Blind men bluff under the rotunda.

[February 13th, 2002]

The Nose sped down to Salem last Friday for a front-row seat at the two-ring circus otherwise known as the Oregon Legislature.

To Joe and Jane Votebymail, the prospect of watching 90 people try to fill a $700 million gap in the state budget is about as exciting as an Osmond family reunion. But to the Nose, a special session is a veritable political orgy, a giant bipartisan, bicameral (and, in at least one instance, bisexual) group grope of public policymaking.

And indeed, in the first couple hours, when rumors flew of a silver bullet that would slay the budget shortfall--a statewide property-tax surcharge earmarked for schools--the tension and anticipation were as rich as the glazed doughnuts for sale just off the rotunda.

Shortly after lunch, however, you could almost feel the air go out of the Capitol (which was odd, given that Lars Larson was still broadcasting live from the building) as a familiar script unfolded: Republicans, who control both the House and the Senate, would pass a budget that relied on a pot of money (an education endowment and a tobacco settlement) the governor said was off-limits. In other words, a modified repeat of the past seven years: The elephants pass a bill, the donkey vetoes.

"Idiots," the Nose muttered as he passed a lobbyist on the way out the door. "Do they really think the guv is bluffing? Can't they see he holds the ace of a veto?"

"Don't be so sure," the lobbyist replied, as she casually flicked a Camel Light into the bushes. "Everyone says Mark Simmons is stupid, but truth is he's learned a lot."

Her voice dropping to a whisper, she continued, "The Speaker's got Kitzhaber by the short hairs. He's holding his baby hostage."

Really? Was Logan Kitzhaber stuffed inside the Speaker's file cabinet?

Hardly. The lobbyist was talking about Kitzhaber's real baby, the thing he loves more than even wild salmon or his MG: the Oregon Health Plan.

For the past seven years, Dr. K has baffled the salons of Salem. He's a fella with few personal relationships (which are what much of politics is about) and even fewer passions. Oh, he can raise his voice when land-use laws are attacked. He can blast Bill Sizemore with the best of them. But in general, the guy is as cool as, as...well, as an emergency-room physician.

There is one exception. If you want to see the governor's pulse jump, just go after the landmark health-care experiment that he conceived as a lawmaker and nurtured as governor.

It really is his baby. It's also his vulnerability. And it just may be the key to the door out of this special session.

The Nose has been sniffing around, and here is what he has learned: The Oregon Health Plan's costs are spiraling out of control. In order for it to survive, the plan's managers need to get creative. For example, they'd like the flexibility to ask some of the better-off health-plan members to shell out a small co-payment when they see a doctor.

But to do so, the state needs a federal waiver. Without it, the governor's beloved plan will eventually collapse.

Kitzhaber asked state lawmakers to sign off on the waiver request last month. But Simmons and Senate President Gene Derfler never got around to it.

On Friday, the Nose learned, Kitzhaber sent them a personal letter, asking them take care of this little business during the special session. Again, they couldn't seem to find the time.

At some point, Kitzhaber can expect a note saying, in effect, "Sign our budget or we kill the Oregon Health Plan."

Will it work? The Nose isn't that good. After all, if lawmakers have learned anything in the past seven years, it's that the governor is a tough guy to read. But it's clear that in this poker game, he isn't the only one holding on to some chips.