New Faces Assume Places in Assembly

It’s swearing-in day in the state Assembly, and Alan Lowenthal, legislator-elect, has a sinus infection.

Woozy from antibiotics and a meager night’s sleep, he gamely greets well-wishers streaming into his Capitol office, shaking hands and swapping hugs while dispensing bagels and cream cheese.

In a few hours, Lowenthal will raise his right hand and make a contract with the people of California, pledging to faithfully discharge the duties of state assemblyman. Then he’ll be a big cheese, with a staff, a spacious office and a salary of $99,000 a year.

But right now, Lowenthal feels as raw and jittery as a high school freshman. “I’m excited, but anxious,” he confides. “You walk into this great, historic building and you ask yourself, ‘Can I do it?’ ”

This week Lowenthal, a psychology professor at Cal State Long Beach, and 26 other Assembly members sworn in last month are taking their seats in the lower house, beginning life anew as political stewards of the Golden State.

Aside from the task of crafting a yearly state budget of $78 billion, legislators annually decide hundreds of bills on topics as diverse as HMO reform, gang violence, adoption, AIDS and toxic waste.

For today’s freshmen, the pressure to master lawmaking quickly is greater than ever. Under the 1990 term limits law, Assembly members may serve just three two-year terms. Unless they move on to the state Senate or to Congress, they then return home.

“You come into this place in a big hurry to make an impact,” said Assemblyman Bob Hertzberg (D-Sherman Oaks), who is beginning his second term.

This year’s freshmen are an eclectic bunch. Aside from the usual lineup of lawyers, business owners and former mayors, the Assembly now includes a classical guitarist, a police officer and an oral surgeon. The oldest member--Nell Soto of Corona, 72--is a great-grandmother. The youngest, Tony Strickland of Camarillo, is a mere 28.

Whatever their age or occupation, for most rookies the weeks since election day have been head-spinning, jam-packed with a hunt for capital staff and housing, preparation of a bill package and general immersion in the hurly-burly of political life.

To prepare the newcomers, Assembly leaders put together orientation sessions on everything from how to introduce a bill to legislative ethics, dealing with lobbyists and keeping constituents happy.

The freshmen declare themselves grateful for the help, but history shows that only time and miles in the saddle can transform eager greenhorns into political sophisticates.

Until then, the formula goes something like this: Pay close attention, take notes and scramble along as best you can.

A Dream 30 Years in the Making

Charlene Zettel still has a ticket to Ronald Reagan’s 1967 inaugural ball, her prize for hours of volunteer work on his gubernatorial campaign. It is tucked away in her memory box; as a USC undergrad, she couldn’t afford the trip to Sacramento to attend.

This year, Zettel did dance at the inaugural ball--as an assemblywoman from San Diego County. The daughter of a Mexican immigrant, she is the first Latina Republican elected to the Legislature.

Like most of her freshman colleagues, Zettel, a dental hygienist, is new to state politics. She served on the Poway School Board, but aside from some trips to Sacramento to promote school-related legislation, she has not done time in the trenches here.

Zettel, 51, has an added disadvantage. As a Republican, she belongs to the Assembly’s minority party, meaning her bills will face an extra-tough go in the Democratic-controlled house.

“We were told there’s one cardinal rule around here--never fall in love with your bill,” she said. “Before you know it, it’s been killed, amended or taken over by someone else.”

Given such perils, Zettel aims to craft bills that can attract Democratic co-sponsors, a strategy that could insulate her proposals from a speedy death. She has already introduced one--a bill to give schools more tools to crack down on truants.

Zettel’s status as the Legislature’s first Latina Republican makes her something of a celebrity in the GOP caucus. But while she’s proud of her heritage, it’s not something she wears on the sleeve of her tailored suits.

“Growing up, the message was ‘assimilate,’ ” Zettel recalled. “My parents wanted us to succeed. And to succeed, you needed to fit in.”

Since her victory in November, Zettel has put hundreds of miles on her Chevy Suburban, touring the most remote reaches of her sprawling district in the southeast corner of the state. When she has a spare moment, she pulls out her orientation manuals or little black book of Assembly rules and studies hard.

On Dec. 7, the day she took the oath of office in Sacramento, Zettel’s husband David, a dentist, son Jeff, a high school senior, and other relatives were on hand. As the session drew near a close, they waved at her frantically from the balcony. Zettel waved back, but her family kept waving. Clearly, something was amiss.

Turns out the Assembly clerk was calling her name, signaling that it was her turn to come forward and introduce her bill.

“It was so loud in there, I couldn’t hear a thing,” she said. No harm done. On Day One, at least, clerks are tolerant of such mishaps, and the rookie from Poway was permitted to submit her bill for a stamp and a number--AB42.

Despite her status as a member of the minority party, Zettel got her wish when she was named to her three committees of choice--health, education and transportation. She was also appointed to the powerful rules and appropriations committees, a rare honor for a rookie--and a symbol of her prominence as one of just four GOP women in the Assembly.

As the legislative year dawned, Zettel said she planned to keep in mind a credo offered by Republican Assembly leader Rod Pacheco:

“Hold fast to your principles, but be cordial too. Argue the issues, but don’t take things personally.”

Stepping to the Fore

It’s hard not to notice Herb J. Wesson Jr. With his wit, handsome suits and resonant voice, he is a man who makes an impression.

Until now, however, Wesson mostly lived life in the background, the invisible political aide--to a city councilman, then a county supervisor--who worked like a fiend but never got much credit.

With his election to the Assembly, that’s changing--in a big way. Wesson, 47, has been handed the chairmanship of a legislative committee, one of just seven freshmen so honored.

Following the advice of a political master--former Assembly Speaker Willie Brown--Wesson had not plainly stated his desire to command his own committee. Brown, whom Wesson met in August, recommended a more humble course.

“He suggested I say, ‘I’m happy to be here and happy to serve wherever the leadership sees fit to put me,’ so I did,” Wesson recalled. But he didn’t leave it all to chance, asking a third party to “imply” his committee wishes to the powers that be. Apparently, it worked.

As the episode shows, Wesson is no naif when it comes to politics, seasoned by years as chief of staff to Los Angeles Councilman Nate Holden and county Supervisor Yvonne Brathwaite Burke.

That savvy will serve him well in his role as chairman of the committee on governmental organization, which handles bills on the Lottery, horse racing and tobacco, among other controversial subjects. Because of its constituency, the panel is considered the Assembly’s prime “juice” committee, producing a truckload of campaign contributions for its members from special interests with a stake in committee business.

“It’s political, it’s high-profile,” says Wesson, who is married and the father of four. Already, several lobbyists have called him with their congratulations; meetings with others are scheduled this week.

Wesson got the chance to graduate from aide to assemblyman when Kevin Murray, the incumbent in the Culver City-based district, decided to run for the state Senate. Given the territory’s heavy dominance by Democratic voters, Wesson’s victory was virtually sealed once he beat two Democratic foes in the June primary. In November, he trounced his GOP opponent with a whopping 84% of the vote.

Since then, the sturdy, suspendered man who insists everyone call him ‘Herb’ has been busy buying furniture for his Sacramento apartment, visiting racetracks and casinos and hiring staff. Like other freshmen, he has also weathered hours and hours of Assembly training.

The sessions, he says, were terrific, and it was this nugget of advice that has lodged most firmly in his mind:

“To succeed here, you need to be a person of integrity. So when you give your word, you’d better keep it.”

Freshman Fellowship

The freshmen had just survived Day One of Assembly orientation, and as their van rolled toward a hotel on the edge of Sacramento, the confessions began to flow.

I haven’t been sleeping well, one rookie said. Me neither, added another. I’m feeling so much stress, confided a third.

“It was like a support group,” recalls Lowenthal, who is married and has two sons. “We had just finished our campaigns and here we were in the capital already. We hadn’t had a chance to decompress.”

For a psychologist like Lowenthal, such introspection is a way of life. He may prove an invaluable asset in the Assembly, where egos and tempers swell and crash as reliably as the surf.

Unlike Wesson, Lowenthal--a Long Beach city councilman since 1992--was not sure he’d get this job. His Assembly district, encompassing the Palos Verdes Peninsula and half of Long Beach, has traditionally been in GOP hands. On election night, the returns looked so grim that half the people at his victory party went home. But at 1 a.m., the tide turned and he wound up winning by about 2,600 votes.

Five weeks later he was striding proudly onto the floor of the ornate Assembly chamber, searching for his seat. He found it in the back row, beside a fellow Los Angeles County Democrat--Assemblywoman Sheila Kuehl--whom he greeted with a hug.

After the swearing-in, Lowenthal introduced his first bill, then returned to his office to fire off his first news release--a lively message that read, in part: “Results, not rhetoric, is why I was sent to Sacramento.”

As friends showered him with congratulations, Lowenthal joked: “I’ve done it! I’ve served my state!”

Since then, there have been more memorable moments. Like Wesson, Lowenthal was named chairman of a committee--on housing and community development. He also will head a select committee on ports.

As a former councilman, he comes to Sacramento less green than some rookies. Yet Lowenthal is humbled by the challenge of guiding a nation-state so diverse, populous and complex.

“You think of the generations of people who have come before you in this job and it’s awesome, a bit overwhelming,” he said. “Now, I’m part of that chain of history. It’s hard to believe.”