Chapter Three Transition to Sophmore With SideburnsDuring the first year at Sacramento there was a continual social swirl of nighttime entertainment--mostly dinners at expensive restaurants--with great food, gourmet style, all the liquor and fine wine you'd want and more than you should have. In the 1st few weeks alone there were dozens of parties for legislators and their wives. Although they grew tiring Janet and I went to most of them, if only because we didn't know which ones not to attend. As time went by, parties subsided and lobbyist largesse settled down to a free lunch schedule for legislators. There was at least one choice available on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesdays. Then on Thursday came the big tent. A lot of the lobbyists* got together and threw a joint bash at the top of the Cosmo Hotel just south of the Capitol. It was a nice big room with an open full bar and waitresses to get you drinks if you found it embarrassing to sidle up for yourself. Tables were set in white linen. You could sit wherever you wanted. Large plate glass windows looked to the north over the Capitol grounds, with its hundred-foot tall evergreens, and down to the east on (tree-lined) 13th street. I think we were just about as high as a church steeple which rose on the other side of the street. . .Nectar and Am- ________________ *"Lobbyists": persons found in the lobbies of the great buildings, who are hired to haunt these hallways by: big business entities such as Bank of America, small limited purpose organizations like Calif. Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, labor organizations, etc. In the '70's there were some 500 registered "Legislative Advocates" in Sac., seeking to influence the decisions of 120 legislators. brosia in a setting for the Gods, so to speak. There was an array of the choicest food from which to choose--shrimp, crab, lobster, whole peeled avocadoes, hot roasts with uniformed attendants ready to slice you any piece you wanted thick or thin, and of course desserts, from ordinary pies and cakes, to Chef's specialties smothered in whipped cream. This weekly feast was called "Moose Milk". When I first heard the name, I was reminded of a story: Three hunters out in the wilds took turns doing the cooking, and established the rule that one would continue to cook until one of the others complained, at which time the complainer would have to take over. The first hunter had done so well he decided he should provoke complaint to get rid of the job, so he made a casserole from moose excrement. As they all leaned over their dishes to eat that night, one of his companions got a whiff of what he was about to eat and said, "Moose shit!...But Good." This casserole obviously was missing from the menu at the top of the Cosmo. I have no historically authentic information as to the reason for the Thursday lunch being named "Moose Milk", and no insightful or particularly imaginative guesses as to the real meaning of the name...maybe the lawmakers were to be seen as big moose, lubricating their lips in the richest milk, or maybe the lobbyists were the big people feeding milk to the suckling legislators. Anyway, more important to me than Moose- milk was its derivative diminutive counterpart, "Micemilk", organized by Assemblyman John Burton. "Micemilk", held in any available small conference room in the Capitol building on on Tuesdays at noon, was open to all Assembly Democrats and was usually attended by eager beavers desirous of trying out new ideas, swapping stories, and learning about hard questions of policy. Usual regular attendees amongst the freshmen were Vasconcellos, Sieroty, and myself. Older members in regular attendance were Burton, Brown, and Crown. "Micemilk" was somewhere in between a social event and a strategy session. The chow consisted of bread, mayonnaise, mustard, cold cuts, peanut butter, velveeta or plain squares of american cheese, milk, soft drinks, and coffee.* Anyone attending paid ________________ *At this very moment there sits in Janet's and my garage a plugged-in small "executive refrigerator" which is a survivor of Micemilk. John Burton bought it new in 1967 (33 years ago), when M.M. started, his purpose being to keep our lunch supplies cold from week to week between Micemilks. In 1974 John was elected to Congress in a special election and Micemilk officially ended. It had lost its zap a year or so before as most of its regular attendees got too busy to go every week. Anyway John gave the refrigerator to me when he left. I used it for the rest of my legislative career and gave it to my daughter Jill when I left Sacramento. She was an attorney for the State Water Board, and so it took up residence in a corner of her office. Finally, when she became the lawyer member of the Water Board, she gave the refrigerator back to me and I used it in San Francisco at my job on the Worker's Compensation Appeals Board sharing it with Bob Burton, John's younger brother, who was also a board member. I told Bob at some point I thought maybe it was trying to find its way back to John. "What goes around comes around" was his comment. When I left the job, Bob was leaving too, or it would've come around to him. So, I took it home to Napa and have been using it ever since as an extra overflow refrigerator. 1$ for lunch. I went regularly and at times was amused or dis- appointed by its occasional deterioration into male chauvenism, but as a beginner I learned a lot there about the mechanics of pushing bills, and it was also a great place to bring forth a brainchild. Fully developed ideas seldom appeared at "Micemilk", but a lot of eventually successful ones received their baptismal certificates there and grew. The social whirl was a spinoff from the legislative merry- go-round, financed and inspired mostly by the lobbyists, who wanted to make friends with us, figuring if we were on a social basis it'd be harder for us to turn them down when they wanted our vote on an issue dear to their company. Jess Unruh is credited with a saying regarding lobbyists: "If you can't eat their food, drink their booze, sleep with their women, and vote against them, you don't belong here."* Anyway lobbyist parties continued on and off throughout the first year and after that they tapered off. Self-preservation told us to say no some of the time. Also as the lobbyists got to know us they were more selective in their invitations--the oil companies didn't want to put money into 'dry hole legislators', and agri-business interests preferred to provide nutrients for those who delivered paydirt. One time during my first term I was invited to a lunch at the Senator Hotel, given by Monroe Butler, lobbyist for Super- ________________ *"Politics is the art of Taking Credit"--another Unruhism. ior Oil Company. As I walked into the upstairs private dining room, the Host Lobbyist was there, along with a couple of Republican Assemblyman colleagues in my 'freshman class'. I joined them in a drink, probably either a gin or a bourbon on the rocks, either of them being my usual pleasure. As time went by other Freshman Assemblymen trickled in. I began to feel uncomfortable, looking around for one of my Democratic colleagues to show up--the Republicans were telling stories and talking about parties which I hadn't been to--and they were all very friendly with our host, whom I barely knew. By the time the room was filled, I still hadn't spotted any of my goodguy friendly Democrats, and I wondered if I'd been invited by mistake. I wished I wasn't there but didn't know how to leave without being obvious about it so I stuck it out. When we sat down to lunch, there were sixteen of us, all Freshman Assemblymen and all except one, Republican. The main course was an exotic shellfish casserole--I detest all shellfsh. I ate as little of it as I could get away with and still be polite. I had a lot of bread and several glasses of wine. I wondered if I was inhibiting the conversation, and half expected to be suddenly challenged from across the table, "Dunlap! What are YOU doing here??!" When a couple of the guests excused themselves on account of early committee hearings, I followed suit. I hadn't wanted to be the very first to leave. I had been very uncomfortable--a little like a bad dream. Later that afternoon my secretary got a call from Monroe Butler apologizing for his mistake and promising he'd make it up to me someday with an invitation to a real party. Apparently the lunch had been given for all the freshman Republican Assemblymen and I was mistakenly included, maybe because Monroe Butler had known my uncle, Republican Senator Coombs (of whom he spoke when we initially said hello), and associated me with him. It was a lousy stupid experience which I carried off as gracefully as anybody could have. As I think about it now I feel a mild pleasure thinking that my presence probably dampened the Republican fun. If so, that was the only good thing about it. By the day we first arrived at the Capitol, the 'leadership' had, as I mentioned before, assigned us our seats on the floor of the Assembly. My assigned seatmate, Ernie Mobley, was a Republican niceguy legislator from Sanger, a small city in Fresno County. I don't know why we were put together; was I supposed to influence him or he me? --maybe they just figured one cow county deserves another. The big bosses also assigned us our Capitol offices, and when I chose my secretary I chose her from a pool hired and supervised by the leadership. Dorothy Loviach had been a secretary for another Assemblyman who'd gone on to the senate, and hadn't taken her with him. During the 'second week of classes', when Speaker Unruh's chief flunky came in to interview me for permanent office selection, I said I didn't care which one I got, but said I wanted a window with an outside view--some offices had windows which looked across an interior light well into the windows of other offices. He looked at me and made a mark on the papers he carried and in a curt, pompous way said, "Request for view noted." I ignored his authoritarian manner. A couple of months later I was to receive a far more acid comment from his boss, Jess Unruh. Following the interview, Jess's CAO (Chief Administrative Officer) took his papers upstairs and I didn't think any more about it until the following Friday when I was in my Napa district office and I received a frantic phonecall from Dorothy, "Mr. Dunlap," she said, "we've been assigned and are being moved to a sixth floor office in between the men's restroom and the cafeteria and it'll smell of soup every day at noon and what're you going to do about it?" "I don't know what I can do about it," I said at first. She was adamant that I call the CAO. Her dignity and status were threatened. I didn't want to call him but was afraid she might think I didn't have any guts if I didn't. So I thought about it for a minute and realized it was something I had to do to obtain and/or maintain her respect. I had to also consider that she very likely had a better awareness than I did of the importance of office location and amenities to the image and success of a legislator, particularly a freshman. I didn't want to get stuck with an office known to all for its undesirability, like as if some of it would rub off on me. In any event, I called him, saying that I guessed I'd been too accomodating, and that the sixth floor soup kitchen annex wouldn't do for the fifth assembly district, and that I didn't demand the Taj Mahal, but would he please check into finding me another spot. Later that day Dorothy called back to advise me of our 'victory'. The new office was located in what for her was a prestigous position--on the second floor between two of the Speaker's chief henchmen. It gave her a chance to be close to the secretarial staff of two big shots. The office turned out to be too damn small, but it was still bigger than any of my law offices had been. However, when the Solano County Board of Supervisors visited me we had to borrow the fifth visitor's chair. When interviewed by the Sacramento Bee as a freshman legislator, I described my office as a 'small house on King's Row'.(ME MEETING GOVERNOR PAT BROWN CIRCA 1966) Dorothy Loviach was an excellent capitol secretary for a beginner like me. She knew the ropes and bolstered my self- confidence. In April of '67 I got a challenging phonecall from a superior court judge (who later happened to become president of the Sierra Club and as such nationally known). Ray was calling because he and the Sierra Club opposed a bill which would've facilitated development of the Mineral King area (near Sequoia National Park in Tulare County) by Disney Enterprises. Disney wasn't going to put in a 'Mountain World' with rubber rock climbing--just an ordinary ski resort with all the appurtenant extravagances. The judge wanted personal interviews with everybody on the committee that was going to hear the bill. Superior Court Judges were Jesus Christ to lawyers and I was a lawyer and also in this case Ray and I agreed 100 percent on protection of the High Sierras from the unnecessary incursion of auto traffic. So I wanted to help him, and when I told Dorothy about it she took the bull by the horns and had all the interviews set up for him at his convenience within the next two days. I wouldn't have had the nerve or the knowhow to accomplish this myself then, and she just took it as a matter of course. Ray called me on the phone a little later to say "thanks for setting up the appointments, I think I put a dent in it." Soon after this, we killed the bill in committee. It was a major coup for a beginner like me. Dorothy, by her approach to the problem had given me some understanding of the power of my office. Later, I got to feeling more confident of myself and had less need for a guardian, and Dorothy got a better paying job as a committee secretary. In the first few weeks of my first term in 1967, the leadership did a perfunctory job of telling the freshmen legislators about the tools of the trade. (When I say 'leadership', I mean the Assembly power structure, which centers around the Speaker). Even to me it was obvious that they were more interested in telling us about our perqs (priviledges of office) than in telling us how to do our job. The leadership had a lot of power and wanted to keep it, so they tried to busy our heads with what kind of keen cars we got and all the other goodies spread out on the table. There were 34 new members, as I said, out of a total of 80. I guess those in charge felt threatened. Not only had the Democratic majority been decreased, but also, a lot of the new Democrats owed nothing to the Speaker. In my case, he backed one of my opponents in the primary. ........ The glamour and mechanics of the legislature are like the glitter and mechanism of a merry-go-round--to some extent I was dazzled, as they intended me to be, by the perqs, by the trappings, by the music and the flashing lights--but I got to know how things worked and how to work some of them myself after a while. You wise up to the fact that you're on a merry-go-round, but you don't do it right away. And some of the changes you set out to make are best begun blindly anyway (while others seem to require that you become All-Seeing). I didn't work great changes in society in the time I was in office. In a relatively short time I abandoned the horse that went in all directions and traded it in on a treadmill (i.e. one-man merry-go-round) which I learned to operate. It didn't (seem to) take great skill, just constant activity. The more active I got, the more the treadmill responded and kept me moving. I was trying to hook it up to State Government--it was possible to move it--a little. Sometimes I was just spinning wheels. Some of the time when you're off the treadmill you look back and think things you thought were vitally important really weren't--and some of the time when you thought you were getting something done you might as well have been providing power for the 'Capitol Carousel': as if a belt linked your treadmill to a big merry-go-round whirring around the hub of the Capitol Dome, with legislators hopping on and off, riding marble statues instead of horses, and looking and acting as pleased with themselves as seven year old children, smiling, sucking lollipops, grabbing for gold rings. And in the center of the Dome (cathedral-like, four stories high) playing a discordant duet on the Capitol Carousel Calliope, are 'Big Daddy' Jess Unruh, and a tall slender man named Ronald Reagan. Jess Unruh had been Speaker of the Assembly since 1962, Ways and Means Chairman before that, and was still going strong when I arrived at Sacramento. Because California Democrats never have been well organized in the sense of following a party line, he wasn't 'Boss' of the party in California. But he was as near to it as anyone at the State Capitol could have been. His rival for power on the Democratic side had been Governor Pat Brown, who then was defeated by Ronald Reagan, (soon to become Unruh's current rival for power.) Being in the state legislature isn't like being President or a U.S. Senator, but I was one of 120 policy makers in the largest (population-wise that is) state of the United States and I had a vote and in time developed a voice which carried some weight, and important things did happen in my years in Sacramento. Our combined treadmills did effect some changes. Progressive legislators (90% Democrats) had ideas and ideals and they surfaced in legal changes. We started to protect the earth from human exploitation and women from laws developed by a male dominated society. We provided better educational opportunities for those who didn't fit stereotype molds including those raised in non-English speaking homes and the physically handicapped. We put the word "joy" in the education code. I did this one myself, authoring an "alternative education" bill, which passed the legislature two years in a row but was vetoed both years by Governor Reagan. Finally, when it passed a third time, it was signed by Governor Jerry Brown (in 1975). Just using the word joy in the education code doesn't create joy in education, of course. Its presence in the code merely created opportunity for innovative teachers.
(ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT MIKE GAGE IS ON THE LEFT IN THIS PICTURE)
(SECOND FROM THE RIGHT IS ASSEMBLYMAN JOHN VASCONCELLOS) The bill was originally prepared by a student intern I had, a smart kid from Davis named Jonathan...Something. His original version was more flambuoyant than it ended up being, still, the bill started with a preface about how students marched into class to the click of a clock, and sat in rows, and learned formulae by rote, and generally did things in a way which tended to stifle personal initiative, imagination, and curiosity. The key language in the Alternative Schools Bill stressed providing opportunity for students to develop responsibility and assume initiative, and to experience joy in the process of education. The word "joy" was intended to be a shocker in the bill--it's not normally the kind of thing that goes into an education bill--normally in the educational curriculum you have reading, writing, math, history, and the wildest thing might be ...literature. A lot of members of the board of education didn't like our bill and considered it treading on their territory. They were tradition-bound, and though traditional subject-matter might incidentally help students develop initiative, curiosity, etc, the primary objective was to drill factual information and skills into students--they didn't necessarily want them feeling joy or developing too much curiosity--that might be threatening to them. Recognizing that there is room for "Joy" in the educational experience, and that the best learning take place when the student learns solely because he/she wants to learn, was our objective. More on "Progressive Legislation in the 1970's": We also improved laws preventing unfair discrimination. Blacks, Chicanos, women, physically handicapped and other people discriminated against now have better legal rights when it comes to getting service in restaurants and supermarkets, finding places to live, and getting jobs. As an example of this, in my first year in the Assembly, Verna Canson, lobbyist for the NAACP. called on me at my Capitol office asking me to carry a bill to enlarge the scope of the California Fair Employment Practices Act, which prevented discrimination in employment based on race, color, or creed. I told her I would and I sent her rough draft of the bill to Legislative Counsel (a group of lawyers hired to work for the legislature) and when the final draft was ready, I introduced it on the floor. I assumed Verna had contacted me because she learned of my concern for racial justice through local NAACP leaders in Vallejo. As originally adopted, the Fair Employment Practices law did not apply to Nonprofit Corporations, which remained free to discriminate based on race, regardless of employment qualifications. The new bill corrected that. I was happy to have a chance to work on it. There was some opposition when the bill was heard in committee, but I got support from more than a majority (necessary to refer the bill to the floor of the Assembly). It was the first really controversial bill I debated and handled on the Assembly floor. I was green and scared but quite deter- mined. The debate went okay, but after the close of all arguments, with time for further debate terminated and the initial vote taken, I had only 40 aye votes, and a majority of 41 was necessary for passing. Mild panic set in; I didn't know what to do. Then Assemblyman Willie Brown came over to my desk. Willie told me that Republican Paul Priolo would vote for my bill if I were to first publically on record state that I would amend it in the Senate in a minor way which would not weaken the purpose of the bill. Although I agreed with the substance of the amendment, I was at a loss as to how to put my position publically on record. The time for all debate had closed. Willie said I should seek recognition on the basis of "Point of Information" and ask the Speaker when it would be appropriate for me to tell Mr. Priolo that I would place his amendment in the bill in the Senate. My Lawyer-like limits bothered me and I told Willie I couldn't knowingly break the rules. Willie said, "It's true you will be skirting the rules, but you have to do it, it's the only way." Faced with this advice from a veteran I respected and admired, I couldn't do anything but try it. I got recognition and did what Willie said. The Speaker Pro Tem, Carlos Bee, remonstrated me saying, "Mr. Dunlap, you're out of order." I apologized, Mr. Priolo changed his vote to Aye, and the bill passed the Assembly. In the Senate, with the amendment in it, the bill was still defeated in the government efficiency committee. The chairman told me that the Elk's club in Fresno (Elk's is a Nonprofit organization) liked to employ all Chinese waiters in their diningroom. In later years, another legislator succeeded with my 1967 bill.
That same day, one of the Republican Assemblymen who had voted against the bill came up to me and asked, "How come you were carrying a bill like that?" He meant, you're not black, why should you be involved for them. I had previously thought him to be a nice friendly guy; obviously he was infected with racism. He wasn't going to publically try to put blacks or other minority races down, but he sure wasn't on the side of reform. That's a little preachy, but it touches on a principle that's important. I didn't then, and don't now, look on creating real equal opportunity as just a benefit to a discriminated- against group, but rather as a benefit to all our society. Discrimination in housing, education, and employment is wrong, and when something is wrong, the whole structure suffers, not just those intimately affected. I came to know a lot about issues and images, bureaucrats and lobbyists, political power-brokers, candor, charisma, and cartoons. I discovered also that it was hard to do justice to my job as a politician and to take good care of my family. I did start some important changes, and I was about the most progressive legislator who could have served from my area. And, I had fun doing it--not fun and games type fun--but something more satisfying, bringing with it moments of exultation. However, for the most part during my first two years I wasn't charting a course, I was just out there in the storm reacting to external events--just surviving. Some of the time I thought I was doing when I was really just learning. But with two years experience, I knew the ropes; I could be efficient, and more aggressive. I felt like a different person; of course, I wasn't--but, because my image of myself was better, I was better, and because I was better, my image of myself was better, and this couplet of actuality and image went on together, feeding on each other, finally disappearing in a spiral in the high heavens. I really was riding high--through the clouds, on my treadmill--I didn't look then, but later I did, and noticed it was a long way down.
I began my second term in the Assembly 'sporting long sideburns', to borrow a phrase coined by the Napa Register, my news nemesis. (The Register was the only daily newspaper published in Napa County.) They photographed Janet and me during the swearing-in ceremony on the floor of the house. This was January of 1969, and the sideburns weren't the only change that'd taken place. I'd dropped my crewcut and I didn't look or act (so I thought anyway) like a smalltown lawyer anymore. Napa, at this time, was changing too, from an Ag community or 'cow county', to a more swanky suburbia/tourist attraction. As the second term started, I reached the height of my involvement with perqs, or the trappings of office, epitomized by my lease car, an expensive Thunderbird with everything on it, including a power sunroof. I remember on one occasion driving south on Interstate 5 at a speed of 115 miles per hour, with my teenage son David looking out the back window for the Calfornia Highway Patrol. The car had safety tires and all the power in the world, and it was a very straight road, but I wouldn't do it today, I'd just be late for that meeting in Fresno, and set a better example for my son. All legislators get a new state-financed car every two years. In '69 the permitted rental allowance was 200 dollars a month; you could pay more yourself and get anything you wanted. Some went first class with Cadillacs and Lincolns. I thought my Thunderbird was hot stuff, but it only cost me 37 dollars a month, and the state credit card absorbed the cost of gas and repairs to boot. It was really nice to have a luxurious car without having to pay through the nose for it. Janet and I would never have spent our own money for it. Our cars were intended for some personal use--to justify this they made us pay 10 percent of the lease price even if we were at the minimum. Once, when my son's jeep broke down 300 miles from home, we rented a towbar and drove down to get it in my state car, gas paid for by the people. At least I didn't soak them for the towbar. Another time I'd driven to the Capitol from Napa with our female St. Bernard, Little Bit, in the back seat of the car. From there I sent the dog on, with the Assembly Sergeant-at- Arms in my place as chauffeur, and the dog sitting up in the back. Mrs. Richbitch was on her way to a kennel in Carmichael to be bred. It's amazing how easily I got into the habit of having other people do things for me--I mean the chauffeuring, not the breeding. On one occasion when I was in the Senate a vigilante constituent thought he had caught me red-handed misusing my state vehicle. He also thought he had the evidence to prove it, and sent it to the Governor's office. He had taken a couple of pictures of my younger son Peter on his egg route delivering eggs in what he thought to be my state car. Marc Poche, Governor Brown's legislative secretary, came to see me evidencing some concern. The pictures were of Peter, and he was delivering eggs, but not in my state vehicle. Peter was using Janet's and my same old Dodge Dart, which did have senate licence plates, but the car was ours and even the auto licence itself was paid for by Janet and me. Legislators may have an extra legislative plate for their own persnal car if they want, and I had chosen to have one. Photographs of the car, and reproduction of the correspondence illustrating my constituent's indignation and our somewhat playful responses, follow.
Perhaps partially because of this incident I finally chose anonymity over vanity and I decided it would be better not to have legislative plates on our Dart. I changed to regular plates, and kept the S4s plate as a souvenir. The final fate of S4s is interesting. After I had left the legislature I received a letter from a Doctor in a midwestern state. His hobby was collecting unusual license plates and he was apparently writing all former legislators in California to see if they had any spare plates they would part with for a reasonable sum. My S4s plate was occupying a relatively obscure place on my workbench in our garage so I wrote him saying I'd be glad to send it to him for the cost of mailing. He was very pleased and immediatly sent me his check for $7.50, which more than covered the cost of sending it to him. So S4s has gone from the Dart and the egg route to my workbench to a Doctor's tack board or whatever, in, I think, St. Paul, Minnesota. Even those who are part of government can't seem to break the habit of trying to get the best of the system. This is what I did a little with my state car. We also had telephone credit cards and I used mine occasionally for family purposes. I wish I could say I hadn't abused any legislative privilege, but obviously I did. Pencils came home with me, also full boxes of felt-tip pens and postage stamps--all this amounted to darn little, but I wish I hadn't allowed myself to take advantage of the situation. If you've spent too much of your life scrounging for a dollar, it's hard not to be greedy. At the time we used to justify rewarding ourselves because we knew we were underpaid and most of us could've made a lot more money out in the private sector.* This was a phoney-baloney rationalization. Even those who were rich and didn't need to, tried to beat the system. I wasn't amassing a fortune during these years--I had property--two acres and a house--and maybe 5,000 dollars in a savings account--but I was still paying for what I 'owned', and we were often short of cash, so I probably felt like every five dollars I saved on gas, phone bills, or postage, brought me a little closer to total control over my life. ...... In the first two years at the Capitol I'd gotten to know most of the players (as I've said). The stars were Unruh, Reagan, Monagan**, Crown***, and Willie Brown.**** Vasconcellos ________________ *As a begining State Assemblyman in 1966 I made a little over $16,000 a year. As an attorney the prior year I had earned about $40,000. Some attorneys of course made a lot more than that and my income had been increasing. However, becoming a legislator was a matter of choice, and it was personally if not financially more rewarding. **Robert Monagan: Assembly Republican minority leader 1966-68, Speaker of the Assembly 1969-70. Joined Nixon Administration in 1971-72, to later return to California as Lobbyist for Calif. Manufacturers Assoc. ***Bob Crown: Chairman of Ways and Means Committee. Died 1970. Killed while jogging, by a motorist in a crosswalk. ****Willie Brown: Flambuoyant San Francisco Assemblyman. Chairman Ways and Means 1971-74. Speaker of the Assembly 1982- -1996. Mayor of San Francisco presently. At one time, a Ridiculer of 'Rambler' owners. and Sieroty were a couple of the young hopefuls. (Elected along with me in '66, they became my closest allies at the Capitol.) There were good guys and bad guys. Some I really liked, some I was at odds with, a few I held a little in awe. There were cocky guys who acted like they knew it all, and wanted you to think just that--some of them I found out actually knew damn little. Being able to see this helped me realize I needn't be ashamed by my own knowledge or ability. One thing I didn't learn in my first two years was how to handle power bosses such as Jess Unruh. Jess was a Democrat--one of the good guys in most of what he stood for politically--but his methods were those of a power monger. I feared him, I admired him, but didn't like him--and I imagine he could've cared less. It would be impossible to write a story about California politics in the 60's without some reference to Jess Unruh. My perception of him is admittedly critical--tinged with begrudging admiration. I hasten to say that I did not know him well nor personally. In fairness to him I should say there may have been a warm Jess Unruh, unrevealed to me. A method power manipulators use is to belittle or make fun of a person and avoid having to deal with their idea--this is exactly what Unruh did to me on one occasion when, at a Democratic caucus* (circa 1967), I came forth with what I ________________ *private meeting of Democrats in the Assembly (no set times).thought was a progressive and practical idea--Jess said, "John, you've already gotten your head run over once with a lawnmower" (I had a very short haircut), "maybe you'd better hold back on that one." He might as well have said you're going to get yourself clipped again, you goddamn fool. Instead of responding to the idea he called attention to my haircut*-- this was brilliant, and manipulative; humorous, but it put me down. He smothered my idea without taking it on at all. Anybody who thought I had a good idea wouldn't be about to risk speaking up for it at that point. I felt that Unruh had belittled me personally, and he had. He 'walked on my ego'--he 'trod the bulk of his large frame on my small ego.' A few years prior to this time Unruh had been grossly obese and had acquired the name Big Daddy. Jess was a former U.S.C. football player and he was not small. Even after he lost the weight he kept the name Big Daddy. I remember him presiding over an Assembly Democratic Caucus just before the budget vote in '67. He needed to be sure he had a two-thirds vote for the budget, and Jess would turn from one to another like an orchestra leader without a baton, and say, "You can vote for this budget--I want you to." A brave soul here and there stood up to him and refused. At this point my ear itched ________________ *As I said, I started my time at the Capitol with the same crewcut I'd had for 17 years practicing law and only at the end of my first year did I let my hair grow to a normal length. Sideburns followed re-election.something awful--I was afraid to reach up and scratch it or Jess would think I was volunteering to vote for his budget. I didn't. He didn't ever quite get to me. I would have said no, and it would have been very embarrassing and hard, and I'm certainly glad I didn't have to. In 1967 the powers of the Speaker included the authority to decide what committees every member would serve on. I filled out a form giving Education as my first choice and stating what I thought were excellent qualifications. Two of my three years in the Army Air Corps in World War Two were spent as an aerial gunnery instructor and I had been an elected school trustee for eleven years. All members had interviews about committee appointments with the Speaker. When it came time for mine Jess opened up point blank, "John, I'm not sure I can appoint you to the Ed committee. There are 34 new members and half of you want to be on it." I felt some strong response was immediatly necessary and so off the top of my head I said, "I've had more vicarious experience with the whole of the state education system than any of the rest of them." I went on to explain that my daughter Jill was a freshman at U.C. Santa Barbara, my son David was a junior in high school, Peter was in fourth grade, and Jane was in kindergarten. Unruh probably grunted "Well, maybe." Anyway, when the committee lists were published ten days later I'd made it.A few years later Jess asked me to fix a speeding ticket for his son, that is, to get a judge in my district to dismiss the charge. An Assemblyman can't just go out and stop the legal process and save people from tickets whenever he wants, but he can sometimes. I called the Vallejo judge, who said he'd do it if I thought it'd help me with Unruh. This was the only time in twelve years I asked for what I considered an unfair political favor, and as I look back on it I probably would have impressed Jess more if I'd just said, "I don't fix tickets." Ordinarily, the California Highway Patrol didn't give legislators speeding tickets (this priviledge didn't extend to members of their families). The theory of it was that a legislator on state business often had to get from place to place rapidly--sort of an unofficial legislative immunity existed. So, when the road was clear and I was in a hurry, I'd go 70, 80, 85 miles per hour. You might see three or four legislators' cars on Interstate 80 on Monday morning bombing from the bay area to the Capitol. Unruh was born one day before me, just my age, but I never felt his equal. He was a power seeker and at this time and this place this was the name of the game. I saw power seeking, as an end in itself, as wrong. You need power, it's true, but obtaining power 'for its own sake', even in lofty legislative halls, didn't seem to me any more of a worthy accomplishment than becoming a good weight lifter or tiddly winks champion. The abstract idea of "power" came up once when I was participating in a 'Great Books' discussion course, in the early 50's. I remember being unable to swallow Nietzche's 'Philosophy of the Crownflower'. The Crownflower works its way in and around all its companion vegetation in the jungle so it can climb to the top and bask in the open sun (a demonstration supposedly of the pure impulse to possess power.) Nietzche implied man was compelled to do the same, stepping on and otherwise using his fellow man to climb to the top . I share this compulsion, to a degree, but I'm not sure what good it does me, and its universal application obviously would adopt the law of the jungle for ....mankind, legislators, everyone. There are also other more worthwhile natural human impulses or instincts--including Mothering/Fathering, the will to sacrifice or just share; to cooperate or innovate. Great satisfaction comes from puzzle and problem solving; from discovering useful things. When Robert Kennedy ran for president in 1968 and won the California primary against Senator Gene McCarthy, Jess Unruh had been Kennedy's California Campaign Chairman. He had also been a strong supporter of President John Kennedy and close to the Kennedy family. Unruh was usually unemotional; however, following Robert Kennedy's assassination election night, Jess let his emotions get ahead of him. The L.A. County Coroner, in applying the law to his post mortem duties, was creating a situation hard for the Kennedy family and inconsistent with ordinary funeral plans. Jess tried to jam through some sort of emergency bill or procedure for the family's benefit. He was humanely motivated. Usually he sat back in his offices behind the Speaker's platform, and pulled strings like manipulating puppets, but not this time. He was out on the floor personally joining in debate and cajoling legislators for votes, saying things like 'we've got to protect RFK's body from that butcher.' I don't remember the details nor the end result. I do remember it as the only time I ever saw him lose his cool and display his humanity. Despite my criticisms, I recognized that Unruh was one of the good guys. He wanted to be on top and stay there, but most of the time when he was there he used his power for what both he and I thought was the common good (unlike the Crownflower. which simply basks and reaches higher). Number One on my bad guy list was Governor Ronald Reagan. Reagan was a manipulator, but of a different breed from Unruh. Appearing on the scene at a time when television was becoming the stage for politics, he appealed to the masses over the boob tube, while Unruh, less good looking, and less able to smile although far more knowledgeable and far more committed to controlling government's role in society, worked behind the scenes in the halls of the legislature. Unruh's wealth of knowledge was coupled with a mind like the proverbial steel trap--he was admired, however, more than he was liked. Reagan could never be said to have a mind like a steel trap, but he was clever, and was probably liked more than he was admired. He projected "authenticity" and was able to create an impression of disarming honesty. He could appear to be "a nice guy who could laugh at himself". His retort to "YOU MEAN YOU WANT TO ELECT AN ACTOR AS PRESIDENT!!??" was, "I don't see how you can be President if you're NOT an actor." For Reagan the Act was the objective, rather than some law or political event. The Performance--looking good and being loved--was everything. Reagan, as president, showed the same tendency--at a cabinet meeting he might ask a trusted aide, 'What am I supposed to say?', rather than 'What are we trying to accomplish?' Reagan had a little of the religous zeal, the kind that would lead you to want to acquire power and use it--for the glory of God or the USA--but it was his God, or his USA, not a dynamic growing body politic. Reagan's strength lay in the fact that he saw things simply, and presented them to the public in an even simpler, though often deceptive, form. "Government by Press Release" was a term some of us used to describe Reagan's bill shenanigans. We'd hear a speech or see a press release about legislation being introduced to accomplish this that and the other thing (intended to "solve" a particular problem) and we'd go look for the legislation and we'd find that it either wasn't there, hadn't been introduced, or didn't do what the press release said it did, or it'd been introduced in "Dummy" form with substance to be figured out later. We had a Paper Tiger by the tail (a tail which he could shed like a lizard if you grabbed it). Reagan was a master salesman and manipulator of the Deceptive Halftruth. A very few days after his swearing-in, he and his director of finance launched a media blitz to demonstrate the 'utterly deplorable' condition of California State Government Finances. They released the statement, The State of California is spending a million dollars a day more than it is taking in-- blaming the fiscal quagmire on the spending programs of the previous Democratic Administration. This statement was included in his budget message, in his State of the State Address, and in numerous press releases throughout January and February 1967, and it was literally true, but Reagan's truth failed to take into account seasonal finances. Like the poem says, In the depths of Winter, Spring cannot be far behind. In the winter of the fiscal year, before tax revenues come into the treasury, money only dribbles in, while most expenses are prorated throughout the year on a relatively even basis. A large part of the state's money doesn't come in until April, income tax time. Reagan's purpose in painting this horrible picture of the state's economy wasn't just to blame Democrats, he wanted to justify both tax increases and draconian cuts in the social service programs. The second of Reagan's 'Deceptive Halftruths' which I observed involved one of our social service programs. The mental health services, during 8 years of the Pat Brown administration, had made progress--general conditions and treatment techniques were improving. Patient admissions to state hospitals each year were increasing, but because more people were being treated and released cured, or better, anyway, the actual number of patients living on hospital grounds at any one time was down. Reagan, coming onto the scene with an idea to reduce government, period, but in particular to reduce social services, chose the statistic which suited his purpose, and began issuing statements like STATE DEPT OF MENTAL HYGIENE GROSSLY OVERSTAFFED--PATIENT POPULATION GOING DOWN, WHILE PERSONNEL INCREASING... A DRAIN ON THE TAXPAYER'S POCKETBOOK!As experts from my district testified, you could warehouse patients indefinitely in the back wards with less staff, but continuing the policy of treatment, "cure", and release, required maintenance of a higher ratio. Reagan's 'selective statistics' no doubt convinced some people, and his policies, whether publically sanctioned or not, did do damage to the State Hospital System. Another of Reagan's trick statements (he said it in '67, and he never stopped saying it) was,The sales tax is a fair tax, because you can decide how much you want to pay--by not buying, you can choose not to pay.This premise is wrong to start with, because people should not have the option to pay or not pay taxes. But also, if there is an option, everyone should have it equally. The sales tax gives the "option" more to one group, and not so much to another. Lower income people have little choice how much sales tax they pay. They spend pretty much all they earn on consumables--a used car to get to work in, diapers, toothpaste, toilet paper; a refrigerator to keep family food cold. In other words they spend pretty much everything that comes in. A larger percentage of their income is hit by the sales tax, compared to the wealthy, who have extra income that they don't have to spend and do have the choice whether to break into it and buy a fancy car, a sophisticated computer, or a state-of-the-art stereo, (thus paying sales tax on these items.) And then, also, a lot of the things only the wealthy can buy aren't subject to the sales tax: second homes, stock and other investments, expensive opera tickets. As a begining legislator I was shocked to think that the governor would so manipulate the truth. As a practicing attorney for 17 years I was thoroughly familiar with the adversary system and the fact that it's not up to an advocate to 'Tell All'--we have to put our best foot forward, but sometimes we might be hiding the fact that the other foot is not so good. Still, I have no trouble saying that an 'advocate' should't deceive by trick or device, i.e. through emphasizing one fact or statistic which creates a fog obscuring the whole truth. Reagan and his director of finance used this numbers game over and over during the budget process. I got over being shocked by it and began to look for and expect his trick phrases. The examples I mention are only a few of what was for Reagan and his cohorts a standard modus operandi. In the short run they could get away with this, because there weren't enough of us with sufficient press and media coverage to counteract it. The Democratic Leadership was so stunned by his election and so outclassed by his media presentations it didn't respond as loud and strong as it should have. In this respect Unruh failed. However, several of us acted as an unofficial self-appointed Truth Squad, doing our best at least in our own districts to unmask his deceptive halftruths. We were a leaderless group, yet we acted in concert, without anyone to tell us what to do (although we did talk to each other and may have swapped techniques.) As Mice Milk developed we had better coordination and showed some real elements of "The Squad"--certainly Mice Milk's sharing involved anti-Reagan pitches, but bear in mind even older members of the legislature had no prior experience with a governor of the opposite party whose philosophy threatened the existence of programs they helped develop and had previously taken for granted. It was a relief in 1975 to be joined at the Capitol (in 8 years Reagan had run his course, as far as state politics was concerned) by Jerry Brown, a governor with some philosophical kinship. It did in fact release some of my energy for more creative projects such as: 1. "Joy" 2. Collective bargaining for Farm Workers 3. Protection of the ozone layer in the stratosphere from fluorocarbon propellants in aerosol cans 4. Protection of workers from discrimination based on non work- related disabilities 5.Creating a State Bank 6.Requiring "piecharts" on packaged food products, to show the percentage of sugar. My success in some of these may have contributed to my eventual undoing (melodramatic foreshadowing). I noticed that Reagan as President still used his same old tactics. I heard a news commentator use the term 'selective revelation' when speaking of Reagan's White House. I was not surprised--in a way it bored me, and I didn't, directly, do anything about it. However, in 1967 I delighted in ferreting out the whole truth, and speaking about it to my colleagues, my constituents, my wife, my kids, and anyone else who would listen, including my St. Bernard Little Bit, who at least wouldn't have argued with a member of the Truth Squad.st bernard overseer council
During the '69--'70 term the Democrats were the underdogs at the Capitol in all respects--not only was Reagan governor, but the Republicans had control of the State Senate as well as the Assembly. It was a time of Democratic lament. The great Clydesdale power horse Jess Unruh was reduced to a whinnying Shetland pony--from Speaker, to Minority Floor Leader. We doubted very much our ability to beat Reagan but we were laying definite plans to recapture control of the Assembly and hopefully the Senate--it was in this vein that I spoke to a large partisan group of Democrats early in the campaign year of 1970. As I spoke I fairly bleated at how unfairly the Republican Speaker Monagan dominated choice of committee majorities and control of the House despite his slim (41-39) majority. But I also wanted everyone to know that we Democrats were fighting back. I said, "that's all right, we've got a couple of aces up our hole too."* Call it misplaced modifier or split figure of speech--either way it was a major political malaprop. I kid myself into believing it might have gone unnoticed if my administrative assistant, Gordon Goijkovich, standing in the rear of the room, hadn't let out a loud guffaw. That's what I got for having a staff who listened to what I said. Anyway at this point about 180 people seemed to realize what I had said and gradually joined him until they all were laughing. I blushed like a schoolboy and laughed too, and finally stammered out, "I guess that's one up on me too."_______________*The proper poker term is "aces up our sleeve", or "an ace in the hole" (what hole that is, I'm not sure, but it's acceptable in polite company).
