Decision Points

thought it was essential, she would pass it on. Otherwise, I was keeping my mind clear and focused.
    On debate night, Karen and I were in the elevator when Ann Richards entered. I shook her hand and said, “Good luck, Governor.” In her toughest growl, she said, “This is going to be rough on you, boy.”
    It was the classic head game. But its effect was opposite to what she intended. If the governor was trying to scare me, I figured she must feel insecure. I gave her a big smile, and the debate went fine. I had seen enough politics to know you can’t really win a debate. You can only lose by saying something stupid or looking tired or nervous. In this case, I was neither tired nor nervous. I made my case confidently and avoided any major gaffes.
    As usual, the final weeks brought some surprises. Ross Perot weighed in on the race, endorsing Ann Richards. It didn’t bother me. I’ve always thought that endorsements in politics are overrated. They rarely help, and sometimes they hurt. I told a reporter, “She can have Ross Perot. I’ll take Nolan Ryan and Barbara Bush.” I didn’t add that Mother still didn’t think I could win.
    When the results came in on election night, I was elated. We had pulled off what the
Dallas Morning News
called “once unthinkable.” The
New York Times
deemed it “a stunning upset.” Dad called me at the Austin Marriott, where my supporters had congregated. “Congratulations, George, on a great win,” he said, “but it looks like Jeb is going to lose.”
    I felt bad for my brother, who had worked so hard and deserved to win. But nothing could dim the thrill I felt as I went to the Marriott ballroom to deliver my victory speech.

    Inauguration Day was January 17, 1995. As I was getting ready in the hotel room before the ceremony, Mother handed me an envelope. It contained a pair of cufflinks and a letter from Dad:
    Dear George,
    These cufflinks are my most treasured possession. They were given to me by Mum and Dad on June 9, that day in 1943 when I got my Navy wings at Corpus Christi. I want you to have them now; for, in a sense, though you won your Air Force wings flying those jets, you are again “getting your wings” as you take the oath of office as our Governor.
    He wrote about how proud he was, and how I could always count on his and Mother’s love. He concluded:
    You have given us more than we ever could have deserved. You have sacrificed for us. You have given us your unwavering loyalty and devotion. Now it is our turn.

    Mother helping me put on the cufflinks from Dad.
Dallas Morning News/David Woo
    Dad is not the kind of guy who would say something like that in person. The handwritten note was his style, and his words meant a lot. That morning I felt a powerful connection to the family tradition of service that I was now continuing in my own way.

    As governor, I didn’t need time to plan my agenda. I had spent the last year telling everyone exactly what I wanted to accomplish. I have always believed that a campaign platform is not just something you use to get elected. It is a blueprint for what you do in office.
    I had another reason to move fast. In Texas, the legislature meets only 140 days of every two years. My goal was to get all four of my policy initiatives through both houses in the first session.
    To make that happen, I needed good relations with the legislature. That started with the lieutenant governor, who serves as president of the state senate, seats committees, and decides on the flow of bills. The lieutenant governor is elected separately from the governor, meaning it is possible for the two top officials to be from opposite parties—as Lieutenant Governor Bob Bullock and I were.
    Bullock was a legend in Texas politics. He had served in the powerful post of state comptroller for sixteen years before his election as lieutenant governor in 1990. He ran the senate with a very strong hand. And he had former employees and friends embedded in agencies throughout the government, which allowed him to stay well informed. Bullock had the potential to make my life miserable. On the other hand, if I could persuade him to work with me, he would be an invaluable ally.

    With Bob Bullock, my unlikely Democratic partner in Austin.
Associated Press/Harry Cabluck
    A few weeks before the election, Joe Allbaugh had suggested that I meet secretly with Bullock. I slipped away on a quiet afternoon and flew to Austin. Bullock’s wife, Jan, opened the door. She is a