Charlie Crist is Florida’s perpetual campaigner. Can he win twice and govern again?
TALLAHASSEE
The last time Charlie Crist was considering a run for Florida governor, in 2014, he shared a moment of clarity with one of his consultants.
“He said, ‘Steve, I feel like I can beat the money or I can beat the environment, but I can’t beat them both,’ ” Democratic consultant Steve Schale said.
Crist would be proven right: He narrowly lost after being outspent by then-Gov. Rick Scott in a historic GOP wave.
Although he might not admit it, both the money and the environment are worse this year as he makes his third run for Florida governor.
Crist, a moderate 66year-old former Republican with name recognition, fundraising ability and old-school political instincts, has been pulling in support from Democrats as they warily eye a general election against Republican powerhouse Gov. Ron DeSantis.
For many, it’s a calculated move: They think Crist has a better chance of beating DeSantis than his opponent in the Democratic primary, Florida Agriculture Commissioner Nikki Fried.
“He’s like a comfortable pair of boots that will potentially get the job done,” said Fernand Amandi, a Democratic consultant uninvolved in the race.
Whichever candidate wins, the chances in the general are slim, observers say.
DeSantis doesn’t have the personal wealth of former Gov. Scott, who spent $75 million of his own money on his first run for governor, but he does have personal connections to billionaires and about $120 million in the bank.
Florida’s governor’s race has received national attention because DeSantis is a likely 2024 presidential contender. While he needs to win reelection, Democrats face long odds in beating him. The state party is in shambles after decades of failures, President Joe Biden’s approval ratings are historically low, and arguably, its strongest statewide candidate, U.S. Rep. Val Demings of Orlando, isn’t running for governor.
Crist is backed by labor unions and key state lawmakers who point to his recent history as a Democrat. They draw comparisons between Crist’s playbook and Biden’s winning strategy in 2020 as examples of moderation and civility.
Fried, however, has revived criticisms that Crist has faced since he left the GOP: that he’s anti-abortion, a conservative and someone who hasn’t won a statewide race as a Democrat.
Whether Crist’s skills are relevant in 2022 is an open question.
Schale found Crist’s analysis of his chances in 2014 an articulate summary of what he faces again.
“He described it also as running headfirst into
a meat grinder.”
MANY ROLES — AND IDENTITIES
No one serving in public office in Florida has a record like Crist’s: On the ballot in 16 elections over 34 years, receiving more than 16.5 million votes and elected to six different positions, as state senator, education commissioner, attorney general, governor, congressman.
There’s one reason he keeps doing it, those who know him say: He genuinely likes running for office and being in office.
His ability to connect with voters is legendary. His political opponents have remarked at what a nice guy he is.
He even seems to enjoy the parts of politics many candidates despise, such as fundraising and confrontations, said Katie Bohnett, who worked on his campaigns between 2006 and 2016 and was his scheduler while he was governor from 20072011.
She’s been in restaurants with Crist when he would hear someone “talking trash” about him. Instead of ignoring the heckler, Crist would engage the person by asking friendly questions or offering a handshake, catching the person off guard.
“I just think it’s in his DNA,” Bohnett said. “I don’t know what else he would do.”
But Crist’s retail political skills have long contributed to a perception that he’s an opportunist
or just a typical politician. His leadership style has been described as a “shrewdly timed brand of populism.”
Crist was an attorney and state director for
U.S. Sen. Connie Mack who helped usher in the last three decades of Republican dominance of state politics.
When Crist was elected at age 36 to the state Senate in 1992, the chamber was deadlocked 20 to 20, ending the Democrats’ longtime control over the Senate.
He campaigned as the “choice for change” against the longtime Democratic incumbent, and his platform was politically bland: efficient government, quality education, ethics and the environment.
“He plays the game the way it was taught to him by Connie Mack’s people,” Jeff Huenink, the Clearwater Republican state representative who lost to Crist in the 1992 Senate primary, said in 1995. “That is to be nonoffensive yourself, stick to the motherhood and apple pie issues, and when necessary distort your opponent’s record.”
In the Legislature,
Crist later seized on the bipartisan national anticrime wave of the 1990s.
In 1995, he sponsored the Stop Turning Out Prisoners act, which made prisoners serve at least 85% of their sentences. (It passed the Senate unanimously and was allowed to become law by a Democratic governor, Lawton
Chiles.)
“Criminals can’t commit crimes from behind bars,’’ Crist said at the time.
Crist also got the Department of Corrections to start a chain gang program, following Alabama’s revival of the long-inhumane practice of chaining inmates together to carry out hard labor in public.
Even the Department of Corrections balked at the idea. Florida used to shackle inmates at the ankles, but did not shackle inmates together, a practice that ended in 1967 when a roadside barracks housing more than 50 men burned, killing 38 inmates whose shackles prevented them from escaping.
But Crist pursued the issue publicly, even pushing to allow the chain
gangs to work alongside highways.
The effort earned him the nickname “Chain Gang Charlie.” Trying to capitalize on his name recognition, he ran in 1998 for U.S. Senate against incumbent Bob Graham, the widely popular former governor. Crist lost by 25 points.