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Every two years,
they gather in the heart of the Willamette Valley, and every two
years they manage to both disgust and impress us.
"They," of course,
are the members of the Oregon Legislature--90 citizen lawmakers
elected from around the state to get together in January, balance
the state budget and get home in time for spring planting.
Of course, lawmakers
haven't reached that goal since 1945. Instead, the plan in recent
years has been to adjourn by the end of June. If this year's bunch
hits the mark (and it looks like it might), then we're due for a
mid-term assessment.
So far, this
session has been notoriously, almost unbelievably civilized. The
underhanded tactics of past Republican leaders seem to have been
replaced by a legislative group hug. That doesn't mean it's a completely
dull session. There are plenty of diatribes, deals and drama.
First and foremost,
of course, is the revenue shortfall. Thanks to the economic slowdown,
there aren't going to be enough tax dollars coming in over the next
two years to keep paying for everything we're paying for now. That
means every penny in the budget will be examined with a level of
scrutiny not seen in years. Beyond the money matters, lawmakers
are grappling with health-care costs, gun control, goofy traditions
and hot-button issues like major-league baseball. It's enough to
make you swoon.
To help make
sense of it all, we've taken a page from Sesame Street and
produced this indispensable A-Z guide to Salem.
A is
for Atheists in the Foxhole.
When last Wednesday's
earthquake hit, a couple of gubernatorial aides found themselves
eye to eye with the last person on earth they'd want to die with.
As the state Capitol started shaking, Republican lobbyist John DiLorenzo
was in the office of Bill Wyatt, the governor's chief of staff;
the governor's attorney, Chip Lazenby, was with Bill Witt, conservative
Republican representative.
B is
for Bestseller.
The daily dramas,
deal-making and personality clashes in the Capitol would be fertile
fodder for any book. That, however, is not the book Gov. John Kitzhaber
has been working on for the past six years. Kitzhaber is focusing
on the one issue that excites his muse: health care. No word yet
on whether he has a publisher or an agent--or, most important, whether
he's caught the interest of Oprah.
C is
for Co-Dependent.
The sick and
twisted relationship between the Legislature and the ballot measure
continues. Rep. Mark Hass demonstrated this week that the best way
for a Democrat to elude Republican blockades is to threaten an initiative.
That's how he scored a hearing for his presumed-dead campaign-finance
bill, which would change the Oregon Constitution to allow contribution
limits. The referral would ask voters to dramatically change the
money flow in the 2002 election. Donors and political action committees--from
labor unions to Right-to-Lifers--would be restricted in their contributions.
Republicans don't like it, but they learned their lesson about rejecting
ideas with wide voter support after last session: In 1999, they
shot down a bill to require background checks at gun shows, then
watched an even more restrictive initiative pass as Ballot Measure
5.
D is
for "Don't Count Your Chickens."
Kitzhaber's
Oregon Children's Plan is meeting opposition from his usual allies.
The plan, which would screen babies of first-time moms for risk
factors, is being criticized by Ellen Lowe and other social-service
advocates. Early criticisms went after the plan's Big Brother-style
database on families, which can be accessed by too many government
types. Now the governor's office says that will be changed. That
still leaves the gripe that the plan shifts money from programs
for other people, from juveniles to senior citizens.
E is
for Elizabeth Taylor.
What to make
of freshman Yamhill representative Donna Nelson? Seems like every
other year, Republicans elect a big-haired Republican legislator
who baffles Salem-watchers with a look that transcends retro. Think
Eileen Qutub in '95. Or Juley Gianella in '99. Is the joking sexist?
Yes, but they're an easy target, so Salem watchers continue to ponder
the coiffure conundrum. What they should really be worrying about
is Halsey Rep. Jeff Kropf's fondness for leather pants.
F is
for Firing Line.
Sen. Ginny Burdick
has the gun lobby in her sights again. Last election she had to
take her bill requiring background checks at gun shows to the voters
in the form of Measure 5. Now she and Rep. Randy Leonard (a gun
owner) want to ban guns from schools and regulate storage of firearms.
So far her bills have been sent to Siberia--the Senate Rules Committee--instead
of Burdick's own Judiciary Committee, so they may never see the
light of day. But there's still hope for Leonard's bills, which
are headed to the House Judiciary.
G is
for Grandmas.
The most powerful
interest in Salem isn't big-money contributors like labor unions
or Shilo Inn owner Mark Hemstreet. It isn't behind-the-scenes lobbyists
or corporate special interests. It's senior citizens. Not because
they toss around their bingo money, but because they vote--at much
higher rates than younger Oregonians. That could be why Speaker
of the House Mark Simmons is making such an issue of the governor's
$30 million in budget cuts. Although he's kept a mostly conciliatory
tone with the governor's office this session, Simmons has convened
a task force to look at restoring the cuts.
H is
for Hot Lunch.
The power-lunch
spot in Salem isn't chi-chi Da Vinci's restaurant--it's the cafeteria
at Willamette University. Governor staffers, lobbyists and politicians
such as Portland Rep. Chris Beck (above) shimmy up to the salad
bar in the bright and breezy space, which is just across the street
from the Capitol. We don't want to slam the very tasty Cafe Today
in the Capitol basement, but sometimes the walls start closing in
on that cave.
I is
for Icon.
We have more
salmon than we know what to do with, according to rural Republicans.
The problem, say lawmakers such as Sen. Gary George of Newberg,
is that city folks have romanticized native salmon. A fish is a
fish is a fish. With that in mind, the Republicans say the way to
save Northwest salmon is simply to change the definition--so they're
trying to pass laws to declare hatchery fish equal to native. Since
the governor is sure to veto any such bill, it's nothing but a bunch
of bluster.
J is
for Jackals.
Former lawmaker
Ken Strobeck (far right), now a lobbyist for VoiceStream Wireless,
joins his lobby comrades watching the House debate a bill that gives
a tax cut to wireless telephone companies. Lobbyists are not allowed
through the hallowed doors into the first floor of the legislative
chambers, where other observers, including lowly journalists, are
free to roam.
K is
for "Kill Your Television."
People who count
on TV news to tell them the important issues of the day would be
hard-pressed even to know the Legislature is in session. Since former
KATU newsman Mark Hass won a seat in the House, the only full-time
Salem TV reporter is KGW's Tom Fuller.
L is
for Lawyers
Lawyers in the
Legislature make an easy target for critics, but sometimes they're
handy to have around. Take Republican Rep. Max Williams, for example.
Senate President Gene Derfler pulled an ostrich with the so-called
takings initiative, Measure 7, figuring that since the courts would
rule against it, he could ignore it. Williams, though, kept his
head out of the sand and worked behind the scenes with Kitzhaber
and Speaker Mark Simmons. Now he's heading a task force to develop
legislation to head off a similar, and possibly enforceable, ballot
measure next election.
M is
for Maverick.
Not even our
friends at the psychic hotlines can predict what Bill Witt is going
to try next. Once again, the Beaverton Republican representative
is showing what some call refreshing legislative independence and
others peg as craven political posturing. Either way, Witt continues
to fail Salem's partisan litmus tests. Showing his conservative
colors, he has brought back his parental-notification bill of last
session and added a bill that would allow counties to opt out of
providing family planning in health clinics. He's pushing proposals
for the oft-maligned Dads Against Discrimination that attack the
current child-support system, and he's filed a slew of bills at
the request of business interests seeking tax cuts. At the same
time, Witt has teamed up with Portland Democrat Jeff Merkley to
carry the Oregon Environmental Council's mercury-reduction bill.
N is
for Not So Dumb.
Republicans
have positioned themselves as the defenders of higher education,
which is a very smart move considering the upcoming governor's race.
Last fall high-tech leaders such as Intel's Jim Johnson dug into
their deep pockets to help bankroll and champion Kitzhaber's campaign
against several tax-cut measures, in part because they feared massive
cuts to Oregon's colleges and universities, which already have trouble
keeping up with the demand for engineers. When the governor's post
goes up for grabs in 2002, those high-tech honchos may be more receptive
to the Republican courtship, given the guv's proposed $96 million
cut to higher education.
O is
for Overachiever.
Plenty of people
lobby for the dark side in Salem, but no one symbolizes power and
influence like John DiLorenzo. He works against gun control, campaign-finance
reform, consumer protection and affordable housing. (It's a client
list that, a couple of sessions back, prompted one lefty lobbyist
to wonder aloud, "Where does the guy advertise, in Hell?") The dapper
Portland lawyer has the ear of Senate President Derfler and House
Speaker Simmons and pretty much anyone else who matters in Salem.
He's unusual in that it isn't his checking account that gets him
access--he's not a huge campaign contributor--it's his brains and
tenacity. This session DiLorenzo seems to be everywhere on the most
complex issues kicking around. He is defending Measure 7 as it works
its way through the courts; he's putting forth a plan to pay for
environmental cleanup of the Willamette River Superfund site that
has raised the suspicions of environmentalists and the City of Portland;
and he's trying to pry open the books of the State Accident Insurance
Fund to find out how much money is in there.
P is
for Pineapple.
Department of
Education head Stan Bunn obviously doesn't read Miss Manners. Otherwise
he might've at least sent a postcard to the folks at the Coalition
for School Funding Now, the group that pressured lawmakers to boost
the education budget last session. This time around, the Bunnster
is so sure the $5.2 billion slated for education is sacrosanct that
he took off for a Hawaiian vacation in the middle of session. And
he didn't bring back anything for the school advocates.
Q is
for Queer.
So far there
have been no bills introduced in the Oregon Legislature that would
roll back, undermine or preempt any of the civic advances that gays
and lesbians have made. More than a thousand bills are still left
to be printed, but if the trend continues, it will be the first
time since the pre-Lon Mabon days lawmakers can sleep easy with
whomever they choose.
R is
for Red Herring.
Let's see. Oregon
has nearly a 22 percent high-school dropout rate. One in six kids
live in poverty. Half of the people leaving the welfare rolls become
the working poor. Child-abuse cases are on the rise. Oregon leads
the country in its hunger rate. We're looking at tuition hikes and
service cuts to prisoners, juveniles and senior citizens. State
economists say there's a 50 percent chance we'll have a recession.
So what do you think is creating the biggest buzz in the building?
Professional baseball.
S is
for Sisterhood.
Majority Leader
Karen Minnis made it clear last week that she wouldn't let the Democrats
set the women's agenda in the building. This is the fifth session
in which the liberal-led bipartisan Women's Health Alliance has
tried to push through gender-related health-care and family-policy
bills. Minnis is shunning the group and has her own package of women's
bills. One provides a tax break to a stay-at-home parent as long
as he or she is married; another sets up a task force to study gender
pay inequities. While going her own way might peeve her Democratic
colleagues, it could be a smart political move. Republican fellas
rule the Legislature these days, and it might be easier to get some
"women's bills" past them if they're not associated with those radical
feminists in the Democratic Party.
T is
for Temptation Island.
The ultimate
in reality television is as close as your computer. You,
too, can thrill to the passionate railings of Sen. Peter Courtney
and share the outrage of Rep. Vickie Walker. All you need is a DSL
connection: www.leg.state.or.us. Each day, one of the floor sessions
is broadcast live on streaming video, and every committee hearing
is available on recorded audio. Beyond the testimony, you might
get lucky and hear some behind-the-scenes banter. (Note to the staffer
assisting Sen. Ken Messerle on the natural-resources committee:
When you whisper to your boss, we can hear you. Be careful.)
U is
for Upstarts.
Associated Oregon
Industries was founded in 1895 and over the century has become the
fourth branch of the Oregon Legislature. The powerful business lobby
gives tens of thousands of dollars every election to mostly Republican
candidates, which allows it to help set the agenda in Salem. This
year, however, former House Speaker Lynn Lundquist is calling out
the big boys by saying that not all business owners are quite so
Republican and not all corporations are quite so greedy. Lundquist's
new group, the Oregon Business Association, has an eclectic crew
of corporate members, including Norm Thompson, Nike, Precision Castparts,
Les Schwab and PGE.
V is
for Vermin Exiting a Submerged Vessel.
There are fewer
than two years left for the Kitzhaber administration, and his department
heads are responding accordingly. Some of them got a jump on job-hunting,
like Sandy Hobeck, who left Adult and Family Services in January.
Other recent defectors include Gary Weeks, who bailed from the Department
of Human Services, and Dr. Martin Wasserman, head of the Oregon
Health Division, who apparently didn't get along with Weeks' successor,
Bob Minks. Grace Crunican, meanwhile, put the pedal to the metal
and left the Oregon Department of Transportation in her rearview
mirror. Not everyone has gone willingly: Word is that Jim Greer,
former head of Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife, was pushed
out last month after clashing too often with lawmakers.
W is
for West Side.
As usual, Portland
sent a solid crew of freshmen to Salem, but it's a couple of rookie
Democrats from Beaverton who are making the strongest impression
right out of the gate. Mark Hass (above) came in with years of insights
gleaned from his journalism experience. Word is that instead of
seeking the spotlight, he's sitting back, listening to his elders
and picking his battles--campaign-finance reform, for one. Also
earning a gold star is Charlie Ringo (left), the former Sierra Club
president who's getting good early reviews for keeping a keen eye
on environmental and transportation bills.
X is
for X Marks the Spot.
Yeah, yeah,
yeah. It's a lovefest in Salem this year. Enjoy it while it lasts,
because within the next few weeks a fight the likes of which hasn't
been seen in 10 years is going to break out. As soon as the federal
government releases the 2000 Census data next month, partisan geeks
around the state will be playing the hottest video game of the year:
autoBound. That's the name of the software program that automatically
moves the legislative district lines. The stakes for this game are
high. The rules say there must be an equal number of people in each
House district. Same goes for the Senate districts. But the rules
don't say the districts must contain equal numbers of Republicans
and Democrats. So, over the summer, Republicans and Democrats will
be trying to sketch out districts that contain more of their party
faithful. When the two sides reach an impasse (which almost certainly
will happen), Secretary of State Bill Bradbury (left) gets control
of the mouse.
Y is
for Young Republicans.
They're back,
but these aren't the same greedy suits that sprouted under Ronald
Reagan's tenure. This time around, 30-year-old Sen. Jason Atkinson
and his buddy, 32-year-old Rep. Bruce Starr, are working hard to
brand themselves as the GOP leaders of the future, as evidenced
at last weekend's Dorchester conference. Not only did they throw
the hippest party (even though they ran out of beer early), the
road to Seaside was dotted with dozens of Atkinson/Starr lawn signs.
They're not running for the White House--yet--but practice makes
perfect.
Z is
for Zero
That's the amount
of increased funding this session that will go to services for domestic
violence. In Multnomah County, 90 percent of the women seeking help
at area shelters are turned away due to lack of bed space, and that's
only one of the problems. During the interim a task force determined
that adequate services would cost more than $70 million. Rep. Deborah
Kafoury of Portland is sponsoring a bill asking for a third of that,
but thanks to revenue shortfalls, she won't get a nickel.
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