Deal me in: Politics in play at the Capitol

by ALAN RIQUELMY

The attorney, looking over his poker hand, doubted my reasons for wanting to cover a state legislature.

For me, it was about the pageantry of government, a special type of kabuki developed over decades. Moving through ancient halls, gathering hidden information that’s presented in the open. Government is a form of magic envisioned by authors like Ursula K. Le Guin — words have power and can change the world around us. Or at least increase the cost of your car tag fee.

The lawyer saw my reasoning as a house of cards. “You worship power,” he said. Food for thought.

Dismissing his cynicism, I now wonder if there’s a kernel of truth there. Regardless of the state, the halls of power often resemble houses of worship. Massive columns and Latin phrases are found in both, as are arcane rituals known only by a select few.

You can feel the history wandering through both temples and town halls. In California’s statehouse, the ceilings in both legislative chambers seemingly stretch into the heavens. It’s the same in state capitol buildings and courthouses across the nation, as in the larger churches. The high ceilings draw the viewer’s attention to a higher power; whether that’s to inspire awe in a god or governor remains to be seen.

In Georgia, where I worked for a time, the rituals border on sophomoric. State house members get peppered with nonsensical questions the first time they introduce a bill on the floor. Then, on the final night of session, they have a paper fight. Balled-up documents, maybe important at one time, are thrown across the house floor as the clock nears midnight. Some janitor, no doubt watching from the wings, quietly weeps.

Maybe it’s a release valve on the pressure that’s built up over the session. If so, a few California lawmakers should be dealt in.

The slow pace of the California Legislature early in the year builds silently. Two months of formal recognitions honoring the recently deceased and informational hearings start to give way in March as committees begin to examine bills.

By mid-spring, the pace is frenetic. The bill hearings pile on top of each other. Lawmakers often sit on multiple committees that meet at the same time. They disappear behind cloistered doors, reappearing in another room just in time to introduce their bill and, moments later, teleport back to the original hearing.

Like a game of memory, it’s tough to keep track of where all the cards lay. And often it appears some folks might be a few cards short.

California lawmakers are in session most of the year. The action builds as the Sacramento weather warms up. They appear in the Capitol twice a week for floor sessions most of the year. As the session nears its end, the floor sessions increase.

The Legislature typically is in session each workday of the session’s last two weeks. Last year, someone ensured food trucks made a daily appearance on the nearby streets. There was little time to sneak away for a meal, and some would argue not enough lunch venues in the area as well.

It’s easy, I think, for any participant in the pageantry to get wrapped up in the play. Emotions build as the final act draws close. Sometimes, the thin walls break. Anger and frustration spill over. Like experiencing a bad beat at the poker table, these moments test a person’s mettle.

Just for a moment, step back and take a breath. The hallways leading from the central rotunda to the respective legislative houses are off limits to the public. People crowd under the dome trying to get someone’s attention. Maybe they need to pass a message to a legislator.

There’s a sharp contrast between the crowd and the empty hall. Chaos on one side and quiet on the other. Nearby, a set of stairs leads down to the first floor. The stairs’ railing is cool to the touch and no one’s around as you descend.

It’s a snapshot in time, a silent walk away from the crescendo of voices. No one gets to do this forever. The lawmakers are term limited and can’t walk these halls of power perpetually. The reporters, staff, lobbyists and others — they, too, watch the ticking clock, wondering how long they have.

Reach the bottom of the stairs and the patchwork designs on the floor. Move slowly to the exit. The car waits patiently in the nearby parking deck. Finally, it’s time to go.

Thankfully, you’ll get dealt a new hand tomorrow.