All legislators and congressmen want to know what their constituents are thinking. They generally want to vote their district’s feelings and needs. When I was a legislator, I would cherish this input and actually solicit it.
One year, I received a nice note from one of my favorite retired teachers. I loved her. She had not only taught me but also taught my mom and dad. She was as fine a lady as I have ever known. Her note simply asked me to vote for some bill. I was not even cognizant of the issue until she made me aware of it. She even referred to it by a bill number. It did not pertain to education, and I did not perceive it to have much opposition or controversy. I do not even remember now what the issue was. However, I revered this lady, and she was asking me to vote 'yes' on a matter I had no position on anyway. So I called her and told her that due to her interest, I would vote for the measure. I kept her note on my desk with the bill number referenced. Lo and behold, about halfway through the legislative session, I saw the bill on the special-order calendar for the day. I got primed for the vote. I voted for the bill simply because that lady had asked me to. To my amazement, I looked up at the large electronic vote tally machine, and the bill had passed by one vote.
One vote can make a difference.
Having told you that story, it reminds me of my first year in the Alabama Legislature. I was a young 30-year-old representative representing Pike and Barbour counties. Gov. George C. Wallace was pushing for an increase in the state's gas tax for roads and bridges. This was a common occurrence and expected during the Wallace era. He knew the people of Alabama wouldn’t even notice that their gasoline tax had been raised. However, they knew that Wallace had built them a four-lane highway in their county. He knew Alabama politics better than anybody in the state's history.
Another political legend, Big Jim Folsom, left an indelible legacy as governor with his legendary and necessary Farm-to-Market road program. Recently while making a speech in Dothan, I told the group this Big Jim story about their region. Big Jim was a native of the Wiregrass. As a young man, Big Jim was making a futile run for Congress in the Wiregrass. One day he was campaigning down a dirt country road in Geneva County. He met and befriended an old farmer and his wife at the end of the road. The couple gave Big Jim cold buttermilk to drink. Big Jim bonded with those folks on their front porch as he drank a gallon or two of buttermilk. As he was leaving, the old farmer shouted out to his new friend, Big Jim: “Boy, if you get elected to anything, will you pave my road?” Big Jim smiled and said, “Sure, I will.” Ten years later, Big Jim got elected governor and guess which county road in the state got paved first? You are correct; it was that road in Geneva County. They named it Buttermilk Road.
For folks in the Wiregrass, guess who built the Ross Clark Circle around Dothan? You got it... Big Jim Folsom!
For any of you legislators that are reading, my advice to you is that your average constituent ain’t gonna know whether or not you voted for the state tax on gasoline. But, they are going to remember that highway or bridge you brought home to your county. If you play your cards right, you might even get it named after you.
Speaking of legislators, legendary Black Belt legislator Rick Manley passed away in January. He represented Marengo County and the Black Belt for over 25 years in the House and Senate. He was one of the most able and effective legislative leaders in the state's history. He served as Chairman of both the House and Senate Judiciary Committees. He was also Speaker Pro Tem of the House.
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