From the archives: How pink became Sine Die tradition in Tallahassee

Lobbyist Albert Balido, with Anfield Consulting, wears his pink socks, in honor of Marvin Arrington, an insurance lobbyist with an affinity for pink who died during the last week of the 2002 Session, on the fourth floor Friday, May 5, 2017 at the Capitol in Tallahassee, Fla. Photo by Phil Sears

Pink is what distinguishes the last day of Florida’s Legislative Sessions.

Lobbyists, consultants, former lawmakers, and observers clad in pink outfits roam the Capitol hallways during the Session’s final hours.

Pink is the tradition for Capitol veterans to pay tribute to the late lobbyist Marvin Arrington.

“Marvin was here for a long time, and he had a tradition of wearing a pink sports coat on the last day of Session,” said Wayne Malaney, who lobbies for newspaper publishers.

In 2002, Arrington succumbed to a heart attack in a parking lot a block north of the Capitol. It was the Monday of the last week of Session for that year.

By the time people realized he was in crisis, smoke from spinning his car tires filled the downtown area.

“Marvin wore pink carnations, and no one serving today was here when Marvin was, but those who remembered him by wearing pink,” said Keith Arnold, who served in the House in the 1980s and 1990s and now lobbies.

On the last day of the 2002 Session, Arrington’s son, Reynolds, and nephew, Patrick, showed up at the Capitol wearing Arrington’s trademark pink jackets. Joining them were more than 100 lobbyists sporting pink: carnations, jackets, and shirts. They were all responding to Reynolds’ request to remember his dad with a display of pink.

“Anyone that’s man enough to wear pink at your age is man enough for us to listen to,” former Speaker James Harold Thompson said to the Orlando Sentinel.

People observe traditions for a variety of reasons. They are a tool to maintain predictability in a changing world, to create self-identity for a group within a larger society, and to transfer knowledge from one generation to the next.

“I wear a hideous pink jacket for Marvin; he was a great guy, a wonderful man,” Dave Ramba said. “His son comes for the final day, and we as a community watch out for him. He was just 13 years old when he lost his father. We’ll all be wearing pink carnations.”

Marvin Arrington’s father, C. Fred, served in the Florida House in the 1950s, and Marvin would tell friends he grew up at the Capitol. He was known as a “white hat,” an honest broker of information among lawmakers, their staff, and journalists.

For some Tallahassee politicos, wearing pink is a statement of values.

“We respected him greatly for his intellect and honesty,” said Steve Schale, who knew Arrington while working for Rep. Doug Wiles. “And my way of paying homage to the way I think we are supposed to treat this business as advocates is to wear pink for Marvin Arrington.”

To paraphrase Artis Whitman, seeing pink at the Capitol on the Session’s final day is a visual reminder of how each generation takes nourishment from earlier ones, giving knowledge to those who come after.

Or, then again, Ramba may be right: It’s a hideous fashion statement but a fun way to remember a “great guy and wonderful man.”

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Ed. Note: A version of this post was published previously.