In DeSantis’s Florida, cronyism is the new curriculum

If Florida’s license plates still reads “The Sunshine State,” they may as well come with an asterisk. Under Gov. Ron DeSantis, the state has earned a new, less flattering nickname: the Political Patronage State.

A sprawling network of political allies, unqualified appointees, and well-connected operatives are enjoying a bonanza of taxpayer-funded positions, lucrative contracts, and jaw-dropping perks—all while the public picks up the tab.

Take, for example, the appointment of our own Marva Johnson, with a staggering $650,000 annual base salary with a guaranteed 3% annual raise on the previous year's base, a $150,000 annual retention bonus,  an $86,000 performance incentive, a $12,000 car allowance. Not bad for someone who’s never set foot in a classroom as an educator.

Marva's an 'A' student
Johnson, in turn, opened the door for John Davis, another DeSantis loyalist, to become vice president and athletic director—despite having no background in college athletics beyond playing football three decades ago. Davis will likely see his salary leap over $100,000, or more, from his current $165,973.56 pay as Florida's Lottery Secretary.

Then there’s Marcus Burgess, hired on as a senior vice president at $248,999—a significant raise from the $143,000 he earned as interim president of Saint Augustine’s University, an institution teetering on collapse with just 174 students and it's accreditation hanging by a thread.

But FAMU is not alone in this spending spree, where public and foundation dollars flow freely to the politically connected.

FAMU isn't alone

Florida Atlantic University who earlier this year named Adam Hasner, a former state House Majority Leader, a DeSantis ally as its 8th president.  Hasner, like Johnson, had little to no experience in education .   Hasner's base salary at FAU is $875,000.

A few months into the job, Hasner has opened the university's coffers to pay a GOP-aligned law firm up to $925 an hour to investigate a professor—a rate that would make most white-shoe New York City attorneys blush. 

Then there’s New College of Florida, the small liberal arts institution DeSantis has transformed into a conservative pet project—and a patronage paradise. Former House Speaker Richard Corcoran pulls in nearly $1 million per year to lead a school with less students than most middle schools. Under his watch, the school has doled out contracts like party favors: $500 an hour for a former state Senate president’s legal services, $15,000 a month for a former DeSantis spokeswoman’s P.R. work (by-the-way the Tallahassee Democrat do a public records request to see how much FAMU is paying Salter-Mitchel, PR), and a $175,000-a-year foundation job for the wife of the former state GOP chairman.

A recent state DOGE report found that each degree produced at New College costs taxpayers $494,000—a figure so absurd it verges on parody. 

The spoils system is ancient, but what’s happening in Florida feels different: more brazen, more bloated, and utterly divorced from merit or public interest. With last-minute legislative provisos and budgetary sleight-of-hand, the DeSantis administration isn’t just bending the rules—it’s rewriting them to enrich its friends.

Welcome to Florida, where the sun isn’t the only thing that’s shining—so is the money, right into the pockets of those who know the right people.