Fifty-Some Kinds of Homesickness

This can be a pretty traumatic place for those used to the rustic hillsides of Malibu, the flatlands of Northridge or even the smog-choked streets of Downtown. The weather, for one, doesn’t compare to the temperate clime of the coast. The people here, ever so serious, wear bow ties to work. There are cultural differences as well--no beaches, no freeways, no decent place to get a burrito.

That’s where the California State Society comes in.

A loose network of hundreds of transplanted Californians eager to maintain a bond with their home state, the society is open to all comers--whether they hail from Westwood or Watsonville. The group sponsors picnics, social hours and an annual Academy Awards party at one of Washington’s swankiest hotels.

“We all want to go back to California,” said Scott Nishioki, a Fresno native who is a Pacific Telesis lobbyist and president of the club. “We all try to figure out ways to go back. This society at least lets us talk about the sites and scenery there.”

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Californians, of course, are not the only ones who find themselves disconnected here. All 50 states as well as American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands are part of the National Conference of State Societies, with each club providing a sort of home away from home.

Texans, for instance, hold a black tie and boots party and boast one of the most active clubs of all. Wisconsin expatriates gather for ice skating. The people from Idaho hold an annual “Stanley Stomp”--a takeoff on the country and western dance held every year in the tiny town of Stanley.

Former Kentucky residents hop on a bus to the nearest horse track to celebrate the Kentucky Derby. Mississippians hold a catfish fry. Mainers get together for lobster--the home state variety, of course.

“People come to Washington from all over the country and these societies allow them to keep their attachment with their home state,” said Jerri Bonin, president of the national oversight group. “It gives them somebody to talk with about the things back home.”

There are really many Californias so the club pieces together what it can. Locally grown food is sometimes served--anything from avocados to lamb to asparagus--and it is washed down with California wine. The annual Christmas party features a mariachi band and Oscar night is full of fashionably dressed souls in tuxedos and gowns.

“You can almost tell someone from California,” said Yolanda Ruiz, who left Los Angeles for Washington in 1969. “It’s something about attitude. We’re laid back. We’re casual.”

Ruiz, a retired lobbyist for Los Angeles County, said conversations at the California gatherings range from complaints about East Coast winters to analyses of the uptight nature of Washingtonians.

There is also networking galore, this still being Washington after all.

California corporations play an active role in the society events, which provide their lobbyists an opportunity to rub shoulders with the lawmakers who frequently stop by at events. And young congressional aides are quick to pull out business cards to line up that next job off the Hill.

The membership of California’s club shows it is more than just a bunch of Golden State slackers. Among the 300 or so participants are Gwen A. Brown, deputy assistant secretary of defense; Richard Bates, president of government relations with Disney; Hall P. Daily, chief lobbyist for Caltech, and David Wetmore, director of Gov. Pete Wilson’s Washington office.

Despite all the partisan rancor that breaks out on Capitol Hill, the California society strives to be laid back.

Democratic and Republican members of Congress rotate as the honorary chairman and vice chairman of the group. This year, it is Rep. Sonny Bono (R-La Quinta) in the top spot, and Rep. Sam Farr (D-Carmel) providing geographic and political diversity as No. 2.

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State societies play an especially active role this time of year during Washington’s annual Cherry Blossom Festival, which begins today. The pink flowers that circle the Tidal Basin, a gift from the city of Tokyo in 1912, provide the backdrop for a springtime ritual of state-themed receptions, a parade and the selection of the cherry blossom queen.

Every state and the handful of territories are eligible to select a cherry blossom princess to vie for the title. As with the Miss America pageant, state pride is on the line.

Courtney Cameron Atherton, California’s nominee and a native of Orinda, near San Francisco, is a recent college graduate who worked as a press aide for the presidential campaign of Sen. Phil Gramm (R-Texas).

“This is an awesome opportunity, representing California,” she said. “It is such an eccentric, unique, flamboyant state. . . . You have everybody from the surfers to the people in the valleys to the people of Brentwood. Then there are business gurus and the showboats of L.A.”

A California queen has been selected only once since the contest began in 1948, but Atherton has as good a chance to win the crown as any other contestant--no more, no less. That’s because, perhaps to squelch the kind of interstate rivalry that breaks out all the time in this town, queens are picked randomly. A wheel is spun, a state is picked and a queen is crowned.