GOP Freshman in Cross-Fire of Allen Dispute : Politics: Assemblyman Brian Setencich has deep differences with Democrats, but his GOP colleagues have exiled him over his support for Speaker.

The walls of his office are nearly bare, and he prefers it that way. Blank, plain, open space is what Brian Setencich likes. It’s soothing, lets a guy think.

“I’m into space,” says Setencich, a freshman Republican assemblyman from Fresno. “I’m not a crowd person. I’m a loner, really.”

It’s a good thing, because the 33-year-old Setencich has chosen a lonely path.

Two weeks ago he declared his support for new Assembly Speaker Doris Allen. This might not seem surprising, as Allen is also a Republican. But nearly all other members of the GOP family are boycotting her reign--and have even launched a recall to boot her from office.

Setencich, who played professional basketball before entering politics, thinks that’s insane.

“We’ve got the first Republican Speaker in 25 years, so why aren’t people giving her a chance?” he wondered, munching fat-free chocolate cookies in a recent interview. “I’ll tell you why. It’s because this is a power thing. . . . It’s all about power. And that’s wrong.”

As for Allen, he says, “Doris has a rock-solid Republican record, and she has proven she is committed to moving our agenda forward. She is quite capable of doing this job. . . . We should let her do it.”

Back in Fresno, friends are cheering Setencich for his stand. When he appeared on a radio talk show there last week, the public response was overwhelmingly positive, with callers praising his guts and independent thinking.

In Sacramento, however, guts and independent thinking are not always what count most. Consequently, Setencich finds himself marooned in a political abyss: He has been exiled by fellow Republicans, who have branded him disloyal, but he has sharp ideological differences with Democrats. It’s a tough gig, especially for a freshman who has yet to forge strong alliances here.

“He’s very courageous,” said Assemblyman Sal Cannella (D-Ceres). “He’s being tugged between these two camps, and I’m sure he feels a little bit like a lost soul.”

If Setencich (pronounced SET-in-sitch) is bothered by any of this, he hides it well. His broad face bears an almost ever-present grin, suggesting a mood that is immune to gloom. As he strolls the Capitol’s corridors, he looks like a man with not a care in the world.

“What Brian is doing comes from the heart,” said Tim Baker, the assemblyman’s friend and Fresno dentist. “There’s no ulterior motive . . . and nobody’s going to get him to budge.”

Until now, Setencich has had a mostly unremarkable tour of duty in the Legislature, with one exception that caused snickers around the Capitol. During a committee hearing, he protested the number of an innocuous bill about crab fisheries. The bill number was 666, the biblical mark of the devil, which made him “uncomfortable.”

“I’m not superstitious, but I did not like the number,” recalled Setencich, who attends a Serbian Orthodox church. “When Ronald Reagan had 666 on his address in Santa Barbara, he had it changed.”

Setencich was not so lucky--failing to have the bill renumbered--but he voted for it nonetheless.

Aside from the 666 affair, Setencich has been most notable for his height--6 foot 5--and his background as a professional athlete.

After playing ball at Cal State Bakersfield, he became a free agent who tried out with the Los Angeles Lakers and the Portland Trailblazers. Both teams cut him, so he joined the Continental Basketball League before playing overseas for six years. The foreign life was agreeable, but a back injury persuaded him to retire.

The son of a Fresno grape grower, Setencich never anticipated a career in politics. Indeed, his first run for office--in elementary school--fell flat after he posted signs urging school chums to vote for “Brain” instead of “Brian.”

But after his sports career faded, Setencich took aim at the Fresno City Council, challenging a popular incumbent. It was a low-budget campaign, and nobody gave him a whisker of a chance. But he won, stunning the political Establishment.

As a councilman, Setencich earned a reputation as a maverick who never said much. Critics called him an airhead and mocked his high-pitched voice, but the councilman was beloved by his constituents. Particularly popular was his habit of spending Fridays doing good deeds for elderly residents.

In November, 1994, Setencich took a shot at the big leagues, running for the Assembly. Again he was the underdog, outspent by his opponent; again, he scored an upset victory.

So far, he has found the capital a frustrating place. Like most freshmen, he arrived fired up with ideas and goals, anxious to reform welfare and cut taxes. Instead, he ran headlong into legislative gridlock--and a bitterly partisan, dog-eat-dog environment he finds appalling.

“When we got up here, we were told the Democrats were the absolute enemy,” Setencich said, referring to instructions handed down by leaders of the Republican Caucus. “It seems to me what we needed to do was extend an olive branch instead of chopping somebody’s head off.”

Last week, Setencich climbed right onto the hot seat--presiding over the Assembly floor session at the request of Speaker Allen. It was a big moment, laden with opportunity, potentially fraught with peril.

The session was uncommonly rancorous, marked by screaming, threats and visible fits of rage. Faced with such nastiness, Setencich fought to keep order, mixing firmness with humor. At one point, he tried futilely to calm his irate Republican colleagues, pleading with them to “take it easy” and be nice.

One lawmaker likened his style to that of Forrest Gump. Assemblyman Jim Cunneen (R-Cupertino) said he means that as a compliment, calling Setencich a man who “has a good heart” and does what he thinks is right. It’s not a bad comparison. While Gump was a simpleton, he also became a fictional folk hero with his endearing candor and smiling sincerity.

On Monday, Setencich was presiding again as the Assembly moved through a series of legislative matters with little controversy. Meanwhile, Assembly Republicans continued to press Allen and the Democrats for rules changes. Allen predicted that changes giving Republicans a majority on nearly all committees could be approved by week’s end.

In addition, Allen has cleared the way for a debate on more than 70 Republican amendments to the state budget bill--even though the budget is already being debated by an Assembly-Senate negotiating committee.

Gov. Pete Wilson told Allen in a letter that he will invite her nemesis, Assemblyman Jim Brulte, the GOP floor leader, to sit in on final budget negotiations involving the governor and the leaders of both houses. Allen had wanted to exclude Brulte.

Setencich, as he dodges the arrows fired by GOP colleagues, confesses he misses the “honesty” of sports, where you were judged purely on “whether you can hit a 20-footer.” Politics, he laments, is so different: “You never know what’s going on behind your back.”

So to escape the madness, Setencich shoots hoops solo at a local high school. He plays in the evening, when it’s still light.

“I take my shirt off and shoot around. It’s great. That’s living to me.”

Times staff writers Jerry Gillam and Eric Bailey contributed to this story.