Chapter Twenty-One
It was an adjustment coming back home to North Dakota but it wasn’t long before Jan and I began receiving invitations to give slide show presentations at churches all over eastern North Dakota, helping to raise awareness and compassion for the needs of the Ethiopian people. We ended up giving over two hundred of them. I’ve always loved to talk, to tell stories, and my public speaking skills became even better because of all this exposure. Before long, suggestions were casually thrown around that I might be a good candidate to run for the North Dakota House of Representatives, that they needed good, honest people like me in the Capitol, helping take care of the state.
At first I brushed off the comments as ridiculous. Then I started taking the idea more seriously. I didn’t know a whole lot about serving in the State Legislature but, over the years, I’ve found that common sense is the best way to face new problems. I didn’t think this would be any exception. With considerable encouragement I decided to pursue the idea and, during my years as a farmer, ended up spending six winters in the State Capitol Building at Bismarck.
The Capitol Building itself is often referred to as the skyscraper on the prairie, a little over two hundred forty-one feet tall, making it the tallest building in North Dakota. The grounds are manicured to perfection with the Capitol Mall, a large open field of grass flanked with walking paths and elm trees, running down the center. It’s here that a world-breaking record was recently made when almost nine thousand people sprawled out on the snow, waving their arms and falling into history, earning the distinction of the most snow angels made simultaneously in one place. Now that’s something you don’t see every day.
Meeting new people and answering their barbed questions on the campaign trail were challenging, inspiring, and kept me on my toes. More than once, I ran into my competitor campaigning in the same town, in the same neighborhood, at the same time. We’d meet for lunch, compare notes, and discuss our experiences.
But no matter how many times I went through it, the night of an election was always edged with anticipatory stress. And, even though I was elected six times, I did find out what it was like to lose one year because of a miscount. The day after the election, I was working in the field, sitting in my air conditioned cab listening to the election returns on the radio. The polls had been delayed in getting their votes counted but the announcer finally had the results. I had lost.
My heart fell. I was really disappointed. Serving the state was something I loved to do and now I would no longer be called to do it. Fortunately, my disappointment didn’t last long because two hours later they said that there had been a reporting mistake. I had won the election after all. The big grin on my face lasted all day long.
North Dakota has one of the more interesting legislatures in the nation because any member can introduce a bill on any subject they want. That bill is then heard in the proper committee, voted on, and brought up to the floor of the full house or senate for a final vote. If it passes both houses and the governor signs it, it becomes law.
One of the most important contributions I made was to establish a state employee equal employment policy. Before this, a lot of the state employees ended up transferring between offices because the pay varied so widely for the same job, causing unnecessary friction between departments. Some offices had difficulty hiring anyone at all because they were forced to pay such low salaries. There was considerable opposition to my proposition, but I helped pass this bill in the house and testified for it in the senate. It passed there, too, and became law.
I quickly found out there is much more to politics than just the Republican-Democrat split. There is east against the west, city against rural, and conservative against liberal. Even though I’m a conservative Republican, I had friends in both parties, everyone simply trying to do what is best for the state and not necessarily what is best for the party.
Most of the time, Jan joined me in Bismarck, especially after the kids grew up and left home. We made a lot of new friends and, one Sunday, we were invited to a wedding in a local Lutheran church. The ceremony was beautiful, the bride and groom grinning with joy. Afterwards, all the guests were directed downstairs for the reception. The photographer wanted the bride and groom, along with the rest of the wedding party, to remain upstairs so he could complete the photography. Everyone else mingled and talked and had some punch while we waited for the bride and groom to finish and start the reception line, a steadfast tradition that was strictly adhered to.
Someone finally announced that we did not have to wait for them any longer. The photo session was going to take up considerably more time than was first expected and the guests should go ahead and begin the buffet. No guest really wanted to be first so, finally, one of the hostesses came over to Jan and me and asked if we would please come and start the line. We walked over to the buffet and picked up our plates while the rest of the guests reluctantly formed a line behind us. We filled our plates with delicious food and got the very first pieces of wedding cake. When we were almost finished serving ourselves, we turned around to find a place to sit down. There, right behind us in line, were the bride and groom. The word humiliated doesn’t begin to describe how we felt.
Whenever we could, we all liked to infuse some laughter into our daily schedules. When a new member joined the legislature, it was up to the rest of us to come up with ideas to make sure they were on their toes. During one session, I happened to be chairman of the corrections and review for the Daily Journal. It was basically an honorary position since there was already a paid staff in place that did the actual proofreading and editing. One of the newest legislators was assigned as co-chair for the position and, with a straight face, I told him that this corrections and review job was so demanding, we needed to take turns going through the journal each day, making changes right away so we wouldn’t fall behind. It wasn’t until he spent two full days going through the Journal line by line with a fine-tooth comb that I finally admitted the truth to him.
During each session, several young North Dakotans are selected to work as pages, delivering messages and running errands for members of the Senate, the House of Representatives, and various Legislative offices. Serving as a page offers young, aspiring politicians a wonderful opportunity to observe things firsthand.
They were also fair game as unknowing participants of our twisted humor. At the front of the assembly room, a set of lights, one for each desk in the room, was mounted on a large board on the wall. Whenever one of us needed to talk to a page, we would simply push a button, turning on the light that corresponded to our particular desk. The pages would know immediately who was calling them and they would make their way over to the person who wanted to talk to them.
One morning we all agreed, at precisely 10:00, to push the summons button at each of our desks, the one that called the pages. As they wandered around the edges of the room, waiting to be enlisted by us, every light on the entire board suddenly blazed with light. The looks on the pages’ faces were priceless.
Legislators and state elected officials got invitations to banquets at least four, sometimes five, nights a week. Since steak is locally grown in North Dakota, it is often the meat they served, usually too rare for my taste. Neither Jan nor I are able to eat steak that undercooked.
While attending one of these banquets, Jan and I took our places near the center of an immense auditorium where over three hundred guests were seated. The governor, along with several other state officials, sat on a special raised platform at the front of the room, a prominent position that honored their stature. As the waitress began filling the water glasses, I asked her if they were serving steak that night. She said yes. I then asked her if there was any chance we could get it well done. Very well done. She said yes again and left our table.
After about half an hour, the kitchen door opens and out comes our waitress with two plates of food. Since the head table is always served first, I assumed these plates were destined for the governor. But the waitress sailed right past him and proceeded to the center of the room. She stopped right behind Jan and I and placed our steaks, perfectly well done, on the table right in front of us. Every head in the room swiveled towards us, craning to see who these dignitaries were who were so important that they needed to be served first, even before the governor.
We wanted to slide under the table and disappear.
