Senator Don Gaetz, District 4 — Speech
Senator Gaetz' Designation Speech
September 19, 2011
Senator Gaetz: "Governor Scott, Lt. Governor Carroll, Mr. President,
Mr. Speaker, Mr. Speaker-Designate, members of the Cabinet
and of the Congress, our partners from the House of Representatives, my
fellow Senators: To the more than 500 friends and neighbors from back
home here on the floor and in the Senate and House galleries, thank you
for lifting me up on your shoulders and bringing me to this place on this
day. But a word of caution, Governor, when folks from the Panhandle
take over something, like they’ve virtually taken over the Capitol today,
they may not give it back.
The video from my family, perhaps that’s our audition for reality
TV—“The Real Gaetz’s of Okaloosa County.” Although I did notice that
about halfway through the video, my mother-in-law was on her feet
ready to give the rebuttal. She will definitely not be speaking today.
I do have a North Star, a lodestone, a compass always bearing true;
she is the rock of our family, the inspiration of my life, and the woman I
love, Vicky Gaetz. Because of her, we have two children who are the
pride of our lives, our daughter, Erin, and our son, Matt.
Senator Thrasher and Senator Negron, thank you for your eloquence,
your generosity, and your selective memory. Senator Oelrich, we came in
together as freshmen; you were the first to offer me your support. My
friend and my partner, thank you for moving to close the nominations.
Senator Oelrich, Senator Storms and I remember those first few weeks
as freshmen. Senior Senators took us aside and advised, “Be careful
around the opposition. Don’t tell them our strategy. Don’t believe what
the opposition tells you. Don’t even be seen with them.” We thought they
meant the Democrats. They were talking about the House of Representatives.
So to prevent any across-the-Capitol tensions, our presiding
officers—President Haridopolos and Speaker Cannon—arranged
a bonding experience between Representative Weatherford and me—
redistricting.
They called us in and said, “The two of you will spend the summer
traveling the state together. You’ll go from town to town meeting interesting
people. Media? Nothing but puff pieces. It’ll be all over in two
months, and you’ll be welcomed as liberators.”
Here’s what I know about Speaker-Designate Weatherford. He and I
come from different generations, but we’re headed in the same direction.
Of course we won’t always agree, but this Senate can always be sure
that, in Will Weatherford, the House of Representatives has found a
Speaker who puts the future of Florida first and whose own future is
unlimited. The Speaker-Designate and I have agreed that it’s the substance
of legislation that matters, not the form. The Speaker-Designate
gets it. He understands that it’s not really important whether it’s the
House bill or the Senate bill that ultimately passes. That’s why I know
he won’t mind when it is the Senate bill that passes.
Historians say that I would be among those Senate Presidents with far
less Tallahassee experience than most of my predecessors. But if my
time in this process is less than others, consider the quality of my teachers.
I learned from President Ken Pruitt. This great and good man
taught us by his example what it meant to truly love this Senate, its
traditions and its men and women, and to be loved in return by them. I
doubt that any President ever left this floor with the storehouse of
goodwill built up by Ken Pruitt. Thank you, Mr. President.
I learned from President Jeff Atwater. His ancestors governed here as
now he does. For him, Florida is a family legacy to be cherished. President
Atwater taught us that the test of our decisions today is the value
they add to our grandchildren’s lives tomorrow. Thank you, Mr. President.
I learned from President Mike Haridopolos. He led us to a super
majority and here’s what he did with it: taxes lowered; spending cut;
government capped; litigation reduced; primary care expanded; Medicaid
reformed; life protected; our sovereignty affirmed; and our constitutional
freedoms upheld. That is the Haridopolos legacy, and you’re
only at halftime. Thank you, Mr. President. Oh, and one other thing, Mr.
President, under your leadership and your partnership with Speaker
Cannon and Governor Scott, Florida is the only state in America to
balance its budget without raising taxes or fees by one penny.
Of course, I do not, for a moment, underrate the great difficulties that
still lie before us. Unemployment is the measure of our misery. Unemployment
and underemployment is the root of foreclosures and
business failures, the cause of rising Medicaid rolls and homelessness,
and falling resources for our schools and hospitals. Unemployment is the
ill wind that parches the souls of our families with despair. Like you, I
wonder, Where will the answers come from?
Every now and then I get tripped up in my grammar and, in some
speeches I would say, “Washington is broken,” and in others I would say,
“Washington is broke.” It turns out both are true. Either way, it got
applause but it never got results. But, you know, this isn’t Washington,
and I’m tired of waiting. This is our state. These are our obligations, our
opportunities. This is our time to fix our own future. I think of the people
who stood where I’m standing now. From this very spot some of Florida’s
greatest leaders shaped the future and defined what our state was to
become.
Each of you in this room carries with you the scars and lessons of lives
fully lived. Your experiences—painful and pleasant—guide your interests,
inform your positions, and shape your values. I look back across my
own life and see moments of wrenching change that brought me to my
knees and forever altered my world. I beg your indulgence to briefly
speak with you about one of those moments, not because I want to talk
about myself, but because we are on a journey together and, in fairness,
you should know my coordinates and my compass heading.
I grew up in that small town in North Dakota that you saw on the
video. Let me put it this way: despite its many charms, we never had to
run double shifts to handle the spring break crowd. It was a windswept
prairie town next to the Canadian border, and life was often cold and
always hard.
North Dakota was tough, but my old man was tougher. I remember
him as just this incredibly strong, self-possessed person. He did work
three jobs to make ends meet, but his obligation to his community was
always equal to his obligation to his family. He hated bigotry, loved
Barry Goldwater, sat high in the saddle, was a crack shot and, for him,
there was right and there was wrong.
He became our mayor, the best mayor in the state. He was slated to
run for Lt. Governor and went to the nominating convention to make his
speech and take his place on the ticket. I was 16 years old, and played
hooky from school that day so I could watch him on TV. My heart swelled
when he gave his speech to thunderous applause. I saw him wade into
the outstretched hands and smiling faces. Then, on that black and white
TV screen, I saw him fall and never rise again. He died at what should
have been his greatest moment.
On that darkest of days for me, my father laid down his three jobs and
I picked up three jobs. I sold clothes in a men’s store, managed the movie
theatre, and was the printer’s devil—basically the janitor at the local
newspaper—to help support my mom and two little brothers. I suppose
to a great extent from that day forward my life has been spent doing the
work that my dad would never finish. His death was one of those moments
when the world tilts and never fully corrects. But small moments
of clarity have their own power, too.
As mentioned in the video—but it bears repeating—the small high
school in my town had a sign over the door. I passed under it every day.
It read “No place worse than second place.” For a long time, I didn’t
understand that sign. No place worse than second place? As a high
school kid in North Dakota, I figured there were plenty of places worse
than second place—like third place or maybe South Dakota.
But here’s what that battered sign really means. It means that if
you’re in fifth place or sixth you probably never had a real shot. It wasn’t
completely your fault. But if you’re in second place, maybe, with just a
little more sweat and a few more tears, you could be first. It means that,
if you want to be first, you need to push out the boundaries of what
others think is impossible. It means odds are a barrier to overcome, not a
barrier to entry. If you’re in second place, you’ve failed yourself and
nothing is worse. It’s a lesson that propelled our little school to victories
that belonged to someone else. No place is worse than second place. We
can use that truth today in this chamber and in this state.
We all love Florida, and we’re not alone. Seventy-five million tourists
who love Florida visited here last year. More than 18 million people live
here and more are coming—despite the hurricanes, Citizens Insurance,
and redistricting. Florida has the most beautiful beaches, fantastic
weather, amazing cities, welcoming people, great universities, and low
taxes. My question is not rhetorical. Who would not want to be here?
The answer, sadly, is that while lots of Fortune 500 CEOs live here,
most Fortune 500 companies do not want to be here. Every Fortune 100
company in America does not want to be here. New York, with its
numbingly cold winters and massively oppressive tax structure, has 18
Fortune 100 companies. California, with a government reduced to paying
its bills with IOUs, has 13. Florida has none. None!
We are the most attractive state in this country, yet we aren’t attracting
the full range of businesses. We’re not even in the first tier of
states where companies settle to create thousands and thousands of
high-paying jobs. At best, we’re in second place. There’s no place worse
than second place.
The cause to which we are called is to make Florida first: the first
place to create a business idea, start a business in an incubator—even in
a garage, expand a going business, and relocate a business. For it is only
when an entrepreneur reaches for a risk that opportunities for workers
are created and that unemployment and underemployment give way to
real jobs in a real economy.
And so, just as I was forced by fate to take three jobs on that grim day
long ago, there are three jobs that I ask you to accept today in order to
make Florida first. You don’t have to run the projector for the late movie
or sweep out the newspaper shop.
Our first job in the Senate, in state government, and in our party is to
behave in a way that reflects the goodness of the people who sent us
here. Floridians are smart. They understand that sprawling, expensive
government has failed them. They also understand that when we do
nothing but posture and bicker, then nothing gets done, and we leave the
field to the bureaucrats whose absurd rules stifle innovation and smother
progress.
As President Atwater counseled us in his farewell speech on this floor,
“Never fear the debate, but let the debate be mature and constructive.”
Given the task before us and the talent in this room—I mean the Governor,
the House, and the Senate—there is nothing to keep this Legislature
from being the most effective deliberative body in America.
Let us set the highest ethical standards and let us live by them. Let
there never again be a time when the people of Florida are ashamed of
their political leaders.
As for bureaucrats, we simply need to get up earlier than they do and
be more relentless. If we want Florida to be first, we’ve got to force
change through the system and that means outworking the system.
As School Superintendent in Okaloosa County, again and again, I
bumped up against mindless rules and inflexible thinking that characterized
a petrified education system. To be honest, our team did what
we thought was right, and we asked forgiveness for it later. I was never
thanked by the Deputy Commissar of the Division of Chalkboards, but I
was thanked by a lot of parents. By forcing against the system, Okaloosa
schools became the best in Florida.
If we’re going to attract those Fortune 500 and Fortune 100 companies
or just help Mom and Pop businesses on Main Street, Florida must
become the cradle of common sense solutions.
Companies make their location decisions based on the sanity of the
regulatory environment. If Florida is to be first on the relocation list,
then Florida must be the state known for fair play and rational regulation.
Our second job, if you’ll take it on, is to lash Florida’s higher education
system, our great universities and colleges, to the needs and realities of
the economy.
In a country that didn’t create one single new job last month—not
one—there are three million unfilled jobs in America; one million of
which are in science, technology, engineering, or mathematics. Amidst
historic unemployment, a million good jobs are unfilled because Americans—
Floridians—are unqualified to fill them.
Meanwhile, an American company is investing 100 million dollars to
co-venture a private university in India to prepare Indian students for
the high-paying STEM jobs American college graduates aren't qualified
to fill.
This governor has bet his job on 700,000 new jobs in seven years. But
700,000 new jobs without 700,000 Floridians qualified to fill them is<
