Sonny Perdue and the art of saying as little as possible

Gov. Sonny Perdue makes his final state of the state address flanked by Speaker David Ralston (left) and Lt. Gov. Casey Cagle. Bob Andres/AJC

Seven years of Sonny Perdue have revealed a fellow who is 30 percent showman, 30 percent preacher, 30 percent business manager, and 10 percent inscrutable cipher.

Never was the inscrutable slice of our governor more on display than Wednesday, during a final state-of-the-state address that left many members of the Legislature simply baffled.

Which probably suits the former veterinarian from Houston County just fine.

Traditionally, governors use this annual appearance before members of the House and Senate to lay out their legislative priorities and to detail a state spending plan for the next 18 months.

While governors drone, lawmakers pore through a thick budget book, looking for the real news.

This time there was no budget book. Possibly because it’s likely to be a frightening read. Some lawmakers predict an 8 percent cut to an already skeletal $18.5 billion budget.

Perdue declared that his financial proposal would be delayed until Friday, when lawmakers will be on their way home for the week.

So occupants of the House chamber – legislators, Supreme Court justices, friends and family – had no choice but to listen. In a speech that was both history lesson and sermon, the governor walked the crowd from Valley Forge to Afghanistan.

He quoted the apostle Paul and Thomas Paine.

Only two issues received specific mention from the governor. Court mandates, he said, would force increased spending on mental health care. “This has been a daunting challenge that precedes my time as governor,” he made sure lawmakers understood.

Perdue also argued for a change in the way teacher pay raises are awarded. But he has already acknowledged that sorting out the details will take two to three years, when another chief executive will be making the final decisions.

“We didn’t hear transportation or water, or job training or ethics,” said House Democratic Leader DuBose Porter of Dublin, a candidate for governor.

But a governor with the chutzpah to pray for rain knows something about Old Testament prophets. The key to success in the prophecy business, old hands will tell you, is to maintain a certain vagueness.

In that sense, the governor’s last state-of-the-state speech was the political equivalent of a well-thrown knuckleball.

“We must reject the course forward that promises the next generation little more than an expensive bill – crushing entitlements and unfunded mandates,” Perdue said. “We cannot vote ourselves ease and comfort at the expense of our children and grandchildren.”

Afterwards, one Republican lawmaker privately confessed that he had no idea what this meant. Close a funding gap by raising taxes? Reject the remaining stimulus cash being offered by Washington? Compress state government like an out-of-breath accordion?

Here’s a somewhat educated guess at what’s happening: As would any governor entering his eighth year, Perdue is watching his influence drain away.

Last month, a close ally of the governor – his former attorney – lost a race for House speaker. When Lt. Gov. Casey Cagle, leader of the Senate, disavowed any ambition to become governor in 2010, he essentially declared his independence from Perdue.

One of the dwindling advantages that Perdue retains is the element of surprise.

The governor was actually more forthcoming about his agenda to business leaders this week than to the lawmakers. Possibly because they needed more reassurance that their governor remains engaged.

In a Tuesday breakfast speech, Perdue told the Georgia Chamber of Commerce that he and the governors of Alabama and Florida could settle a 19-year water dispute by year’s end.

Even while rumors were spreading that Republican lawmakers had abandoned a two-year fight to put a statewide sales tax referendum for transportation on the November ballot, the governor assured business leaders that he had something in the works.

But again, no details. “And with apologies to Forrest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that ,” the governor said.

Perdue understands that his legacy won’t be his sole property. His accomplishments, or lack of them, will reflect on the seven Republicans now competing to replace him.

In that breakfast speech, Perdue was preceded by the leaders of the Legislature, Cagle and Ralston. “It sounds like you guys have most of this stuff figured out, so I’m just going to take off and let you guys handle it,” Perdue said – and then feigned a walk off-stage.

The jest was hard evidence that the governor understands the stand-offish reputation that others may be ready to bestow on him. He gets the joke – and wants to make sure that he doesn’t become the joke.

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