State Legislatures Magazine: March 1999
Editor's Note: These articles appeared in the March 1999 issue of NCSL's magazine, State Legislatures. To order copies or to subscribe, contact the marketing department at (303) 364-7700.
Will It Work?
Looking to the Past
The Noah Approach
Less Is More
Good Time for a Tie
Can Niceness Work?
Co-speakers in the Evergreen state are meeting the challenge of their 49-49 tie with ooperation, civility and creativity.
By David Ammons
The odd-looking gavel came down with a loud thwack. Clyde Ballard, a conservative Republican from a rural district, and Frank Chopp, a liberal Democrat from downtown Seattle, each wielded one of the gavel’s two handles. It was awkward and funny at the same time as they tried their first moment of power sharing. They broke out laughing.
The bit of theater on opening day of Washington’s 56th Legislature in January was an apt reminder of the challenges that face the state House of Representatives for the next two years.
They’re all tied up 49-49, after a surprising Democratic surge in November dropped the Republicans from a tidy 57-41 majority into the tie. It is only the second time in state history that the state has had a co-majority—or no majority, if you prefer—in the chamber. The pundits had correctly forecast that the state Senate would flip to the Democrats, but few had paid attention to the party’s possibilities in the House.
After the last absentees were counted in four tight races, the tie was confirmed—the political equivalent of flipping a coin and having it land on edge.
After four years of divided government—with a Democratic governor and Republican-dominated Legislature—the voters had unknowingly installed yet another type of divided government: a House divided against itself.
Washington’s House is the only legislative chamber in the country with a current tie. Virginia has a de facto tie because an independent votes with the 49 Republicans to force power-sharing with the 50 Democrats. The Virginia Senate also has a power-sharing arrangement until 2000 that stems from a tie in the 1995 election.
Although a tie mightily challenges legislators and intrigues analysts and reporters, it isn’t unique in American history. Every election cycle since 1984 has brought a tie to at least one legislative body. The potential is even more staggering: More than 60 percent of the nation’s legislative chambers, 28 Senates and 33 Houses, have an equal number of seats, meaning a tie is an ever-present possibility, particularly in political swing states.
In the ‘70s, 12 chambers had ties. The ‘80s had three ties, and this dwindling decade has seen ties in Alaska, Idaho, Michigan, Florida, Indiana, Nevada, Pennsylvania, Vermont, Virginia and Washington state, although all of them didn’t result in power-sharing agreements.
Washington’s tie is expected to last two years. Both parties already are gearing up for the 2000 elections.
WILL IT WORK?
That was the big question mark as Washington legislators launched into their millennium-straddling session in Olympia. The easy and obvious answer, said Governor Gary Locke and the co-majorities, was that it MUST work. Gridlock is not an option if the two parties are to succeed in achieving the key tasks of the session, rebuild public confidence in the institution and build new bridges toward bipartisanship, they said with all the golly-gee-whiz optimism of an old Mickey Rooney-Judy Garland movie.
But the real answer is much more complicated, of course. Despite all the pledges of bipartisan cooperation, both sides privately conceded that it could be a bumpy ride as they feel their way along.
"I expect we’ll have a big blowup, a real meltdown every now and then, and we’ll have to work our way out of it," said Representative Hans Dunshee, co-chair of the Finance Committee. He likens the tie to having "two mongrel dogs chained up together."
Representative Mark Schoesler, a farmer from the Palouse country in eastern Washington, says it’s like hitching up a bunch of new horses and expecting them to pull together smoothly.
The co-majority leader, Representative Lynn Kessler, uses another metaphor, comparing it to a shotgun wedding or a business relationship—you can make it work, or it can descend into bickering and long days of misery.
LOOKING TO THE PAST
The first thing co-speakers Chopp and Ballard did was to contact those who had lived through it before, 20 years ago, in the 1979 and 1980 sessions. The old co-speakers, co-chief clerks and Representative Helen Sommers, the lone current member who served through the tie, offered advice, remembrances and copies of the House rules that they had written from scratch.
The most frequently mentioned bit of advice: Keep talking when the going gets tough.
"That’s the bottom line. They have to keep talking to each other," said Vito Chiechi, the veteran Republican counselor who was co-chief clerk during the last tie. "They must never let even a little thing develop into a great big blowup. My advice was to stop the committee meeting or the floor session and go work things out. Shut the place down long enough to figure it out so it doesn’t poison the well. Government moves slowly; it doesn’t have to move fast."
Sommers, co-chair of the Appropriations Committee, said, "It requires people to negotiate and come to some sort of middle ground, or not much moves, or nothing moves."
She said the tie is a bigger adjustment for the party that lost a clear majority—the Democrats the last time and the Republicans this time.
A tie is inherently unnatural, she said. "We’re structured for an adversarial relationship. True, we surmount that on many occasions, but cooperation is not the basic structure. It’s adversarial. It requires a psychological adjustment."
Chopp, with only two two-year terms under his belt, and Ballard, a savvy 16-year veteran, pledged open lines of communications and spent weeks during the holidays talking about everything from parking and office space to the committee process and how to deal with points of order.
They turned to Kessler and her Republican counterpart, Barb Lisk, to help with the rules and the myriad details. The women are friends across the aisle and have worked closely on rural economic development, so the talks were cordial from the beginning.
The co-majorities largely agreed not to reinvent the wheel, but to use the procedures from the last tie as their template.
THE NOAH APPROACH
It’s been dubbed the Noah’s Ark approach: Two of everything. Shared power, rather than dividing up the spoils. In practical terms, this meant electing two speakers, speakers pro-tem, chief clerks, committee co-chairs and so on, with decisions made jointly.
Chopp and Ballard alternate taking a day at the rostrum. The other speaker sits at his desk on the floor, ready to join an instant huddle with attorneys should a point of order require a ruling. The floor leaders alternate in handling the day’s calendar.
Although the chief clerk position as the top administrator has developed into a largely nonpartisan job, it also is the top patronage position used by the majority party to reward staff loyalty and service. Although newspapers editorialized that only one clerk was needed, the two parties agreed to spend the extra $100,000 and have one appointed by each side of the aisle, as they did 20 years ago. The Republican-appointed incumbent, Tim Martin, was joined by Democrat Dean Foster, who served in the role during the last tie. Since many Democrats were new to the majority role—Republicans took over in the landslide year of 1994—Foster also has the informal role of counselor to the caucus.
Committee chairs alternate days with the gavel, using an agenda that both have agreed to. The rules give the chairs a little leeway in deciding how to schedule hearings, mark up bills and report them out. The Finance Committee co-chairs, Dunshee and Republican Brian Thomas, for instance, have decided they’ll report out only bills that have majority support in both parties.
Comportment is important, too. Thomas and Dunshee have a deal that they won’t pull any surprises or engage in potshots or efforts to embarrass the other. In the early weeks, the politeness has been exaggerated. "If you guys hug, I’m leaving," quipped state Representative Richard DeBolt, after one particularly effusive exchange between chairmen.
The equally divided Rules Committee then puts together agreed-to calendars for the floor.
Chopp and Ballard have pledged not to use illnesses or absences as an opening to grab control. Rules require a constitutional majority to pass legislation—49 plus one from the other side of the aisle, at the very least—but more importantly, playing games won’t work in the long run, Ballard said.
In the early going, there have been no major dustups, although the startup was considered slower than usual as the House felt its way along.
Lobbyists say it’s odd having to pitch ideas to both parties and look for agreement. "But it’s more bipartisan, and that’s a wonderful thing,’’ says Michael Temple, who lobbies for trial lawyers and other clients.
The House starts the budget this year, and that’s expected to be the acid test of whether the bipartisanship will work.
"Both parties have the right of veto is what it amounts to," says House Democratic Caucus Chair Bill Grant. "The winners are the people in the middle. The far right and the far left will not get a lot of attention."
Dunshee said the session probably will produce only "Cheez Whiz, with only really homogenized stuff getting passed," and the controversial or the partisan doomed to failure.
LESS IS MORE?
Life under the tie situation could be a lesser-government advocate’s dream, with only the absolutely essential pieces of legislation passing, some lawmakers said.
"I don’t think much of anything will happen," says Senator Darlene Fairley, echoing the predictions of rank-and-file members who don’t share the blue-sky public optimism of the leaders.
"Usually the House is considered the six-inch pipe, really shoveling out the stuff, and we in the Senate are considered the one-inch pipe, but I think that will be reversed this session," she said. "I think we will put out more bills this time" and the House will be the final arbiter.
"The agenda will be driven by the Senate and the governor," said Republican Secretary of State Ralph Munro. "Either side can stop things in the House, but they can’t really start anything. I don’t think the Republicans have figured out yet they’re not in control."
"I don’t see any major activist agenda happening," said Senator Lisa Brown, pointing out the many choke points that can so easily derail legislation.
That’s not all bad, she said, since it fits the public mood for small-bore changes—and for politicians who don’t bicker all the time. "They want us to work together on solutions, and they don’t want grandstanding."
After the House tie was declared, legislators quickly set about trying to lower expectations. In particular, Locke and the Democrats were feeling the pressure from their traditional interest groups—labor unions and other interests who want a bigger share of the budget pie—after the big election victories they helped to forge.
GOOD TIME FOR A TIE
Still, if the House had to have a tie, this was a good time. The top-drawer agenda items can be counted on one hand this session, a blessing if time-consuming meltdowns occur. Social issues, including abortion, aren’t expected even to get a hearing. The only absolute must-do items are the biennial operating and transportation budgets and work on saving the state’s trademark salmon runs.
As fortune would have it, the Legislature has at least three things going for it:
- A fat surplus, nearly $1 billion or about 5 percent of the biennial budget. The treasury enjoys stability due to an increasingly diversified state economy.
- The state’s share of the settlement with America’s tobacco industry. State Attorney General Christine Gregoire was the leading architect of the settlement and has joined with the governor and a number of legislators in requesting that Washington’s estimated share, $320 million, be used for health-related costs and for an endowment fund for smoking-cessation and tobacco education. Assuming the windfall materializes—the White House is talking about snatching back half the largesse—the Legislature will be able to bail out the state’s ailing health insurance program for the working poor using "found’’ money, rather than dipping into the General Fund.
- The state’s welfare reform plan, WorkFirst, has resulted in dramatic reductions in caseloads. Governor Locke says about $190 million can be shifted over to his favorite budget priority, education.
The Legislature operates under a voter-approved spending cap, and new programs are tough to fit under the lid. But despite that difficulty, lawmakers will be able to pass a massive budget, with increases for schools and other favored programs, and the biggest transportation spending increase in state history—all without raising taxes a dime.
Leaders say they’re reasonably optimistic about finishing on time in late April.
"There is no question we will have our differences," says Co-speaker Ballard. "But is there any excuse for having a train wreck and not getting this session concluded on time? No, I don’t think so.
"It is a tall order, but we will do what we can to make it work."
CAN NICENESS WORK?
Lawmakers say they’ll make a special effort to be on their best behavior. Says Lisk, "We have to keep everyone on track. You’re going to see a lot of people being nice to each other."
Leaders are focusing on forging strong personal relationships, nonconfrontational debate styles and good lines of communication.
Old hands say the last tie ultimately worked because of flexible leaders who were good friends across the aisle and were willing to keep talking into the night, if necessary, to iron out the kinks.
"I am going to do my utmost to restore more civility to the process and I want more cooperation between the parties and the houses—and a little more moderation in the way we handle things," says Senate Leader Snyder.
The Senate brought in a consultant to give what one senator called "niceness training," and House leaders say the forced joint decision making and shared power could help change the political climate. During opening speeches, several House members said Olympia should provide a counterpoint to the partisanship of the "other Washington."
Speaker Chopp touted what he called "the 3 Cs"—cooperation, civility and creativity—and in a symbolic gesture he called "hands across the aisle," had members cross the six-foot patch of carpet that separates the Democrats from the Republicans on the House floor. They shook hands, hugged and mugged for the cameras.
"I think it will force closer cooperation between the Democrats and Republicans and force the Legislature to finally get down to the issues that have nothing to do with politics," says the governor, himself an 11-year veteran of the House.
Says Locke, "We’re not ordering as many red (veto) pens."
David Ammons has covered the Washington Legislature for The Associated Press since 1971.
©1998, National Conference of State Legislatures. All rights reserved.
The television announcer kept talking about "Dick Chopp," the new House co-speaker in Olympia. The mistake could be forgiven: Frank Chopp, a relative newcomer, was hardly a household name.
When the Democratic House leader resigned last year to take an appointment as state appeals judge, Chopp, one of his lieutenants, decided to go for the leadership post. Few realized it then, but the caucus election and an unexpected Democratic trend in the November elections would propel him into the speaker’s chair. He’s the first speaker from Seattle in 38 years.
For Chopp, 45, it was an unusually rapid ascent: He’s only in his fifth year in office.
Chopp was raised in the Navy town of Bremerton, across Puget Sound from his eventual hometown of Seattle. He father worked in the shipyard and his mother was a school cook. When he headed off to the University of Washington, he lived in a cramped geodesic dome, later saying he had shown that housing could be both affordable and creative.
Chopp has spent most of his adult life advocating for the poor. For the past 16 years, he has been executive director of the Fremont Public Association, a hub of Seattle’s nonprofit social services network. He earned a reputation as an organizer and an effective lobbyist before coming to Olympia in 1995 as a legislator.
He quickly rose to power in his caucus, particularly among the urban liberals who have the edge. But Chopp says he doesn’t want to be typecast and that he will work with more conservative Democrats and with Republicans on compromise legislation that his liberal district might not prefer.
He has become a phrasemaker, calling for the "3 Cs" of cooperation, civility and cooperation, and talking about staying focused on "kitchen table" issues like schools and transportation.
"Frank didn’t climb over anyone," says Representative Dave Quall. "He empowers himself by empowering others."
©1998, National Conference of State Legislatures. All rights reserved.
As a kid, Clyde Ballard tramped around the West with his migrant-worker family. They followed the fruit crops, lived in shanties and scrounged for odd jobs. In one cabin, an apple box nailed over an icy window served as the refrigerator.
"I was an Arkie, and I took a lot of heat over that in school," he recalls.
But today, Ballard, 62, is a wealthy retired businessman who is at the top of the heap in Washington politics as co-speaker of the state House with 16 years under his belt. The suits are well-cut, and he owns three homes and drives a flashy sports car. But those days of poverty never are far from memory, he says. The all-American values of hard work, faith, self-respect and education aren’t just talk, he says, but truisms that work better than any government handout or regulation.
Ballard never went to college. Right out of Wenatchee High School, he married his sweetheart, Ruth, and went to work as a boxboy at a local grocery store. He moved up to manager of the store and eventually ran a small chain of groceries. He and his wife moonlighted as church janitors for a time.
The Ballards started a tiny ambulance company, taking only three days off in the first year. The business blossomed, becoming the first in the state to offer air ambulance service and branching into medical equipment, oxygen treatment, ambulance sales and more. Eventually he sold the company and retired to devote full time to politics.
He says his family and his Free Methodist faith are his underpinning.
During his first 12 years in the state House, he was in the minority, eventually moving through the chairs to become Republican leader. The GOP took over the House in 1994, in part by using Ballard’s "Contract with Washington State," and he was sworn in as speaker. He served four years in that role, seriously considered retiring last year, but re-upped for at least one more term. Now he’s in yet a third role—co-speaker.
Although he considers himself a religious conservative, he also has forged a reputation as a pragmatist who can work with Democrats to find common ground.
©1998, National Conference of State Legislatures. All rights reserved.
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