Skelton: Hertzberg exemplifies why term limits are boneheaded

Bob Hertzberg should be a state legislator. He’s a prime example of why term limits are boneheaded.

Yes, it’s true that term limits rid California’s Capitol of some sorry political specimens. Fresh blood is infused, and that’s good. They also produce productive legislators who are valued for their dedication, legislative knowledge and acquired expertise.

Hertzberg is a Van Nuys Democrat lawmaker who was recently expelled from the Senate after serving eight years and six years respectively in the Assembly. Hertzberg was a highly successful speaker for two consecutive years.

Hertzberg’s departure creates power vacuums that are filled with special interests. Because newer legislators are inexperienced and less sure of themselves, term limits have shifted more influence to interest groups — labor and business in particular — and enhanced the governor’s clout.

Voters should decide how long an elected official represents them — not some one-size-fits-all formula.

In 2012, voters approved a relaxation of term limits to allow legislators to serve twelve years in one house.

But I’ve gone off on a rant here and didn’t mean to. This column is really about Hertzberg.

A lifelong political junkie who loves public office for the right reasons — the joy and challenge of trying to make government work better for the citizenry — Hertzberg ran for a seat on the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors.

He narrowly lost in November to Lindsey Horvatha West Hollywood City Councilmember. Don’t read this wrong: I’m not saying he should have won. I didn’t watch the race. Horvath was clearly a strong candidate.

She’s 40 and now the only millennial on the board. He’s 68 and an old buzzard. Maybe his political shelf life was over. It was also a great year for female candidates in the state.

“It was throw the bums out and get new people in,” Hertzberg told me.

Hertzberg said that the leaked audio of a racist-filled conversation between three L.A. City Councilmembers about how to improve their political standing exacerbated this mood.

“It basically turned people off of politics.”

What I do know about is the rest of Hertzberg’s political career, from start to presumed finish.

He was always fascinating to me partly because I was partially responsible for his first important political job.

I’d just gone to work for The Times in 1974 and was assigned to write about the contest for the Democratic lieutenant governor nomination. Mervyn Dymally, a state senator from Los Angeles, was one of the candidates. Dymally was shocked to learn that a Times reporter would be following him around for a few days. He realized that a trip coordinator was required and needed a driver. Hertzberg, a UCLA student of 19 years, was recruited.

Hertzberg became interested in politics after his dad, an attorney, took him along to Dymally’s event. Hubert Humphrey was the featured speaker. Hertzberg was asked to help organize college students for several Democratic presidential candidates.

Dymally hired Hertzberg for the whole campaign at $400 per month.

In the fall, I covered Dymally’s campaign tour along the rugged North Coast. Hertzberg still can recite a couple of sentences I wrote: “Three logs burning in the huge fireplace of a fog-shrouded grand old hotel, the Eureka Inn … a trusty young political aide, a reporter … and the candidate.”

I bought the child dinner.

Dymally was elected lieutenant Governor, the first and only Black candidate for that office.

Hertzberg, then a teenager, found that the campaign was a valuable learning opportunity.

“We went to all 58 counties,” he recalled years later. “No cellphones in the car. Dymally and those who rode along with us gave me the opportunity to listen and talk to them. I was also present during meetings. I learned a lot. I didn’t know what I was learning at the time, but it all became clear to me later. … I learned about listening and not taking people for granted.”

Hertzberg received a law diploma and did advanced work for President Carter. Hertzberg was elected to the Assembly in 1996. He became an energetic bunny at the Capitol and a constant caffeinated workeraholic. He was guilty of trying to do too much rather than focusing on one thing.

He was a tireless reformer but believed that the best approach was to take one step at a given time, so as not scare people.

“The secret to reforming,” he once told me, “is understanding incrementalism and not trying to be so big and so bold. You’ve got to align interests.”

One reform he championed — opposing most Democratic politicians — was independent redistricting of legislative and congressional districts, eliminating the crass practice of gerrymandering. He also helped to create a legislative tool that allows for compromises on ballot initiatives in order to save the voters from having to choose.

He tried for years to reform California’s volatile tax system but could never devise a winnable formula. That’s mainly because most politicians are scared of the subject.

He was considered a business moderate — like many Californians, a liberal on social issues but a centrist on fiscal matters.

The Democrat would like to see more Republicans in the Capitol.

“I think having a two-party system is healthy,” he says. “They have a right to have a voice.”

He fears that nearly all major bills today are being written by special interest groups and given to legislators to present.

“It’s so brazen,” he says.

He loves it all. “I’m an institutionalist.”

It’s too bad he was termed out.