Andrew Meacham
Louis Betz drank deeply of life.
The founder of Louis Betz and Associates excelled in his consulting business and family life, scrupulously in the former and prioritizing the latter. Betz never missed an opportunity to counsel others, dive into strategy, or spread what he saw as the joy of his hometown of Tampa to the rest of the state.
Betz, who worked, volunteered and vacationed with an ethic he trademarked — “You can’t beat relentless” — died Jan. 20 of lung disease. He was 61.
Even his illness, for which he received a lung transplant, became a cause. His work to improve access to organ transplants in Florida yielded a policy change, allowing patients to receive viable organs from longer distances than previously permitted.
He was choosy with the clients he represented, championing only the causes he believed could win.
“People knew that if Louis brings you something, he has vetted it through his internal filter,” said Travis Mitchell, a longtime partner. “Is there a path to victory? Can this happen? The last thing he wanted was to take someone’s money and not get anything for it.”
Betz often introduced himself to prospective clients as “the happiest man you will ever meet” — and had the goods to show for it. He represented major corporate clients such as Aetna and Covanta Energy but was also a devoted family man who at least ended his work days at 5 p.m. in his home office, in time for dinner and to read stories to his son and daughter.
He was a Cubmaster in the Boy Scout organization and a Board member of the United Network of Organ Sharing. Betz also hosted recurring public events of his own creation. During the Legislative Session, Hillsborough Day, held outdoors annually in Tallahassee, used a carnival-like atmosphere to expose visitors to Tampa’s many attractions and landmarks.
In a day, customers ate 2,000 Cuban sandwiches while learning about Ybor City. The idea was to get the word out because, he believed, you don’t have a voice if you don’t have a table people can walk up to.
The only thing missing was a Ferris wheel, although he said one belonged there.
Louis George Betz was born in Tampa, the son of a self-employed mechanic. At age 14, he met Jill Ippolito, then 15, at her cousin’s pool party. She was drawn to his blue eyes and friendly charm.
They became high school sweethearts and maintained their relationship while attending different colleges. Louis graduated from the University of Tampa with a degree in political science and then earned a master’s degree in public administration from the University of South Florida. The couple married in 1986, and he founded his own firm in 1993.
The same reliability that kept the family on solid footing also served him in business. He was old school, trusting his instincts.
“A handshake to him was everything,” said Jill Betz. “If someone looked him in the eye and said, ‘I’m doing this, I believe in this,’ that was everything to him.”
They had two children, Victoria and Louis Betz III. The patriarch was known for retiring his phone when he was off work, and he encouraged associates to take calls from family at any time, no matter who they were meeting with. He hosted a casino New Year’s Eve party annually and took weekly trips to Indian Rocks Beach, even as his kids grew up and the family expanded.
He loved a good joke and was fond of pranks. “Every Halloween he put a ghost in my room from Party City,” his daughter remembered. “You walk in, and it’s there.”
But his serious side meant the most. While he shut down work in the early evening hours, Betz often returned to his desk after the kids were in bed.
“Some of the best times my kids had was when they couldn’t sleep and they might come in there and just talk,” Jill said. “Hey, had some of the best advice-filled, deep conversations then.”
In 2013, Betz was diagnosed with a lung disease. Over the next five years, he found it increasingly hard to breathe. In 2018, he entered Tampa General Hospital, where he formed bonds with other patients awaiting lung transplants.
His new lungs were declared healthy just as he could barely breathe, even with an oxygen mask. It was a close call, and he was grateful to the doctors and hospital staff.
But there was a sobering edge. Too many patients, including a fellow patient he had befriended in the hospital, were dying. Betz learned there was a shortage of viable lungs in Florida, partly because of policies dictating maximum distances donor organs could travel. That made acquiring donor organs a challenge due to Florida’s spread-out geography, with high-population centers outside the allowable limit. Through his advocacy, though, Betz was instrumental in changing that distance.
His own life rebounded quickly. He was back home nine days after the transplant but never forgot his experience. In hindsight, he later told Florida Politics that there was one thing he would do differently.
“I never really wanted to burden others, so I mostly kept (the illness) to myself and my immediate family,” he said.
“Now I realize that decision was silly. It was not fair to my friends and extended family. My advice to others with medical issues is to embrace your problem and to accept the help. There are many people (who) love you and want to be there to do what they can. Let them.”
