Legacy, an over-used word that ought to be tossed out of the political lexicon, except in the case of a handful of presidents and maybe a few Supreme Court judges. Otherwise, the whole concept is meaningless. How many state roads, damns, buildings, and conference rooms are named after people who have long since been forgotten? How many so-called honors were really disguised vanity projects? My point is not to denigrate people who step forward and devote their time and effort to public service; it is just a fact. There is no yesterday in politics.

Which brings us to Tom Gallagher and his painful-to-watch effort to become Florida's governor. Has any other man wanted a job so badly? Has any other man been so qualified, so prepared to assume the top job in the state? Gallagher is a walking encyclopedia on state policy. Intense, intellectually restless, at times, it seemed, he could barely restrain himself from interrupting a meeting or conversation, certain that he had the right answer. Admired for his gifts as an administrator, he had the reputation of hiring good people and letting them do their job. But like all politicians he had enemies, many enemies. There was always a sense among some that Gallagher played loose around the margins. And there was always just enough evidence to sow the seed of doubt about some of his dealings. That was a crucial difference between him and Governor-Elect Charlie Crist.

If Crist came off as a yacht riding high on the water on a sunny day, Gallagher was the guy in the speed boat whose wake threatened to swamp other boaters. That is why some interpreted Gallagher's hard-right tact on social issues as a Karl Rovian-type maneuver to tap into the Christian conservative base of the Republican Party as a means to out-flank Crist. Far be it from me to judge what's in a man's heart, but my experience has been that while the most callused of politicians are willing to trade votes, few are willing to sell their soul.