Robert C. Jubelirer Senate of Pennsylvania 1975-2006

Lessons from a Legislative Life

First Edition

As told to Vincent P. Carocci With David A. Atkinson Bassim Hamadeh, CEO and Publisher Kassie Graves, Director of Acquisitions and Sales Jamie Giganti, Senior Managing Editor Miguel Macias, Senior Graphic Designer John Remington, Senior Field Acquisitions Editor Monika Dziamka, Project Editor Brian Fahey, Licensing Specialist Christian Berk, Interior Designer

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Printed in the United States of America

ISBN: 978-1-5165-1136-5 (pbk) / 978-1-5165-1137-2 (br) Contents

Dedication v

About the Principal vii

About the Collaborators ix

Acknowledgments xi

INTRODUCTION xv

CHAPTER I A Pay Raise, a Primary, and Poof, a New Career Path 1

CHAPTER II The Beginning: Influences, Inspirations, and Elections 11

CHAPTER III Welcome to the Capitol 15

CHAPTER IV The Principal Players 21

CHAPTER V Grading the Governors 41

CHAPTER VI The General Assembly 67 iv | Lessons from a Legislative Life

CHAPTER VII Hits, Misses, and (If Only We Could) Do-Overs 75

CHAPTER VIII The Media 101

CHAPTER IX The Lobbyists 113

CHAPTER X Legal vs. Legislative 123

CHAPTER XI The Projects 135

CHAPTER XII Friends and Allies 155

EPILOGUE: LESSONS FROM, AND FOR, LEGISLATIVE LIFE 159 DEDICATION

o my mother and father, who were endlessly faithful in their encour- T agement and never stopped believing in me. My mother was as loving and supportive as any mother could be. My father taught me the value of honesty and hard work. He frequently reminded me that all he had to leave me was his good name, and admonished that I better not screw things up. To Laurie and Jeff, two amazing kids who did not always have it easy during my campaigns, during my time away from home, and during the many times when I was publicly criticized and scorned. They could not have been more supportive or more patient with me. I am so very proud of who they have become as adults, with wonderful spouses and children and careers they fashioned in their own right. To Andy, who I dearly miss and think about daily. To Renee, who has been at my side for more than a decade, who keeps me focused and looking at the bright side of life, and who encouraged me to chronicle my experiences and insight in this book. She is a truly wonderful partner and daily demonstrates the attributes of a brilliant and exceedingly hard-working judge, characteristics and traits she possessed long before meeting me. To my staff, in Harrisburg and in the district, who gave me loyalty, dedication, intelligence, skill, and so much more for thirty-two years. There was a saying that “the staff reflects the member,” but this member was able to succeed more often than not because of the outstanding people and profes- sionals I was privileged to work with. vi | Lessons from a Legislative Life

To the residents of the Thirtieth Senatorial District, who put their trust in me for more than three decades, who gave me the chance to serve and to lead through good times and tough times, and who always offered plain-spoken and unvarnished opinions, advice, suggestions, and criticism as the circumstances warranted. To the public-spirited men and women with whom I served, foremost for their service and contributions, but also for their confidence in me. To the many individuals whose instruction, encouragement, guidance, and support made my career possible, and by extension, this book. They are owed more credit and gratitude than I can possibly express.

—Robert C. Jubelirer August 2017 ABOUT THE PRINCIPAL

obert C. Jubelirer, with thirty-two years of electoral service cover- R ing eight consecutive four-year terms between 1975 and 2006, is the longest-serving president pro tempore—the third-highest elective office in the commonwealth—in the chamber’s history, nearly twenty-one years. He also is the first elected Pennsylvania official to serve simultaneously as lieutenant governor and president pro tempore, following the resignation in October 2001 of former Governor Tom Ridge to become the nation’s first national security advisor of the president. When first elected in November 1974, he was the only Republican candidate for the state Senate to win in the wake of the national Watergate political scandal. When his Senate service ended in 2006, he became the head of the Government Relations Division of the Obermayer Rebmann Maxwell & Hippel law firm, with offices in Harrisburg and Altoona, Pennsylvania. He is married to Commonwealth Court Judge Renee Cohn Jubelirer and is the father of three—Laurie Jubelirer Langman, married to Dr. Charles Langman; Andrew (deceased); and Jeffrey, married to Dr. Tracey Friedman Jubelirer. He also is the stepfather of three sons—Gideon, Michael, and Jonathan Cohn—and the grandfather of two boys and three girls: Samuel, Rebecca and Andrew Langman, and Sofie and Alison Jubelirer. Former Senator Jubelirer and Judge Cohn Jubelirer reside in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania. He is a graduate of the Pennsylvania State University and the Penn State Dickinson School of Law. He was elected in May 2014 as an alumni member of the Penn State Board of Trustees. ABOUT THE COLLABORATORS

ince Carocci is a graduate of the Pennsylvania State University with V a BA in journalism. After an active duty tour as a lieutenant with a US military intelligence unit in Washington, DC, he entered a career as a capitol correspondent in Harrisburg for United Press International (1961); the Associated Press (1962–68) and the Philadelphia Inquirer (1970–71). He entered public service in 1971 as a senior aide with the Democratic caucus of the Pennsylvania Senate. He served on the senior staff of the late Governor Robert P. Casey (1987–95), the last five years of which he was press secretary to the governor. He is the author of four books (A Father’s Life, self-published; A Capitol Journey, Penn State Press; Harry’s Way, Tuxedo Press; and Part of the Parade, Mawby Project Group) and a collaborator on two others (this one and Ward Leader in circulation to potential publishers). He and his wife, Antoinette, live in Camp Hill. They are the parents of four grown children. David Atkinson is a graduate of Shippensburg University with a BA in Government and an MS in Mass Communications. He was a senior staff aide and advisor to Senator Robert C. Jubelirer for nearly thirty years, then spent two years on the staff of Senator Gib Armstrong of Lancaster County before retiring in March 2012 after thirty-five years of staff service with the Pennsylvania Senate. Prior to joining the Senate, he worked for the Pennsylvania Republican State Committee, including an assignment as media relations director for the Pennsylvania delegation to the 1976 Republican National Convention in Kansas City. He now works as a consultant in the Harrisburg area and is an associate with the Susquehanna Valley Center for Public Policy. He and his wife, Anne, live in Susquehanna Township. They are the parents of a daughter and a son, and the grandparents of two girls. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

FROM BOB JUBELIRER

hen we began thinking about a collaborator for this “as told to” W book, our initial fishing expedition among academic types—even at my alma mater—turned up no interest whatsoever. Then David Atkinson suggested Vince Carocci. Vince had written and had published several books, one in particular about his experiences in Pennsylvania state government, politics, and the press corps. He started out professionally as a reporter, so clearly he had the requisite journalistic training and know-how. He was a Democrat, so he brought political balance to the effort. His career spanned mine, so he was familiar with most of the events we would be discussing and could serve as an additional fact-checker. I had interacted with Vince when he worked for the Senate Democrats, when he was representing the State System of Higher Education, when he was in the inner circle during the Casey administration, and when he was doing public affairs work at Capital BlueCross. I knew him to be intelligent, fair, and capable. We met for lunch, with Steve MacNett and John Giannelli joining David and me for the presentation—and, as it turned out, persuasion. Vince was hesitant at first, no doubt haunted still by the memory of the exceptionally partisan and disputatious Casey years. But as we talked about our enthusiasm xii | Lessons from a Legislative Life

for the project, showed him the outline we had assembled, and assured him our intention was not to do a version of Harrisburg Babylon, he began to warm to the idea. Having spent more than two years putting a manuscript together, which was deeper and broader than I ever imagined, I have no hesitation in saying our choice was inspired. Vince exhibited remarkable patience in coaxing out the stories in coherent fashion, in waiting for my recovered memories to kick in, and in having to constantly add material and reedit what had sup- posedly been put to bed. His renderings of history serve as a backdrop and context for my stories and observations; they are extremely well done and helpful to the reader. This is a contribution of great value we did not contemplate at the beginning. This book would have been incomplete and less comprehensible without those instructive and illustrative passages. I want to thank Steve MacNett for his primary responsibility for the chapter on the lawsuits to which I was a party. And, I should add quickly, his contributions to other parts of the manuscript. Steve devoted forty-four years to the Senate Republican caucus, nearly all as legal counsel, sage advisor, and ethical conscience. That he frequently was referred to as the “fifty-first senator” was out of deep respect, not derision. His recollection of people, events, and behind-the-scene actions is exceptional. When his memory slips on occasion, he has a voluminous accumulation of documents and papers that he mines to fill out the stories (Lord help whoever attempts to organize that library). There are many events, conversations, and strategy sessions for which there is no paper trail. Steve was there as a key participant, and he does not seem to have deleted much in the way of recollection. His Senate career bookended mine. He was a key player before I arrived and after I departed. Nearly every member who served during the MacNett era owes him gratitude, be it large or small, because he interacted with members on both sides and made us all better at our profession. Thanks, too, to Mike Long, my friend and longtime staff administrator, who related much of the post–1983 political history of my journey. Mike is one of those rare individuals who can do the Mr. Inside and Mr. Outside roles equally well. He essentially wore three hats during the twenty-three years of our Senate association—staff administrator, legislative strategist, and campaign general. His inordinate success, contrasted with the ethical transgressions of others, caused some to speculate that he too cheated. In truth, our long-running string of victories depended on Mike’s ability and commitment to never come close to crossing the line. He more often than not just outworked and out-thought the other side. Our extended sessions of dictating would have been wasted without a transcriber. Judy Merrill did a great job working with us through our technology glitches, not to mention our penchant for talking over one another. Finally, my thanks to David Atkinson, who assisted me so ably and so loyally as writer, re- searcher, policy analyst, problem-solver, and projects advocate for thirty of those thirty-two years I Acknowledgments | xiii was privileged to have served in the Senate. Still fresh behind the ears in my first term as a senator, I was looking for someone 1) who could write; and 2) with whom I could share compatibility. I came to learn over the years (in my view, at least) that he could write for virtually any public official at any level of public service. Not that he’s perfect in every way. Truth be told: he could not write a bill to save his life. But he wrote everything else prolifically, and pretty much avoided reading bills. But he read everything else that came in the door, so much there were times the papers were stacked so high on his desk that I couldn’t tell whether he was there or not. But most important, his interest in—and his commitment to—public service never wavered during our long association. David has a mind like a steel trap. His powers of recollection and analysis were invaluable to the construction of the narrative of this manuscript. I value his service, his counsel, and his friendship.

FROM VINCE CAROCCI

First, thanks to Bob Jubelirer for inviting me to be part of this important project from both a historical and legislative perspective. Though our paths intersected at various times along our respective ways, and almost always cordially—the Senate and the Office of the Governor, in particular—the fact is, we came at the subject matter of this manuscript from opposing perspec- tives over the political fence. So, I must confess, when first approached to engage in the preparation of this narrative, I wondered if I really were the right person for the job. I was, after all, privileged to have served eight years in the office of Pennsylvania Governor Robert P. Casey. Casey was the very best governor I had observed firsthand, from David L. Lawrence in the late 1950s to Tom Ridge in the 1990s. The Casey commitment to public service as a public trust was unwavering and unsurpassed. His integrity, his character, his conviction were beyond question. Conversely, I also recognized that Jubelirer was, if not the governor’s most persistent and vocal critic, then certainly high among them. Could I do justice to the story he wanted to tell without violating my personal regard and professional sense of allegiance to Governor Casey and his legacy? After considerable thought, and thanks to my training as a journalist, I decided to proceed. This was to be Jubelirer’s narrative. His observations and evaluations of the Casey years, and the other governors with whom he served, deserved to be reported and recorded as he presented them. I, as collaborator, reporter, and recorder, attempted to do just that in good faith. That I may not agree in every degree with his assessment of the governor with whom I served should in no way denigrate nor diminish the historical value of the perceptions he had to offer. I also must thank Jubelirer’s loyal and talented aides, David Atkinson and Steve MacNett. This narrative would not have been as complete without the insights and backfill they had to offer on virtually each and every chapter. I am grateful for their assistance. INTRODUCTION

ob Jubelirer is recording his memoirs? That is sure to get the rumor mill B revved. Is he trying to rewrite history? Is he looking to rehab his reputation and get a statue in Capitol Park? Is he spilling dirt on his adversaries and castigating his critics? Or, heaven forfend, is he plotting a political comeback? The voters tossed him—who cares about anything he says anymore? Bad news for the conspiracy theorists. Good news for just about everyone else. The motivation behind this book is none of those things. This book is my reflection on some important times in Pennsylvania’s passage. In the years since leaving office, I have many times told stories about my experience, and have had various people react in a common way: you should write a book. The idea took root, and now here it is. To hold a job you love for thirty- two years, to represent an area where your home and heart are, to work on behalf of people you admire for their character and work ethic, and to be given the power to affect decision making for much of that time, these things add up to an incredible opportunity and honor. Between the intense partisan divide within government, and the extensive loathing of government from the outside, the humor has been lost. Some of the foibles of individuals and follies of the collective are funny. Not every mistake or lapse in judgment is a hanging offense. Not every negotiation is a capitulation. We had conflicts and crises, to be sure, but we also had times when people felt good about public service. xvi | Lessons from a Legislative Life

This book is, first and foremost, a gift to my children and grandchildren. They will know that, over the course of three decades, when actions were taken, decisions made, and the direction of the commonwealth charted, I was not Forrest Gump. They will understand how I used the inheritance from my father and my mother—a good name and a solid set of values. Former Governor Robert P. Casey was fond of framing the question: “What did you do when you had the power?” This is my rather long-winded answer to that question. Second, this may serve as a guidebook for students of Pennsylvania politics. In this skeptical age, it will surprise some to learn that Pennsylvania has had giants of public service, incredible intellects, real reformers, and those willing to sacrifice voters’ approval to do the right thing. Those who want another catalog of scandals and scalawags will have to shop elsewhere. Third, this book is an expression of gratitude to all those who offered support, provided guidance, extended trust, or served as an inspiration along the way. No matter how much ability and charm you think you possess, countless people help along the way, and a successful career depends on sizable chunks of serendipity. Fourth, it is common knowledge that Pennsylvania is a commonwealth of regional differences. The story is told differently in small communities and rural areas than in the urban neighborhoods, the sprawling suburbs, or the struggling industrial valleys. That small community perspective threaded my service and threads this book. Over the course of thirty-two years, you meet a lot of people, are part of many events, and do things you hope make a constructive difference. Even with the chance to be the Monday morning quarterback, you still realize you were never close to being all-seeing and all-knowing. Time gets divided between savoring the successes and mulling the mistakes. My feet are clay, not marble, so this telling reflects the brain cramps along with the brain storms. When one does a memoir at an advanced age, many of the principals are no longer among us. Nevertheless, I attempt to be as faithful to the facts as if they were just a slander suit away. There are principals I dealt with and institutions I supported that have since suffered reversals in the legal system and in the court of public opinion. In the old Soviet Union, there was a tradition known as the vanishing commissar. When someone was purged or fell into disfavor, they were blotted from photographs and erased from the histories. This book deals with people as I knew them, neither diminishing their role nor applying what we know today to the actions of yesteryear. Finally, this is not a linear life story, of the “first I did this, then I did that” genre. That would bore me in the telling; I cannot imagine how mind-numbing it would be for the reader. Harry Truman defined a statesman as a politician who has been dead for more than ten years. Distance from deeds can yo-yo a reputation. This book claims no distinction for me, just the fond Introduction | xvii

recollections of someone honored to serve a good district of hardworking people and to participate in the legislative process for thirty-two years. As indicated in my farewell to the Senate, Bob Hope was onto something when he made his signature song, “Thanks for the Memories.”

—Robert C. Jubelirer August 2017 A PAY RAISE, A PRIMARY, AND I POOF, A NEW CAREER PATH

idnight, November 30, 2006, the witching hour. With a sweep of M the second hand . . . a tick of the clock to 12 a.m. . . . and just like that, a thirty-two-year public service career, as distinguished as it was enduring, came to a close. It was the career of Robert C. Jubelirer of Altoona, Blair County, Pennsylvania, the longest-serving Senate president pro tempore in the history of the commonwealth. It was, to many, a most disappointing finish. It was, to many others, as undeserved as it was disappointing. But it was, for all the disappointment, irreversible. That’s the reality of political life in a democratic society. Officially, Robert Jubelirer’s tenure in the Senate of Pennsylvania ended with the constitutional expiration of the 2005–2006 legislative biennium at midnight, November 30, 2006. Unofficially, the seeds of his political demise were sown at 2 a.m., July 7, 2005, an excruciating sixteen months earlier. That’s when the Pennsylvania General Assembly, in the still, wee hours of the morning, enacted a state budget of $26 billion-plus for the 2005–06 fiscal year. If that were all the Senate, House, and the administration of Democratic Governor Edward G. Rendell had agreed to do that morning, state politics would have played out as usual. But there was a wild card. In addition to adopting the annual commonwealth budget, the General Assembly sent to the governor, and the governor signed, a bill linking the 2 | Lessons from a Legislative Life

compensation (a euphemism for “pay”) of elected officials in the executive, legislative, and judicial branches of state government to their federal counterparts. Statutorily, the effect was to increase the compensation of General Assembly members, ranging from 16 percent (approximately $11,500 to $83,500 for the rank and file) to 34 percent for the various leadership offices within the respective Democratic and Republican caucuses in the House and Senate. Not only that. Members could receive the increase immediately in the form of “unvouchered” expenses—thus, effectively circumventing the state constitutional prohibition precluding legislators from increasing their salaries during their existing terms in office. The resulting firestorm was unprecedented in its intensity, its depth, and its spread across the commonwealth. By virtue of his position as the ranking elected member of the Senate and a lead- ing Republican negotiator with the Democratic Rendell administration, Bob Jubelirer became the primary target for the protestors. That his wife, Renee Cohn Jubelirer, was a sitting member of the Commonwealth Court and, thus, a judicial beneficiary of the salary increase, magnified the focus on him. Ultimately, in May of 2006, a Republican primary election contest against his longtime adver- sary, Blair County Commissioner John Eichelberger, would cost him his Senate seat. Ironically, the legislative and executive components of the pay raise would be repealed just four months after their enactment, in November 2005, in a vain attempt to calm the furor. Bob Jubelirer, in an attempt to protect his caucus from the voter outrage, was a leader in the repeal movement. But the damage had been done. The Jubelirer-Eichelberger primary was not a mere footnote in the storied annals of Pennsylvania politics—just another senior legislative incumbent turned aside by the voters of his district. This was a political heavyweight we’re talking about, a man who over the course of his extended career was: • An eight-term senator (1975–2006); • The longest-serving president pro tem in the history of the Pennsylvania Senate (nearly twenty-one years, 1985 to November 1992; March 1994–2006); • A former Senate majority leader (1981–1984) and a former Senate minority leader (1993–94); • A powerful political voice in the inner councils of his party for better than three decades; • And the first official in state history to serve simultaneously (2001–2003) as lieutenant governor of the commonwealth and president pro tem of the Senate, a historically unique moment brought on by the resignation of Governor Tom Ridge to become the nation’s first Homeland Security advisor to President George W. Bush, thus elevating Lieutenant Governor Mark Schweiker to the chief executive’s chair. A Pay Raise, a Primary, and Poof, a New Career Path | 3

2006: A YEAR IN RETROSPECT

The year 2006 was really two years in one for Bob Jubelirer. The first five months necessarily were devoted to his campaign for renomination to a ninth term in the Pennsylvania Senate, representing the Thirtieth Senatorial District in southcentral Pennsylvania. Once that bid fell short, the final six months required that he continue to tend to his senatorial duties representing the interests of his district; wind down his responsibilities of Senate leadership; and confront the reality of his personal situation. It was, understandably, in his words, “a bittersweet and very emotional time” for him, his family, his staff and friends, political and otherwise. Jubelirer reflected on the events of 2006 some six years later in the conference room of the Harrisburg Office of the Philadelphia law firm, Obermayer Rebmann Maxwell & Hippel, with which he had affiliated as a partner after his Senate service ended. His wife, Commonwealth Court Judge Renee Cohn Jubelirer, was at his side. Close former Senate aides David Atkinson and Steve MacNett were seated with him around the conference table. The mood was relaxed, reflective, even jocular at times. If there was any bitterness or lingering pain on the subject, it was not apparent. Here’s Senator Jubelirer:

We could never escape the ‘pay raise’ issue. I still have to put quote marks on it when I talk about it because it came and went so quickly, like a comet. But the uproar took on a life of its own. I knew it was going to be a difficult year politically. I must admit being surprised the outrage was so visceral and so long-lasting.

The first decision to be made in light of the raging firestorm the pay raise had ignited was whether to run for reelection. No fewer than three incumbents from the Senate and twenty-six in the House of Representatives—not all, but a significant number because of the heat over the pay raise—decided to retire on their own motion rather than risk having the voters retire them. Michael Long, one of Jubelirer’s principal aides and counselors for more than two decades, acknowledged that retirement was an option the senator at least had to consider. Long recalled:

In early 2006, I had a cut-to-the-chase conversation with the senator. I said, ‘Perhaps it’s time for us to put on our cowboy hats, get on our horses, and ride off into the sunset.’ Personally, I had decided when the senator left, I was going to leave with him and do what I’m doing now (governmental relations/lobbying and political consulting). But I 4 | Lessons from a Legislative Life

had such enormous respect for him and his work that I was going to stay as long as he stayed. But I did suggest, maybe we should ride off to the sunset. And he said he couldn’t do that; that he believed he made a difference for the people of the Thirtieth District; that there were a lot of economic development projects and a lot of quality of life issues still on the drawing board to be addressed—most notably the whole host of job opportunities at Bedford Springs. He just couldn’t walk away unless he presented his case to the voters and they would make a decision. Once the senator decided to do that, we were all in, obviously.

Bob Jubelirer’s polling numbers in early 2006 were troublesome and less than encouraging for someone of his political tenure and stature. But, David Atkinson said, they were not necessarily fatal.

When we saw the early numbers, if it had been anyone other than Bob Jubelirer, we’d have folded the tent and called it a career. He had forty points of approval rating go poof overnight. Never in our experience had we seen anything like that. So we would not be running just a standard reelection campaign. We were running an election fight for survival.

Jubelirer clearly was not in a wind-down mode. Retirement, he thought, was likely one term away—2010. In 2006, there was the legislative agenda to pursue; there were the aforementioned public improvements projects still pending for the district; there was his continuing sense of obligation to the communities, organizations, and institutions he had supported and advocated throughout his legislative career; and, finally, perhaps most important, quitting in the face of a political challenge simply was not part of his makeup. So, despite the many electoral challenges that lay ahead, the decision was made to push on full steam and more. David Atkinson again:

His career was filled with wins, electoral and otherwise, that no one really expected. Who was to say another improbable win was not in the cards?

For her part, Judge Cohn Jubelirer concurred in the decision to run.

I realized he was in a difficult situation. Just how difficult, I probably didn’t fully realize. I may have been sheltered from some of that. It’s always difficult to see someone you A Pay Raise, a Primary, and Poof, a New Career Path | 5

love in a difficult situation. But he had been in a tough race before and had gotten through it. So I had confidence.

John Eichelberger was the first challenger to announce. His declaration instantly guaranteed that the May primary would be competitive. Jubelirer and Eichelberger had a history, most of it adver- sarial. The GOP field became more crowded with the entry of a third candidate, Huntingdon County businessman and weekly newspaper publisher Arnold McClure. If conventional wisdom held, this could have worked to the incumbent’s advantage. It didn’t. Jubelirer saw it this way at the time:

While the polls showed I wasn’t as strong as I might have been, still they put it as a very competitive race. I frankly thought McClure would take votes from Eichelberger. The other side feared the same thing. If I could get just my basic vote, that would be enough to win. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

David Atkinson:

What he says is true. He had gone through a number of cycles where, I would be generous if I described him as an indifferent campaigner. He was all in this time. He campaigned like a hungry challenger would. There was one crucial period as we came up on the primary, when he gave nine speeches in four days to completely different groups, not all of whom were necessarily supporting him. We engaged in debates in each county. The debates were hosted by folks who would normally have been our allies, but they were not this time. They were clearly in league with Eichelberger. We had to try and get folks back, so we accepted whatever terms were offered. Whatever someone had a mind to do, we were in on it. We did a lot of campaigns through the years. This was by far the finest campaign we ever ran. It was the deployment of all our resources, all our powers. And you know what? None of it mattered.

Jubelirer, for his part, sent letters of apology throughout the district for his role in the pay-raise debacle. He campaigned door to door, almost unheard of for someone of his tenure, reputation, and stature. He personally fielded angry phone calls from constituents who told him they had supported him in the past but would never vote for him again. He raised more money for his campaign than he ever did (or had to) before—well over $1 million. The Rendell administration, despite Jubelirer’s well-publicized policy differences with the governor, cooperated quietly with public 6 | Lessons from a Legislative Life

improvement project approvals, project funding, and community problem-solving initiatives. The senator and his wife canceled a conference trip to China where he was to preside as national president of the Senate Presidents Forum. And any number of Republican Party heavyweights and luminaries, including former Governor Tom Ridge, appeared in the district on his behalf. The polls several days out from the balloting showed the race to be within the margin of error. Jubelirer still believed the race for the nomination, though difficult, was winnable.

I thought the people would ultimately realize what they were doing when it came time to cast their ballots and what they could be giving away in terms of influence, power, and experience in the capitol. I thought the hard work and good will over the last thirty- two years would be enough to survive. Mike said it would be close but he thought we could win. Well, we lost and it wasn’t close. People angered or offended by the pay raise determined that I should pay the political price for my transgression, and no words or actions on my part were going to change that. Whether people were mad at me for the moment or forever, the net effect was the same on election day.

On primary election night, May 2006, the returns came in:

Eichelberger, 15,445 (44 percent) Jubelirer, 12,662 (36 percent) McClure, 7,097 (20 percent)

The McClure candidacy, in the Jubelirer camp’s post-election analysis, may have in fact worked against both major candidates. In the final, critical days, none of the undecideds broke Jubelirer’s way. Those who were angry with Jubelirer but didn’t much like Eichelberger—and he was not without his critics as a county commissioner and political force in his own right in Blair County— voted for McClure.

The large number of undecideds was troublesome as election day approached,” Jubelirer recalled. “That pretty much matched the votes Arnie McClure received.

Bob Jubelirer and Chip Brightbill were not the only incumbents to lose that election night. Thirteen incumbents in the House of Representatives went down, as well. Coupled with the A Pay Raise, a Primary, and Poof, a New Career Path | 7

previously announced retirements, 2006 produced an anti-incumbent result unprecedented in the state’s political history. Jubelirer made the traditional phone call to the victorious Eichelberger, congratulating him and offering to help in the transition. It was a short conversation. His concession speech to a room full of supporters was longer. He was gracious in defeat.

The people have spoken. They have said that this is a time for change and I understand change. I’ve tried to make change for the better. I only hope that as we move forward that the change that people clearly have spoken out tonight is a positive change. Everything comes to an end. You helped me live a dream. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. I’m the most blessed man that you will ever find. After thirty-two years, maybe it’s time to move on. We tried, I’m fine, I need all of you to be fine. I’ve had a great, great run and I’ll continue doing the good things we can until December 1.

Jubelirer’s recollection six years later:

Obviously, it was a bitter-sweet time for me. If it weren’t for the fallout over the pay raise, I don’t know whether he would have run. I had lost my credibility with the voting public and once it’s gone it’s very difficult if not impossible to get back. It was a very emotional time, certainly, and it was a difficult adjustment. But I wasn’t bitter. One of my big concerns was to do what I could to ensure the staff who worked so hard for me through the years had a job worthy of their talents when I left.

FORWARD, HO!

So it was that Bob Jubelirer returned to the state capitol following that disappointing primary election result. Of this much he was certain: 1) He was going to finish out his term as an active and vocal advocate for the Senate district he had represented for more than three decades, and ; 2) He was not about to relinquish any of the responsibilities and political power that came with being Senate president pro tem. Politics is, has been, and always will be about the exercise of power, ideally in the public interest. Here we had the two ranking Republican members of the Senate—Pro Tem Jubelirer and Majority Leader Brightbill—losing their reelection bids. Perhaps, predictably, there would be some im- mediate stirring from within the Republican Senate caucus for the two to step aside given their 8 | Lessons from a Legislative Life

“lame-duck” status. They had held these positions for a long time, so there was repressed ambition bubbling among certain members. Jubelirer wasn’t having any of it. He let it be known that he and Senator Brightbill would continue to represent the Senate Republican caucus in budget and legislative negotiations with the Rendell administration and the House of Representatives. No one openly tested their resolve. As David Atkinson explained it:

No one knew how the voter anger would play out in the general election. By keeping the leaders in place, Senate Republicans maintained their negotiating leverage and prowess for the budget and major legislation because relationships (between the negotiators) are critically important. The lesser effect was that lingering hostility toward Senator Jubelirer and Senator Brightbill would not be spent on senators running for reelection. And on a personal level, there was a bit of a feeling on his [Jubelirer’s] part that, ‘I may be defeated, but I’m not down for the count.’

Additionally, the president pro tem’s sense of political obligation to his caucus was as strong as ever during his leadership tenure. If any action of his helped create the incumbent crisis that engulfed his members, Jubelirer said he felt obliged to help them survive. If being chief spear-catcher from the critics out there would minimize member electoral risks, he would continue in that role. Jubelirer and Brightbill brought back to their caucus a $26.1-plus-billion budget proposal that was acceptable to both Democratic Governor Rendell and the Republican-controlled House. It met with more than just a little resistance from their members. Said Jubelirer:

The caucus resented the $26 billion level of spending. Many of our members thought that was much too high. It was the type of budget that never would pass today. But remember, we weren’t in unilateral control of the process. The governor had a major say and he wasn’t inclined to go any lower. We reminded the caucus of the 2003 budget stalemate that ran into December. While there were no electoral repercussions in 2004, there was no guarantee that would hold true in 2006 for a protracted standoff in a post–pay-raise political environment, particularly if they looked at the May primary results. So, we told the caucus we could hold out if they wanted us to. But we reminded them we weren’t running in November. They would have to live with the political consequences of any stalemate. We recommended approval, but if the caucus was solid in its opposition, we would not agree to it on behalf of the Senate. A Pay Raise, a Primary, and Poof, a New Career Path | 9

Ultimately, the Senate Republican caucus relented, though barely. Only nine Senate Republicans voted for the budget, five of whom were not on the November ballot. The political strategy worked—no incumbent Republican senator lost in the general election. Finally, there came the moment when Jubelirer had to address his colleagues for the last time in the chamber he had served as the senator from Blair County for more than three decades. He took to the floor on November 21, 2006, and said, in part:

To serve people, to solve problems, to shape budgets, to craft legislation, to carry out projects, is an opportunity without parallel. I will treasure the countless opportunities for constituent service and community building. I [also] have seen the life and work of the Senate from just about every angle. I have been part of what many considered a hopeless minority. I have been part of a healthy majority. And I have been part of the Senate when the edge was razor-thin, each way. Ultimately, whatever the partisan margin, we had to come together to produce results. Without elements of trust and respect, it is impossible to conduct the necessary negotiations that produce solid solutions. I have had enough former colleagues convince me there is a good life to be had after the Senate. I will miss very much the daily challenges and the interaction with colleagues and constituents. I will always cherish the time I served here. I am very grateful for the extended chance to lead and very proud of what we have done together. The memories I hold are extensive, emotion-packed, and endless. And most of all, the friendships forged here are forever. Good-bye and God bless.

POSTSCRIPT

The compelling question confronting Bob Jubelirer in December of 2006 was what to do with his life after the Senate. A number of established law firms approached him at the annual Pennsylvania Society Dinner in New York City broaching possible affiliation. Ultimately, he settled on Obermayer, for whom he continues to function.

The transition was not as difficult as some people might have imagined once you come to terms with it, as you inevitably do,” he said. “An election loss is life-changing; it is not life-ending.