ALBANY - Josh Flynt had expected a quiet day Wednesday when his government class toured the Capitol.
But instead of a stroll through a museum, he got a behind-the-scenes glimpse at the chaos, backdoor dealing, power plays, influence peddling and the human touch beneath the often ridiculed monolith called the New York State Legislature.
“I've heard about lobbyists on the news, but I'd never seen what goes on,” said the 17-year-old Flynt, of Ballston Spa, amid the bustle of Wednesday's special legislative session. “It's interesting.”
That's not often an adjective used by the few who see a session of the New York Legislature up close.
“The circus is back in town,” said one veteran government staffer, deadpanning a line frequently heard around here.
There is actually little that's special about these December sessions. It has long been routine to reconvene briefly during the holidays after the regular legislative calendar ends in June. Capitol lore has it that the sessions began as a way for lawmakers to collect a per-diem payment from the state for dropping off Christmas presents to their Albany mistresses.
That per diem is now $143 for each day in session. So the tab for the special session that resulted in no major deal began at more than $60,000 for two days to lawmakers, before their catered lunches, snacks, dinners, parties, utilities and other costs are tossed in over two days.
For example, Tuesday's night's series of closed-door meetings by both parties and both chambers included a fruit basket (barely touched) and cheese and crackers (decimated) in the Assembly Democrats' lounge. An attendant provided coffee and soft drinks.
The Senate prefers catered lunches, hot and cold, in their lounge just outside the chamber. These meals and the hors d'oeuvres at the almost nightly fundraisers - attended by lobbyists who drop off campaign donations to lawmakers - are blamed for what legislators call their version of the “Freshman 15,” the weight gained by new college students.
Tuesday evening, the Republicans who control the Senate met for a couple hours then left for a dinner at an Albany restaurant in honor of one of the Legislature's most popular lawmakers, Sen. Nicholas Spano of Westchester. He lost his seat in November.
Two hours later, the Democrats who control the Assembly left after their closed-door session to fete Assembly Majority Leader Paul Tokasz of Cheektowaga, who chose not to seek a ninth two-year term.
Meanwhile, the majorities' staffs, as usual, worked until midnight in cramped offices piled with bills and newspapers across State Street from the ornate Capitol chambers. And, as is common in the leader-dominated New York Legislature, Senate Majority Leader Joseph Bruno and Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver kept in touch with their staffs, each other, and Gov. George Pataki through the night.
After hours of negotiations over a hodgepodge of issues including civil confinement for the most serious sex offenders, huge capital projects in New York City, more charter schools and raises for lawmakers, legislators said they weren't even sure what Pataki wanted in exchange for supporting the first raise for lawmakers in 10 years.
“They keep changing. That's one of the problems,” said Silver of Pataki.
The result of Tuesday's negotiations? No deals. One Pataki aide called it: “Less than no progress.”
But in the darkened, stone-and-marble hallways of the Capitol's third floor, between the chambers where public debate bats around billions of dollars, the humanity of Legislature played out. The broad brush that's usually applied to a do-nothing Legislature fails to account for many individuals, some inspired by men named Kennedy or Reagan.
“I've heard about lobbyists on the news, but I'd never seen what goes on,” said the 17-year-old Flynt, of Ballston Spa, amid the bustle of Wednesday's special legislative session. “It's interesting.”
That's not often an adjective used by the few who see a session of the New York Legislature up close.
“The circus is back in town,” said one veteran government staffer, deadpanning a line frequently heard around here.
There is actually little that's special about these December sessions. It has long been routine to reconvene briefly during the holidays after the regular legislative calendar ends in June. Capitol lore has it that the sessions began as a way for lawmakers to collect a per-diem payment from the state for dropping off Christmas presents to their Albany mistresses.
That per diem is now $143 for each day in session. So the tab for the special session that resulted in no major deal began at more than $60,000 for two days to lawmakers, before their catered lunches, snacks, dinners, parties, utilities and other costs are tossed in over two days.
For example, Tuesday's night's series of closed-door meetings by both parties and both chambers included a fruit basket (barely touched) and cheese and crackers (decimated) in the Assembly Democrats' lounge. An attendant provided coffee and soft drinks.
The Senate prefers catered lunches, hot and cold, in their lounge just outside the chamber. These meals and the hors d'oeuvres at the almost nightly fundraisers - attended by lobbyists who drop off campaign donations to lawmakers - are blamed for what legislators call their version of the “Freshman 15,” the weight gained by new college students.
Tuesday evening, the Republicans who control the Senate met for a couple hours then left for a dinner at an Albany restaurant in honor of one of the Legislature's most popular lawmakers, Sen. Nicholas Spano of Westchester. He lost his seat in November.
Two hours later, the Democrats who control the Assembly left after their closed-door session to fete Assembly Majority Leader Paul Tokasz of Cheektowaga, who chose not to seek a ninth two-year term.
Meanwhile, the majorities' staffs, as usual, worked until midnight in cramped offices piled with bills and newspapers across State Street from the ornate Capitol chambers. And, as is common in the leader-dominated New York Legislature, Senate Majority Leader Joseph Bruno and Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver kept in touch with their staffs, each other, and Gov. George Pataki through the night.
After hours of negotiations over a hodgepodge of issues including civil confinement for the most serious sex offenders, huge capital projects in New York City, more charter schools and raises for lawmakers, legislators said they weren't even sure what Pataki wanted in exchange for supporting the first raise for lawmakers in 10 years.
“They keep changing. That's one of the problems,” said Silver of Pataki.
The result of Tuesday's negotiations? No deals. One Pataki aide called it: “Less than no progress.”
But in the darkened, stone-and-marble hallways of the Capitol's third floor, between the chambers where public debate bats around billions of dollars, the humanity of Legislature played out. The broad brush that's usually applied to a do-nothing Legislature fails to account for many individuals, some inspired by men named Kennedy or Reagan.
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disgusted wrote on Dec 16, 2006 7:24 PM: