I always thought that the title stood for Governor Lite. You know--lieutenant governor.
As it turns out, several political pundits, folks in the press, and many of you agree with me that the position is essentially superfluous. Just an appendix in the gut of the body politic. How often have we been challenged with a serious constitutional crisis that required the presence of, or the intervention of, a lieutenant governor? If you said ... umm ... zero, you'd be correct.
Oh, there was that Jim Guy debacle back in '96 when we all wondered, "Is he is or is he isn't going to resign?" But really, it wasn't anything that the Ringling Brothers couldn't have handled. In fact, if Mike Huckabee had been wearing little white gloves, a little red jacket and a little top hat (cocked at a rakish angle) when he stepped before those shaky television cameras on that hot July night, it would have felt just about right.
Or, more recently, Mark Darr's tardy, tail-dragging-between-his-legs departure pretty which much underscored the Keystone Kop component of the office. Even the man who occupies the highest office in Arkansas with its vastly more important duties and functions gets along just fine without a Lieutenant Head Hog.
Google "significant accomplishments of Arkansas' lieutenant governors" and you will find no links, Web pages, or Wiki documents. Nada. Nothing but annoying pop-ups jittering around your screen like nervous cockroaches as you chase them with your cursor, desperately attempting to click on their increasingly diminutive little "x's", then missing and downloading a full-screen ad on erectile dysfunction products, miracle fat-loss pills, and of course, those ubiquitous adult incontinence garments. All of them embedding cookies on your hard drive that will ensure 30 days of pesky and oftentimes embarrassing reminders. I don't know how many times I have explained to Joanne that those revealing Victoria's Secret ads are the unwanted result of an accidental click while chasing a particularly elusive pop-up.
All totaled, these forgettable faceless suits (Jim Guy and Darr excepted) contributed as much to the state's heritage and political legacy as the Ding Dong Daddy from Dumas. If you delete the words "significant accomplishments" from the aforementioned Google search, you will get several pages listing the long line of aspiring politicians who eventually made their way to the office. If you scan their curriculum vitae, you will see that the only "accomplishment" that they ... err ... accomplished was to fill in as "acting" governor while the real governor was away on official (wink-wink) state business.
I recently researched some dusty archives that I found in a cardboard box on the back porch of the Capitol building. Here is a 1932 script that Harvey Parnell, the Real Governor, wrote for Lawrence ("Don't call me Larry") Wilson, his lieutenant governor, to perform while he was "acting" governor:
9:30 a.m.--Show up for work. Be sure you shave and wear a clean tie without soup stains.
9:35 a.m.--Order coffee from Gertie. Just press the little buzzer on the corner of the desk behind the picture of Mrs. Governor's kitties frolicking on the mansion lawn and shout "Coffee."
9:37 a.m.--Sneak down to the Capitol Police desk and snag a doughnut. They usually have a box or two sitting around. The ones with the sprinkles are the best.
10:00 a.m.--Call a meeting. Make some stuff up and write it on a paper. Write AGENDA at the top. Avoid political issues or official state business. I'll take care of that when I get back. Here are some suggested discussion items: The Weather. West Parking Lot Horse Manure Collection Schedules (we already have the floor of the Senate scheduled). New Ink Wells.
12:00 p.m.--Order Lunch from Gertie. Just press the little buzzer on the corner of the desk behind the picture of Mrs. Governor's kitties frolicking on the mansion lawn and shout "Lunch."
1:30 p.m.--Take a nap.
4:15 p.m.--Wake up and go home to the lieutenant governor's quarters behind the stables on the mansion lawn. Mind the manure. Stop in the mansion and feed Mrs. Governor's kitties. Empty their litter pan if needed.
P.S.--If you happen to run across Mrs. Governor in my absence, for crying out loud don't tell her where I went. Just tell her I'm on official state business (wink-wink). I'll pay you when I get back.
The office of lieutenant governor was whipped up by the legislature back in 1914. It was a slow day on the freshly cleaned floor of the Senate and they just dreamed the darn thing up and put it to the voters. So the question begs: How the heck did the state function for nearly 100 years (not counting Reconstruction) without this critical office? Between the date that Arkansas became a state in 1836 until that fateful day in 1926 when we finally got around to picking one?
The simple answer is--just fine, thank you.
I'm going to let you all in on a dirty little secret concerning the office that very few folks know: It is nothing more than a political stepping stone. A distraction on that slippery conveyor belt that may lead to a position of real responsibility, significance and power. To perhaps becoming the man behind the curtain, pulling all the levers and calling all the plays.
Whoops ... there I go again, getting my state employees mixed up. Apologies to Coach Bielema.
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Bill Rausch is a freelance humor writer from Little Rock. Email him at williamrausch25@yahoo.com.
Editorial on 10/25/2014