To Tallahassee and Back: “Old Florida” is Not Forgotten

The legislative session is over and most of us have returned to our district offices.  Even though I work in this process I must admit I am tired of reading the “session recaps,” “session overviews,” “session highlights “and “session summaries.”  Perhaps because I work in the process is the reason why I am tired of reading them.  I don’t know about you but I think the media has done a good job highlighting all that went on, and did not go on, during the past nine weeks.  I am not needed to recap what has already been recapped.  In the coming weeks I will mention, from time to time, the fate of various proposals that I have been covering, just not today.

Today, the subject is tradition that recalls “Old Florida.”   The final act of the legislative session is the dropping of the hanky.  Yes, “hanky” as in handkerchief.  The white hanky is dropped by the respective sergeant-at-arms representing the House and Senate.  The ceremony occurs in the center of the Capitol Rotunda (the midpoint between the House and Senate chambers).  It symbolizes that the legislative session, during which the two opposing bodies have been at battle with one another, or in battle together, ends.  Once the Senate president and the House speaker gavel the session closed “sine die” (meaning “without day”) the hankies are dropped simultaneously marking the end of all “hostilities,” if one thinks of the session as a battle between the chambers.  The hanky drop is a widely attended event, akin to the dropping of the New Year’s Eve ball in Times Square.

The sine die hanky has entered the modern age.  It has its own Twitter handle, something that the founders of Florida would never have been able to envision when Florida received statehood in 1845.  The hanky drop was first introduced as a means to send a signal between the two chambers that the work of the respective body was finished.  In time, as the more modern versions of The Capitol building were built, the two chambers were aligned so that, with the doors to each chamber open, the Speaker and the President, each standing at their respective podiums, could see each other, albeit at a great distance.  Of course, in this day and age a telephone, what I like to call “the “bat phone,” connects the two chambers so that the presiding officers can time the end of the session if they so desire.  There have been, on occasion, situations in which one chamber ended before the other.  This has happened in recent memory and usually does not leave a good taste in the mouth, so to speak. (NOTE - the photo above was territorial Florida's first capital building - I doubt a hanky drop was needed back then). 

In any event, the hanky drop is a vestige of Old Florida that is fun to watch.  My personal favorite “hanky drop” was the year that Speaker Dan Webster, the first Republican speaker since the Reconstruction Era, Senate President Toni Jennings and Governor Lawton Chiles sat down at a small table that was set up in the Rotunda.  They toasted each other with genuine Florida orange juice to mark the end of what was arguably a very successful legislative session.  To date I don’t recall a better sine die closing than that one in 1997.

Another reminder of Florida’ position as a southern state is the annual “Seersucker Suit Day.”  This actually was a practice first undertaken in the United States Congress by members representing southern states.  The once fashionable attire, suitable for hot summer days, was a staple of southern congressmen who had to work in a steamy capital without air-conditioning.  It has been reported that Senator Trent Lott of Mississippi started the practice of recognizing this bit of history in the 1990’s.  The Florida Legislature does the same thing, usually towards the end of the legislative session.  The event is usually marked by a group photo of everyone who wore a seersucker suit to work that day.  Beyond that it is just a fun way to recall, once again, Old Florida. Congress has discontinued the practice but it is still alive and well in Florida.

Another nod to Old Florida is the annual “Boot Day.”  This event was formed to recognize the cattle industry’s ties to Florida and, obviously, the cowboy boots cattlemen wore.  Historically, members wear their boots, if they own a pair, and parade them before their colleagues.  I recall former House member Nancy Argenziano took the prize one year with boots that went up above her knees.  She strutted like a runway model and took home the coveted boot plaque that year.

While the sine die hanky has entered the technology age with its own Twitter account, I don’t believe the seersucker suit or the cattleman’s boot have yet done so.  Perhaps a creative Twitter savvy politico will help these traditions make the leap into the 21^st century.  Any takers?

If you have any questions about the legislative session, what we actually did that has lasting impact, or anything else about the process, please leave me a comment and I will respond.  If you have thoughts for a future post I would love to hear them.  In any event, your chance to influence this blog is only a few keystrokes and a mouse click away!  Thanks for reading!