A Tale of Two Legislatures: Idealists Meet Ideologues : California: The post-Prop. 140 babies hunger to deal with issues, while the veterans, led by Willie Brown, have old scores to settle before time runs out.

Last Monday, two California Legislatures convened.

One was composed of 27 new Assembly members, the first genera tion of post-Proposition 140 lawmak ers. They sounded much like the electorate who sent them to Sacramento--fed up with policy gridlock, concerned about jobs and the economy.

These lawmakers didn’t learn the rules of the game warming the bench as legislative staff. They have not been socialized in the Sacramento political culture. Deference to leadership and unbridled partisanship are not part of their catechism. Many ran against the “professional Legislature” this year.

The new Assembly members also have real-world business and community experience, bringing a fresh perspective to state government problem-solving. But few of them are “citizen-legislators.” Many are experienced in local government and politics, bringing their community power bases and political mores.

The 27 legislators spent a lot of money and energy to win, knowing full well they have only a finite time--six years in the Assembly--to accomplish their goals. The first day on the job, this Legislature appeared hungry to deal with issues; its members seemed to imbue the Capitol with a new sense of urgency and idealism.

But they face the pull of the second Legislature, the one these “outsiders” ran against. Its life is dominated by Assembly Speaker Willie Brown, raging ideologues and special interests. Its members are primarily “professional politicians,” forced by term limits to truncate their political tenure.

On Monday, members of this second Legislature repeated the politically correct rhetoric of 1992--the need for responsiveness, accountability, conciliation and concern for the state’s economy. But this Legislature signaled right away that it will not be giving up business-as-usual.

Consider the politics of the Assembly seating chart, that little diagram showing who sits at what desk in the chamber. Assigning legislators their seats is one of the Speaker’s housekeeping chores, and, over the years, it has been a little-recognized but effective leadership tool. Jesse M. Unruh used the chart to disperse his opponents, ensconcing trusted veterans next to rookies or to obstreperous colleagues to encourage the proper attitude.

As life in the Legislature became more rigidly partisan, Democratic and Republican factions tended to separate from each other. But on the first day of the 1993-94 session, Brown revealed a new seating chart that commingles Republicans and Democrats. A symbol of a new spirit of bipartisanship?

Hardly. By dispersing the GOP caucus, Brown made it more difficult for Republicans to organize and communicate on the floor. It is all part of his strategy, some observers argue, to divide the GOP and conquer Pete Wilson.

Taking a page from Unruh’s book, Brown seated Democratic newcomers next to senior Democratic legislators eager to give the frosh another round of attitude adjustment. Then Brown cut every newcomer’s budget by 25%, not the best way to co-opt a feisty freshman class. But look again. Cooperative Democrats can likely augment their staff assistance through a pool of Democratic committee and political consultants, compliments of the Speaker. Other freshmen, particularly Republicans and potential troublemakers, could find themselves without the resources to hit the ground running on issues of concern to their constituents.

The procedural vote for Speaker also leaves open the question of whether legislative change will be real. Brown was reelected for a record seventh term on a straight party-line vote, with the new legislators voting along the same partisan lines as their elders. Even newly elected, moderate Democrats, who were helped in close races by positioning themselves against Brown, fell into line. And Assembly GOP leader Jim Brulte went overboard to make sure these Democrats’ votes were on the record--and available for use by opponents in 1994.

By week’s end, it appeared that the idealistic, perhaps naive, rhetoric of the new Legislature had already been overtaken by continuing, all-out, in-your-face partisan war.

No matter, some say. It just can’t last. Because of their sheer numbers, one-quarter of the legislative membership, the “post-Prop. 140 babies” will make a difference. There have been calls for a “freshman caucus,” largely from frustrated Republican newcomers, to pressure for change. But what kind of change?

In a few years, the system will be completely purged of the old crowd. The two Legislatures, which collided last week, will evolve into one. Which one? Policy-driven or politically gridlocked?

Fourteen years ago, another class of feisty newcomers, the “Prop. 13 babies,” entered the Legislature to do things differently. As it turned out, their rigid opposition to rational fiscal dialogue helped create the conditions for ballot-box budgeting, which has nearly destroyed the state’s ability to function.

On the congressional level, the large class of “post-Watergate babies,” elected in 1974, organized to reform a soured system of government. Many of these crusaders were soon co-opted by the system they pledged to change; others saw their attempts to improve Congress cripple the institution even more.

Nobody knows, of course, what contribution the post-Prop. 140 babies will make. One legislative staffer observed last week that “everything is different.” But nobody around the Capitol could put a finger on exactly what is different. Or whether “different” will mean “better” or “worse.” All this has thrown the Capitol into fits of instability and uncertainty.

In a state that faces a lingering drought, the Big One, brutal unemployment, a crumbling school system, an unfathomable budget deficit, an unraveling social fabric and a deteriorating quality of life, this does not make governing easier. Now, under the dome of the Capitol sits a political Petri dish. In it is incubating a new strain of Legislature. It will be some time before we know whether this experiment will produce a scourge or a miracle cure for California’s ills. Or merely more mold on a decaying organism.