County leader begins looking elsewhere
SCOTT WALKER’S PATH TO POWER Courthouse gets a circus feel
(Fourth of six parts)
Beyond an occasional “God bless you” or a pledge to read more of his Bible, Scott Walker was generally circumspect about displaying his steadfast Christian faith on the job at Milwaukee County.
But he sought divine guidance on things political when in private.
By late 2004, not long after winning a full term, he said his prayers convinced him it was God’s will that he run for governor.
An unwanted sign from above poured forth in mid-January 2005.
For the second time, water fell from the Courthouse’s leaky and neglected roof onto the floor of his executive office.
In truth Walker didn’t need a push to plot his exit from a local government that couldn’t afford basic repairs.
He already was tending to state and national ambitions.
The previous summer, he had crisscrossed the state in a self-promotional motorcycle tour with fellow Harley-Davidson riders, a technique first used by Gov. Tommy Thompson.
At the same time, he served as a statewide cochair for President George W. Bush’s 2004 reelection campaign. His duties included stoking fears of voter fraud.
His focus on county matters began to blur,
leaving key department head posts unfilled and two straight budgets in deficit. Contract talks with some unions halted at one point for lack of a negotiator.
So dysfunctional was the three-ring circus of Walker, the unions and County Board that Courthouse denizens made up a moniker for the grand workplace with polishedstone floors: The Marble Big Top. Strongmen!
Meanwhile, the reform engine was sputtering.
Recallers thought Walker had blown a chance to help elect a reform-friendly County Board majority.
“In the 2004 elections there was no cooperation. They were only worried about Scott,” said Vi Hammelman, who ran the campaign that had ousted County Board Chair Karen Ordinans after the 2002 pension scandal.
One of those elected in the board recall, Walker ally Tim Johnson, walked away from politics entirely, calling Walker’s tax freeze emphasis a sophomoric campaign gimmick.
“I thought we were going to do something big, decide what we can do really well and cut some services entirely,” Johnson told a reporter at the time. “We’re just dying a slower death.”
Even some business leaders called out the constant cutting as a losing development strategy.
As the pension deal’s impact on county finances grew, the County Board rejected most of Walker’s moves to privatize various services. It largely restored money for parks, the arts, drug treatment, courts and social programs.
That slowed the shrinking of the government. Property taxes were rising again.
Like Walker’s first budget, the second one bled red at year’s end, with revenues failing to cover expenses.
The reform movement failed Walker, said Chris Kliesmet, a leader of the Citizens for Responsible Government group.
“When that common enemy was gone,” he said, “people said ‘Let’s go back to what we are.’ ”
As Walker’s gaze widened, he saw a handful of Republican governors clobbering unions.
One was Indiana Gov. Mitch Daniels, the former Bush budget chief.
In a move Walker would years later call “a beautiful thing,” Daniels was able to unilaterally wipe out collective bargaining by state employees with a 2005 executive order.
Daniels had hesitated at first, envisioning mass protests, Walker later wrote. The mass protests didn’t come to pass, but Indiana’s unions took a heavy hit: Within five years, union ranks fell by 90%.
Later Daniels said the move allowed hundreds of millions in savings from quick, wide-scale privatization, reorganization, pay freezes and higher health care contributions from workers — things private-sector unions were already familiar with.
In Wisconsin, a county executive such as Walker had no authority to rescind contracts.
But he could send a warning message to the unions.
On Jan. 10, 2005, he asked the Legislature and Democratic Gov. Jim Doyle to let local officials strictly limit contractual pay and benefit increases for public workers.
Walker’s request went nowhere, of course.
Two weeks later, he formally announced his run for Doyle’s job.
A new platform
Walker’s time at the Courthouse had been marked by a no-drama style, understated rhetoric and technocratic tendencies.
Now, running for governor, Walker used a campaign blog to criticize union power and what he saw as the undue fringe benefits it promoted.
Liberals in Madison, he complained, wanted medical leave to go nearly as far as “giving an employee the right to take a couple of days off to recover from a hangover.”
School employee benefits: “Out of touch with the rest of society.”
Higher education administrators: Overpaid.
In a speech, Walker derided the Milwaukee 7, a new, business-led drive to
boost global exports and attract industry, as “putting lipstick on a pig.” High labor costs in union-heavy Milwaukee, he said, had to be fixed first.
Walker wasn’t targeting unions just on policy grounds.
He knew the public sector unions were a driving force statewide for Democratic candidates.
He knew they would attack him using money collected from members’ government paychecks.
And they did — through a labor-funded ad buy in the 2006 cycle that tallied $4.6 million, according to the Wisconsin Democracy Campaign.
‘A nonstop promotional thing’
There were warning signs for Walker that the Republican establishment preferred Mark Green, a Green Bay congressman also seeking the party’s gubernatorial nod.
Walker resisted when some party officials urged him to defer to the slightly older Green.
“It’s kind of condescending,” he told a reporter. “It’s exactly what got us Bob Dole in ’96.”
Walker couldn’t even rely on his talk-radio megaphone in Milwaukee, Charlie Sykes.
“For three years it was like a nonstop promotional thing” for me, Walker told a reporter. “Charlie now is being very cautious to play it even.”
By necessity, Walker positioned himself as the underdog against Green.
Again he moved to reinvent himself, this time as a Madison outsider despite his own state legislative background.
He crammed campaign trips into his schedule, exhibiting a “live the job” drive.
“It’s like a good salesperson,” remarked Kliesmet. “All his friends are his clients. His hobbies are playing golf so he can play golf with his clients. He buys a boat so he can take his friends who are his clients out.”
The Marble Big Top, of course, didn’t close down while Walker campaigned. The trapezelike highs and lows at the Courthouse provided campaign fodder for both Walker and his foes.
The Journal Sentinel found that county caseworkers regularly sent mentally ill clients to dangerous housing. Walker later approved new housing units, working with Milwaukee Mayor Tom Barrett despite their poor relationship.
A move with County Board Chair Lee Holloway blocked what Walker’s administration called rampant fraud in a medical care program for uninsured poor. Walker squeezed millions from hospitals to spare the program from cuts.
‘Thou Shalt Not Speak Ill’
Walker the candidate was confronting Ronald Reagan’s “Eleventh Commandment”:
“Thou shalt not speak ill of any Republican.”
His hero’s example influenced most of who he is, Walker has said. He even married Tonette Schleker on Reagan’s birthday.
The Walkers serve Reagan’s favorite macaroni and cheese and patriotic colored jelly beans every year on that date.
“A cab driver could tell you his ideas,” Walker said admiringly in February 2015, praising the simplicity of Reagan’s message based upon “the most profound of ideas.”
Would Walker, child
of the party, stray from Ronnie’s rule?
By early 2006, Walker had traveled the state for 14 months and raised $1 million.
He began painting Green, a fellow Republican who shared most of his policy views, as a captive of Washington.
Then Walker pulled off a rarity in politics — a surprise ending.
In late March 2006, in a speech at a Republican event at a Waukesha hotel, he pulled the plug.
“After a great deal of prayer during the past week, it is clear that it is God’s will for me to step out of the race,” he said, ending a 14-month run. He blamed lagging fundraising and a desire to avoid an intraparty fight.
After his brief speech, Scott and Tonette melted away to a restaurant with volunteers.
“It was a time to grieve. We didn’t understand why this happened,” recalled Vicky Ostry, a campaign worker.
“There’ll be another
time,” a pensive Walker said. “Now we have to help Mark Green.”
Maybe Walker knew something Green didn’t.
Even with lots of help from Walker, the congressman fell to Doyle. Democrats rode a national wave as voters expressed anger about where the country was going with wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and disastrous federal rescue efforts in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.
Democrats won both houses of the state Legislature, too. They controlled state government in Wisconsin.
But that wouldn’t last long.