For more than 20 years, through Democratic and Republican rule, over the tenure of five different leaders, the Georgia House of Representatives has had one true constant: the calming voice and lovely manner of Clerk Robby Rivers.
That rock of the House packed up his spectacles and called it a career Wednesday, taking with him a deep knowledge of the law, the rules of the House and an ability to never meet a stranger.
Rivers’ departure is only one piece of a brain drain at the Capitol this year. His counterpart in the Senate, Secretary Bob Ewing, retired June 1. His second-in-command, Jeffrey Foley, will retire Oct. 1 as deputy secretary of the senate.
Moreover, the long-time head of the Legislature’s fiscal office, Robyn Underwood, will retire at the end of the year. So will Travis Hutchins, the General Assembly’s veteran facilities manager, who knows every nook, cranny and creak of the historic Capitol building.
Between them, those five employees have a combined service of more than a century. Their departures will leave a major gap in how things work — and work smoothly — behind the legislative scenes.
“You are talking about individuals who know this institution better than most,” said Lt. Gov. Casey Cagle, who himself has put in almost 20 years here. “And I think the biggest concern is that you’re losing so much talent and the talent is not just simply in the job but it’s in the understanding of the institution and the institutional knowledge that comes along with it.”
It’s a loss, said House Speaker David Ralston, R-Blue Ridge, “that will be felt by many in this building.”
The clerk of the House and the secretary of the Senate are responsible for the efficient flow of the massive amount of paperwork that any legislature creates. Thousands of bills and amendments a year flow between the offices, including 200-page budget bills where a single typo could send taxpayer dollars flowing to the wrong place.
Those who fill those two jobs serve as official custodians of all legislative papers, keep daily journals as the General Assembly’s official record and, most decidedly, keep the place running.
The truth, however, is that they mean so much more. Unofficial historian, key bearer, quartermaster, all roles these positions must handle.
Take, for example, Rivers’ deep recall of the General Assembly’s past. When the House and Senate voted in 2008 to override then-Gov. Sonny Perdue’s veto of a bill creating a Senate budget office, Rivers was the first to quickly note that it had been 34 years since a governor’s veto was last overturned.
In a rare interview on his final day, Rivers employed typical modesty to describe his job.
“I don’t run anything, I just try to keep it running,” he said. “I hate to see anybody have problems. Anybody.”
Rep. Calvin Smyre, D-Columbus, was first elected in 1974, making him the dean of the House as its longest-serving member. Rivers, Smyre said, was “always the same person. Cheery all the time. Funny, always amicable. Always in a very spirited mood. I’ve never seen Robby angry.”
In many states, House clerk has become a political position, one that changes when one party takes over for the other. Rivers, 62, who grew up in Bremen, was originally tapped for the job by legendary former Democratic Speaker Tom Murphy, also from the town in Haralson County. But Rivers survived the Republican takeover of the Georgia House in 2004.
“Robby, for the House, has been a link, a very vital link between administrations,” former Speaker Terry Coleman, D-Eastman, said.
Saying his goodbyes to members of the Capitol press corps late Wednesday morning, Rivers said it was a difficult decision to retire after more than 21 years in his job.
“I’m going to miss this building because I know it and I love it,” he said, visiting office after office to say his farewells and pass out packs of gum.
“I’m going to miss my job,” said Rivers, whose successor has not been named. “I can do my job in my sleep, but I’m slipping just a touch. I can no longer do my job the way I want to do the job.”
Beyond the granite and marble and the duties, he said, he’ll miss the people more.
“That’s truth and that’s on the record,” Rivers said, before turning away to hide his emotion.
Ewing similarly eschewed the spotlight. He broke the mold of the Secretary’s job, which traditionally had been given to a retired state senator. A longtime state employee, Ewing first approached then-Secretary Hamilton McWhorter Jr. in 1979 for a job and was hired for a session position.
He learned how the office functioned from the ground up, then took over the head job in 2006 after then-Secretary Frank Eldridge Jr. died unexpectedly in the middle of that year’s legislative session.
He and Foley, another longtime state employee, immediately won a reputation for being steadfast and evenhanded while maintaining a sense of humor. When things grew intense, particularly late in each legislative session, Ewing was known to turn to staff and quietly quote Dr. Hunter S. Thompson: “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.”
His office, created by constitutional mandate in 1789, tracks daily proceedings in the Senate chamber, including all votes on motions and legislation.
But besides handling all bills, resolutions, substitutes, amendments, records, papers and official documents, Ewing and Foley also had to handle the mundane: who gets what parking spots, office assignments and session schedules for 56 senators who serve on at least four committees each.
“Things are changing technologically and I think it’s time for a change,” said Ewing, no small statement since, under Eldridge, Ewing was instrumental in developing the current electronic voting system in the Senate chamber.
“Jeffrey had almost 30 years and Bob was here 34 years — that is kind of a whole era unto itself,” said David Cook, a former senator and state community health commissioner who was sworn in July 2 as the new Senate secretary. “I don’t have any qualms except I have big shoes to fill.”
Unlike the others, Underwood and Hutchins haven’t served one specific chamber but instead have helped everybody. Hutchins oversees everything from hanging a picture on the wall to powering up the voting systems in the chambers. Translation: He has handled the things that make other things work.
Underwood oversees everything from payroll, per diems, hiring and firing and ordering of supplies to prepping materials about state budget proposals (and tracking proposed changes that, at times, come by the hour).
They have all shrugged off personal accolades in favor of lauding the professionalism of respective staff members, their replies echoed by Underwood when asked what her leaving meant for the Capitol.
“I will miss people and I will also miss the institution. I love the Capitol and have always considered it a privilege to work here,” said Underwood, who started with the General Assembly in 1980 and is retiring Jan. 1, the same day her husband, Bill, takes his final leave from Norfolk Southern Railroad.
“I have no concerns about the transition going into next session,” she added. “I have a very capable support staff who will be instrumental with the transition of a new fiscal officer.”
But veterans like Cagle wonder whether they are seeing an end to an era.
“That creates the greater challenge going forward: How do you really get the talent that you need and mark upon them this tradition and this great legacy and have people really buy into that to the degree that almost circumvents a desire to just be in it for the money or for themselves?” he said.
“I think we have to understand in context that this institution will survive,” Cagle said. “This institution will continue to operate and do what it was designed to do. The only thing that’s really changed is the players. Which is how it’s designed to work.”
