Legislators run out of time, after wasting it

Erin Neff

Tuesday, June 5, 2001 | 10:56 a.m.

CARSON CITY -- Lawmakers only have 120 days to conduct two years' worth of the state's business.

When you take away weekends and write off the first two weeks for largely preliminary work, it's an even shorter schedule.

So it's little wonder that on the last official day of the 71st Legislature, Sen. Bill Raggio groused about seeing a bill in his committee for the first time.

Other committees introduced new bills for the first time Monday morning hoping they would pass the committee and first house before going over to the other house to be introduced, referred to committee, passed out of committee and approved.

As midnight approached on Monday there were plenty of those very actions. With suspended rules and lawmakers cloistered away to hash out reapportionment, energy and tax issues, the real business of the session took place in the last 12 hours.

Yet for weeks leading up to the June 4 adjournment lawmakers spent plenty of time on other pursuits.

Peek around the Assembly when it is conducting a floor session, and you're sure to spot more lawmakers sending e-mail and cruising the Internet on their wireless laptops than you will see legislators reading bills.

John Marvel, R-Battle Mountain, whiled away each floor session playing solitaire on his state-issued laptop. Bob Price, D-North Las Vegas, often had to be awakened from sleeping at his alien-decorated desk to vote.

Price has tried numerous times to pass a resolution asking voters to approve limited annual sessions. He was dejected last Friday when a committee let this year's version of that resolution die.

"We really don't have enough time," Price said. "These sessions go way too quickly."

Yet when you witness the state Legislature in action -- and on legislative time (roughly 30 minutes late) -- you begin to wonder if they don't need a course in time management.

On the Assembly side, lawmakers walk back and forth to a caucus room to refill plates with whatever food the sergeant at arms staff has provided that day. John Oceguera, D-North Las Vegas, usually wasn't one of them, but he did have Domino's pizza delivered to his seat one afternoon.

Tom Collins, D-North Las Vegas, often flips through photographs of cattle on his desk or looks at different breeds on his laptop.

Resolutions honoring the dead, the living and the campaign contributors consumed hours of official time.

On one day, five resolutions stretched for more than two hours as lawmakers rose to honor each issue.

Guests sit with lawmakers, and they are applauded when introduced as visitors. If Price and Sharron Angle, R-Reno, were seated alone on a given day, it was unusual.

This session had more than 1,000 bills, 1,100 amendments and 800 lobbyists to consider. Some of the less pressing included designating Orovada as the state's official soil, "Silver State Fanfare" as the official march and issuing nine different special license plates. Scots and bagpipe corps also have an official state tartan to wear.

A bill to designate the mustang as the state animal proved so controversial that it wound up in two separate conference committees at the end of the session.

Months of discussions about energy and taxes resulted in very few pieces of legislation -- most of which were hammered out in compromise negotiations on Monday.

As the session drew to a close, lawmakers let off steam when they could. Many attended the traditional Third House performance conducted by media and at least on the Assembly side, some light-hearted resolutions broke up the tedium.

There were comical inductions into the Cowboy Hall of Fame and an Assembly Bull to honor John Carpenter, R-Elko, which finished with 41 Assembly members waving plastic shovels.

Time was the enemy Monday with a threatened special session looming if business did not get done. Yet time didn't seem to be the enemy for the majority of the 120 days, and lawmakers certainly had plenty on their hands.