ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: THURSDAY, February 16, 1995                   TAG: 9502160049
SECTION: EDITORIAL                    PAGE: A-13   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: RAY L. GARLAND
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Long


FORMER GOVERNORS HOLD FAST TO THEIR PLACES IN HISTORY

ONCE A governor, always a governor. At least, that has been the Virginia tradition, reserving a special place for its former chief executives but generally not pressing further political service upon them. Or maybe our ex-governors don't try all that hard for a second brass ring in the belief that, as former Gov. Mills Godwin put it, there is "no higher honor."

Considering the camaraderie that has always existed between the present occupant of the office and those who have gone before, the implied rebuke of George Allen by former Govs. Gerald Baliles, Mills Godwin and Linwood Holton was a remarkable event. It would be interesting to know who instigated their unprecedented public letter, read aloud on the floor of the House of Delegates and state Senate Feb. 1.

"Now is the time to make critical new investments in Virginia's future," they wrote. "The economic progress we need will not happen if Virginia's universities remain mired near the bottom in public support when compared to other states."

While the former governors pitched primarily for higher education, joining a coalition of business leaders promoting the same goal, they came close to a direct attack on Allen's plan to cut taxes to slow the overall growth of state spending. "Fortunately," they said, "Virginia has adhered faithfully to its strong bipartisan tradition of careful fiscal management and low taxation."

The late Clare Boothe Luce believed the remembered legacy of every president was reduced in public memory to a single sentence, the rest being grist only for the historian's lonely mill. The same could be said of governors.

Holton, Godwin and Baliles certainly belong to the living generation, at least that portion old enough to be worrying about Social Security. Each gave of his best, and each deserves the gratitude of Virginians that neither in office nor beyond have they done anything to embarrass the commonwealth. That said, they might have been better advised to stay clear of a political fight the present governor had already lost.

Except for Harry F. Byrd Sr., governor and United States senator for nearly 40 years, Godwin must be regarded as the most significant Virginia political figure of this century: the only man twice chosen by voters as governor. That is made more remarkable by the fact he was first elected as a Democrat (1965) and then as a Republican (1973).

Godwin was in many ways the key transitional figure in Virginia politics. After entering the House of Delegates as something of a "young Turk," he became a pillar of the Byrd organization and won its nod for lieutenant governor on the ticket with Albertis Harrison in 1961. But as winds of change beat upon the state and nation in the 1960s, Godwin emerged as a progressive.

In his first term, Godwin fought to enact a sales tax to finance establishment of the community college system and to modernize the state Constitution. Adding the new sales tax and a dollop of debt to the economic boom then in progress meant big spending increases for education, highways and mental health.

Considering Holton's first run for governor against hopeless odds in 1965, it was a foregone conclusion he would be the GOP nominee in 1969. With Democrats divided, he became the first Republican governor this century. Ironically, it proved both the first and last victory for the anti-Byrd tradition that had been his party's stock in trade.

With Democrats in firm control of the assembly, many wondered whether Holton could be successful. But his natural charm and great exhilaration of spirit saw him through. Unlike Allen, he reached out to senior Democrats and won their cooperation for a decidedly progressive program: streamlining state government, bringing in new blood and raising taxes. But Holton's term had hardly begun when his defining moment - and political Waterloo - appeared in the form of federal court orders requiring forced busing of students to achieve school integration.

Faced with a similar crisis only 12 years before, then-Gov. Lindsay Almond had raged against the federal courts and ordered integrated schools closed. Not only did Holton refuse to intervene against the new court orders: When the Richmond schools opened in 1970, he led his daughter Tayloe to the predominantly black John F. Kennedy High School while his wife took two younger Holtons to Mosby Middle School, where they were the only white pupils in their classes.

While the Republican Party decisively rejected Holton when he offered himself for the Senate in 1978, it can't be said it didn't give fair trial to the political formula he perfected of trying to build a progressive coalition. It twice failed and had no future. In another twist of fate, it was Godwin who steered the GOP into a winning alliance with disaffected conservative Democrats.

Of the three former governors who tacitly rebuked Allen, only Baliles might have a political future. The very model of a traditional Virginia Democrat during his six years in the assembly, and a conventional attorney general, Baliles suddenly emerged as a go-go governor, raising taxes and taking advantage of a booming national economy to find money for almost anything within reason. After covering up a gathering shortfall in state revenues during his last months in office, he passed on a fiscal pickle to his successor, Douglas Wilder.

In another switch, Wilder, the liberal hope, proved himself an acolyte in the diminishing church of St. Harry Byrd. Not only did he refuse to ask for tax increases to plug yawning gaps in the state budget, but he also seemed to delight in cutting spending. Wilder, who was not asked to sign the Godwin-Holton-Baliles letter, has spoken kindly of Allen's agenda. "Maybe there's a reason I wasn't asked," he said. "My record speaks for itself."

There is no larger point here than this: Once a public person defines himself for posterity, there's scant profit in confusing the brief epitaph by which he will be remembered. But just as these governors changed the script to suit the times in which they served, so is Allen. There can be no question of many worthy causes for state dollars. But a budget that has grown by almost 1,000 percent in 30 years is bound to have some bloat.

Ray L. Garland is a Roanoke Times & World-News columnist.



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