RICHMOND - Charlie Davis has lived and worked in the vicinity of Virginia's capital for more than 30 years - as a broadcaster, a governor's aide and now as a lobbyist with a client base that includes tobacco giant Philip Morris USA.
His consulting firm, founded with his wife, Christine, occupies top-drawer office space in the heart of Richmond's business district. He entertains legislators at the city's best restaurants and trades jokes with them in the corridors of their Capitol Square office building. Few people who prowl the halls of power during a General Assembly session seem to have as much fun. "Charlie has a wit about him and a sense of humor that's needed to survive in his occupation," said Sen. Charles Hawkins, R-Chatham.
With silver hair and a baritone voice made for a microphone, Davis could fit a casting director's profile of a power lobbyist. But the 58-year-old Rocky Mount native insists he is no slave to this environment, even though he thrives in it.
"I'm more comfortable sitting in a country store in Franklin County eating peanuts," Davis said in his office last week.
Franklin County, after all, was Davis' proving ground. It's where he twice earned the honor of top magazine salesman in his high school class, an early indication that the gift of gab would serve him well.
"I'm sure a lot of people ended up buying magazines that they really didn't want," Davis said, laughing at the memory of his school fund-raisers.
And it's where, during a summer job assembling chests of drawers at Lane Furniture's Rocky Mount plant, he discovered a hard truth.
"I have immense respect for people who have to work very hard and, in a lot of cases, at stuff that's probably not very enjoyable," Davis said. "But I learned that summer that conveyor belts and I didn't get along."
Davis, the son of a probation and parole officer and a bank teller, didn't choose a life of back-breaking work. But acquaintances say he applies a hardscrabble ethic to a white-collar job.
"It's tenacity," said Del. Morgan Griffith, R-Salem, the majority leader in the House of Delegates.
Though most recognized for its association with Philip Morris, Davis' firm also has served clients in the health care, energy and gaming industries, as well as local governments such as Chesterfield County. For a few short weeks in 2003, Davis even ran interference for pro football players in the Capitol.
While scrolling through newspaper articles on his office computer one Saturday in January, he read about legislation filed a day earlier that would virtually exempt the Washington Redskins from making workers' compensation payments to injured players. The National Football League team, which trains in Loudoun County, argued that Virginia's law was not created to help high-priced athletes who already have access to certain disability benefits.
The Redskins organization appeared to have momentum on its side. More than two dozen delegates and nine senators had signed on as co-sponsors of House and Senate bills. The Redskins had even made contributions to the Republican and Democratic legislative caucuses. But Davis saw an opportunity to turn the tide. By Saturday evening, he had tracked down the top lawyer for the NFL Players Association and started mapping out a strategy to defeat the legislation.
Within days, Davis had top union executives following him through the halls of the General Assembly office building to button-hole legislators. Among other things, he reminded members of key House and Senate committees that wealthy Redskins owner Daniel Snyder lived in Maryland and reaped revenue from the team's stadium there, while most Redskins players lived in Virginia. He also argued that the legislation could jeopardize other collective bargaining agreements in the state.
Support for the bills quickly eroded and the chief sponsors ultimately withdrew them. Davis still gets a chuckle when reminded that he stood with underdog millionaires in a battle against a billionaire. But he points to that victory as an example of what makes his work exciting.
"Give me that any day of the world, the chance to succeed or fail on the spot," he said.
That same mind-set led Davis into a broadcasting career that began when he was a teenager at WYTI-AM (1570) in Rocky Mount. After graduating from the University of Virginia and serving in the military, he landed in 1972 at Richmond's WRVA-AM, then known as the "Voice of Virginia." He stayed there for five years as part of a 12-person news department, covering everything from state politics to tobacco-spitting contests.
Davis was ready to move on by 1977, but didn't want to leave Virginia for a bigger media market. His search for a new challenge led him to Republican John Dalton's gubernatorial campaign, where Davis served as press secretary.
"I think Yogi [Berra] was right - when you come to a fork in the road, take it," Davis said of his career change.
After Dalton's victory, Davis became the information director at the Alcoholic Beverage Control Board. He moved to the governor's office in 1980 and served as press secretary for the second half of Dalton's administration.
"He was solid in thought, simple in explanation," Davis said of Dalton. "He didn't have to be jacked up. He knew what he believed and he was comfortable in his own skin."
Democrats seized control of all three statewide offices when Dalton's term expired, and Davis returned to the private sector. He spent nine years with CSX Corp. as a regional vice president for governmental relations. He and Christine launched their own consulting firm in 1991 and landed their biggest client - Philip Morris - right off the bat.
The association gave his firm instant credibility, Davis said.
"The worst thing that can happen to you in lobbying or show business is for no one to know who you are," Davis said.
Some assembly-watchers insist - with mild exaggeration - that Davis can sink legislation simply by standing in front of a committee and somberly uttering the words: "Philip Morris opposes this bill."
Big tobacco certainly wields considerable clout in Richmond. But most of Davis' work for Philip Morris and other clients takes place behind the scenes - in phone calls or one-on-one meetings. That's when Davis has the chance to boil down complex legislation, deliver his client's message and answer lawmakers' questions without distractions.
"If you don't know what the outcome of the vote is when the committee convenes, you either need to get new radar or you need to do something else in life," Davis said.
House Minority Leader Frank Hall, D-Richmond, said Davis is effective because "you can rely on what he says."
"The single most important thing is credibility, and what I look for is someone who will tell it like it is - not only the good side, but what the other side might be," said Hall.
Being good company doesn't hurt either, Griffith said. The House Republican leader, a self-described "cheap date," occasionally dines with Davis at The Graywolf Grill, a Richmond restaurant that specializes in Mongolian barbecue.
"He's a lot of fun to be with and anybody who knows him knows his heart is big," Griffith said.
Davis said he and his colleagues try to lighten the load for stressed-out legislators.
"We take our jobs seriously but not ourselves," Davis said. "People have to not only enjoy being with you, but look forward to being with you."
Just like Davis looks forward to a weekend escapes to Franklin County to eat peanuts and swap stories.
"It's better than paying $200 an hour to sit on a shrink's couch," he said.