Almanac: At the Capitol

Not bad. Not bad at all.

That would be my rating for the Governor and the legislative session this year.

Of course, I do tend to be more forgiving than others might be about legislative performance and behavior, given I served in the legislature and have a personal fondness of the place that overlooks the occasional faux paux or partisan invective hurled in debate.

Moreover, I'm aware that we've been doing this legislative thing in Minnesota for nearly 150 years and have gotten pretty good at it. And, after all, one of the legendary heroes of the place, whose portrait graces a Senate committee room, stole a bill as his claim to fame, which kept the capital in St. Paul and would be a felony if done today (and probably was then). Having someone pulled over after a little too much partying after the session, as happened to the President of the Senate, pales in comparison, and at least reminds us these people are human, after all.

We knew going in that the DFL had a large and largely inexperienced majority in the House with an untested leader. We also knew going in that Tim Pawlenty had moderated his tone somewhat, but would still be the key player, as Governor, in the ultimate outcome. Pogemiller in the Senate would be the wild card.

All that, and they got through doing no real harm to anyone — and on time.

There was just enough "kumbaya" in the energy and smoking legislation to show that the DFL majorities and the Governor could work together. The flameout at the end of the session was largely the result of a lack of trust and the parties not being familiar enough with each other to know who meant what when. It helps to know and be able to read your opponent when playing poker. The Democrats saw a bluff where there was a flush.

It certainly was not a good thing to have the Governor's office copying and verifying all correspondence because they could trust the Democrats to tell the straight story about the negotiations. But ultimately, "lights on" bills did pass, and Tim Pawlenty has shown the Democrats beyond any doubt that he will, in fact, veto bills.

Reasonable caution prevailed in this potential political minefield. This frustrated many constituencies in the short term, who seem to be on the DFL majorities for their supposed lack of nerve and conviction. But we do our legislatures in two year doses in this State. And with the Governor and legislative majorities more used to each other, and the House facing an election, next year's short session will be a real firecracker fueled by DFLers that are obviously now starting to feel their oats.

Having lived in Italy for a couple of years, I have acquired a real love for Renaissance art, good Italian food, and espresso — God's gift to the somnolent universe.

I was indulging this latter passion with my DFL friend, Bob, in our weekly coffee session, when I noticed he seemed a bit down.

"What's up? Have you secretly gone decaf on me?"

"No, not at all. I'm just depressed about the way the legislative session's been going," he said. "I thought we were going to see some real increases in spending. It's been way overdue in education and health care. Your boy, Timmy, has now vetoed all the important bills and the Democrats in the legislature are starting to look as limp as wet tissue paper."

"Well, what were you expecting, Bob?" I asked.

"Compromise," he replied.

"Compromise? Why is it, Bob, that Democrats in this state always seem surprised when Republicans do what they say they are going to do? Pawlenty's been saying from Day One that he would veto tax increases. You can't really be surprised, can you? And a ten percent overall increase in spending isn't exactly going backwards."

"But he hasn't given us anything, Fritz. Not even a niblit. That's just not right."

"Oh come on, Bob. He's set up the next election for you perfectly. I can see it now: heartless-Republicans-parking-us-on-our-petards-on-the-unfixed-freeways vs. we-wonderful-Democrats-of-the-warm-hearts-and-moving-traffic. It'll be a classic. Besides, the verdict's still out on whether you'll be able to override the Governor on the godforsaken metro sales tax for buses."

"But they're losing their nerve down there, Fritz. I just want to go down there, shake them until they bleed from their noses and tell them to stand up and fight for that tax increase on the rich!!"

"Maybe not, Bob. Be patient. When I was in Italy, I remember hearing a story about a young, newly minted captain sent to the front to command a unit of elite alpine troops in the First World War. Ordered to advance, he noticed his men cowering at the bottom of their trench. Furious, he screamed at them: 'Avanti. Forward, men. Charge!!!' Nothing happened. Again, he screamed: 'Avanti. Forward, men. Charge!!' Nothing happened. Finally, from near the back of the group of alpini, he heard: 'Avanti. Forward Captain. Charge!!' Now enraged, pistol in hand, he climbed to the top of the trench himself — and was instantly killed.

"The moral of that cynical, old-world story, Bob, is that sometimes you need to trust the judgment of the 'boots on the ground,' however good your intentions. Your folks are telling you they've made their point and need to move on. A stalled session will only hurt the Democrats, you know."

"It's just not right, Fritz, it's just not right."

"Well, Bob, far be it from me to play the optimist for you here, but maybe they'll be able to talk a few suburban House Republicans into an override. We'll see."

For Timberwolves owner, Glenn Taylor, it was perfect training to be a pro-sports team owner.

No, not being the entrepreneur and shrewd businessman that created a billion-plus dollar company in Mankato, although that might have helped a bit.

Rather, it was serving all those years as the Republican minority leader in the Minnesota Senate.

Pro basketball, you see, is a game that never really seems to get started until the fourth quarter. So, too, the Minnesota legislature. And those of us in the cheap seats are finally going to get our money's worth.

This session started with a lot of brave talk about getting the people's business done early, but there is something about human nature and the Minnesota Legislature that manages to put the really hard stuff off for last and the rest of us to sleep by the middle of the session.

Seasoned legislative veterans know this. Former Congressman Bill Luther remains, in my mind, the cagiest practitioner of the legislative art I ever saw. He knew, as many do, that the best technique for getting a smaller piece of legislation passed is to keep its profile low, look to get late hearings when everyone is busy with so much else, and put it on the floor for a final vote when half the legislature is out in conference committees. Early session press conferences are for the newbies and the Republicans that aren't going to get much done anyway. He drove a lot of us nuts.

The huge, important spending and tax bills never arrive until very late in the game. There's just too much negotiating and too many items in them to get it done any sooner. Throw in a little partisan politics and things slow down even more. Zone defenses may be prohibited in pro ball, but stalls and zones are the name of the game at the legislature.

Finally, though, we're into the fourth quarter and everyone looks ready to play.

On the DFL team, House Speaker Kelleher is too new and her caucus too big and green (no pun intended) to be able to predict. Will she be the point guard leader in the negotiations, or that short guy that's only in there because the rules require five players? Hard to say, at this point.

Larry Pogemiller, the Senate majority leader, has always liked waiting until the last moment to really start to play. Problem is, his temperament and impatience make him a very inconsistent shooter and he regularly underestimates the abilities of those guarding him. You don't want to be down a bucket at the buzzer with him screaming for the ball in the corner. (He may be the point guard by default this game. It'll be interesting to see how he does.)

Tim Pawlenty, the Republican team leader, will be calling the shots. With his experience as a legislator — he really is a creature of the House — he'll have a very good sense of the DFL game plan and the dynamic of what they will be dealing with in their caucuses. More to the point, he knows from polls that vetoes of what is coming at him will not hurt him at all politically, unless the DFL actually severs a gas tax increase from the metro sales tax.

It's time to grab that beverage and hot dog and get settled in for the show. Glenn must have felt right at home when he saw his team play for the first time in the Target Center.

Anyone who has spent time driving on the various expressways in Europe — Italy and Germany, in particular — has had the experience: You're cruising along in the "speed lane" on the left at a breathtaking 85 or 90 miles per hour. In the rearview mirror, you catch a glance of a low gray streak with headlights gaining on you, maybe a quarter mile back. You look to the right to get into the next lane, signal, and, in what seems like less than a second, look back again to see a grey sedan thirty feet behind you, impatiently flashing its lights, waiting to get by. You get out of the way and a grey streak with a "Beamer" logo blasts by you and, in another moment, is off on the horizon — probably doing a hundred and thirty.

Here in Minnesota, where our left "passing" lane is regularly policed by what I call "SLDs" (Sanctimonious Liberal Democrats), who are going "just fast enough, thank you, and certainly faster than YOU should be going," this is the kind of driving experience reserved for TV commercials.

But in Minnesota politics, where most of us who have been, or are in, elected politics plod along in the political equivalent of the right lane, the population of those that have soared past us on the left lane, seemingly from out of nowhere, is a source of endless interest and, even, envy.

The most obvious example, of course, is Jesse Ventura. But Dave Durenberger, who went from a private practice to the United States Senate in the astonishing 1978 election would certainly qualify. So would a young Walter Mondale, in the early '60s, who went from a bright political appointee to the AG's office, to the Senate and beyond. ("Fritz who?")

More recently, Amy Klobuchar's meteoric rise, although preceded by local office, would seem to qualify.

The most obvious example, though, and the one on whom all eyes should be fixed, is Attorney General Lori Swanson. Laboring in obscurity under the shadows of her former boss, Mike Hatch, she learned the ins and outs of the office of Attorney General. It's a position that certainly has catapulted others upward: United States District Judge Jack Tunheim and Senator Norm Coleman come to mind. But the strange twists and turns of the last election, and her last minute decision to run, make her appearance on the scene seem especially sudden.

Attractive, very articulate and suburban, she brings to the plate a lot of assets without the usual burden of a political history in elective office with the attached opponents or enemies. Her experience makes her somewhat less likely to commit the kind of newby political mistakes that would cost serious consideration for other offices. And, most importantly, she has, in the Attorney General office, a platform to get her regularly before the public on "feel good" public policy issues and actions.

As a Republican who regularly scans the horizon for what may be coming at us soon, right now, Lori Swanson is looking like that Beamer in the mirror. The Democrats, at this, admittedly, very early stage, don't have anyone obvious yet to run for Governor beside her. A lot can happen between now and 2010 in the world of politics, but Republicans need to be very aware of where they are driving while she's on the road.