The man of the hour
Published 2:15 pm Thursday, October 2, 2008
“Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current.” – Marcus Aurelius, as written on a sun dial at the state Capitol.
OLYMPIA – Before 8 a.m., inside the halls of the squat John L. O’Brien Building sitting squarely on the state Capitol campus, hardly anyone is there.
Those who are – who work among the long halls of legislative offices – yawn, try to shake off their morning sleepiness and fill pitchers to make the day’s first pot of coffee.
Soon, the stillness will dissipate, replaced instead by a sort of controlled chaos, as state representatives, their aides, lobbyists, interest groups and residents from across Washington take part in an intricate dance, where each side has precious few minutes to exchange information with one another before important decisions are made.
On the fourth floor, in front of Room 417, in between the offices of Rep. Tom Mielke, R-Battle Ground, and Rep. Kirk Pearson, R-Monroe, Amy Morris sits in her cubicle and checks e-mail messages for Rep. Glenn Anderson prior to his arrival. As legislative assistant to Anderson, a Republican from Fall City, it’s her duty to help guide him through the next 10 hours, making sure he makes it to his committee meetings and preventing others from taking up too much of his time. She has updated his schedule for the day, printing it out on a blue card about the size of a voter pamphlet.
In the past 15 hours, the schedule has gone though several incarnations. It will change several more times throughout the course of the day.
Later, Anderson likens his daily routine in Olympia to a “vortex,” and it takes resolve to survive it. The morning committee meetings, the afternoon committee meetings, the one-on-one meetings, the lunch meetings, the caucus meetings – they have a tendency to wear a person down.
“At the end of the day, you’re dog tired,” he said.
Sometimes at night, there is an endless procession of rubber-chicken dinners, events staged to place organizations or individuals in close contact with legislators from their district.
“You may do three of those in a night and get home at 11 p.m. and have enough time to check your e-mail and call your family,” before going to sleep, Anderson said.
And when you wake up the next morning, it’s time to do it all over again.
The system
On Nov. 7, 2000, Glenn Anderson defeated Democrat Di Irons of Sammamish by a vote of 31,740 to 24,487 to garner the House of Representatives’ 5th District Position 1 seat. He replaced outgoing Republican Brian Thomas of Renton. It was his first campaign for political office.
Encompassing about 150,000 people, the 5th District is the largest in terms of geographic area in King County, stretching east and west from Renton to Snoqualmie Pass, and north and south from Sammamish to Enumclaw. Its voters constitute Boeing Co. employees in Maple Valley, Microsoft workers on the Sammamish Plateau and a wide mix of people – from farmers to executives – in the Snoqualmie Valley. Anderson appreciates the myriad voices.
“It’s that kind of diversity when you’re listening to people that is just a really incredible asset,” he said.
The race had actually begun 18 months before last year’s general election, and culminated with the start of the legislative session Jan. 8. But the idea for running came much earlier.
Anderson, a business management consultant who moved to the Puget Sound area in 1988 with his wife, Elisabeth, said one reason he ran for office was to adhere to the idea of “to whom much is given, much is expected.” The man with a penchant for archaeology and skydiving graduated from the University of Alabama with a bachelor’s degree in economics, a minor in political science and concentration in international trade economics and community development.
“A big part of my upbringing was you find the time, when the opportunity presents itself, to give back,” he said.
Rep. Cheryl Pflug, R-Maple Valley, said her junior 5th District partner is ahead of the learning curve.
“I think he’s doing a great job. He kind of hit the ground running,” she said. “I think he’s well-positioned to be able to make a difference.
“Glenn’s got a really valuable background in economics and experience in the banking industry.”
As he campaigned, ringing doorbells, shaking constituents’ hands and listening to their concerns, Anderson, who has also been a small-business owner, longshoreman and volunteer firefighter, said he learned how he could put the skills he’d acquired over the years to use in Olympia, saying, “You begin to get an idea what you can leverage out of life for helping people.”
And ultimately helping people is what it’s all about. Yes, legislators can be petty, voting down measures from representatives or senators they don’t like. There are back-room deals and “you vote for my bill, I’ll vote for your bill” agreements, but Anderson said they are rarer than commonly perceived.
“I don’t ever really doubt the fact that [legislators are] here because they believe a good purpose is involved,” he said.
“I would say 95 percent of the issues around here are based on issues of regionalism, rather than partisanship.”
There are those who, upon being elected to their first term in office, pledge to change the way the political process works at the Capitol, to create radical change in the way the state government conducts its business. They are firebrands, waging an us-against-them war of words, and they typically do not last long.
You don’t change the system. The system changes you.
“The process is what it is. It was here before I got here, and it will be here after I leave,” Anderson said, adding that those who expect the system to bend to their will won’t get very far with their fellow legislators.
“They’ll horselaugh you right out [of here], and you’ve wasted two years of the people’s time,” he said.
Playing the role
There are only a finite number of minutes in a day, but during any legislative session a seemingly infinite number of issues arise. Education. Social services. The budget. The environment. The drought. The energy crisis. Internet access in libraries.
Which is why the blue card is important. It controls a legislator’s schedule down to 15-minute intervals, sometimes stacking individual meetings on top of a committee meeting that the senator or representative can duck out of for a few moments. Brevity is key at the Capitol.
It’s up to Morris, Anderson’s legislative assistant, to politely knock on his door when 15 minutes are up. Goodbyes are said, then Anderson dips into one of two candy jars – he has a sweet tooth for chocolate – and he’s off to another meeting.
“You really have to boil down your case and organize it in a way that’s consumable,” said Anderson, who was appointed to serve on the House Transportation Committee and the Technology, Telecommunications and Energy Committee, and was designated co-vice chair of the Education Committee.
Pflug, who donated curtains and an oriental rug to help decorate Anderson’s office, said the time constraints can be hard on new legislators who are being asked to provide answers to important questions.
“To a freshman, these are huge issues, and you only have 15 minutes,” she said.
Throughout the day, Anderson will play a variety of roles, from a facilitator in negotiations to a problem solver for a constituent. He will be an expert in a wide range of policy issues, but he will also ask others for advice. To some, he must act as a representative of the people; to others he represents the government. And there are times when the job is not fun.
“Sometimes you have to be the bearer of difficult news,” he said.
By playing all these different roles, he will make decisions on legislation that will have a direct impact on people living in his district. In his tidy office, baskets bearing labels of each of his committee assignments are stacked high with papers concerning a number of different measures. The problem is making all the paperwork relevant to actual human beings.
“This does not tell me
