Who's running the Tennessee House now?

The state legislature is on a three-week break after its opening organizational session, and you can imagine Jason Mumpower holing up in his house with the curtains drawn. There he sits glumly in his housecoat, staring vacantly at the flickering TV screen.

To think that only a week ago Mumpower was ebullient. He was about to make history as the first Republican speaker of the House in 40 years. On that great day, no fewer than 65 state flags—soon to become keepsakes for special constituents—fluttered over the Capitol per instruction from the mighty Mumpower. The state website already proclaimed the 35-year-old representative from Bristol as the new House potentate. And why not? His was the inevitable march of history.

That morning, just before the surprise vote that turned the legislature into a pit of snapping vipers, Mumpower stood confidently before his 49 fellow Republicans who constituted the shining new House majority. He made this solemn vow: "You have my word, not just today, but let's make the key word for this session respect—respect for everyone." The lawmakers concluded their caucus meeting by holding hands and praying for wisdom.

Silently standing in their midst the whole time was Kent Williams, an obscure restaurateur from Elizabethton in only his second term. He knew a little secret.

A few hours later, Williams was elected speaker in a clandestine deal with the Democrats. Mumpower could only slump dejectedly in his chair beside his distraught mother in the front row of the ornate House chamber, clutching the family Bible he brought for taking the speaker's oath himself.

The state website was soon fixed, but no one knows what Mumpower will do with his souvenir flags. They might fare well as eBay oddities.

What happens next is a question that now occupies the Capitol. Tennessee newspapers fret over whether these lawmakers can stop throwing spit wads long enough to deal like mature adults with the state's financial crisis. The little Oak Ridger put it well:

"...[W]e still have to question if our state lawmakers, with everything else they have to contend with and answer for during this vital legislative session, really needed the additional intrigue of what is essentially a bunch of grown-ups playing King of the Hill."

It's safe to say emotions are running high. A bedlam of boos and jeers erupted upon Williams' election in the traditionally decorous House. Spectators, almost all Republicans who packed the gallery for a day of celebration, yelled "traitor," "Judas" and "sellout" as he went to the podium. According to Williams, an unassuming fellow who looks a little like Barney Fife, at least three lawmakers got in his face and expressed their opinion succinctly: "Fuck you," they said.

"You are a disgrace to the state!" one red-faced Republican yelled.

When the session mercifully ended, Williams was overheard saying: "Thank goodness that's over." It was so chaotic that the Highway Patrol decided the new speaker needed an armed guard. Drew Johnson, president of the libertarian Tennessee Center for Policy Research, happened to get on the elevator with Williams as he escaped.

"It was me and Kent Williams and nobody else but six armed troopers," Johnson says. "He just went back to his office basically surrounded by an assassination watch patrol. We're talking six state troopers with their hands literally on their guns because so many people were so outraged that they were concerned for his safety."

State GOP chair Robin Smith said Williams' rude treatment was "very appropriate." That night, she started proceedings to kick him out of the party, seeming delighted by the sudden arrival of a new demon to exploit for fundraising purposes.

The Vilification of Kent Williams was launched immediately. Party flack Bill Hobbs slapped up a Facebook page devoted to ridiculing Williams and suggested that people send the new speaker 30 pieces of silver. A helpful web link was provided for the purchases.

Johnson, who claims (laughably) to be nonpartisan, gleefully joined in the assault in an appearance on right-wing radio: "They went to Kent Williams and said, 'Listen, you'll make three times more money, you'll have a driver from Carter County' ...so that's what it was all about. Kent has no principles, no nothing. Now he makes $70,000 and has a driver."

At week's end, a bitter Mumpower met with reporters to decry "the web of lies" that led to his downfall. He complained that Williams repeatedly said he'd vote for Mumpower even on the day of his betrayal.

To many Tennesseans, all the caterwauling in Nashville is good news because it means gridlock. Lawmakers can do less damage this way. Williams promises a power-sharing arrangement—a recipe for inaction. He says he's pro-life and pro-gun. Beyond that, we don't know much about what he thinks. (Until this week, Williams, 59, was barely known in the legislature. One Republican Senate leader admitted he'd never met him before and introduced himself.) He plans to split the House committees and chairmanships between Republicans and Democrats. It's anybody's guess how it'll shake down for all the competing special interests.

In terms of pure politics, things are more certain. The rancor isn't likely to work to the benefit of either party.