Hanging Out at Willie’s Club--What a Life

Give Alan Robbins credit. He came to the Capitol each day with a clear purpose. Graft wasn’t the noblest calling, but let’s not quibble. Robbins at least was one legislator who stood for something. He had an agenda, and he stuck to it.

Who can say why the rest are here?

This is a bunch that wastes about 15 years and 5,000 skulls before concluding motorcyclists should be made to wear helmets, that bans automatic rifles only after the madman has cut down the five schoolchildren. It will pass thousands of nickle-and-dime bills each session, but consistently miss the boat when major political movements are launched. Property taxes, coastal protection, campaign ethics, auto insurance, toxic control--all these California issues were framed through the initiative process, reducing the Legislature to a mop-up operation.

Still, the lawmakers love this place.

Once they get here, they never want to leave. Voters impose term limits, they sue. The state Supreme Court upholds the limits, they start talking appeal. When it comes time for reapportionment, they go limp, paralyzed by the prospect that new district lines will place a few of them in political jeopardy. Even when voted out of office, these dogged public servants refuse to go home. Instead, they move across the street and reinvent themselves as lobbyists, scarcely missing a single cocktail party.

It’s a mystery, this attachment to a town that can best be described as Fresno with a breeze.

One theory used to be that legislators stuck around for the whoopee. Everyone had a story of some sodden but otherwise august representative of the people fondling his mistress at the Torch Club. The stories became inflated as they were traded around, sort of like baseball cards. The thinking today is that the boys-will-be-boys action faded as more women lawmakers were elected. Many of the men now bring their wives along.

“It’s not like the old days,” everyone says, usually with a wink.

The graft always did seem to be small potatoes, although it will be interesting to learn what Robbins picked up on his hidden microphone after turning FBI informant. The feds have been snooping around for years, but until this year pretty much came up empty. Businesses and special interests never stopped delivering those big campaign contributions--expecting, of course, absolutely nothing in return.

Assembly Speaker Willie Brown, with his tailored suits and talent for sweetening life for political friends, provides an incentive for many lawmakers. “He represents the goal,” explained one consultant. “You see all these guys trying to dress like Willie, act like Willie. They all see themselves as the next Speaker in waiting.” Interestingly enough, despite all his supposed powers, Brown’s principal accomplishments have been longevity and a seat belt bill. Seat belts save lives, but a call to “buckle up” hardly defines the cutting edge of political courage.

Brown also happens to be one of the few legislative characters. The rest seem pretty bloodless. Anyone who ever suffered through a small town City Council meeting will find them immediately familiar. They dress a little nicer, the issues are broader, but with their clubby banter and petty bickering, their boorishness, they seem no different from the yahoos back home discussing where to allow RV parking.

Many legislators, in fact, hacked their way up through councils and school boards, and that probably is the best explanation of their affection for Sacramento. It’s not that they are criminals, or even incompetents. They simply are career politicians who have become stuck. A run for statewide or federal office is risky, and only lawmakers from the biggest cities can enhance resumes with a return home as mayor or council member.

For most, the choice is Sacramento or a law practice in some place like Merced. So they make themselves comfortable here. They become a club. They walk to Frank Fat’s for lunch and see nothing but familiar faces along the way. The salary isn’t great, but the $92 per diem pads things nicely. At the Capitol, they park in the “members only” garage, ride “members only” elevators. People respect them beyond reason, move them to the front of any line. It’s nice.

Of course, when a government body stands only for self-preservation, word gets around. Serious business is taken elsewhere.

That’s why the initiative process is so strong and why Gov. Pete Wilson, for better or worse, lately has dominated the field when it comes to defining California’s future. There will always be Club Legislature, but the heavy lifting--fixing schools, fighting crime, stopping pollution--will be done by others.