The new pol

BOISE – Dirk Kempthorne’s legacy as Idaho’s 30th governor still is taking shape, but depending on the outcome of some of the initiatives he started, history could view Kempthorne’s impact as significant. ■ Two major initiatives he pushed in his final years in office – a bonding program to connect the state through millions in new highway construction, and a thorough reform of Medicaid, the medical care program for the poor and disabled that has been slowly eating up Idaho’s budget – could form the heart of Kempthorne’s legacy as governor.

“In terms of looking this early at a legacy, if indeed ‘Connecting Idaho’ does work and this state is connected as he envisioned, future historians may take quite a different view of the Kempthorne administration,” said Jim Weatherby, a Boise State University political scientist who has watched Kempthorne throughout his political career.

Medicaid reform, Weatherby added, is “a major, major issue. … There is potential there at least in these two areas and maybe others.”

But many in Idaho have little to say about Kempthorne’s tenure as governor. Several contacted for this article declined to speak on the record. Some feelings still are noticeably raw from Kempthorne’s 7½ years in office. He sometimes clashed with lawmakers in his own party on issues ranging from term limits to tax policy.

Former Gov. Phil Batt, Kempthorne’s immediate predecessor in office, said only, “Gov. Kempthorne was a very conscientious, hard-working governor. I think he accomplished his agenda to his own satisfaction.”

Part of that reticence likely stems from the new style of leadership that Kempthorne brought to the state – one that differed from his hard-charging, no-nonsense predecessors and led to some antipathy in a state that still clings to old ways.

Some liked the new style. Former state Rep. Freeman Duncan of Post Falls said Kempthorne came across as a professional with the skills to market and promote his proposals, without the crustiness or hard-knuckle politicking of some of his predecessors. “I’m sure that’s why Kempthorne now is out in D.C. – he has that style that would be required of somebody to be secretary of the interior,” Duncan said.

Kempthorne came to office in 1998 as a promising one-term U.S. senator and the former mayor of Boise who had resolved 20 years of acrimony over downtown redevelopment. Unlike his immediate predecessors, Republican Gov. Batt and Democratic Gov. Cecil Andrus, Kempthorne had never served in the state Legislature. And where Batt was a successful onion farmer and Andrus started as an Orofino logger, Kempthorne’s background was in politics.

“I have never quite figured it out, what didn’t work here – what worked so well for him as mayor and senator and didn’t as governor,” said Weatherby. “He was never part of the club; it’s amazing. And he never could overcome that.”

Legislators grumbled that Kempthorne was too remote, that he seemed too enamored of the ceremonial aspects of his office, and that he made great speeches but didn’t follow through by pushing his proposals.

A look at a key indicator of Kempthorne’s relations with the Legislature – the number of bills he vetoed – shows that Kempthorne had the fewest vetoes per four-year term of any governor since 1959, when the state began keeping records for its official Blue Book.

That might suggest that Kempthorne continued the style he was known for as mayor and senator, of using his own considerable personal charm to bring all parties to the table and build consensus. But the years of legislative grumbling showed lawmakers didn’t see it that way.

“It was the legislative leadership, not the gubernatorial leadership, that passed the bills in those legislative years, and he went along with them whether he liked it or not,” said the blunt-spoken former Gov. Andrus. “He didn’t give ‘em much raw meat to chew on.”

Early in his tenure, Kempthorne went along with lawmakers who wanted permanent tax cuts because of a state budget surplus, when he wanted only one-time rebates. The move proved disastrous as the surplus evaporated and the state budget went into a tailspin. Eventually, Kempthorne had to push reluctant lawmakers to approve a temporary sales tax increase to balance the books.

Jasper LiCalzi, a political scientist at Albertson College of Idaho, said, “He was really hamstrung by budget issues.” While Kempthorne clearly wanted to offer innovative plans for the state, the money often wasn’t there to accomplish them, LiCalzi said.

That may be in part why Kempthorne turned to bonding. He successfully proposed bonding to build new buildings on university campuses around the state, and then turned to a new type of bond to pay for 30 years of highway construction squeezed into 10 years. In a state with regions starkly separated by topography and distance, Kempthorne promised to finally connect all parts of Idaho.

Both Andrus and Batt opposed the new bonding plan, which Congress authorized to allow states to borrow against their future federal highway allocations.

“It’s the same thing they’re doing at the national level, borrowing and creating debt,” Andrus said. “I’m impressed with the program and the recognition of the need, but I wasn’t impressed with the methodology used to pay for it.”

Medicaid reform came in the final year of Kempthorne’s term, and he won federal approval for his broad changes just a day before the U.S. Senate confirmed him as the nation’s new interior secretary.

Budget trends showed that without change, Medicaid spending would eclipse education spending in Idaho in a decade and a half – though education long has been the state’s top budget priority, taking up nearly half of the state budget.

Weatherby said the Medicaid changes won broad support. “That went through so smoothly that it got so little attention that few people have focused on it,” he said.

Kempthorne’s deliberative decision-making style often left legislators frustrated and waiting. When he appointed a new lieutenant governor, he kept lawmakers who were hoping for the nod in suspense for nearly a month.

Kempthorne also pushed to involve more people in decision-making, forming large commissions and adding policy advisers to the governor’s office.

LiCalzi said he views Kempthorne as a new-generation governor for Idaho – a lifelong politician with a sophisticated approach, rather than a farmer or logger putting in a stint at governing.

“I think this is what we’re going to see in the future,” LiCalzi said. “The state is bigger, things happen more quickly.”

Weatherby said Kempthorne also ran afoul of some legislators because he wasn’t as conservative as Idaho’s current crop of state lawmakers, despite some harsh rhetoric criticizing the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency and the federal government.

“It’s just hard to see Dirk Kempthorne’s record as an ultraconservative,” Weatherby said. “He was a moderate, centrist governor in the tradition, I think, of Batt, (Democrat John) Evans, Andrus and (Republican Robert) Smylie.”

Kempthorne pushed for a crackdown on methamphetamine, winning new mandatory minimum sentences; negotiated with Indian tribes over water and gambling issues; and set up an Office of Species Conservation to work on contentious wildlife issues. He also focused in his administration on children’s issues, highway and park improvements, and supporting Idaho National Guard troops through their largest-ever deployment.

He made a point of shaking the hand of every deployed Idaho Guard member who headed off to combat in Iraq or Afghanistan, and showed up again to greet the thousands of Idaho soldiers when they returned home.

Said Weatherby, “It’s vintage Kempthorne, having that kind of personal interest.”