Who Let the Hot Dogs Out? Rhapsodic Lawmakers

Every crisis has its symbol.

Watergate had Deep Throat. The S&L; scandal had Charles Keating. O.J. did--or didn’t--have a bloody glove.

Here in the Capitol, the hot dog has become an unlikely metaphor for the state’s energy crisis.

In packed news conferences and heated Assembly floor debates, lawmakers from both parties have evoked images of the ordinary dog to help explain an extraordinary mess.

The genesis of this statehouse trend is difficult to determine. Assemblyman Fred Keeley appears to be the first to have tossed the hot dog into the political fire.

During a crucial Assembly discussion in January, the Boulder Creek Democrat recited the lyrics to a familiar Oscar Mayer jingle as a way of admitting that a controversial bill to have the state buy electricity to avoid blackouts was unpalatable, but necessary.

“It’s the dog kids love to bite,” said Keeley of the jingle. “Well, this is the bill people love to hate.”

A bizarre, partisan hot dog duel ensued. Assemblyman John Campbell (R-Irvine) responded by likening the unpredictable financial consequences of the Keeley legislation to biting recklessly into mystery meat.

“Before I bite into it I see what’s on the outside, but I can’t see the inside,” Campbell said. “If nobody can tell me what’s on the inside, it may be bitter, it may be bad, it may make me sick.”

Assemblywoman Carole Migden (D-San Francisco) angrily fired back, wanting to know why Campbell, a professed hot dog eater, was suddenly so critical of its unknown contents.

“It’s OK to eat a hot dog that’s full of animal bones and hair,” Migden said. “That’s a hot dog that’s OK with you, but this kind of hot dog isn’t.”

Yet it was Senate leader John Burton who made it the key ingredient in a Capitol catch phrase.

Burton described a plan to purchase the electrical power grid from the state’s private utilities as a fair swap, saying: “I give you a dollar, you give me a hot dog.”

The sound-bite quickly took on a life of its own. With the cost of the energy crisis growing faster than the price of ballpark franks, critics doubted the public’s appetite for a multibillion-dollar hot dog.

“Do you really want a hot dog? That is the question,” said Jan Smutny-Jones, executive director of the Independent Energy Producers, a trade group for power generators.

Not content to let a dog lie in its bun, lawmakers such as Assemblyman Bill Leonard (R-San Bernardino) kept the hot dog in public discourse.

When Pacific Gas & Electric Co. filed for bankruptcy protection, Leonard was one of a chorus of legislators who questioned the merits of purchasing the remaining portion of the power lines, calling it “not even half a hot dog.”

Added Assemblyman Bill Campbell (R-Villa Park): “It’s like paying Mercedes prices for a broken down hot dog cart.”

In recent weeks, the hot dog rhetoric appeared to have gone cold. Then Assemblyman Juan Vargas (D-San Diego) revived it.

After enduring hours of testimony on details of the deal to purchase Edison’s power lines, Vargas said his opinion of the dollar-equals-hot-dog deal had diminished.

“They’re trying to charge us for a hot dog,” Vargas said of the utility, “but it looks like we’re only going to be getting a wienie.”

Reliant Vice President John Stout also recently weighed in with his own hot dog analogy as he tried to explain why his company’s income had jumped so much during the crisis.

“If you have a hot dog stand and you go out and buy five to six more hot dog stands,” Stout said, referring to his company’s purchase of power plants, “then naturally you would expect the operating income to go up.”

Alas, the dog days of summer have yet to begin.