Lamont Tyler failed to convince anyone to run for the state House seat in his East Millcreek district. Finally, he declared himself a candidate.
This time he was successful.
Campaigning and fundraising were tasks the U professor of chemical engineering found formidable, but he still wound up occupying a seat in the state House of Representatives in 1994 and has served all three terms since.
Tyler’s roots go deep at the U. He studied here as an undergraduate and then as a doctoral student, leaving for a stint in industry then returning to join the faculty in 1970.
With a little juggling, he re arranged his teaching schedule and began exploring the world of Utah politics. Four years into his legislative stint, he opted for an early retirement from the U and is now a professor emeritus.
Tyler still practices his original profession, working on a process for refining crude oil into gasoline and diesel fuel.
A tall, substantial, physical presence with a voice to match, Tyler developed a reputation as a stalwart in the moderate Republican caucus, which is for some the voice of reason. For the more conservative rural element, they are RINOs (Republicans In Name Only).
Tyler first entered the Legislature unaware of the division.
“I got up there and decided there was no way I was a conservative Republican,” Tyler said of the label he applied to himself during the first campaign.
His stance on gun issues and the role of government in education in particular separate him from the more conservative ideology.
“My personal feeling is there needs to be some minimum level of support for programs at universities,” he said. He sees that level eroding year by year.
Republicans most likely to support the interests of education?those in the moderate caucus?have been disappearing too. A group of about 25 has dwindled to less than half of that in the past several years, according to Tyler.
The Republicans hold 51 of the 75 seats in the House?0nly 38 seats make up a simple majority.
But a party with such overwhelming control tends to fracture from the inside, according to Hinckley Institute of Politics Director Ted Wilson.
The moderate caucus has had quite a bit of influence in recent years, they are catching up with the conservative “cowboy caucus,” he said.
“They had a lot to do with Bernie Machen keeping his salary,” Wilson said of failed legislation to cut the salaries of administrators of entities that disobey state law, concealed weapons law in particular.
From any standpoint, lawmaking is about consensus building, and abilities sharpened by research are not always applicable.
“In engineering, you apply a principle and you get a result. You apply the principle again and you get the same result every time. It doesn’t work that way with people,” he said.
Not surprisingly, party dynamics do not leave higher education untouched. State funded institutions in Salt Lake County, the U and Salt Lake Community College, are at an inherent disadvantage because of how they vote, according to Tyler.
The urban districts are more inclined to elect Democrats. However, important decisions are made and policy set within Republican caucus meetings?sometimes leaving U and SLCC interests out.
Salt Lake County is too diverse?the needs of Sandy, Salt Lake City and Magna differ greatly. And competing interests prevent its legislators from uniting as those from other regions do, he said.
Tyler no longer teaches, but maintains an office at the U, next door to colleague and tennis partner Noel de Nevers.
The two met in the early ’60s when Tyler was a graduate student in chemical engineering and de Nevers a new faculty member.
A wall near Nevers’ desk holds a framed record of their annual tennis matches against students, a record that stretches back for years. Only one defeat mars their record.
De Nevers proffers it proudly, his expression brightening as he reveals “The Teachings of Jesus as Applied to Tennis.”
There is usually one senior who played a game superior to the two professors, but not two.
“[The stronger player] doesn’t need the practice, so you should give to the one who needs,” de Nevers explained. And furthermore, the needy player probably needs practice on his backhand more than his forehand.
But like many good things, the matches came to an end in 1997.
And when the House officially adjourned Wednesday night, Tyler concluded his final session of lawmaking, ironically, from a seat on the right edge of the floor.
As the Legislature resumed the session post-Olympic Games, Tyler was pondering a decision, but the session ended, and he had made up his mind.
“There are other things I want to do. It’s time for someone else to take a crack at it,” he said with finality. [email protected]