Five women — dubbed the “Safety Chicks” — were behind last week’s decision by Gov. Mark Sanford to let a tougher seat-belt bill pass.

For two years, the Safety Chicks — helped by an 70-year-old man they called the “Quarterback” who gave them their politically incorrect nickname — have worked quietly for a tougher seat-belt law. That law will allow police to ticket motorists for not wearing seat belts regardless of whether they committed another traffic offense.

The Safety Chicks dogged lawmakers, working behind the scenes to win victories in the S.C. House and Senate.

They rallied numerous citizens from dozens of groups across South Carolina to contact the governor and lawmakers, urging passage of the seat-belt bill.

“They are the unsung heroes,” said state Sen. Greg Ryberg, R-Aiken, who sponsored the tough seat-belt law.

“It’s great to work with women who won’t take no for an answer,” said Safety Chick Mia Butler, a 36-year-old lobbyist.

Butler’s expertise during the seat-belt campaign was strategy, as well as working with the Legislative Black Caucus. Having the support of the 24-member caucus was crucial to winning House approval of the bill in May.

SAFETY SUPERSTAR

Each Safety Chick had a different specialty, but none was more valuable than Terecia Wilson, 49, a nationally known road safety expert at the S.C. Department of Transportation.

With her access to studies and contacts with national traffic safety groups, Wilson is South Carolina’s top highway safety authority. As a state employee, she didn’t lobby — she only provided information.

But her information made a difference. Again and again, pro-seat belt lawmakers tapped her knowledge of studies proving tough seat-belt laws save lives. Her data refuted anti-seat belt law arguments.

For instance, Sen. Joel Lourie, D-Richland, said that when anti-seat-belt lawmakers spread an urban myth — that seat belts kill many people, often trapping them in wrecked vehicles under water — he sought out Wilson.

Wilson gave Lourie information showing such incidents were “only a fraction of a fraction of a percent of accidents in which people died,” said Lourie.

Instead, the facts showed that, in nearly all cases, seat belts save lives — thousands of them each year.

It was Wilson who provided the Safety Chicks core arguments: South Carolina has one of the nation’s highest rates of deaths on roads, one of the lowest rates of seat-belt usage and that a tougher seat-belt law would save lives.

“Terecia Wilson is a superstar,” said Lourie.

A DIVERSE COALITION

The Safety Chicks — all accomplished professionals — were given their politically incorrect name by Don McElveen, 70, whom they, in turn, dubbed the “Quarterback.”

A former Democratic operative and fund-raiser with ties to the state business community, McElveen headed the Public Safety Foundation, a nonprofit funded by businesses like BMW to work for road safety.

McElveen, the women said, was the only man who could call them “Safety Chicks” and get away with it.

“We knew he meant it as a term of endearment in the best kind of way,” said Coretta Bedsole, 45, a lobbyist for AAA Carolinas, the motoring safety group. “When we got discouraged, he would say, ‘No one can beat my Safety Chicks.’”

In the last two years, the women assembled one of the most diverse single-issue coalitions ever put together in South Carolina for a political cause.

It included trial lawyers and doctors, blacks and whites, Republicans and Democrats, citizens groups, police and coroners, sheriffs, corporations, and chambers of commerce.

If Gov. Sanford had vetoed the tougher seat-belt bill, he would have risked offending all of the groups.

Instead, the governor let the bill become law without his signature, and the Safety Chicks had won a victory over the libertarian philosophy that has held sway in the S.C. Legislature for decades — a mindset that government regulation, even seat-belt laws designed to save lives, leads to tyranny.

In statements, the libertarian Sanford had said, for instance, that in a liberty-based republic like the United States, people must accept the consequences of their choices, even if the consequence is death.

But others — including Ryberg and state Rep. Ron Townsend, R-Anderson — modified their beliefs. Both chaired crucial committees overseeing seat-belt law. Without their help, any tougher law would have died.

Townsend said he gave up his opposition to a tougher seat-belt law after realizing South Carolinians die and are maimed needlessly each year. So did Ryberg, who allowed his top aide, Danny Varat, to work with the women.

On Feb. 2, Ryberg, with the help of the Safety Chicks, got the Senate to pass the bill, 32 -11.

In March, House libertarians attacked the seat-belt bill and almost killed it. It was sent to Townsend’s committee. Some thought it would die there.

Behind the scenes, the Safety Chicks were at work. They talked to legislators one-on-one, convincing them to vote for the bill.

COUNTING THE VOTES

Information from Wilson, the Department of Transportation safety expert, proved crucial. She provided specific data for each county on how many unbuckled motorists were killed each year and how much money was lost in medical bills.

The lobbyist Butler connected with the Black Caucus, easing its concerns the law would result in racial profiling, the harassment of minorities by police. The Safety Chicks helped engineer deals for the Department of Transportation to spend money to educate young people, especially blacks, about a new, tougher seat-belt law. State police agencies also agreed on measures to detect any undue harassment of blacks.

Meanwhile, the Safety Chicks were counting votes. If the bill came out of committee to the House floor without enough support, libertarians would kill it.

The women counted their supporters carefully, aware some lawmakers fudge the truth when saying how they will vote.

“We might have several of us talk to the same legislator two or three times to make sure we received the same answer,” said Bedsole of AAA.

Safety Chick Lynn Stokes Murray, 43 — an expert on arcane parliamentary rules — stressed they needed extra votes because some supporters might be absent when the vote came up.

“You always need to count about 15 percent more than what you think you got,” Murray said.

In mid-May, the Safety Chicks told Townsend they had the votes.

“Because of the counts they did and their double counts, I basically knew when I walked on to that floor that we would pass the bill,” said Townsend.

On May 18, House passed the seat-belt bill, 81-34.

LAST ROADBLOCK

For the rest of the session, the Safety Chicks targeted Sanford, who had indicated he might veto the bill.

During the next few weeks, Sanford heard from hundreds of citizens, including U.S. Secretary of Transportation Norm Mineta.

Helping in the effort was Safety Chick Alisa Mosley, 48, executive director of the S.C. Law Enforcement Officers Association. Through her ties to police and child-safety groups, Mosley can send out e-mail alerts to thousands of people at the push of a computer button.

An hour before veto deadline, Sanford let the bill become law. He said the citizen support was one key reason for his decision.

The Safety Chicks had won.