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Copyright (c) 1997, Duluth News-Tribune Sunday, April 6, 1997 PAGE: 01B By Daniel Bernard/News-Tribune staff writer
IRV BOUNCES BACK AFTER THE FALL
HAS HE TRANSFORMED INTO ELDER STATESMAN OR IS HE JUST WAITING FOR THE THIRD COMING?
ST. PAUL -- State Rep. Irv Anderson is inhabiting an oddly anti-climactic chapter in his life story: removed from power but still on the scene. Late last year, the International Falls legislator was thrown out asspeaker of the House by 37 of the 70 members of the DFL majority. The second most powerful spot in state government, it was the pinnacle of a turbulent, three-decade-long political career for Anderson. But Anderson had just won another two-year term representing District 3A in Koochiching and Itasca counties. He says he'll run again in 1998 and as long as his health holds out. The former union negotiator's energy level is still high at age 73. For the fellow DFLers who called Anderson a petty tyrant and organized to depose him, it may be a little unsettling to share an elevator with him or sit next to him, like Rep. Joe Opatz does every time the House convenes. Opatz, DFL-St. Cloud, helped lead the campaign to overthrow Anderson. ''It was really uncomfortable at first. I wasn't sure what it was going to be like,'' Opatz said. ''But we're both there to do our jobs, and I have tremendous respect for Irv.'' And the situation could be awkward for Anderson, who seemed to have erased years of frustration when he won the speakership in 1994. He had lost a bid for the post in 1980, then lost his House seat and spent eight years trying to get back into political office. After his second fall from power, however, Anderson has found a new role for himself: idea man. Although his profile has been so low this year that he barely resembles the brassy partisan who roused the faithful, Anderson has introduced a steady stream of legislation proposing major changes in state government: <LI>Prohibiting local property taxes as a funding source for public school operations and shifting the cost to the state. <LI>Merging the House and Senate into a single-chamber Legislature. <LI>Shortening campaigns and lengthening terms of office. His proposals have received little discussion, but ''I have great resiliency,'' Anderson said in his St. Paul office last week. ''I'm still here. I'm still a legislator, and I think I'm doing a darn good job. ''I enjoy the legislative process. It keeps my mind active . . . When I can resolve somebody's problem or pass a bill that's going to help somebody, that really excites me. That's why I'm so excited about this K-12 (school funding) thing because I see that as a golden opportunity. ''I don't see any of the (current) leaders coming in with a bill,'' he added. Rep. Tom Bakk, DFL-Cook, an Anderson protege, calls the new phase ''visionary.'' ''One of the attributes of a real leader is being able to shape the debate. And I think that some of the ideas that he's putting out there are doing just that,'' Bakk said.
Enjoys new role
Anderson says he's relaxed as a back-bencher and doesn't miss the power. Not everybody believes him. Last week, debate on the House floor suddenly flared over an amendment that would require doctors to disclose abortion information. It was a tense moment for Rep. Phil Carruthers, the mild-mannered Twin Cities suburbanite who replaced Anderson as speaker. Carruthers supports abortion rights; most of the House does not. Carruthers had to rule on a motion that effectively cut off debate. Rep. Lee Greenfield, DFL-Minneapolis, happened to glance across the rows at Anderson, a loyal soldier of abortion rights opponents. ''He was winding up like a spring, waiting to jump in,'' Greenfield said. ''He never got a chance, but he was waiting. He's still looking for an edge. He will want to be speaker (again) as long as he'll be here.'' Greenfield has an overactive imagination, Anderson responded. When questioned last week by a News-Tribune reporter, Anderson had this to say: Q: Do you want to be speaker again? Anderson: ''Oh, well, obviously. If the opportunity comes to me.'' Q: How soon might that happen? A: ''Oh, I don't have the faintest idea.'' Q: You don't see an opening for yourself currently? A: ''In the event of a great accident or something like that, my answer would be yes, I think I might get a chance. But, for instance -- and I don't like to say it this way, but -- what if Mr. Carruthers had an accident, a car accident, and he was killed? So then, there might be that kind of opportunity. But only in that -- that's what I see.''
Rebound
Allies and critics alike say the chances of Anderson regaining the gavel are remote -- as he's more vulnerable than ever to charges that his style of politics is too old-fashioned. The mere suggestion engenders unease among some because Anderson has experience in rebounding. In 1980, he was the anointed caucus leader but lost the speakership when a third of the party bolted and joined Republicans behind another DFLer. The dissidents said Anderson was a confrontational leader prone to favoritism and secrecy. He says they disliked his stance against abortion rights. Two years later, he lost his seat in the primary, failed in two re-election bids and even a run for county office. But he persisted, and voters took him back in 1990. He offered himself as a mentor to legislators who arrived during his absence. ''I had heard all the rumors about the vindictive Irv and whatever other names they use,'' said Rep. Alice Johnson, DFL-Spring Lake Park, an Anderson ally elected in 1986. ''I didn't see it. I just took him for what I saw -- very decisive, forthright, very honest.'' In 1993, fate created a power vacuum. Ethical scandals and criticism over their handling took out the House majority leader, then the speaker. In the disarray, Anderson represented experience. With a coalition of old and new friends, he moved up in the ranks to the position that had eluded him 14 years earlier. He promised a mellower ''New Irv'' but soon polarized the caucus. Rep. Becky Kelso, DFL-Shakopee, said he was too partisan and parochial. Carruthers, DFL-Brooklyn Center, said most DFLers wanted a leader who was ''more cooperative, more inclusive, more participatory, less confrontational.'' Anderson says he was just being decisive. Supporters say he was treated ungratefully. ''At a time when there were scandals all over the place, Irv had the ability to lead the caucus through all of it,'' said Rep. Dave Tomassoni, DFL-Chisholm. ''What happens is you have to make decisions, and some times other people don't like the decisions that you make, so they take that as a personal rap.''
Covert coup
The end began in the final days of the 1996 session. Then-Rep. Becky Lourey was fed up with the latest in what she saw as a series of power plays by Anderson against abortion rights. The Kerrick DFLer doubted she could get him removed from the speaker's chair, but she wanted at least to diminish his role in the upcoming DFL House campaigns statewide. Lourey started telling fellow DFLers she would ask the caucus to remove Anderson from the campaign steering committee, a crucial vehicle for collecting favors from other candidates. Then-Majority Leader Carruthers called a caucus meeting after the last day of the session, past midnight. Addressing the DFLers, Lourey tried to be diplomatic. ''We are not looking good out there. We are not looking good to the public. The public doesn't trust us,'' Lourey told the group. ''Just like when a sports team isn't doing well, it isn't the coach's fault. But often the coach is changed because people need to believe in the team again.'' Shouts erupted from Anderson loyalists. Anderson made some mollifying comments. Lourey withdrew the request, saying later she hoped she had persuaded Anderson to share power in the campaigns. State Rep. Mindy Greiling wasn't counting on it. Greiling, DFL-Roseville, felt Anderson had punished her to an extreme after she opposed him in leadership elections. Anderson denies he withheld committee assignments from Greiling or stifled her bills. Greiling reflected on how Anderson had quickly cultivated allies among young legislators after his return in 1991. ''Irv's lessons were well-taken,'' Greiling said. She and other anti-Irv DFLers set out to beat Anderson to the punch in winning the loyalty of prospective new legislators. They organized a sort of parallel campaign steering committee with an eye toward the vote of confidence for Anderson's speakership that would follow the general election. ''The strength of Irv Anderson is that he knows how to put a winning coalition together, vote by vote by vote,'' said Rep. Alice Hausman of St. Paul, who resented Anderson for forcing House votes on abortion, hunting rights and Canadian-border fishing feuds. ''We knew that if we waited till after the election to do anything, it would be too late.'' With Reps. Opatz, Tom Huntley of Duluth and Jean Wagenius of Minneapolis, Greiling and Hausman contacted new candidates and drove around the state, giving advice and campaign help while asking the newcomers not to support Anderson for speaker if they won. The DFL retained control of the House in the general election and narrowly booted Anderson. The backlash seemed unfair to Rep. Phyllis Kahn, DFL-Minneapolis. ''Leadership is dangerous,'' Kahn wrote in an essay composed days after the ouster. ''The leader must function as both a lightning rod and a heat shield for the caucus. Unfortunately, as we've seen, heat shields can burn up while exercising this function.''
Still smiling
Anderson wants to be remembered as champion of consumers and laborers, not for the political tumult. ''In modern-day politics, it's easy to use a person's personality as the reason why you want to dump them,'' Anderson said. ''You character-assassinate that person. And how does that person overcome that kind of stuff? By saying, 'That's not true, that's not true, that's not true'? And what do you think society says? It says, 'I believe that other guy.' ''You can't hold vindictiveness within your heart, or you're never going to smile again. And Irv is a smiling person.''
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