Most years a legislative session ends with smiles and hugs and a hanky dropping ceremony cheered by hundreds of weary lawmakers and lobbyists glad to see the end of a 60-day session. After weeks of behind-the-scenes negotiating, the governor comes to the fourth floor of the Capitol, smiling and shaking hands and congratulating lawmakers for their work - even if he doesn't think much of the bills they passed.
This year House Speaker Johnnie Byrd ran out a back door and disappeared without saying goodbye. For the three final nights of the session, Byrd refused to talk to Capitol reporters, ditching a longtime tradition.
Senate President Jim King staged his own hanky drop inside the Senate on the final night, saying he had heard that his counterpart in the House was afraid to go out in the Capitol Rotunda.
Last week I wrote that Byrd was the worst speaker ever, the frequent comment of state Republican Party leaders who helped the GOP gain control of the Legislature.
On Saturday Byrd's spokesman called with a quote: "The speaker feels being called the worst speaker by the most liberal newspaper in Florida is the best compliment he's ever received in his tenure."
The only problem with the quote is that I didn't invent the label, nor did the paper. It was the opinion of longtime Republicans who fought hard for many years to become the majority instead of a minority that couldn't even get a good parking place at the Capitol.
They are bitterly disappointed with Byrd's performance. They have good reasons.
Byrd declared himself a fiscal conservative, opposing taxes and fee increases and repeatedly announcing that the House was "living within our means."
But he paid chief of staff P.K. Jameson $165,240, more than any other legislative employee. Traditionally the highest salary goes to long-tenured employees who run the appropriations process.
Some say Jameson earned whatever she was paid, considering what she had to put up with for two years. By comparison, King paid his chief of staff, Gus Corbella, $121,392.
Byrd also spent more than $300,000 a year to hire 13 communications staffers to better get his message out. He didn't want to be "filtered" by the news media. Some of them left early, fed up with a quixotic speaker who could not answer a question to save his life.
Together the 13 staffers failed to communicate nearly as well as Sara Bascom, the only staffer in the Senate charged with communicating what it was doing. Bascom was paid $61,200, making her the bargain of the year for the state.
The difference was striking. As the session came to an end, King had routine press availabilities and answered questions with candor and humor. As budget agreements were reached, King's office quickly put out documents describing how money was being spent.
Byrd retreated behind closed doors. Budget documents were mostly unavailable in the House. Even the routine lists of bills about to be considered were not readily available in the closing days.
House committees were frequently so short-staffed that many loyal employees were stressed to the breaking point. Some left the building, finding other jobs where they could. A number moved down the hall to the Senate where conditions were more humane.
It will now be up to Rep. Allan Bense, R-Panama City, to rebuild a staff that has been pretty much demoralized and destroyed. Bense becomes speaker in November.
Can he put the House back together? Hard to say.
Bense is a self-made millionaire who has no further political ambition. There's a lot of broken china to repair.
