After sharing their thoughts on local and national elections, state amendments and county issues before the West Orange Chamber of Commerce, UCF graduates Dick Batchelor ’71 and Tico Perez ’83 had agreed on one thing: to shake hands before departing the luncheon.

Batchelor, a former Democratic Florida lawmaker, and Perez, a staunch Republican and retired lobbyist and lawyer, have both been popular Orlando-area television and radio political pundits. Despite their disagreements, the longtime political sparring partners are unicorns in that they have maintained an ability to talk to each other — not at each other — across the political divide.

For decades Americans have been at odds politically over a myriad of issues. Batchelor is hardly a stranger to the heated discussions that play out across broadcast, social media and in town halls across the United States today. Once named “one of the most powerful people in Orlando,” he has been a face of civility and compromise in politics and public service for the past half-century.

In his work as a business and political consultant today, Batchelor recognizes Americans are worked up about— the past, the present and the future.

Yet, Batchelor remains optimistic that Americans across party lines can put aside their differences and find common ground. The self-described “glass half-full kind of guy” is such a strong believer in that collective capacity that he wrote a book about how people can find a path to unity.

Drawing on his life experiences, Bachelor wrote Building Bridges in Toxic Political Times: A Road Map for Community Leaders, to share his belief that there is more that unites us than divides us. He doubled down on that position by establishing an endowed scholarship at UCF, which he hopes will inspire future generations of political science majors to become exceptional leaders determined to build communities, learn from one another and affirm political stability.

“The local level is where we can find issues that we can agree on,” says Batchelor, who, following graduation from UCF with a bachelor’s degree in political science in December 1971, was elected to the Florida Legislature three years later at the ripe age of 26. “Let’s sit down, take a deep breath, and work together — that’s why I want to encourage young people.”

Comparing and Overcoming Toxicity

Batchelor spent eight years in the Florida House of Representatives. It was a divisive time in politics and culture. A U.S. president had resigned. America was about a year removed from leaving the Vietnam War. Inflation was in double digits. Israel and Egypt just fought a war.

“Toxicity is not defined by somebody who disagrees with me or somebody who disagrees with either side of the issue,” says Batchelor, who received the inaugural UCF Distinguished Alumni Award in 1979. “Toxicity is when you innately do not want to find a solution. It’s better to politicize the issue than it is to solve the issue.”

Batchelor believes there are plenty of demanding issues that require solutions but are not partisan in nature. He cites the opioid overdose epidemic, domestic violence, local school funding and higher education as non-discriminatory areas where Republicans, Democrats and Independents can find their way to the middle — the sweet spot where listening silences shouts and mutual respect minimizes insults.

The goal is to partner for a positive solution, whether that is in the political arena, boardroom, or on a college campus. Batchelor is no stranger to finding common ground with others of differing opinions. He would not have been able to pass 63 bills in one session of the Florida House if he had been.

“Respect is a pillar of bridge-building,” says Batchelor. “It’s an appeal to our better selves to come to the table with an open mind and an honest willingness to listen to achieve a workable consensus.”

Dawn of New Movement

The son of a sharecropper and tobacco farmer, Batchelor learned early on the advantages gained from compromise and teamwork while growing up in rural Hallsboro, N.C., in the 1950s, years before the modern civil rights movement had laid the groundwork for racial equality.

“We didn’t own anything,” says Batchelor, the middle child of seven. “We just worked the fields with lots of other dirt-poor people, many of whom were Black. In my world, it was accepted that Black people where inferior to white people. People didn’t even question it.”

On the streets of Hallsboro and out in the fields, Batchelor heard the whispers about lynchings and cross burnings that the Klu Klux Klan used to terrorize and traumatize the Black community. Later, after his family moved to Orlando and lived in the Reeves Terrace public housing project, he remembers going to shows downtown at the Rialto and Beacham theaters, where he sat wherever he wanted. Black children were only allowed in the balcony, and certainly not in the high school he attended.

It was not until he volunteered to join the Marines, at 18, that Batchelor gave racism some deeper thought. He was standing in the “chow hall” line when he struck up a conversation with another soldier. Without much effort, the two clicked. One talked. The other listened. A bond forged. Private James Johnson became Batchelor’s first Black friend, and source of profound enlightenment for the next half century.

“James Johnson, a dear friend and a Black man, changed my life,” says Batchelor, who, upon his return from Vietnam, enrolled at UCF, where he got involved with the Congress of Racial Equality and the Student Government Association. He was learning the issues, sharing perspectives.

At UCF commencement, Batchelor addressed his classmates. Wondering why the university drained the reflection pond when he knew it was to provide for seating, he joked to the crowd, “I’m a politician. I already know how to walk on water.” From there on, politics was hardly a laughing matter, as he became increasingly engaged in civil rights and Central Florida’s evolving demographics.

“I know it sounds corny, but politics was a tool for me to help other people — some by supporting legislation and budgeting appropriations for different kinds of community-based programs,” says Batchelor, who, as president of the Orange County Young Democrats, ignored societal norms of the time and knocked on doors in Black neighborhoods, encouraging residents to vote and run for office. “It was really all about public service.”

Never Too Late

In the ensuing years, working with the Black community and the underserved became his calling. In 1994, a decade after he left the Florida House of Representatives, President Bill Clinton appointed Batchelor — the same kid who grew up around Klu Klux Klan members in his community — to a delegation charged with observing the historic elections in South Africa that brought Nelson Mandela to power and heralded an end to apartheid.

“A person is not necessarily what his upbringing says he should be,” says Batchelor, who Clinton would again appoint to serve on a United Nations Human Rights Commission and as a representative to UNESCO. “I would suggest thinking about what you were raised to be and consider what you ought to be. It’s never too late to change.”

Closer to home, one of Batchelor’s proudest moments came when he was elected chair of the Central Florida Urban League, the historic civil rights organization committed to social and economic equality that speaks to his heart. Pulling from that passion, Batchelor wants to inspire future generations of UCF students to pursue politics and serve the public good, the work that satisfies his soul.

It is why he authored the book. Why he established a scholarship. Why he is hopeful.

“You have basically two choices: to be engaged or involved or uninvolved or disengaged,” Batchelor says. “When it comes to politics, you can’t walk away from your community. You can’t walk away from your state. You can’t walk away from your country. Bridge-building, like every other worthwhile endeavor, begins with you.”

For more on Building Bridges in Toxic Political Times: A Road Map for Community Leaders and to purchase the book, visit: www.buildingbridgesbook.com