Springtime in Tallahassee signals two arrivals: politics and pollen. By mid March, both are in full bloom. For Larry Cretul, speaker of the Florida House of Representatives, this is the busiest time of the legislative cycle with both the House and Senate in session. The state of Florida faces an unprecedented budgetary shortfall with no anticipated financial rescue in sight. However, unprecedented seems to be Cretul’s theme song. This is, after all, the man who won his District 22 House seat by a mere 35 vote margin against a popular Alachua County candidate only to find himself in unchartered territory in 2009 as the House speaker after Ray Sansom resigned amid pending criminal charges.
Cretul’s unlikely ascent to the House’s top spot earned him the unofficial title “The Accidental Speaker.” Ocala Magazine followed Cretul for one fast-paced day during session, determining that Cretul’s methodical, even-keeled approach to managing matters of the state is anything but an accident.
Wired for Calm
6:50 a.m. Larry Cretul, a self-proclaimed “homebody,” enjoys the last quiet moment of his day in his Ford F150 truck in the mostly vacant Capitol parking garage. Cretul likes to arrive early before the rush of the day begins and mentally prepare for the next 11 to 12 hours of meetings.
7:31 a.m. It’s the second day of legislative session which means life is just getting interesting in “bill speak.” Cretul reviews the day’s agenda at an oversized conference table with his Chief of Staff Dudley Goodlette, a lawyer from Naples and former House Representative who honed his political skills on taxation and budget reform and is very familiar with the ways of Florida government. Goodlette discusses issues of the day, giving Cretul a heads up on bills that might have controversial legs.
“It’s 24/7 during session,” says Cretul, “We work as hard as we can after hours to stay on top of things.”
Goodlette, who tries to get into the office by 7 a.m. each morning, regularly scans e-mails and voice mails so not to miss an important notice or call. In politics, anything can change in an instant. Goodlett’s job is to be on top of issues when the political winds change. It’s also his job to make sure Cretul stays on task, meaning, “Keeping me from going off in the weeds,” says Cretul jokingly of himself.
“I get a lot of ‘asks’ and a lot of information, so I’ve had to get better at being candid,” adds Cretul who looks you so squarely in the eye that it’s hard to believe he can’t be anything but candid. “I don’t want to raise unrealistic expectations that we can’t live up to…and I don’t dance around the issues.”
With Florida’s projected $2.6 billion shortfall, a state debt load of $24 billion and no projected stimulus dollars after 2010, Cretul knows this much — 2010 legislation will be lean. Dance partners will be few.
8:15 a.m. As Goodlette wraps up his meeting with Cretul, Communications Director Jill Chamberlin stops by to review the speaker’s media agenda. Cretul is scheduled for an appearance on the “Capitol Update” cable television show in the afternoon. Known for understatement, Cretul rolls his eyes and nods his heads acknowledging this is part of the job he has to do, but would rather not. Spend five minutes with Larry Cretul and you know he’s more interested in policy than personality. Yet, his self-effacing demeanor is what many say was the exact prescription for the situation the Office of the Speaker found itself in 2008.
The last time I visited Cretul was the first week of last year’s legislative session when he found himself smack in the middle of a potential storm as the newly-appointed speaker. Cretul quickly stepped in to assume the leadership void. As one staffer describes him, Cretul is “wired for calm.”
So what did Larry do first? He rolled up his sleeves and worked.
“The speaker spent more time here (motioning to the office) than most last summer,” says Chamberlin, a seasoned public servant who has worked for both Republicans and Democrats. “He reviewed policies and proposals that were out of date and developed guidelines that were needed.”
“When we were adjourned last May, we worked toward opening day of this year,” says Cretul, “We asked ourselves, ‘What can we do better?’”
Cretul acknowledges he has a very good staff, but he was dealing with a staff picked by the former speaker.
“It could’ve been a meltdown, but it wasn’t,” says Cretul.
“We looked at the structure in staffing and committees. We collapsed a lot, folded some in, and limited numbers on committees. We made appointments to 18 instead of 38 people, which adds value. If you’re on a committee, you’re expected to perform,” says Cretul.
8:45 a.m. Like clockwork, Lisa Griffin, Cretul’s administrative assistant, steps in the office to remind him of his next appointment with George Levesque, the speaker’s deputy chief of staff and special counsel, to discuss the 830 bills that are proposed in the House. Levesque discusses a memorial (formal correspondence) to be sent to Congress regarding the proposed elimination of 6,000 space industry jobs in Florida.
8:50 a.m. First “pull out” of the day – Griffin pops her head in and whispers she needs to see Cretul. Majority Whip Carlos Lopez-Cantera has a potential problem. A House member has gone “off message.” It’s the Whip’s job to keep the political temperature of House members to ensure the legislative process is going smoothly and when it’s not, the speaker may need to get involved.
9:05 a.m. Cretul returns, none the flustered. An attempt to revise a bill about 9-1-1 transcripts was creating concern. The current proposed bill states 9-1-1 recordings should remain confidential for a 30 to 60 day period.
“Unfortunately in today’s media-connected world, if a story bleeds, it leads,” says Cretul, “So there should be sensitivity to the families.” A House member proposed an amendment that would make 9-1-1 recordings accessible to law enforcers and litigation teams. Red flag on the word “litigation.”
The next 30 minutes hold a certain tension in the air as staffers come in and out of the speaker’s office reporting status on the 9-1-1 bill among other legislative updates. Then, like magic, Goodlette walks in.
“They’re going to temporarily postpone the bill at the next committee to iron it out,” Goodlette announces, almost breathlessly.
“59 days and counting,” says Cretul, laughing.
Just another hour in Tallahassee.
Hand Sanitizer
10:15 a.m. One item that’s not in short supply at the Capitol is hand sanitizer. Cretul and his staff religiously pump and wipe after each meeting and every grin and grab. As Griffin aptly puts it, “He can’t be sick for these 60 days.”
Griffin brings in a miniature cardboard cut-out of an astronaut, a marketing piece in support of the space industry. Cretul tells her to return it to sender, so it won’t be deemed as a gift. “Better safe than sorry,” says Cretul.
He takes a quick break to visit with staff members, who share a visibly warm rapport for the speaker who wasn’t supposed to be their leader.
10:30 a.m. “We don’t want to be a distraction” cautions Cretul as he motions for us to venture beyond the speaker’s offices and into the Capitol Rotunda. Griffin gives a look like “Yeah, right” knowing that, once the speaker walks into the Rotunda, it’s anybody’s game. Griffin warns Cretul to be aware of his surroundings so not to walk into any unnecessary, well, how did he word it? Distraction. Immediately, passersby widen their eyes upon seeing who’s walking down the hallway.
“Good morning, Speaker Cretul!”
“Speaker Cretul, great job, yesterday!”
Maybe it comes with the job. Maybe it comes with being Larry Cretul. When you combine Larry Cretul with speaker of the House, you get one part reluctant political rock star/one part paterfamilias.
“Hey, I already passed a bill!” says Representative Steven Precourt who passes Cretul in the hallway.
Cretul, like the proud papa, says, “Doesn’t surprise me… good job!”
A Fortuitous Encounter
Remember that distraction warning?
“Um, Speaker Cretul, you’re about to walk into a press conference,” warns Griffin as we turn the corner around the Rotunda. A representative is holding a conference. All it takes is one reporter to see a wandering speaker nearby and instant topic shift. The cameras start clicking.
“Let’s go this way!” motions Cretul heading toward an elevator which is the exact location where Randy Touchton a lobbyist for the Florida Professional Firefighters Association happens to be standing.
What do you get when a lobbyist sees the House speaker waiting for an elevator?
A Golden Opportunity.
Touchton bends Cretul’s ear about a proposed initiative that would consider eliminating collective bargaining for state employees. Touchton’s specific concern was how firefighters would be impacted. Cretul listens patiently, telling Touchton he’ll look into the issue and get back with him. As we head into the elevator, Touchton yells, “I get nervous when wording says law enforcement and not firefighters!”
“Yes, we always have to be careful with our wording,” adds Cretul.
The elevator door closes.
“That was fun,” says Cretul like a boy who just had an ice cream cone. Griffin just shakes her head as she walks back toward the office, reminding Cretul to use the hand sanitizer at her desk.
Cretul stops by Goodlette’s office to relay his elevator encounter with Touchton. By 2 p.m., Goodlette will have researched this collective bargaining issue and personally called Touchton to inform him of the proposal’s clarification regarding firefighters.
“Undoubtedly, you can’t ask for a higher response than when the speaker’s chief of staff personally calls you to waylay your concerns.” says Touchton. “I guess it just goes to show you never know who you might run into at the Capitol.”
Indeed.
10:55 a.m. Lana Cretul, Larry’s wife, stops by on her way to the Governor’s Mansion for a spouses luncheon. Petite and reserved, Lana is not one for the spotlight or solo events, but duty and marriage calls.
“Have fun,” says Larry as Lana cuts him a playful “sure-I-will” smile.
11:00 a.m. It’s Space Day at the Capitol, where a multitude of “Space Day!” buttons with astronaut and moon icons are aplenty. Cretul meets with representatives from Florida’s space industry. Cretul has invited Council Director Joannne Leznoff to underscore the budget’s bleak outlook, a role she’ll reprise several times throughout the day. In spite of restrained assurances, Cretul positions himself an empathetic figure to his audience, recognizing his own Ocala constituency will be adversely affected if proposed federal cuts are made to the space program.
11:22 a.m. Griffin reminds Cretul it’s time to start walking toward his 11:30 appointment to Palm Beach County Day, which is being held in the House Building auditorium. It’s back out into the great unknown, an opportunity Cretul seems to relish with the grin of a Cheshire cat much to Griffin’s dismay.
11:24 a.m. Cretul is barraged by well-wishers en route to the auditorium and graciously visits with each person as Griffin nudges him through the growing crowd.
A Turkey of Another Kind
12:16 p.m. After entertaining questions posed by a roomful of south Florida constituents with Majority Leader Adam Hasner, Cretul returns to his office. Griffin brings in a Styrofoam cup of turkey noodle soup and bottled water, giving Cretul the only break of the day, but the mental wheels keep spinning. Political turkeys — overstuffed and self-important legislation — are the kind of politics Cretul wants to avoid. Sipping on his turkey soup, the metaphor may be missed, but the public’s emphasis placed on financial priority is not.
“Sometimes we’re measured by money,” says Cretul as he scans his Blackberry for messages, “I think you should be measured by how you serve your constituency. It’s not just about these 60 days. You have to focus on the benefit of the state and the community beyond this session.
The soup-in-a-cup conversation shifts to Cretul’s near jump into the heated congressional race against current Congressman Alan Grayson. How close was Larry Cretul to jumping in as a Republican candidate?
“I was just about to hit the send button on the press release announcing my candidacy,” he says.
But, he didn’t.
“I decided against it,” Cretul shrugs, placing his cup on the table. “Campaigning is such a distraction and it was gnawing at me because I was finally going to have a chance to be a part of this year’s legislative team after the work we had put in after last year’s session. My head was saying one thing and my heart was saying another. Finally, I said, ‘Larry, you have all you can say grace over.’”
The big unknown is what Cretul will do after term limits complete his representation in the House. Dismissing talk of a future political career, Cretul jokes, “The only thing I’ll be running to is my front porch.”
Yet, one has to wonder: Is this really the end of the political road for Larry Cretul?
Counselor of the House: An Afternoon of Advice
1:02 p.m. It’s grin and grab time, right now for a young up and comer. Michael Oberlies, a University of Florida student from Ocala is serving as a legislative intern for another House representative. Cretul poses with Oberlies for an official photo and encourages the young man to consider a future in politics.
1:35 p.m. Another “ask” meeting, this time with Dave Hart of the Florida Home Builders Association. He asks Cretul to consider various insurance and code regulations affecting the building industry.
2:03 p.m. The space industry isn’t the only one with their special day. Florida International University’s contingency arrives to discuss funding and medical school issues as part of their “FIU Day.” Enter Leznoff again with her budgetary shortfall spiel. FIU board members sit attentively at the conference table as their point man leads the introductions. “First, Speaker Cretul, we know what you are up against and we appreciate the leadership you are giving to our state. So we want to ask, ‘what can we do to help you?’”
That’s a first for today. Smooooooth.
Cretul smiles,”How about we all pray a little?” Everyone laughs.
FIU representatives discuss their benchmark program creating medical destinations where social work and medical school students provide health care in concerted neighborhoods while working for the underserved. Cretul grabs one of his business cards and writes down “medical destinations.”
Leznoff speaks of “real deficits and billion dollar shortfalls” in case anyone hadn’t heard while Cretul tries to end on a high note. “We’ll try to do our best,” he says as the FIU contingency departs.
2:25 p.m. The 9-1-1 issue continues as drop-in visitor Teresa Tinker, staff director for the Economic Development and Community Affairs Policy Council, stops by to clarify what took place in the now infamous committee meeting earlier in the day.
“I know you’re managing this,” reassures Cretul.
Goodlette comes through the side door connecting his office to Cretul’s.
“Public safety is exempt,” Goodlette says, “Everything is fine. I’ve called to assure,” meaning Goodlette phoned Randy Touchton, the lucky lobbyist-near-the-elevator seeking divine constitutional clarification. And on this spring day in Tallahassee, he got it.
“You don’t want things to get out of control,” Cretul says.
2:35 p.m. Advice to anyone making a pitch to the speaker of the House: keep your message simple. Cretul holds up a pile of four-color, glossy, odd-shaped brochures, gesturing to one attentive writer and photographer grateful for a pause in the busy day.
“The most successful individuals are the ones who come in and give you a one-page piece of paper with the issue, the bill’s number, a description of the bill, who supports it, and who’s against it. Period.” says Cretul.
The conversation shifts to the philosophy of the political environment, something Cretul acknowledges that in this uncertain time can undermine even the steadiest of leaders who face challenges with no clear solutions and, most certainly, limited funding.
“I try to take a deep breath,” says Cretul. “I look to work for those who have promise; those who are truthful, genuine, authentic, and not just full of style, but of substance. You know the saying, ‘Their depth is a mile wide and an inch deep.’ Well, I try to avoid that type.”
2:51 p.m. Politics 101 by Professor Cretul is interrupted. Griffin and Chamberlin announce Beth Switzer of “Capitol Update” is here with her cameraman to interview Cretul for a clip to air on cable TV.
3:10 p.m. Cretul signs a few House bills from last year’s session from members requesting official copies. He then meticulously reviews printed copies of e-mails and letters requesting verification and action, noting the importance of accuracy in every document that is sent on his behalf.
3:32 p.m. Cretul meets with representatives from Seminole State College. The budget will be discussed so Leznoff returns. SSC officials are requesting funding for a land purchase to help an already overpopulated college, a typical plight of two- and four-year colleges, especially in the central Florida area. Cretul empathizes with the increased burden placed on public higher education while noting the difficulty in finding new dollars to meet this burden.
3:50 p.m. Lana stops by with a polka dot cupcake bag in hand. Looks like she brought her husband a tasty souvenir from Governor Crist’s luncheon.
“I had to say a few words,” she frowns, “but it went okay.”
4:00 p.m. Representative Charles Van Zant has requested a private meeting with the speaker for, in his words, “guidance on a couple of his bills.” While Van Zant is sponsoring many bills ranging from water management boards to college name changes, chances are there is one particular piece of legislation he wants to discuss – his proposed bill that would criminalize all forms of abortion. Cretul says a House member’s request to meet one-on-one to ask for guidance on a couple of bills isn’t unusual. Then he adds, “Sometimes my advice works and sometimes it doesn’t.”
5:15 p.m. The last meeting of the day is an official one, the Republican Conference, a gathering of all House Republicans in, fittingly, the House Chamber. Cretul could sit in his rightful seat at the speaker’s podium, but, in typical low-key Cretul style, opts for his old House seat, two rows back, letting House Appropriations Chair David Rivera lead the conference.
Cretul may not be leading the meeting, but his influence is palpable. The PowerPoint presentation is pure Cretul: “High Performance Government means a state budget that is responsible. A state government that is accountable, state laws that are clear, state agencies that are efficient.”
For the first time in the day, there’s a lighter countenance upon the speaker. He’s chatting and laughing with his legislative neighbor in the seat next to him, comfortable in taking the backseat for a change.
8:00 p.m. After returning to his office to review a few more end-of-the-day items left by Griffin and staffers, Cretul grabs his rolling briefcase and heads toward the empty Capitol garage.
Friday Footnote
9:05 a.m. “Hi, Amy, I hope I’m not calling too early.”
House Speaker Cretul is on his cell phone. He’s home in Ocala for the weekend, although it’s evident Tallahassee is still on his mind. Cretul wanted to share a few updates on some House bills and legislative issues of note, particularly one regarding education. Then, as if he’s anything other than the most influential person in the state of Florida, Cretul apologizes for interrupting my morning. He signs off saying he’s heading to the most important appointment of his week.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“My grandson Ben’s program in preschool.”
