Our Man in Harrisburg (cont.)

Also competing for his attention are a hearing on teen suicide, and a photo shoot with another senator and two township supervisors for their trade magazine. On the table is the bill he sponsored to allow the State Police to do criminal background checks on Little League coaches without charging the teams the $25 fee. Tomorrow he meets with the building trades.

The phone rings with calls from doctors. Pennsylvania physicians, carrying on their protest against skyrocketing malpractice insurance rates, have put out a letter telling patients to call their representatives about the very hot potato of MCare abatement. Erickson’s district office has received about 150 calls in the last couple of weeks and the docs want to speak with the Senator directly. On his list of things to do is callbacks to physicians. On hot issues he might get 100 emails a day.

His priorities include human services and safety. The day before, the Senate passed a bill to allow funding a mobile 911 system that will be able to pinpoint cell locations. Delco has already developed much of the system, and the bill will allow reimbursement to other counties for their help.

He is also chair of the Local Government Committee, which deals with legislation affecting the interests of the 67 counties in the Commonwealth, and a member of the Appropriations Committee.

Erickson is a Republican, and I ask about his politics. “A weird mix. I come out of teaching. I support human services. But fiscally I tend to be a bit more conservative. There are people who better help themselves. I have little patience for people who want a handout. How to make the differentiation, that’s the trick.”

Although new to his Senate seat, he is no stranger to politics. “I taught college. I always thought that politics on a college campus were more intense than in government. Campus politics are brutal. Partisan politics, yeah, there are some dirty tricks but it’s mostly up front.”

Today, like most days, the Senator’s job requires a
combination of Occam’s razor and Solomon’s sword.

At Hamilton College, where Erickson was a tenured assistant professor of biology from 1969 to 1973, he says, “I was a very junior faculty member. At faculty meetings, the senior faculty sat in comfy chairs up front. The junior faculty were relegated to the back on metal folding chairs near the drafty windows. Letting us know exactly where we stood.” He laughs.

Even facing a day that resembles living in a pinball machine, the slender, graying Erickson exudes a sense of calm and good humor. As we walk through the Capitol building, he has a smile and a greeting for both senators and staffers.

He points out the handmade tiles on the Capitol Building floors with pride, and takes particular delight in showing off the gorgeously ornate gilt plasterwork uncovered during renovation of the Senate offices. The Senate Majority leader’s office is baronial, but Erickson is unfazed that his current offices, small and distinctly utilitarian, are in the basement in a hall with a lot more plasterboard than gilt. He won’t be in his permanent office until Senate renovations are completed next summer.

Taking me on a quick tour of the Capitol Building, we pass the fitness center, where he works out every day he is in the capital. We also make a quick stop in the Welcome Center, where the Senator scores impressively on an interactive quiz for youngsters with questions about things like Pennsylvania’s state dog (Great Dane), insect (firefly) and beverage (milk).

Despite his high-powered political and academic credentials, he is low key and doesn’t hesitate to remind me that he is a junior senator. In fact, he doesn’t seem to care much for the trappings of power. He has the smallest staff in the Senate, because he says, his district is so compact. In Harrisburg, he and Chuck McDonald, his counsel and legislative “go-to” person who “does the brain work,” stay in a Super 8 Motel. Erickson dismisses the idea of renting an apartment. “I don’t want to be bothered with that kind of stuff.”

All I know is I really like a man who has an “All I ever needed to know I learned from Star Trek” poster on his wall, with advice like “Having a thing is not so pleasing as wanting: it is not logical, but it is often true.”

Later in the week, he’s back in the District. The Senator’s office, located on a highly visible corner, is a lure for his constituents. A white-haired, 70-ish woman in a long, black coat comes in to ask for help with the changes in PACE, the prescription drug plan for older Pennsylvanians. On a typical day, 10 people walk in asking for help on everything from acquiring a birth certificate to insurance complaints to intercession with the county domestic relations court for a stalled support check. The brochure rack is stuffed with information from absentee ballots to tourist maps of Pennsylvania.

In the district, his focus is on constituents. Tonight he is speaking to the Delaware County Rotary. He goes to fire and police banquets, and recently visited a nearby retirement community to hand out citations to seven residents who were celebrating their 100th birthdays.

Every issue of the Senator’s newsletter features resources for citizens, and every issue generates a spate of calls. Once he got a call complaining that the pool at Ridley High School, open to the public, wasn’t warm enough. “We can’t do anything about that,” says executive assistant Mary Capuzzi with a laugh, but they pride themselves on being responsive. “We operate the office differently from some others. A lot of others don’t do routine constituent services such as helping people fill out PennDOT and PACE applications.”

I ask Erickson about how it feels to be a senator. He shrugs off my question, “It’s a job somebody needs to do. People say, ‘State Senator! Big deal!’ Well, it ain’t,” he laughs. “Not everybody is going to agree with you. I get people who call here and ream you up and down. After you talk to someone and explain why and how, they understand. What’s neat is to be able to see the end result of something.” He smiles. “It doesn’t happen all that often!”

Ted Erickson defines a key part of his job as building relationships and trust. “I was chairman of county council, executive director of the county. If we wanted to do something, we’d discuss it with small cadre of people and then do it. Here I have 49 colleagues. They don’t always agree with you. It’s a slow process. A much slower process than I had anticipated. You lobby, try to make arguments. Then perhaps you have to compromise a bit to get people on board. Does it work? For the most part.”

“Partisans with philosophical differences have to get along somehow.” But he is clear about his role. “I represent the people in the 26th District. Sometimes this can put me at odds with my colleagues.”

* * *

As this story goes to press, the slots bill is dead on the Senate floor. The standoff between the General Assembly and the Governor came to an end when the Senate passed the budget after an all-night session. And Senator Ted Erickson is back home in District 26.