Assemblyman Comes Back From Brink of Political Oblivion

Scott Baugh came to the California Assembly two years ago, a runaway train on a wrong-way track.

He was indicted on felony campaign wrongdoing charges a few weeks after taking office. Some colleagues shunned him. With his career barely rolling, Baugh seemed headed downhill fast.

But a funny thing happened on the way to political oblivion. Baugh started winning friends and influencing legislation.

After a disastrous debut, the Huntington Beach Republican regrouped and enjoyed a productive 1997. Eight of his 18 bills were signed into law, a higher percentage than any of his statehouse colleagues from Orange County.

He curbed California’s much-maligned Smog Check rules and helped negotiate a monumental accord to rebuild the seismically suspect San Francisco Bay Bridge.

Yes, Baugh still faces charges of election finance crimes. He still could lose his Assembly seat, his law license and maybe even go to jail if he is convicted. But the 35-year-old conservative is having too much fun in the state Capitol to get gloomy.

Some once-leery colleagues now call him a friend, impressed by his smarts and inquisitive nature, amused by his occasional antics.

His personality is not easily pigeon-holed. It was the barrel-chested Baugh who recently earned the unofficial title of strongest man in the Capitol during a late-night break from a floor session, using one hand to balance two phone books at the end of a broomstick.

It was Baugh, a lifelong Baptist who attended Jerry Falwell’s Liberty University, who confessed to trying marijuana during his teenage years, conceding that “we all made mistakes in our youth. And, yes, I did inhale.”

And it was Baugh, a churchgoing abortion foe, who shrugged off threats of abortion opponents and voted for a state budget that includes abortion funding. “If you take the ostrich approach, you get nothing done,” Baugh said. “You basically take yourself out of the debate.”

Even a few of the majority Democrats, who had a field day after Baugh was indicted, now call him a straight shooter, a listener and a pragmatist.

“Like the average person who reads a newspaper, I had a negative impression of this fellow, based on all the shenanigans down in Orange County,” said Assemblyman Bob Hertzberg (D-Sherman Oaks). “But I’ve got to tell you: I like him. He’s smart. He’s reasonable to deal with. As far as Republicans go, he’s tops on my list.”

Baugh’s philosophy is simple. He approaches a political enemy and hears them out. “If you’re willing to listen to their point of view,” Baugh said, “they’re more than willing to be open-minded.”

He picked up that personable, pull-up-a-chair attitude in his youth.

Baugh grew up on a 10-acre farm in Redding. The fourth of five boys, he was raised on a mix of hard work, religion and sports. He was a middle linebacker on the high school football team, earning the nickname Dr. Death.

He headed to Falwell’s university in Lynchburg, Va., amid the boom years of the Moral Majority and Reaganomics. His appetite for politics was whetted by a congressional internship, although he never really had any grand ambitions to run for office.

Baugh got his law degree, practicing with a private firm in Sacramento, then went to work in the corporate offices of the Union Pacific railroad. He continued to follow national politics but didn’t dream of getting into it any time soon.

That changed in 1995.

He volunteered in the campaign to recall Assemblywoman Doris Allen (R-Cypress), who had angered Republicans by dealing with the Democrats to become Assembly speaker that summer. When the GOP began casting about for a candidate, they latched on to Baugh.

He rose from nowhere, an obscure corporate attorney with little involvement in Orange County politics, to capture Allen’s seat in November 1995. Baugh’s victory gave Republicans the key vote they needed to capture control of the lower house.

But problems cropped up even before Baugh was elected. The Orange County district attorney began looking into allegations that Republicans had put a ringer Democrat on the ballot to water down the opposition vote and ensure a GOP victory. It didn’t help Baugh that the Democrat, Laurie Campbell, was a friend.

The newly elected assemblyman was indicted on 22 felony and misdemeanor counts involving his campaign finance reports, including charges that he illegally concealed a $1,000 cash donation from Campbell and her husband until after election day.

Baugh is in the middle of a preliminary hearing on the charges. But he has denied any intentional wrongdoing and exudes confidence that he will be exonerated.

Baugh has been toiling for nearly two years to win vindication, both in court and in the Capitol. After putting in his day as a legislator, he routinely returns to his office and spends hours poring over documents pertaining to his criminal case.

Assemblyman Bernie Richter (R-Chico), a staunch ally, contends that Baugh became the unwitting target of an investigation that originally aimed to bring down high-ranking Orange County Republicans involved in recruiting a decoy Democrat.

Three low-level Republican operatives have pleaded guilty to misdemeanors, but Baugh was the only legislator charged.

“His work ethic has helped him overcome a lot of the early negative impressions,” said Assemblyman Dick Ackerman (R-Fullerton). “I’ve been impressed by what he’s taken on.”

Probably his most notable legislative achievement was a bill that allows new car owners to avoid smog tests for the first five years, an exemption that should save Californians $350 million in fees. The measure caps repairs at $450 for cars that fail a smog test.

Baugh says the savings are “analogous to a tax cut of that size, because it will give people that money to spend on other things and help the economy.”

He helped save Southern California taxpayers a chunk of change during negotiations over how to finance a new eastern span for the Bay Bridge. As vice chairman of the Assembly Transportation Committee, he pushed for the Bay Area to absorb a bigger cut of the costs.

Proving that politics is often personal, Baugh also pushed a trio of bills stemming from his own legal difficulties. Only one was signed into law, a measure that requires prosecutors to reveal exculpatory evidence to grand juries.

The grand jury indictment against Baugh was dismissed by a Superior Court judge because prosecutors failed to give both sides of the case. The district attorney refiled the charges without returning to the grand jury, but Baugh will try to get the charges thrown out again at the conclusion of his preliminary hearing.

His biggest allies on the exculpatory evidence issue were the Democrats, Baugh notes. “I think they often have more sensitivity to civil rights and the plight of the accused than do conservative Republicans.”

In his own caucus, Baugh hasn’t always fared so well. Democrats say he often negotiated agreements with them in his role as Transportation Committee vice chairman, then had the deals undone by Republican cohorts. “He wasn’t able to deliver on substantive issues,” said one Democrat. “We always felt he was subject to pressure and would buckle.”

But he has also forged a contrarian’s reputation among his GOP brethren. Behind closed doors, Baugh isn’t shy with his views.

“He’s not afraid to speak up at caucus lunches and say something is a stupid idea,” Ackerman said. “I admire that.”