All a matter of priority...

We read with considerable sadness today about the passing of “Chairman” Charlie Capps of Cleveland, Mississippi, a soft-spoken southern politician who was a true gentleman and gave the word “politician” some much-needed dignity. He died on Christmas Day (12/25/09).

The 84-year-old Capps – a slight, white-headed man from the Mississippi delta – was a force to be reckoned with for most of his nearly 33 years in the legislature – serving as either Chairman or Vice-Chairman of the powerful House Appropriations Committee for some 24 years. He was honest and fair, and his career was immersed in public service that dates back to his years as a soldier in World War II. His obituary chronicles the life of a truly remarkable individual.

Charlie Capps had been Chairman of Appropriations for five years when I arrived on the scene at the State Capitol in Jackson as the new Executive Director for the statewide Educational Television (ETV) network. I first met Mr. Capps through then-Representative Billy McCoy, who chaired the Appropriations Subcommittee on Education and “strongly recommended” that agency heads attend appropriatons hearings – that they shouldn’t just send their fiscal officer or second in command. As the new kid on the block, I took that seriously and rarely missed a session. Mr. McCoy would frequently refer to the necessity of knowing budgets inside-out. There was little doubt that McCoy knew the budget of every agency as well as or better than some agency heads themselves. He was remarkable at that, and he always expressed the necessity to get appropriations bills cleaned up and “ready” for Chairman Capps.

Like Billy McCoy, Chairman Charlie Capps was a short gentleman. But unlike the animated – even fiery – Billy McCoy, Chairman Capps was restrained and usually very soft-spoken. Almost always chomping on a cigar, he was a dapper dresser and was counted among the handful of truly powerful lawmakers in Mississippi.

Educational Television, which included Mississippi’s statewide radio and television networks, a radio reading service for the blind, and a statewide instructional television fixed service (ITFS), was among the smallest of state agencies. Although we had only about 130 or so employees, we were highly visible across the state, and the legislature had played a key role in making ETV one of the best-funded state network operations in the country – an admittedly unusual circumstance for anything with Mississippi in its name. Legislators like Billy McCoy, Hob Bryan, Grey Ferris, and Charlie Capps were among those who took a real interest in education.

So it was that Charlie Capps and I would run in slightly different circles. We knew each other to exchange pleasantries and have brief conversations – but that was seldom outside the appropriations process.

But there was this one time....

The St. Petersburg Russia Symphony Orchestra was making a performance tour in the United States, and one of the stops was destined to be the new Performing Arts Center on the campus of Delta State University in the small community of Cleveland, smack dab in the middle of the Mississippi delta.

Kent Wyatt, the president of Delta State called me one day and asked if I and a few key staff members could come to Cleveland to meet with a group of citizens over lunch. They were interested in having ETV broadcast a live performance of the St. Petersburg Symphony.

Folks familiar with the challenges of producing a live performance broadcast – even in ideal studio settings – probably would appreciate the tentativeness with which I accepted the invitation to discuss such a venture. Nonetheless, Delta State – which had an aeronautics curriculum at the school – sent a plane to Jackson some days later to pick up our Director of Television and me for the short flight to Cleveland.

In the back of my mind, I was rather certain that there was no way we could attempt such a broadcast. It required production personnel experienced in this sort of thing. We’d have to contract out for them. Plus, we had no real production truck, no satellite uplink capability. Tens of thousands of dollars would be required to undertake such a production.

As we walked in to the dining room at Delta State, among the first to welcome us was…..Chairman Charlie Capps. Well, of course, I knew Cleveland was his hometown, but I had underestimated the level of his community involvement, while still keeping tabs on the budgets of every state agency in Mississippi!

I recall little about the meeting, except that President Wyatt, Charlie Capps, and others in the group were very hospitable. My recollection is that we agreed to look at what such a venture might cost, but we didn’t offer any great optimism. We returned to Jackson and – over the next several days – put together a rough estimate of the out-of-pocket costs for ETV to produce such a program. It was, as I recall, something on the order of $35,000-40,000. I was willing to commit indirect costs – but the out-of-pocket expenses would likely kill the deal, unless an underwriter was found.

I said as much to President Wyatt some days later when he called to follow up on our meeting. Our Development Department explored some underwriting possibilities – but to no avail.

Then it happened.

I answered the phone one morning and it was Charlie Capps calling from the capitol. This written passage just doesn’t do justice to the genteel persuasion that rolled from the lips of Chairman Capps – and, of course, -- you need to add his unmistakable southern drawl:

“Mister Miller, I understand you’re not likely to broadcast the St. Petersburg Symphony when they come to Delta State.”

“Yes, sir, that’s right. We just don’t have the resources to commit to such a venture, as much as we might like to do it.”

“I know things are tough for you, Mr. Miller. They’re tough for all agencies this year. All of us are just going to have to prioritize and do the right things. I do hope y’all will see fit to do this broadcast. The people across the delta would appreciate it, and I would appreciate it. I do hope the matter becomes a higher priority for ETV. Thank you for your time, Mr. Miller.

“Uhhhh, thank you Mr. Capps. We’ll certainly take a closer look at it.” Click.

I immediately picked up the phone, called our Director of Television, and told him to add the live, remote production of the St. Petersburg Symphony to our schedule.

As fate would have it, veteran producer/director Dick Rizzo was assigned to the project. A series of personnel squabbles from previous years had left Dick holding the bag for things that were out of his control. I’m not sure Dick’s assignment to this project was by choice or direction – but, to my mind – he and our production crew did a first-rate job.

Some months later, as my wife and I were attending the St. Petersburg Symphony performance in Cleveland, Chairman Capps spotted me and came over to tell me how pleased he was that we had chosen to do the broadcast. Of course, I was on pins and needles throughout the evening – for naught. The Mississippi ETV production crew performed beautifully, and that symphony broadcast was one of the finest special event productions during my eight-year tenure at Mississippi ETV.

In the days and weeks thereafter, we received many accolades from the delta and across the state about the quality of our symphony broadcast from Delta State University. And nowhere were those accolades more effusive than from Chairman Capps -- at the opening of our budget hearing the following year. And the year after that.

We had made the right choice.

All we had to do was “prioritize.” Thank you, Chairman Capps, God rest your soul!

A great Mississippian

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Note: This gentleman had significant impact upon public broadcasting in Mississippi through his oversight role as Chairman of the Senate Education Committee.

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Grey Ferris has died. I didn’t learn about it until yesterday, when I was surfing the internet and came across his obituary. He was only 62 years old – a victim of cancer – and passed away June 13, 2008, at his home near Vicksburg, Mississippi.
But you need to know more about Grey Ferris. He was one of the most thoughtful and genuinely respectful people I’ve known. I first met Grey after moving to Mississippi in 1993 to head the Mississippi Authority for Educational Television (ETV). Grey had just been elected to a four-year term in the Mississippi State Senate from Warren and Issaquena counties.

Our ETV budget was shaped largely by the House and Senate Education Committees. In the House, that was a committee led by the fiery Billy McCoy of Rienzi, one of the hardest-working legislators I’ve ever known. He later was tapped as Speaker of the House – a post he still holds.

In the Senate, the Education Committee was chaired by the soon-to-be Governor Ronnie Musgrove. The Vice-Chairman was a quiet and rather studious Grey Ferris from Vicksburg. During his second term in office, Senator Ferris would serve as Chairman.

Grey’s grandfather, E. B. Ferris, was credited with founding Mississippi Agricultural Experiment Stations, and in 1918 he bought the land east of Vicksburg that became known as “Ferris Farm.” In 1935, his son, Bill, graduated from Millsaps College in Jackson and was soon back on the farm with his wife, Shelby, raising their five children – one of whom was Grey.

After high school in Mississippi and college at Tulane, where he was president of the student body, Grey practiced law for a while, but then returned to the farm. Reportedly, a move to consolidate county school districts rekindled his interest in government and public service. He served six years on the local consolidated school board and then ran for the legislature. It was shortly after that when I met Grey Ferris.

Politics anywhere can be dirty and deceitful, and it’s easy to become disenchanted with government officials. I was fortunate to cross paths with at least two politicians who made me realize that politics need not be bad. That public service is a public trust. And that there are some honest and honorable people who serve. For me, one such person was U.S. Senator Thad Cochran. The other was Mississippi State Senator Grey Ferris.

As a newcomer to Mississippi government – worse, as a “Yankee” – I found there were a few folks who would take advantage of my northern ways. For the most part, however, I found folks agreeable – even helpful – as I stumbled through the legislative process on behalf of public radio and television. No one was more helpful than Grey Ferris. He was adept at resolving conflicts and bringing people together to solve problems. When you visited with Grey, it was as if the rest of the world had been silenced, and he was listening only to you. And he was.

Of course, public broadcasting was a very small part of the over-all education budget, and Grey’s focus was on the big picture – trying to improve the quality of life in Mississippi through public education. He and Senator Hob Bryan (who made even Billy McCoy pale by comparison when considering “colorful” and “fiery” legislators) were among the key folks who pushed through the Mississippi Adequate Education Program in the late 1990s. Understandably, it was one of Grey’s proudest moments.

As an aside, I once had the privilege of sitting at a banquet table with Grey and his brother Bill, also a talented individual (and later head of the National Endowment of the Humanities), and their mother, Shelby Flowers Ferris. It was a rare treat watching the two siblings – both achievers – good-naturedly spar verbally under the watchful and loving eye of their mother.

In 1999, Senator Grey Ferris decided to run for lieutenant-governor. A Democrat, he was given a good shot at winning the post. However, when his 18-year-old daughter, Jessica, died after battling an eating disorder and depression, Grey, understandably, didn’t seem to have his heart in the race. He lost his bid for lieutenant-governor and left the Mississippi Senate at the end of his term.
He returned to Ferris Farm, and news accounts attributed to his wife Jann, indicate that he loved being back on the home place -- 6,000 acres of converted cropland running some 1,000 cows. Much of the farm is bottomland hardwood along the Big Black River. It boasts some historic Native American mounds and was also a site of passage by General Grant’s army during the siege of Vicksburg in the Civil War.

And then, a few short years after leaving Jackson to focus on his family and Ferris Farm, cancer struck. His valiant struggle – surrounded by loving family and friends – was poignantly detailed on the website Ferris Farm.

I was surprised to learn that Grey was only 62 when he died. To the many of us who leaned on him for advice and direction – his quiet wisdom and strength of character made him seem older than his years.

Perhaps it’s human nature. Perhaps it’s just the rush of life, but most of us don’t take the time to reach out while we can to communicate with those who’ve significantly touched our lives. In the seven years since leaving Jackson, I’ve often thought about the warmth Karen and I found in Mississippi. So many close personal friends – many of whom we still see occasionally. But too many others – many folks with whom we worked and did business, like Grey Ferris, fade too soon from our lives.

Grey Ferris made Mississippi – and this earth – a better place. God bless Grey and his family.