One Day in the Capitol--a Notebook

The lobbyist stands with his back to the hallway wall, hands jammed into the pockets of his gray pin-stripe suit. A huge man, he has a thick neck that bulges over a white shirt collar. The tips of his ears are tinged with red.

Clayton Jackson makes it clear he is not comfortable in this setting. This is not one of those Capitol hallways he once stalked, king of the lobbyists. This is the U.S. District Courthouse, where Jackson has come for a preliminary skirmish in his political corruption case.

Later this year, a jury will determine if Jackson, in discussions with a legislator who happened to be wearing a wire under his shirt, crossed the divide that separates politics as usual from something more nefarious, like bribery. It’s been said that his case could place on trial the essence of legislative politics in Sacramento--the back-and-forth flow of campaign contributions and friendly legislation that seems to keep everybody here so very happy. Certainly this is Jackson’s view.

“If I get out of this,” he says, voice soft, pale blue eyes hard and defiant, “I’ll be back over there--doing the same thing I was always doing.”

*

The subject is immigration. Anymore, the subject is always immigration whenever California politicians gather. These days Gov. Pete Wilson and various other of our leaders are full of hot notions about how to boot illegals back to Mexico--barring them from schools and hospitals, calling out the National Guard and all the rest. The bandwagon, however, seems to have steered clear of the central cause for crossing the border: jobs.

Now, three state assemblymen stand before the assembled press with yet another idea. They have come to promote legislation that would seize the assets of any business that repeatedly hired undocumented workers. It is immediately assumed that they understand this will not pass. It is assumed that the intent, as one reporter put it, is to “call the governor’s bluff,” challenging Wilson and the rest to prove they are serious enough about the plague of illegal immigration to go after pet constituents.

Two of the assemblymen shake their heads. No, no, no. Wouldn’t think of it. We’d expect the governor would be all for this. Then the third, Richard Polanco (D-Los Angeles), strides quickly to the microphone.

“It’s show-and-tell time,” he says. “You can’t scapegoat the immigrant on the one hand and then, when it comes to employer sanctions, turn the other way. . . . Certainly, this will flush out who the hypocrites are on this issue.”

And then he grins.

*

“We’re into smaller is better in this era.”

The comment from Kathleen Brown sends giggles through the press corps. Many reporters here seem downright snotty toward Brown. There are many theories as to why. One is that the regulars can see her only as Jerry Brown’s little sister. And in the end, they didn’t like the Moonbeam much either.

“Smaller is better!” one of the denizens now shouts at Brown. “Where have I heard that before? Less is more. Era of limits. Hah. Hah. ‘Smaller is better.’ I like that. Yes, I think I will write that one down. Hah, hah, hah.”

She pretends not to hear.

*

No visit here is complete without picking up a copy of the Capitol Weekly. Here is a publication that brings perspective to the notion that a once formidable state government has gone bankrupt, that every bureaucrat has been banished to bread lines.

Much of the tabloid is devoted to classified ads that list, department by department, all positions now open in state government. There are more than a few. For instance, in the current issue, there are 266 jobs listed in the section titled Corrections. They’re looking for cooks in San Luis Obispo, and sergeants is Vacaville, and even a Jewish chaplain in Chowchilla. You name it. No smaller is better here.

Under Mental Health, the number of jobs listed is four. Another story.

*

The last stop is a hallway outside a Capitol hearing room. Inside, the Senate Appropriations Committee is wading through a flood of last-minute legislation. Many of these are so-called juice bills, crafted by lobbyists to benefit specific clients. Lobbyists dart about the hall, conferring among themselves about the status of bills, which they refer to only as “it.”

As in:

“It’s going to be on later.”

And, “Did you get my letter on it?”

And, “It’s back in!”

This last update is shouted triumphantly by a lobbyist, and it sends them all scurrying inside. And I head the other way, unsure frankly what any of it means. Except, perhaps, that the machine of democracy, Sacramento-style, is by all appearances up and running, full bore. Don’t you feel better?