THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, January 14, 1996 TAG: 9601140065
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY WARREN FISKE, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: HAMPTON LENGTH: Long : 187 lines
The second Wednesday of each January used to belong to Hunter Booker Andrews.
That's the day the General Assembly convenes each year, and for Andrews, the tart-tongued czar of the state Senate, it was time to take charge. New senators had to be taught decorum. Veteran lawmakers had to be warned not to ``trespass on time'' by delivering long-winded speeches or introducing half-cocked bills.
And governors had to be reminded that while they come and go every four years, Andrews was in his fourth decade of service in the Senate and that any appropriation of state money would have to be approved by a committee he tightly controlled. Last year, for example, Andrews was peeved at Gov. George F. Allen. As a result, Senate Democrats refused to extend Allen the traditional invitation to deliver his State of the Commonwealth speech before the General Assembly.
This year's opening day was strangely quiet for Andrews who, for the first time since 1963, stayed away from the Capitol. Instead of directing state government, Andrews remained in his storefront Hampton law office meeting with a few clients and directing the placement of wastepaper baskets to catch water from a leaky roof.
A few former colleagues called that morning to tell him the Senate would be a strange place without him and to commiserate about Andrews' startling loss to ex-Hampton Vice Mayor Marty Williams in November's election.
But Andrews, 74, was not in a sentimental mood. ``Life goes on,'' he said. ``I've seen too many let defeats devour them. I finished my term, I did my job and I'll leave it to others to look back.''
Others say Andrews' departure marks the passing of a more than 100-year-old era in the General Assembly when practically all power was held in the hands of a few senior Democratic lawmakers.
Last week the New Senate - 20 Democrats and 20 Republicans - spent two days negotiating an unprecedented plan to share power. They reached consensus in the wee hours of Friday morning. The result, declared a new day in Virginia by one Republican leader, has the GOP leading key committees and holding majorities on four of the Senate's 11 committees. In a huge change, the parties will share chairmanship of the Senate Finance Committee, which works up the state's $34.6 billion budget.
That used to be Hunter Andrews' turf. For observers of government and students of history, one of the defining characteristics of this legislative season will be his absence.
For the past decade, Andrews was the undisputed authority of the Senate. He chaired the powerful Finance Committee, which oversees all tax and spending matters. As majority leader, he controlled the schedule of the Senate and the flow of legislation through the chamber. He served on small panels that established the rules for the Senate each year and doled out all-important committee assignments.
When Andrews first came to Richmond, there was only one Republican in the 40-member Senate, and freshman Democrats, he recalled, were instructed ``not to speak your first two years and then wait your turn.'' He left this year after an election that gave Republicans half of the seats in the Senate and left no lawmaker singularly dominant.
Seniority and a vast institutional knowledge were not all that made Andrews powerful. Andrews was a master parliamentarian, a forceful debater and a star actor who loved the drama of the Senate.
``Hunter is just exceptionally smart,'' said Sen. Stanley C. Walker, D-Norfolk, who served with Andrews for 32 years. ``There's no question he's the most effective legislator I've ever seen.''
And then there was his legendary hair-trigger temper, that daunted even the toughest of opponents. Any legislator, lobbyist or reporter who has spent a couple of years at the Capitol is likely to have been on the receiving end of an Andrews' verbal barrage. Once, in a fit of anger, Andrews threw lighted matches in the lap of a lobbyist.
His caustic and regal style, critics say, underscored the arrogance of a man who had stayed in office too long.
``He ruled by intimidation,'' said Scott Leake, executive director of the legislature's Joint Republican Caucus. ``He became a symbol of the problems when one person, or one party, has too much power.''
What friends and critics agree on is that the Senate will be a different place without Andrews.
``The Senate will survive, but there's going to be a great vacuum there for a good while,'' said former Gov. Linwood Holton.
Although the state budget became Andrews' forte, fostering public education was always the issue closest to his heart. Andrews' public career began when he was appointed chairman of Hampton's School Board in 1957. That was during the heavy heart of the Massive Resistance era. Many localities in Virginia closed their schools rather than comply with a U.S. Supreme Court ruling to integrate them. Andrews was instrumental in keeping Hampton's schools open.
Andrews suggests that his finest moment in the Senate may have been early on when he sponsored legislation establishing compulsory school attendance to age 17.
Last year, he vigorously battled Allen's unsuccessful plans to cut school funding and income taxes by an average $33 a year per family of four.
``I, for one, will not sell the future of the Commonwealth for 33 pieces of silver,'' he declaimed.
Although generally conservative on spending matters, Andrews was one of the state's most liberal leaders on social issues. He strongly supported abortion rights, social services and early intervention programs for needy youths.
Do I have a temper?'' Andrews asked recently. ``No question. I'm a type-A personality.''
Andrews' face is as expressive as a mood ring. His cheeks and forehead turn red when he starts to boil, his lips purse, his eyes narrow and the words as cutting as glass start shooting from his mouth. He gets angry when people waste his time, try to cross him or fail to show what he considers to be proper respect.
``That's just part of his nature,'' Walker said. ``I've seen him humiliate people in committee meetings and then lean over to me and say, `Do you think I went too far?' I'd always say `Hunter, it's too late to worry about that now.' ''
He used his temper to his advantage. His frequent introduction line to new senators was, ``Hello, I'm Hunter Andrews. People say that I'm an SOB and I want you to know that I really am.''
More than a few former colleagues believe Andrews' temper was as much bluster as it was burn.
``In social situations Hunter has always been delightful,'' said ex-Sen. Clarence A. ``Clancy'' Holland, D-Virginia Beach. ``Around the General Assembly, I think he used his temper to keep people on their heels.''
There was a kind side to Andrews that not everybody saw. He was usually among the first to congratulate a freshman senator on his or her maiden speech before the chamber. When bested in debate, Andrews would smile at a foe and say ``touche.'' And if he demeaned someone one day, senators say Andrews usually made it a point to build that person back up the next day.
``Hunter can play people like a master,'' said Sen. Joseph V. Gartlan Jr., D-Fairfax.
Tradition is revered by Andrews, who can trace his Virginia ancestors back more than 300 years. He always insisted on strict parliamentary procedures and dress codes in the Senate. He holds out as an ideal Thomas Jefferson's model of a ``citizen's legislature'' in which lawmakers would govern part-time and then return home to their communities, families and jobs.
Andrews says he's returned home for good now and isn't looking for fanfare. He said he carries no grudge against Allen, who campaigned vigorously for the senator's defeat. ``I consider him my friend, just as I consider all nine governors I served with to be my friends.''
Andrews said his election loss was simply a matter of changing demographics. His longtime Senate district was refashioned in 1991 without a number of black precincts that had always been a strong base of support. As a result, his district became overwhelmingly white, suburban and Republican.
But Republicans say arrogance was a factor in Andrews' downfall. Throughout the campaign, Williams assailed Andrews for supplementing his income by $175,000 a year with the judicially appointed position of commissioner of accounts. Because Andrews helped appoint the judges who appointed him to the lucrative post, Williams claimed it was a conflict of interest. Andrews won't discuss the controversy.
He said he won't visit the Capitol for at least a year, nor will he call to offer advice. ``If somebody wants to call,'' he said, ``they'll know where to reach me.'' ILLUSTRATION: After four decades in the General Assembly, Hunter Andrews lost
re-election last fall. The 74-year-old Hampton Democrat chaired the
Senate Finance Committee for 10 years. ``The Senate will survive,
but there's going to be a great vacuum there for a good while,''
said former Gov. Linwood Holton.
Photos
Seniority and a vast institutional knowledge were not all that made
Andrews powerful. He was a master parliamentarian, a forceful
debater and a star actor who loved the drama of the Senate.
You're out of order!'' Andrews thundered, pounding his gavel again
and again.
``Then I'm going to overrule you,'' snapped back John Bennett, the
usually obedient staff director of Andrews' finance committee, last
month at a Senate retreat to discuss the budget.
Over the ever-sounding gavel, Bennett began a tribute to Andrews
that would culminate in the presentation of a silver platter bearing
the name of each member of Finance Committee's staff.
Then, the entire Senate stood in a three-minute ovation and the
gavel came down even more furiously and Andrews' face turned red,
his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. It was hard to tell if he was
really angry or really overcome with emotion.
Then the clapping stopped.
``Thank you,'' Andrews said. ``This meeting is adjourned.''
KEYWORDS: PROFILE BIOGRAPHY VIRGINIA STATE SENATE
GENERAL ASSEMBLY by CNB