Going Rogue: An American Life (38 page)

About a half a dozen paraded in. They brought me a

“Don’t come down here and expect ro change things. Don’t paint us all with rhe broad brush of corruption. You go clean the administrative house, but don’t touch ours.” I reiterated the need for reform. They reiterated their vast perience and implied my equally vast

Then we all smiled

graciously as I nored that, yes, we would be working hard to change the rules for the executive branch, roo.

Later, one lawmaker called Meg to his office to continue the
conversation. “1 can tell you right now which bills will pass this session and which won’t;’ he said. “It’s based upon one thing: relationships-and who is sleeping with whom.” Wow. Shocking to hear it from the horse’s mouth. Bur instead of being discouraged by that, we took it as a challenge and set out to prove that we’d live up ro our promise of reform and positive change.

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I had been in office two weeks when the Alaska Supreme Couer issued an ordet tequiring us to offet healrh benefits CO the samesex pattners of employees. The issue split conservatives and

liberals.

I suppott rhe ttaditional definition of matriage. One man and one woman make a martiage. And I don’t support effoers that can lead to changing that definition.

But on this issue in Alaska, the court was the lawful interpreter of the state Constitution. The promise I had made when being swOtn into office was CO uphold the Constitution. That meant I would be bound by the judiciary’s ruling. So when conservatives iIi the legislature passed a bill that would prohibit state benefits for samesex couples, the couer tuled it unconstitutional, so I vecoed it.

A few angry lawmakers visited my office, outraged that I hadn’t bucked the court. A couple of them said I should have been willing co go co jail over the issue. The unhappy legislacors knew how I felt personally about benefits for homosexual couples; there was no need to preach to the choir about it during our meeting. I bit my congue and didn’t ask them why, as lawmakers who’d been serving in office for many years-and I’d just gotten to Juneau-they hadn’t been able co usher their desired outcome through the legislative process or at least get the issue ontO the ballot for Alaska voters CO decide. As governor, I meant co follow the law. Therefore, even though legislators passed a law that reflected my personal views, I vetoed it. It wasn’t about me; it was-and is—about respecting the Constitution and the separation of powers. And if the people want CO amend the Constitution via referendum, I cold the lawmakers, they have the right to battle it out and do so.

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SARAH

PALIN

6

I remembered reading a survey once that said most CEOs, if they had ro do things over again, would hire back only 20 percent of their original staff. For me it was the opposite: I would rehire 80

percent of my great team of dedicated public servants, including my office administrative staff.

But the 20 percent on which 1’d ask for a “do-over;’ well, they were doozies.

My fitst legislative director was one of these. He turned Out to be a BlackBerry games addict who couldn’t seem ro keep his lunch off his tie. He relished the perception that he was a “player” in Juneau politics, but we were never sure which team he was on. In one of our first meetings with lawmakers, he bragged that he was buddies with all of them and swore he knew exactly “how to handle them.” He had worked in the Capirol and used ro be a lobbyist. He was an “insider;’ and we thought we should hire at least one of those ro show us where the light switches were.

“These guys need to be reminded that you were elected on your promise of ‘no more politicsas-usual; ” he said. “You gotta go in there and tell lawmakers up front, ‘All of you here are in need of
some adult supervision.’ Trust me, I know this stuff, they want
to hear it.”

So I fullowed his advice. I had my come-ro-Jesus meeting with legislators. They didn’t quite
want
ro hear it. When the fallout began aftet that meeting, I looked at the legislative direcror. He looked at the ground and shrugged as if
to say, “Wasn’t me.”

Well, I figured, I had already won a Miss Congeniality sash back in the day. Though my girls had thrashed it ovet the years while playing dress-up, I wasn’t looking to replace it.

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The guy was right about this much: a few ofoUt fOtty tepresentatives and twenty senatots did appear to need adult supervision. Alaska’s part-time legislatute meets for just ninety days each year, ftom January to Aptil, but somehow required tens of millions of dollars to get its job done. The public noticed how much time the legislature spent discussing such weighty matters as whethet to name an official state dog, debating whether Marmot Day should Groundhog Day or whose birthday should be celebrated on the House floor, as well as traveling Out of state and coumry. They passed plenty of laws-that wasn’t the concern; in fact, some· of them wanted to pass too many laws, and I told one of the Democrats that for every law they passed I wamed to see two repealed. That didn’t go over very well, either.

Meanwhile, Alaska’s annual budget growth was unsustainable and we needed to slow it down.

Managing a $14 billion budget as the chief executive of the largest state in the Union with thousands of employees is more complex than managing a city like Wasilla, and certainly weightier than managing a household of seven. But lessons learned on the micro level still apply to the macro. JUSt as my family couldn’t fund every item on our wish list, and had to live within our means as well as save for the future, I felt we needed to do that for the srate. I had four core as the foundation of our budget:

live within our means, expand resource development and industry, focus on core services (education, infrastructure, and public safety), and save for the future. And I reminded my staff: never forget you’re spending other people’s money; that should make us more prudent and serious than anything.

Almost all of our state budget depends on development of Alaska’s energy resources. The petroleum resource is nonrenewable. When it’s gone, it’s gone. Not only is it finite, its value fluctuates. In 1999, the price of a barrel of oil was $9; in 2008,