By Jim Stratton, Orlando Sentinel
Getting your arms around Florida's Tea Party movement is like trying to hug a jellyfish: There's no good place to grab on, and if there were, you'd probably get stung.
Ask U.S. Rep. Adam Putnam, a conservative Republican from Bartow who sees potential in the movement's amorphous energy and anger — if it can be harnessed.
"Anger alone will not retake the majority for the Republican Party," Putnam warned party members recently. "It's just a passion. It is not a plan for government."
With their commitment, zeal and sometimes wacky signs, Tea Partiers could be the next big thing for the GOP.
Fueled by a distrust for all things government, they've already helped oust Florida's Republican Party chairman and could deny Gov. Charlie Crist a shot at the U.S. Senate. They've nudged the party to the right and, in Massachusetts, helped elect a Republican senator to the seat Ted Kennedy held for more than 40 years.
"Republican bigwigs don't really understand the whole Tea Party thing," said Phil Russo, an Orlando activist who hosts a weekly radio show called Tea Party Patriots. "I think they're scared of us."
For movement leaders such as Russo, this is the moment they've been waiting for: a chance to crowd out the so-called "Republicans-in-name-only" and establish a true conservative vision. But for GOP pragmatists, ideological purity is a dicey proposition.
"People are crazy if they think we win by getting more pure," Haley Barbour, Mississippi's Republican governor and chairman of the Republican Governor's Association told Newsweek recently. "We win by getting big."
Senate race as litmus
Nowhere in Florida is the Tea Party movement more prominent than in the GOP primary for U.S. Senate. Pitting Crist against former Florida House Speaker Marco Rubio, the race has become a proving ground for Tea Party voters eager to flex their muscles.
They have so far lined up behind Rubio, a Miami Republican with major-league speaking skills and an Eagle Scout's face.
In nine months, Rubio has overcome a 30-point deficit in the polls and is locked in a dead heat with Crist. Rubio is the darling of the most conservative wing of the GOP, and in early January – before Scott Brown's win in Massachusetts – he appeared on the cover of The New York Times Magazine under the headline, "The First Senator from the Tea Party?"
This has put Rubio, who is running as the anti-Crist, in an enviable but delicate position: He wants the Tea Party support but not necessarily the label.
Can 'tea party' last?
That's because the movement is still in its infancy, and no one's quite sure how it will look by the fall. It could coalesce into an army of unified voters advocating limited government. Or it could collapse under the weight of internal bickering.
There has been a bit of that already, with some activists unhappy that the movement's first national convention — in Tennessee next week — is a for-profit affair with a $500 entrance fee. Meanwhile, activists in Florida are fighting over who the "real" Tea Partiers are.
Organizers from around the state have sued Orlando attorney Fred O'Neal for registering the name "Florida Tea Party" as an official political party. The plaintiffs say O'Neal and anti-tax crusader Doug Guetzloe have hijacked the name and don't truly represent Tea Party values.
"Plaintiffs," the suit claims, "are not a political party, but a movement."
A movement, in turns out, that attracts a share of folks from the political margins. Swing by a Tea Party rally and you'll likely find "birthers" who doubt that President Barack Obama is a natural-born citizen, "gold bugs" lobbying for an end to paper currency, evangelicals predicting the End Time and conspiracy theorists warning of a New World Order.
They don't form the core of the movement — most activists are disaffected conservatives angry about excessive government spending — but they're part of its fabric. If Rubio is to win a primary and general election, he can't be perceived as a candidate from the fringe.
"To be the Tea Party candidate is kind of a double-edged sword," said Jamie Miller, a GOP political consultant now working on state Sen. Paula Dockery's campaign for governor. "If you're seen that way, do you win or lose in a general election? Right now, I don't know."
So far, Rubio has offered Tea Partiers a firm handshake and warm smile — but no public embrace. He has attended several Tea Party rallies, where he's mobbed by supporters, but earlier this month quickly corrected a cable news anchor who referred to him as a "Tea Party senator."
"Let me back you up on that for just a second," said Rubio. "When you talk about the Tea Party, remember I'm a Republican."
Is glad really bad?
Crist might be in an even tougher position.
He is a masterful politician with a gift for making people feel good. But Tea Party voters aren't looking for friends. They want a candidate who voices their anger and frustration, and Crist just doesn't do "mad" very well.
He'd like to persuade establishment Republicans that Tea Partiers form a small group that's gotten its hands on a big megaphone. But if he said that, he'd only spread the grass-roots fire against him.
In December, Crist described the grumbling from the right as "some loudness." But when asked if the agitators were particularly influential, the governor wouldn't talk on the record.
Since then, Crist has sought to remind voters that standing on principle is admirable — but there's also room for flexibility.
"You know I'm a pro-life, pro-gun, pro-family conservative Republican with common sense," he said last week. "And I'm a pragmatist. I understand that you have to work with our friends on the other side of the aisle to get things done for the people."
Tea Party voters might interpret that as political squishiness, but Russo said for Crist, it hardly matters.
"Charlie Crist couldn't pander his way into this movement," he said. "I don't think he can reach our base."
Getting your arms around Florida's Tea Party movement is like trying to hug a jellyfish: There's no good place to grab on, and if there were, you'd probably get stung.
Ask U.S. Rep. Adam Putnam, a conservative Republican from Bartow who sees potential in the movement's amorphous energy and anger — if it can be harnessed.
"Anger alone will not retake the majority for the Republican Party," Putnam warned party members recently. "It's just a passion. It is not a plan for government."
With their commitment, zeal and sometimes wacky signs, Tea Partiers could be the next big thing for the GOP.
Fueled by a distrust for all things government, they've already helped oust Florida's Republican Party chairman and could deny Gov. Charlie Crist a shot at the U.S. Senate. They've nudged the party to the right and, in Massachusetts, helped elect a Republican senator to the seat Ted Kennedy held for more than 40 years.
"Republican bigwigs don't really understand the whole Tea Party thing," said Phil Russo, an Orlando activist who hosts a weekly radio show called Tea Party Patriots. "I think they're scared of us."
For movement leaders such as Russo, this is the moment they've been waiting for: a chance to crowd out the so-called "Republicans-in-name-only" and establish a true conservative vision. But for GOP pragmatists, ideological purity is a dicey proposition.
"People are crazy if they think we win by getting more pure," Haley Barbour, Mississippi's Republican governor and chairman of the Republican Governor's Association told Newsweek recently. "We win by getting big."
Senate race as litmus
Nowhere in Florida is the Tea Party movement more prominent than in the GOP primary for U.S. Senate. Pitting Crist against former Florida House Speaker Marco Rubio, the race has become a proving ground for Tea Party voters eager to flex their muscles.
They have so far lined up behind Rubio, a Miami Republican with major-league speaking skills and an Eagle Scout's face.
In nine months, Rubio has overcome a 30-point deficit in the polls and is locked in a dead heat with Crist. Rubio is the darling of the most conservative wing of the GOP, and in early January – before Scott Brown's win in Massachusetts – he appeared on the cover of The New York Times Magazine under the headline, "The First Senator from the Tea Party?"
This has put Rubio, who is running as the anti-Crist, in an enviable but delicate position: He wants the Tea Party support but not necessarily the label.
Can 'tea party' last?
That's because the movement is still in its infancy, and no one's quite sure how it will look by the fall. It could coalesce into an army of unified voters advocating limited government. Or it could collapse under the weight of internal bickering.
There has been a bit of that already, with some activists unhappy that the movement's first national convention — in Tennessee next week — is a for-profit affair with a $500 entrance fee. Meanwhile, activists in Florida are fighting over who the "real" Tea Partiers are.
Organizers from around the state have sued Orlando attorney Fred O'Neal for registering the name "Florida Tea Party" as an official political party. The plaintiffs say O'Neal and anti-tax crusader Doug Guetzloe have hijacked the name and don't truly represent Tea Party values.
"Plaintiffs," the suit claims, "are not a political party, but a movement."
A movement, in turns out, that attracts a share of folks from the political margins. Swing by a Tea Party rally and you'll likely find "birthers" who doubt that President Barack Obama is a natural-born citizen, "gold bugs" lobbying for an end to paper currency, evangelicals predicting the End Time and conspiracy theorists warning of a New World Order.
They don't form the core of the movement — most activists are disaffected conservatives angry about excessive government spending — but they're part of its fabric. If Rubio is to win a primary and general election, he can't be perceived as a candidate from the fringe.
"To be the Tea Party candidate is kind of a double-edged sword," said Jamie Miller, a GOP political consultant now working on state Sen. Paula Dockery's campaign for governor. "If you're seen that way, do you win or lose in a general election? Right now, I don't know."
So far, Rubio has offered Tea Partiers a firm handshake and warm smile — but no public embrace. He has attended several Tea Party rallies, where he's mobbed by supporters, but earlier this month quickly corrected a cable news anchor who referred to him as a "Tea Party senator."
"Let me back you up on that for just a second," said Rubio. "When you talk about the Tea Party, remember I'm a Republican."
Is glad really bad?
Crist might be in an even tougher position.
He is a masterful politician with a gift for making people feel good. But Tea Party voters aren't looking for friends. They want a candidate who voices their anger and frustration, and Crist just doesn't do "mad" very well.
He'd like to persuade establishment Republicans that Tea Partiers form a small group that's gotten its hands on a big megaphone. But if he said that, he'd only spread the grass-roots fire against him.
In December, Crist described the grumbling from the right as "some loudness." But when asked if the agitators were particularly influential, the governor wouldn't talk on the record.
Since then, Crist has sought to remind voters that standing on principle is admirable — but there's also room for flexibility.
"You know I'm a pro-life, pro-gun, pro-family conservative Republican with common sense," he said last week. "And I'm a pragmatist. I understand that you have to work with our friends on the other side of the aisle to get things done for the people."
Tea Party voters might interpret that as political squishiness, but Russo said for Crist, it hardly matters.
"Charlie Crist couldn't pander his way into this movement," he said. "I don't think he can reach our base."
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