A Victory for Old-Fashioned Lawmaking

It wasn’t always pretty, but it was productive.

It was not the way legislating is described in poli sci classes. Nor was it the preferred way, if the world were perfect.

But last week the lawmaking process produced a package of proposed public works that would be the largest in state history if approved by voters in November: $37.3 billion in bonds, costing taxpayers $2.6 billion annually in debt payments by 2013, according to Legislative Analyst Elizabeth G. Hill.

It’d be well worth it. Besides, there’s little choice. That’s what happens when we let the place go for so long without repairs and expansions to accommodate the growing family.

In one way, this was a retro Legislature, returning to the old-fashioned way -- legislators doing the legislating.

That part of it is the preferred way.

Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger wasn’t exactly cut out of the negotiating, but he wasn’t literally sitting at the table either. That was agreed to by both sides -- the governor and the Legislature -- who finally concluded they should operate as the Founders envisioned, as separate but equal institutions.

It generally works better that way.

Sometime back around 1990, an abomination called the “Big Five” became institutionalized. The governor would meet in his office with the four legislative leaders -- the two party honchos from each house -- and they’d write bills. The budget usually got the Big Five treatment, but other major legislation did too.

This was supposed to break gridlock, but often it only prolonged paralysis.

While four legislators sat at the table playing God, 116 others twiddled their thumbs on the bench, increasingly peeved that they weren’t playing too. That made it tougher to generate the necessary two-thirds majority vote for a deal, especially as leaders became weaker because of term limits.

There’s another Big Five flaw. It’s basically three-way negotiating: The governor versus Democratic lawmakers versus Republican lawmakers. In the Capitol, as in society, three don’t always make a comfortable fit. It’s too easy for two to gang up on one, or for one to play the other two against each other, or for scapegoating.

I’ve always figured that what really drives Big Five meetings is PR and perks. A governor likes to portray himself as a sleeves-rolled-up, problem-solving leader. Legislators like to immerse themselves in the trappings of a powerful office -- then walk out into the TV lights for face time on the news.

Initially this year, Schwarzenegger tried a combo of Big Five meetings and -- even less effective -- individual negotiations. Legislators couldn’t keep track of what was being agreed to by whom, and it all collapsed.

And, anyway, a governor really shouldn’t be butting into legislative dickering -- any more than lawmakers ought to be relying on the governor to do their jobs. That’s what both sides finally realized.

The four legislative leaders then negotiated the public works package -- cutting it to about half what Schwarzenegger originally wanted -- while periodically meeting behind the scenes with the governor to keep him informed and hear his ideas.

The governor’s role has been downplayed in the news media, but not by the two Democratic leaders, Assembly Speaker Fabian Nunez of Los Angeles and Senate President Pro Tem Don Perata of Oakland.

“He encouraged us,” Nunez says. “He was monitoring. Every once in a while he’d call me and say something like, ‘I understand you guys might cut this. I don’t think you should.’ ”

Perata: “To his credit, once we said, ‘We’re going to go back to the way the Legislature should operate,’ he wasn’t resentful. He played the role he should have played. Weeks from now, you’ll find out he did things that now are not too obvious.”

The way the Legislature should operate is a little different from the way it did, however. And that gets into the process not always being pretty.

The way it should operate -- the textbook way -- is for committees to hold public hearings and vote, send bills to house floors for debate and more votes, then for a two-house conference committee to settle the differences and write the final bill.

That got significantly short-circuited with the infrastructure bonds. There were no committee votes. All negotiating was by the four leaders. Their product was thrust on the two houses about midnight Thursday.

There was little explanation of the bills -- nobody even mentioned the size of the transportation bond, a record $20 billion -- and there was virtually no debate. People were blurry-eyed and mumbling.

Why the sudden rush? That involved the highway construction lobby.

The lobby had informed legislative leaders that on Friday it would submit enough signatures to qualify a ballot initiative Democrats opposed. The initiative would forever protect the gasoline sales tax from being raided for non-transportation purposes. Democrats wanted to write their own version, one that would allow raids during fiscal emergencies, if the money were repaid.

The lobby said it would drop its initiative and support the Democratic alternative -- a fifth ballot measure in addition to four bonds -- if the powerful California Teachers Assn. agreed not to oppose it. The CTA did.

Also: The highway lobby insisted on writing the ballot title and summary. Leaders agreed. And the lobby asked that the alternative measure be numbered Proposition 1A, to be followed by the transportation bond, Prop. 1B. The Legislature agreed again.

And it numbered a $2.8-billion housing bond Prop. 1C, a $10.4-billion school bond Prop. 1D and a $4.1-billion flood-control bond Prop. 1E. They were placed atop the propositions list because, theoretically, there they’d have the best chance of passing.

“It’s very nice to achieve something,” Perata observed. “It’s even better when it’s done in a bipartisan way.”

Backroom deals. Very little sunshine. Old-time legislating. Ugly can be beautiful.

George Skelton writes Monday and Thursday. Reach him at george.skelton@latimes.com.