‘Boot Camp’ Gets New Lawmakers Up to Speed in Term Limits Era

Soldiers have basic training. Pilots have flight school. Now comes boot camp for politicians, an intensive, exhaustive crash course on how to be a legislator.

You may think this is overkill. How tough can it be to sit in meetings, give speeches, write press releases and pass laws?

In fact, it’s a formidable job, especially in a state as vast and complex as California. And because term limits have brought new blood and perpetual turnover to Sacramento, those in office today are less and less prepared for the work when they arrive.

To help smooth their transition into legislative life, leaders in the state Assembly are treating the new class of 27 members to an orientation unprecedented in its breadth and intensity.

From mind-numbing courses about ethics and parliamentary rules to practical advice on how to write a bill, find the parking garage and hire a good chief of staff, the program aims to help rookies sprint nimbly out of the starting gate.

Term Limits Add a Sense of Urgency

“The payoff, we hope, is a Legislature that is more effective more quickly,” said Assemblyman Bob Hertzberg (D-Sherman Oaks), who spearheaded the orientation effort. “With term limits, you don’t have time to be a backbencher until you get your sea legs. Now you’ve got to just get in here and go.”

The concept of training elected officials is not new. Congress sends its freshmen to Harvard’s John F. Kennedy School of Government, and many states--California included--have long offered some sort of preparatory course.

Term limits, however, have made legislator training a growth industry, according to the Denver-based National Conference of State Legislatures.

“The programs are multiplying, and they’re becoming much more sophisticated and comprehensive,” said Brenda Erickson, the group’s senior research analyst. “With term limits, states are realizing that legislators don’t have the luxury of slowly learning the process.”

Nearly every state now offers an orientation of some kind, with 12 states requiring attendance. Although most programs last just a few days, Missouri’s runs for three weeks and includes a tour of state facilities.

With this year’s effort, California has one of the most ambitious orientations. Mostly bipartisan, it began in November--three days after election day--and will continue, off and on, through February.

Members are required to attend only a few of the sessions--on sexual harassment and ethics--but most have shown up for all.

Lugging bulging binders in special tote bags, the freshmen look like, well, freshmen--eager but a bit worried, eyes semi-glazed over--as they march from one class to the next. Most say the training has been a godsend, giving them a measure of confidence as the legislative session gears up.

“It’s been extremely helpful,” Assemblywoman Hannah-Beth Jackson (D-Santa Barbara) said. “I think it shortens the learning curve for us and lets us hit the ground running.”

Abel Maldonado, a Republican assemblyman from Santa Maria, agreed, though he lamented that the freshmen did not have more time to absorb their lessons.

“We were just bombarded with information--we hardly had time to soak it in before we were bombarded with more,” Maldonado said. “But I definitely learned a lot, especially in the session where the senior members told us how things really work.”

That session featured a Democrat, Sheila Kuehl of Santa Monica, and a Republican, Bill Leonard of San Bernardino. Like the rest of the program, it was closed to reporters. But in an interview, Kuehl said she and Leonard covered such nuts and bolts material as how to introduce a bill, how to find coauthors for bills and how to get legislation through its first committee.

Overlaying the discussion, Kuehl said, was this theme: “how important personal integrity and relationships are. It’s very easy to lose the confidence of other members here, and once you lose it, it’s very hard to win back.”

One quick way to make enemies is to agree to support a bill and then, when it comes up in committee or on the Assembly floor, vote against it. “Whatever the reason, the other member will never get over that,” Kuehl warned.

On legislation, she advised newcomers to spend their first year sponsoring bills in two areas--things they feel a deep passion about and issues that are important to their district.

Kuehl also passed on a tip she picked up in 1994, when she was a rookie and asked then-Speaker Willie Brown for his single most important piece of advice.

“He said when you’re putting your staff together, hire two expensive people rather than six cheap people, and I took that advice to heart.”

Among other popular training sessions were a demonstration of how the voting system and laptop computers work on the Assembly floor and a class introducing freshmen to lobbyists, often called “the third house” because of their power in shaping legislation.

Assemblywoman Sarah Reyes (D-Fresno) said she left the lobbying class with a new wariness: “They impressed upon us that you really have to watch what you say, so lobbyists don’t think you’re committing to vote for a bill [they’re promoting] when in fact you may not have made up your mind.”

Also useful, Reyes said, was the discussion on how the committee system works--specifically, what policy areas each committee covers. Reyes said she came here intent on landing a spot on the Public Safety Committee, but changed her mind after orientation.

“When I heard how emotional a lot of the bills are, I thought I should stay off that committee,” Reyes said. “I’m not sure I want to sit and listen to horrible stories about what happened to victims, because I think I’d carry those things with me.”

The ethics training also rang some alarm bells. It covered everything from accepting gifts to avoiding conflicts of interest and the ban on using Capitol staff and offices for campaign purposes.

“It gave me an extra awareness of how easy it is to break these laws--even if you never intend to,” said Assemblywoman Charlene Zettel (R-Poway). “If I go out to eat with someone, I can’t forget to report it.”

Reyes said she has already put the ethics training to work. When a lobbyist friend asked her to lunch, she replied, “Fine, but I’ll buy. You just have to take pains to make sure nobody thinks you’re bought.”

Senior lawmakers applauded the orientation program, predicting that it would help ease the sense of bewilderment most newcomers feel in their first weeks here.

“When I was starting out, it was a lot of hit and miss and fall down on your face and get back up,” said Assembly Speaker Antonio Villaraigosa, who recalls receiving “maybe two or three hours” of training after his election in 1994. “There’s something to be said for that, but we’re trying to make that transition smoother.”

Experts who track the Legislature said the term limits law passed by voters in 1990 makes orientation more vital than ever. Before term limits, training was accomplished mostly through mentoring by senior members.

With an unlimited number of years ahead of them, newcomers could afford that sort of slow, deliberate maturation.

Ignorance Is Not Bliss for Lawmakers

“But now, in the Assembly, they have only six years,” said Sherry Bebitch Jeffe, who teaches at Claremont Graduate University. “So any time that is lost figuring out rules or finding one’s way to the executive washroom is time that could have been spent doing the people’s business.”

Jeffe added that if legislators are ill-prepared, “then lobbyists, staff and the executive branch have more power. Good training is necessary to ensure the Legislature remains an equal player.”

Former Assemblyman Phil Isenberg (D-Sacramento) says orientation offers another payoff that is less obvious but perhaps the most important of all.

By sitting through training together, the new members--Democrats and Republicans alike--are getting to know one another, which, surprisingly, is not an easy thing to accomplish in Sacramento.

If people start the year on friendly terms, it could pay off in Assembly conduct and accomplishments later on.

“It’s hard,” Isenberg said, “to be uncivil to someone you’ve gotten to know.”

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