With a unique blend of rural and urban appeal, Rep. Katie Edwards is going up against politics’ good ol’ boys club on issues such as Everglades conservation. And she isn’t backing down.
By Buddy Nevins
Photography by Edward Linsmier
Katie Edwards’ fondest memory took place long before she won a seat in the Florida House. It happened before she was a freshman wunderkind, before she shoved through a skeptical Legislature permitting a version of medical marijuana, and before she got sentencing reduced for nonviolent first-time prescription-drug offenders. That fond memory includes the mooing sounds of baby calves she bottle-fed on her family ranch near Lake Okeechobee.
“People don’t believe this chick from an urban county is really a rural girl,” Edwards says, laughing. In a business where legislators from concrete canyons of South Florida are more likely to tout their political accomplishments and their law degrees, Edwards can brag about attending agriculture school, running the Dade County Farm Bureau at 22 years old, and spending weekends bass fishing and shooting a shotgun. Oh, and she has that law degree, too.
Edwards has that urban and rural combination perfected for her next big target: tackling the state’s water quality and quantity problem. Some people might say that’s a big goal, but so was medical marijuana and sentencing reform.
Water issues dovetail perfectly into her long-term goal of protecting the Everglades, an issue of profound personal depth for the Florida native, who grew up visiting her grandparents at their Okeechobee home. Without the clean water that the Everglades sends to our taps, development will come to a halt and tourism could cripple. Edwards says her argument to lawmakers from other parts of the state is simple: “Water, whether we’re dealing with the Everglades or springs or Apalachicola oysters or the Indian River basis, all involve the same issue—getting enough for us to use.”
Edwards is perfectly positioned to hammer something together for the entire state. With her agriculture background and outdoor lifestyle, she has won over the Legislature’s rural “good ol’ boys.” And, she can aw-shucks with the best of ’em.
“I’m a right-wing, tea party, cut-every-tax Republican. Katie still found common ground where we could work together,” says state Rep. Matt Gaetz, the formidable chair of the Criminal Justice Subcommittee from the panhandle and a rising statewide Republican power. Gaetz describes Edwards as “the most tenacious member of the Florida Legislature. We worked together on medical marijuana. That wouldn’t have happened if she didn’t pester me incessantly. If I said no, she would send me 10 emails fully footnoted. I was in my PJ pants watching CNN when Sanjay Gupta had a special on medical marijuana. I called Katie and said, ‘Is this what all your emails are about?’”
Within a day, Edwards had lined up chronic disease sufferers who would benefit from medical marijuana for Gaetz to meet. After talking to the ill Floridians, some of them his neighbors, and reading more facts forwarded by Edwards, Gaetz agreed to help. He got her the support of other conservative Republicans. “It was the most difficult, significant thing we did during the last session,” Gaetz says.
Her achievements broke the template followed by House minority party members. That annoyed fellow Democrats, who stuck to their traditional Tallahassee role—sit in the back row, squawk and put out news releases. “They don’t like it that I’m not following the script. I came to Tallahassee to affect policy, to get something done,” Edwards explains.
Walking up to the front of the room filled with two dozen mostly gray-haired activists, Edwards, blond and striking, disproves the old adage that politics is show business for ugly people. Perched on strappy 2-inch tan heels and poured into an aquamarine print dress, which breaks just above her knees, Edwards looks like someone about to leave for a dinner date. Instead, she breaks into a 15-minute data-driven recitation about the lives and millions of dollars in prison costs saved by her bill, which reduces the mandatory sentencing for illegally possessing small quantities of prescription drugs. The questions are polite, and as she answers them, she refers to the dozens of pages of facts and figures she brought with her.
She avoids any mention of her future objective to improve water resources or her background on the farm. The only cows this group knows are on their plates and cooked well-done. In Broward, where she got re-elected without opposition this year, as in Tallahassee, Edwards knows her audience.
Originally appeared in the Fall 2014 issue.
