225BatonRouge.com

Foster Campbell is the candidate who strolls into a room full of South Louisiana police chiefs and in his uniquely intense, fast-paced Bossier drawl, tells them he’s going to shake up their economy.

It’s what he did in mid-July, addressing police chiefs in a Lake Charles casino meeting room. “I’m the politician who wants to change the way we tax oil and gas in this state,” Campbell says bluntly.

Campbell sounds like Huey P. Long: Campbell is North Louisiana’s Public Service Commission member who promises he’s going to tax Big Oil. Long, the fiery populist Railroad Commission member from Shreveport, became governor in 1928 and promptly taxed powerful Standard Oil Co. And like Long, Campbell believes the oil companies still aren’t paying their fair share.

His first act as governor, Campbell says, will be to immediately call the Legislature into session and challenge lawmakers to slap a 6.25% fee on imported oil and natural gas processed in Louisiana. The $5.5 billion Campbell believes his fee would generate will allow the state, he says, to abolish the state’s personal and corporate income taxes.

“The richest states in the South all have one thing in common,” Campbell says. “They all have no income tax.”

When he finishes his 15-minute speech, the mostly white, male crowd applauds politely. Campbell waits for questions, but no hands go up. No one in the audience seems annoyed, but he hasn’t connected either. Even his pledge to “fully fund” law enforcement programs elicits no demonstrable enthusiasm.

Across town, over lunch, Campbell delivers much the same message to a small black Kiwanis Club. He prowls the floor around the podium, brandishing a large map of Louisiana covered in a spider web of red lines, each representing one of the pipelines that blanket the state.

The point, Campbell says, is that the energy industry has made significant investments in Louisiana. His fee will never prompt them to abandon the billions they’ve invested in pipelines, refineries and other facilities.

This time, however, his message is more direct, populist and far more partisan.

“I’m not a conservative Democrat,” Campbell tells the group. “I’m a Democrat. You know what a conservative Democrat is? That’s a person who says we want black people to vote for us, but [who] don’t talk about that at the chamber of commerce.” The group laughs. It’s the only line of his 20-minute speech that generates any noticeable enthusiasm from the group.

To the law enforcement crowd, Campbell didn’t mention his opponents, Republican U.S. Rep. Bobby Jindal, Democratic state Sen. Walter Boasso, or businessman John Georges. Now, however, he flays Jindal as a protector of Big Oil.

“Mr. Jingle,” Campbell says, butchering his opponent’s name, “has five or six million dollars because these guys [the oil companies] are for him.” And he ridicules Boasso, a wealthy St. Bernard Parish businessman and former Republican who recently switched parties twice. “He could fool a lot of people,” Campbell says of Boasso and his newfound Democratic message, “because he has lots of money.”

Campbell’s speech again generates only polite applause. Again he has failed to connect with this black audience—a constituency he must attract in great numbers to win. This time, at least, several audience members ask questions.

One audience question may have shed light on why black people have not yet embraced the North Louisiana politician.

“The majority of the Republicans and Democrats are white people, period,” Adam Rosemore, a 67-year-old retired teacher, scolds him. “How can you address a group like this and not address an issue most special to us?” Perplexed, Campbell asks the man to explain. Rosemore responds that he wanted the candidate to discuss equal opportunity and affirmative action programs. “I’m for that,” Campbell shoots back.

But Rosemore isn’t satisfied. “I’m trying to survive day by day,” he says. “You talking about another world.”

Some politicians would be rattled by such a direct, aggressive challenge. Campbell remains calm, unfazed and determined to win over Rosemore. He ticks off several initiatives he championed at the PSC, all which help poor people. They include a rule to prevent energy companies from shutting off power to homes during extreme temperatures.

Finally, Rosemore is impressed. “Now, that sounds better,” he says.

As club members depart, Rosemore, who left New Orleans for Lake Charles after Hurricane Katrina, explains his frustration with Campbell’s message. “He addressed us like he addresses the average crowd,” Rosemore says. “I ain’t interested in no pipelines.”

But the rest of Campbell’s populist message—about programs to help the poor—has persuaded the retired social studies and English teacher. “I understand that,” he says. “I’d vote for him because of that.”

Another club member, businessman Mark Lewis, is sympathetic to Campbell’s tax repeal/processing fee plan, but agrees with Rosemore. There are more compelling issues, he says. “That’s important,” Lewis says of the fee, “but most people don’t relate to that because it doesn’t impact them on a day-to-day basis.” Lewis, like Rosemore, is persuaded. He’ll support Campbell, but it has nothing to do with the promised tax repeal.

If these reactions are typical, it could spell trouble for Campbell’s candidacy because so much of his campaign is built on the foundation of this one program. With many political observers already dismissing him as a long shot because of his low poll numbers and relatively small bank account (as of the second week in September, he had raised $2.7 million to Jindal’s $8 million), Campbell is clearly hoping that this one, big issue will capture the electorate’s imagination.

And, except for an occasional detour to briefly talk about health care (he’s for keeping the charity hospital system) or education (he wants to keep public schools open in the summer for tutoring), Campbell talks about little else. Indeed, through late-July, Campbell’s campaign Web site featured a page entitled, “The Issues.” It should be called, “The Issue,” because it only addressed the tax repeal/processing fee.

In an interview in the lobby of the casino hotel, after his speech to the police chiefs, Campbell sinks into a large leather chair. He speaks passionately about “The Issue,” but acknowledges the difficulty of winning support for taxing an industry that so many see as vital to Louisiana’s economy. “It’s obvious,” he says when asked how he can make the campaign a referendum on his platform. “What’s my weakness? It’s money. I’m not preaching a message that attracts a lot of money.”

An insurance agency owner and cattleman, Campbell, 60, has served since 2002 on the PSC, representing 24 North Louisiana parishes (his PSC seat has produced three Louisiana governors—Huey Long, Jimmie Davis and John McKeithen). Before that, he spent 27 years in the state Senate, earning a reputation as a populist and consumer advocate and, in 1988, losing a runoff election for the U.S. House.

In the Senate, he pushed through legislation stopping abuses by payday loan companies and required student athletes to maintain their grades in order to play sports. On the PSC, Campbell forced electric cooperatives to lower rates, passed the “do-not-call” rules that clamped down on unwanted telemarketing, and enacted rules that prohibit utilities from charging battered women for security deposits.

While he says he’s no enemy of economic development, his populist rhetoric and his aggressive nature—some might call it abrasive—could cause some to dismiss him as an anti-business liberal.

More than anything, the processing fee creates the impression of Campbell as a foe of oil and gas. Ginger Sawyer, vice president of political action for the Louisiana Association of Business and Industry, argues that because the federal courts would likely not allow the fee to be added to energy products sold outside Louisiana, it would fall disproportionately on Louisiana businesses and consumers. “If you do something to drive down the gross state product,” she says, “you are hurting the long-term manufacturing viability of the state.”

Democrat Foster Campbell is touting his plan to slap a 6.25% fee on Big Oil and rid the state income tax altogether.

Sawyer, who also directs LABI’s Energy Council, regards Campbell’s plan as a massive, unconstitutional tax shift that will punish consumers while driving away the oil and gas industry. “If you like [the] Stelly [plan],” she says of the reduction in state sales taxes in exchange for income tax increases, “you’ll love the processing tax.”

Campbell, who blames the oil industry for much of the damage to Louisiana’s coastal wetlands, believes his fee would raise the price by a nickel a gallon. “Let’s fix the coast you screwed up and it’s going to cost me a nickel?” Campbell would say to oil company executives who oppose his plan. “Charge me a dime.”

But Campbell’s numbers work only if he can pass along the fee to out-of-state consumers, something LABI and the Louisiana Mid-Continent Oil and Gas Association maintain is unconstitutional. According to Mid-Continent spokesman Larry Wall, if applied only to Louisiana consumers, the fee would increase the price of gasoline by $1.25 per gallon, an estimate based on current oil prices.

To critics of such a large increase, Campbell responds, “I didn’t raise it [the price of gas] from $2 to $3.”

And far from being anti-business, Campbell argues that his plan is “pro-business” and should appeal to small-business owners who would greatly benefit from the elimination of personal and corporate income taxes. “If you’re a small-business owner,” he says, “don’t you think you need a tax break?”

Feasible or not, constitutional or not, Campbell has an issue—an interesting, controversial one. But that’s more than Jindal or Boasso can boast. What the skeptical or passive audiences in Lake Charles suggest, however, is that Campbell hasn’t yet found a way to excite voters with his plan.

Even a compelling, well-delivered message won’t be enough. Campbell also needs money—millions more—for television spots to sell the plan. “I don’t think this would be a race if I had four or five million dollars,” Campbell boasts.

In 1928, the underdog railroad commissioner, Huey Long, roared out of North Louisiana and captured the Governor’s Office with a populist program that transformed the state’s politics for generations. Now, almost 80 years later, Long’s ideological heir is praying that lightning will strike again, and that the state’s appetite for fundamental change will more than compensate for what he lacks in money and notoriety.

“I’ve been in politics for 30 years,” Campbell says, mournfully. “I’ve seen our state go continuously down. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s the system and the system needs to be changed.”