A Stacked Deck in Texas Ports
When Governor Greg Abbott announced his latest appointments to the Jefferson and Orange Counties Board of Pilot Commissioners on April 8, 2025, the news landed like a heavy fog over Texas ports. Five names, Brandy Bergeron, Amy Townsend, Shawn Sparrow, Craig Sherlock, and Charles 'Charlie' Holder, rolled out with the usual fanfare of credentials, from medical degrees to business pedigrees. On the surface, it’s a polished lineup, but dig deeper, and the story shifts. These choices don’t reflect the vibrant, varied communities these ports serve; they mirror a narrow slice of privilege, handpicked to steer an industry that demands broader voices.
Ports in Southeast Texas aren’t just economic engines; they’re lifelines for working families, small businesses, and coastal ecosystems. The Pilot Commissioners hold real power, overseeing vessel safety, pilotage rates, and maritime accountability. Yet, Abbott’s selections, heavy on private-sector insiders and well-connected professionals, feel more like a nod to the old boys’ club than a commitment to the public good. Where are the workers who know these waters, the advocates for environmental justice, or the everyday residents whose lives depend on these decisions?
This isn’t just about who’s qualified; it’s about who’s missing. Bergeron and Townsend, both physicians, bring healthcare expertise, sure, but their roles in elite medical circles don’t scream grassroots insight into maritime life. Sparrow, Sherlock, and Holder, tied to banking, insurance, and senior care, boast resumes that dazzle, yet they lack the lived experience of dockworkers or the small boat operators who keep these counties humming. Abbott’s picks signal a troubling truth: access to power in Texas still hinges on who you know, not what you represent.
The Cost of Excluding the Many
Let’s talk stakes. Jefferson and Orange Counties thrive on their ports, from shipping goods to supporting jobs that put food on tables. The Board of Pilot Commissioners isn’t some ceremonial gig; it shapes how these waters function, ensuring safety and fairness. When the governor taps a predictable cadre of well-heeled appointees, he’s sidelining the diverse perspectives that could make these ports stronger. Research from the Orange County Economic Development Corporation shows local leaders partnering across sectors, education, and city councils to boost growth. Why doesn’t this board reflect that collaborative spirit?
Take physician leadership as a counterpoint. In Southeast Texas, doctors like those at the Texas Medical Association fight for independent practices and direct primary care, models that prioritize patients over profit. They’ve pushed hospital-at-home programs and urgent care expansions, tackling workforce shortages head-on. Bergeron and Townsend could channel that energy, advocating for equity in maritime oversight, but their appointments feel more like a resume flex than a call to serve the underserved.
Contrast this with Beaumont’s history of community grit. The Junior League and Rotary Club have long rallied locals around education, disaster relief, and cultural preservation. These efforts don’t come from top-down edicts; they bubble up from people who live the struggle. Appointing board members with no clear tie to that legacy risks turning the Pilot Commissioners into a detached elite, blind to the real-world impacts of their rulings.
Some might argue these appointees’ credentials ensure competence. Sherlock’s insurance background or Holder’s business acumen could, in theory, sharpen the board’s edge. But competence without representation is hollow. A board stacked with insiders can’t fully grasp the needs of a region where economic disparity and environmental stakes run high. Competence matters, yes, but it’s the diversity of experience that turns good governance into great governance.
Historical echoes amplify the concern. Texas pilot boards, rooted in the Transportation Code, were built to safeguard navigation, not to rubber-stamp privilege. Their mandate demands public trust, yet Abbott’s process, cloaked in Senate confirmation, often feels like a formality. The governor’s office touts these picks as citizen governance, but when the same circles keep getting tapped, it’s less democracy and more dynasty.
A Vision for Fairer Waters
There’s a better way. Imagine a board where a dockworker sits alongside a physician, where an environmental advocate balances a business owner. This isn’t pie-in-the-sky dreaming; it’s how thriving communities work. The Beaumont Chamber Foundation’s Leadership Beaumont program trains diverse voices for civic roles, proving inclusivity isn’t a buzzword, it’s a blueprint. Abbott could draw from that well, appointing people who reflect the counties’ full tapestry, not just its upper crust.
Physician-led healthcare offers a model. Direct Primary Care, growing across Texas, cuts through red tape to deliver affordable, personal care. It’s a lesson in prioritizing people over systems. A pilot board with that ethos could rethink pilotage rates to ease burdens on small operators or push safety rules that protect workers, not just profits. Bergeron and Townsend have the chops to lead that charge, but only if they’re empowered to look beyond their own circles.
The alternative is stagnation. A board disconnected from its community risks decisions that favor the few, leaving workers, families, and ecosystems to bear the cost. Texas ports deserve oversight that mirrors their diversity, not a governor’s Rolodex. It’s time to demand appointments that serve the public, not just the powerful.