It’s
rightly been called the Max Factor. A black-and-white contest featuring
powerhouse candidates Kirk Watson and Ronney Reynolds took on shades of grey
last month when former Mayor Pro Tem Max Nofziger jumped in. Voting for mayor
would have been as simple as choosing chocolate or vanilla, based on the
environmental/developer litmus test applied to Austin candidates. It was easy
— you were sure of your favorite flavor. Reynolds’ growth-at-all-costs
philosophy during his six-year councilship makes him the wheelman for the
development and business monster truck. Watson, who served as head of the
former Texas Air Control Board, casts himself as a solid environmentalist, with
staunch environmentalists such as Save Our Springs boardmember Mary Arnold and
Save Barton Creek-er George Cofer throwing him support.
Nofziger’s recent decision to thrust himself into the race — for the seat
he’s always coveted — has shifted the winds a bit, at least for Watson. As a
councilmember, Nofziger was considered a liberal who boasted support from the
same environmentalists who flocked to Watson’s side when he announced his
intention to run. Watson, who has emphasized his heavy business ties — via the
dip he took into the Chamber of Commerce spa in 1996 as vice-chair of its
governmental relations board — may have to temper his Clinton-esque
positioning to keep his enviro support.
Just as Clinton has downplayed his liberal roots to reach for the middle
ground, so Watson has played up his support in the business community,
appearing on the campaign trail with the likes of Chamber darlings Kerry Tate
and Ron Kessler. Now it won’t be so easy for Watson to take the enviros for
granted. Perhaps in deference to that fact, Watson’s campaign sent out a mass
mailing recently that had him mugging for the camera next to an equally smiley
Brigid Shea — the former councilmember who took the most heat over the years
for her staunch anti-development stances. And don’t forget: She and Nofziger
can’t stand each other.
Although Watson says environmental points of light are sticking with him, he
would prefer that Nofziger not be in the race. “This is not one of those
more-the-merrier things,” he says. Still, he adds, “We’re not seeing any threat
to our environmental support. Environmental leaders know my record and they
know me and they’re staying united.”
Though Nofziger’s campaign stockpile is almost laughable — he has $1,500,
compared to the quarter of a million raised separately by Watson and Reynolds
— both of Nofziger’s competitors concede that the mustachioed musician has the
lead in name I.D. “If the election were tomorrow, I’d win,” boasts Nofziger.
And if you know the name, you know the myth. From the street corners of South
Austin to the corridors of City Hall, the former flower vendor parlayed a cute
personality and familiarity with the issues into a three-term tenure.
Strung-out on politics, he left last June, but managed to stay cold-turkey for
only a few months.
Aspersions in the press to the contrary, the unemployed Nofziger says he isn’t
just panhandling for a job. While fishing for a paid consulting gig with
Watson’s campaign, it was during the job interview, Nofziger says, that he
realized he didn’t like Watson’s platform. It was after that, he says, that he
decided he didn’t want to work for Watson — he wanted to run against
him. Nofziger reflects some suspicion among local activists when he says he
doesn’t trust Watson, and he adds that it goes beyond the fact that the
personal injury trial attorney for Whitehurst Harkness & Watson is an
unknown entity. Rather, it stems from the fact that Watson has the same
across-the-board backing that Mayor Bruce Todd once boasted as a candidate,
and, well, we all know how he turned out. Nofziger says that during his
interview with Watson, he came to believe that a mayoral position was merely a
rung on Watson’s climb to statewide office. “If that’s the case,” questions
Nofziger, “do all our local issues become bargaining chips for Kirk to get
close to money people, lobbyists, and the state Lege?”
Wrong, says Watson. “I don’t know where he gets that. One of the greatest ways
I can impact people’s lives in a positive way is by running for mayor.
Imaginative approaches to federal, state and local problems will be thought of
at the local level, and that’s why I chose to run.”
Nofziger, on the other hand, has proven to be at least reliable, if not always
successful in pushing his programs before the council. “I’ve got a bloc of
support in this community that’s voted for me seven times, and I don’t think a
30-second TV commercial is going to change them,” he says, referring to the
embarrassing episode in which Nofziger appeared in commercials hawking
trucks.
Without sticking his finger in the wind — he abhors political consultants —
Nofziger has found himself on the popular side of many issues — against the
Nuke, against Freeport’s PUD, in favor of campaign finance reform. He has
surprised his constituency at times, most notably in approving inner-city
bicycle money for the suburban Circle C development and voting for the
“anti-homeless person” ordinance. Nonetheless, when Nofziger speaketh, many
listen. That, and his experience, will win him some support.
Nofziger is also banking on the fact that Reynolds and Watson are not that
different on a couple of touchstone issues — specifically, the management of
the Electric Utility Department and Campaign Finance Reform. Citizens could
vote on both issues on the same ballot as the council races this May, and that
timing is perfect for Nofziger. While Watson and Reynolds prefer that a
council-appointed board manage the electric utility to improve efficiency,
Nofziger wants the council to retain control, to keep the management closer to
voters. And on Campaign Finance Reform, well, Nofziger says he is a living
testament to its principles. He won three races without political consultants,
and never spent more than $50,000. In compliance with the A Little Less
Corruption’s (ALLC) petition, which received almost 30,000 signatures last
year, Nofziger promises to keep contributions below $100.
While Nofziger hopes to capitalize on voter disgruntlement, Reynolds voted
against putting the reform issue on the ballot because it supposedly lacked
enough valid signatures. The ALLC petitioners plan to sue to have that vote
overturned. Nofziger has hired Linda Curtis, who headed the petition campaign,
as his campaign manager. (Interestingly, Curtis, as head of Priorities First!,
was against the baseball stadium that Nofziger supported). Reynolds and Watson,
meanwhile, are going after the money like looters in Egypt, ringing up
contributions by the thousands, with Watson getting the majority of his money
from attorneys, and Reynolds banking on the development community.
One thing Reynolds has in common with Nofziger is a lack of consultants.
Strangely, with less than three months remaining, Reynolds hasn’t hired any,
while Watson, on the other hand, has three heavy hitters — Alfred Stanley,
David Butts, and Dean Rindy — on the payroll.
When asked to comment on the campaign, Reynolds refused. He leaned his head
back, and smiled: “I just want to make your life difficult.” He did admit that
Nofziger will be a formidable opponent. Presumably, however, he would be quite
pleased with Nofziger’s entrance — it may split the environmental sea long
enough for Reynolds to waltz home with the prize. A common prediction from
local consultants is that Nofziger will force a run-off between the two
candidates. Nofziger foresees a different outcome, though, that relies on the
existence of a silent majority: “Lawyers and developers have their candidate,”
he says, “and ordinary citizens have me,” he says.
This article appears in February 7 • 1997 and February 7 • 1997 (Cover).