Trailblazing politician Becky Lockhart, the first female speaker of the
Utah House was also viewed as being stubborn and difficult to work
with. Lockhart lost multiple bids for leadership before winning.
Typically, insiders say lawmakers will serve a couple terms, look for a
vice chair or committee chair position then look for a leadership role.
But Hartley notes career calculations and other quirks in the pecking
order, often force politicians’ hands sooner.
“A lot of times people will say, ‘Well, I don’t want to be in this forever,’
so they look to get into (leadership) earlier.”
From Awkward Dinners to Vote Counters
Washington, D.C. is filled with folklore about the gentlemen of the
Senate screaming at one another inside the chamber only to meet
afterward for dinner, drinks, cigars and laughs.
Former straight-laced Senator Orrin Hatch famously had a close
friendship with his blue-tongued,
\ imbibing colleague Ted Kennedy.
Nothing quite matches those strange bedfellows or that color locally,
but a former legislative tradition comes close. Now defunct, the Senate
and House dinners used to force lawmakers and their spouses to dine
side by side as the quiet lobbying for leadership votes loomed.
“I’ve been told stories about how it was incredibly awkward,” Bleak
recalls. “You’d be seated at a table with members who you knew
weren’t going to vote for you.”
Fast forward to 2021, and the House now chooses a vote counter for
the body who is not sworn to secrecy. “It’s supposed to be secret
ballot,” Bleak adds, “but everyone knows what the election counts are.”
Sometimes that fait accompli can be political career crusher, but not
always.
Former Speaker of the House David Clark stayed on one final session
after losing the speaker’s race before resigning in 2011. But Sen. John
Valentine remained in the august body following his leadership defeat
at the hands of Sen. Michael Waddoups.
“There’s a lot of bonding and camaraderie that happens,” Hartley says.
“A lot of times they’re really good friends.”
Joint members of the leadership team become tight-knit year after
year. The group meets at least twice per week and multiple times a day
as the legislative session winds down.
It is in those rooms that the real power exists. That fact is not lost, even
on the freshman lawmaker. Just like the characters in the proverbial hit
Hamilton, everybody sees the value of being in the room.
“If you’re in and you’re not moving up the line,” Bleak says, “it’s time to
get out of the Legislature. And almost everyone has followed that.”
