CAPITOL JOURNAL : Somehow, Things Got Done in Good Ol’ Days

Thirty years ago, being a California legislator was a part-time job that paid $6,000 a year. It attracted young lawyers, ambitious local elected officials, retired merchants--and some people who just liked to have a good time. When this reporter first arrived at the state Capitol in 1960, lobbyists bought endless drinks, lunches and dinners for lawmakers. There also were paid-for gambling trips to Lake Tahoe, duck hunting or marlin fishing junkets, and ladies of the night.

Most lawmakers lived in hotel rooms that were close to the Capitol and to a handy liquor store that made deliveries by the case. A nightly parade of party-goers moved from one watering hole to another. Deals were struck over martinis and prime rib dinners in places with such names as Frank Fat’s and Posey’s Cottage.

You could watch a blonde in a skimpy black bikini do cartwheels underwater every night in the lower bar--known as the “Snake Pit”--of the El Mirador Hotel, now a senior citizens residence. People went home on weekends and rested up for the next week’s social activities.

Lawmakers spent no more than six months in Sacramento in odd-numbered years. During even-numbered years, there were even shorter, 90-day sessions mostly just to pass a state budget. The air conditioning didn’t work very well in the Capitol, so the goal was to escape town before the hot summer sun began to melt the asphalt beneath your feet.

Today, there’s a vastly different environment at the Capitol. Most lobbyists no longer boast fat stomachs, smoke big cigars and pick up every bar tab in sight. They’re limited, at least legally, to spending no more than $10 a month to entertain legislators, although they still play God when it comes to who gets campaign contributions--and who doesn’t.

These days, most legislators consider themselves full-time politicians. They stay in session longer, about nine months of every year. They’re better paid, receiving at least a $52,500 annual salary, plus $92 a day in expense money while in session.

They work in pleasant air-conditioned offices, have bigger staffs and leased cars. Many bring their families with them to Sacramento and live in nice homes or condos. Lots of lawmakers regularly work out at local health clubs and go to the movies instead of bar hopping.

Yet, critics contend that the part-time Legislature did a better job of responding to the changing needs of a growing California than the full-time Legislature that took over in 1967.

In the 1950s and ‘60s, the part-timers managed to launch the huge State Water Project, the sprawling freeway network and the two-tier University of California and state university systems.

By comparison, today’s full-time “pros” can claim few accomplishments of similar magnitude. The critics say the big issues they do face--such as affordable health care for the uninsured--are likely to remain unresolved.

There are complex reasons for this seeming failure. Today, there are more special interests, more competition for scarce government dollars, and various groups--from environmentalists to slow-growthers--have become more adept at thwarting major projects.

All this has created a void that is being filled with increasing numbers of ballot initiatives--leaving it up to the electorate to make big policy decisions with measures such as the property tax-cutting Proposition 13 in 1978 and the challenge to rising auto insurance costs in 1988’s Proposition 103.

Former Assembly Speaker Bob Monagan, a Republican who is a lobbyist and ex-insurance agent, says he has the solution to restoring the Legislature to its former power and glory: Bring back the part-timers and elect more citizen legislators.

“To put it simply, the Legislature should adjourn each year on July 1. Period,” he said.

For the rest of the year, Monagan said, lawmakers ought to be home in their districts “finding out what their constituents really want and don’t want. . . . And we need more school teachers, merchants, farmers, doctors and housewives in the Legislature.”

Critics argue that Monagan’s idea won’t work because California has become a nation-state with a multitude of problems and a population of more than 30 million--compared to just over 19 million in 1967.

But Monagan notes that the Legislature could reconvene or be called back by the governor in an emergency. Sparing an initiative, he believes the Assembly and Senate are highly unlikely to implement his plan because it would threaten their political lives.

On Monday, lawmakers return from their summer recess. The only partying awaiting them involves political survival. With hundreds of bills awaiting votes, one lobbyist says he already has received 70 invitations to campaign fund-raisers.