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Turning up the heat on tax reform dreams
© St. Petersburg Times They don't call it the Governor's Club for nothing. A dozen well-connected lobbyists met Thursday at the aptly named private political haunt in Tallahassee to plan how to demolish Senate President John McKay's proposed overhaul of Florida's tax system. Gov. Jeb Bush, who has said little more than McKay's plan deserves a "fair hearing," probably was golfing or fishing. But he was there in spirit. At the Governor's Club were two of his most trusted advisers, former chief of staff Sally Bradshaw and former deputy chief of staff Cory Tilley. Both are out of government, but both will play important roles in Bush's 2002 campaign. Tilley, now in public relations, will be the public face of a campaign to stop McKay's tax plan. Another lunch organizer, lobbyist J.M. "Mac" Stipanovich, was at former Gov. Bob Martinez's side in the services tax fiasco of 1987. Bush spokeswoman Katie Baur says the governor is neutral "regardless of who was at what meeting." But it's impossible to dismiss the presence of Bradshaw and Tilley, because they have a direct line to Bush. Their job is to leave nothing to chance in a campaign. The last thing Bush wants is to share a ballot with taxes, taxes, taxes. But what should alarm the tax reform crowd even more was the presence at that lunch of Pat Roberts, the lobbyist for the Florida Association of Broadcasters (a tax break on advertising could be erased under McKay's plan). Roberts' clients can open the airwaves to a flood of screaming TV spots accusing lawmakers of a scheme to raise taxes, in an election year no less. Can lawmakers take that heat? "It depends on how much the newspapers are going to help me," McKay says. At first glance, tax reform looks like a classic Bush-type issue. It is what he would call a BHAG or "big, hairy, audacious goal." The conventional wisdom is it can't be done because too many powerful interests are against it. But that's what they said about school vouchers, civil service reform and abolishing the Board of Regents. It may not be politically wise for Bush, however indirectly, to appear to be reaching for McKay's throat even before tax reform gets a perfunctory airing. Bush has things he wants to get done in the next session, and McKay has the power to bury his agenda. When you get right down to it, what McKay is suggesting goes beyond even Bush's idea of boldness. McKay's message is that Florida's creaky system is unchanged since 1949 except for the many exemptions carved out for special interests. He says the fourth-largest state should not be at the mercy of the ups and downs of tourism to pay its bills. (Tourists and business travelers pay an estimated 15 percent of all sales taxes raised in the state.) McKay would let voters decide whether to cut the sales tax from 6 percent to 4 percent, keep tax exemptions for food and medicine and residential phone service, and end billions of dollars in tax exemptions for businesses and services. Let's go around the room at the Governor's Club. On hand were lobbyists for banks, retailers, accountants, sugar growers, real estate agents and Associated Industries. From their perspective, the tax system works fine. "It's not surprising," McKay says. "These people have been feeding at the public trough for a long time." Still, McKay's tax reform plan looks like the longest longshot in a reapportionment-dominated, election-year Legislature. Things looked a lot simpler for McKay when his biggest hurdle was the House. Now he has to contend with the brawny business lobby, the governor's re-election machine and a barrage of TV ads, accusing legislators of a "secret scheme to raise your taxes!" Is it any wonder the tax system hasn't changed in 52 years? - Steve Bousquet is deputy chief of the Times' Tallahassee bureau.
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