Longtime lobbyist who stopped beer and wine tax plan has his fingerprints all over Idaho law

Here's a surefire bar bet to keep you in low-tax suds: Who wrote Gov. Butch Otter's first veto message?

Answer: Bill Roden.

In 1987, while Otter was lieutenant governor, he needed help voicing his outrage at a federal mandate to raise the drinking age. Filling in for Democratic Gov. Cecil Andrus, who was briefly out of state, Republican Otter chose Roden, a beer-and-wine lobbyist who had headed off earlier bills raising the drinking age to 21.

"I'd never written a veto message," Otter told The Idaho Statesman. "Bill Roden helped me. I don't think anybody ever knew that."

The drinking age got raised anyhow - Andrus signed another bill under threat of cuts in highway funds. But the untold story illustrates Roden's enormous influence on public policy since he first appeared in Ada County court as a young prosecutor in 1956 during the "Boys of Boise" gay-sex scandal.

Skip Smyser, a veteran lobbyist and former senator, stretched his 38-inch arms to their limit to demonstrate Roden's reach. "If the Idaho Code's this wide, he's written half of it," Smyser said.

"That's an exaggeration," said Roden, whose modesty matches his appearance. Bald, bespectacled and 5-foot-8, he putters like Mr. Magoo, sitting at the back of hearing rooms, scribbling notes, muttering to himself. His best work, he says, is done buttonholing legislators one-on-one.

Roden helped establish the sales tax and end regulation of telephones. He is the key player in the history of Idaho alcohol and tobacco law. And though he turned 80 last month, he's still at it.

Roden sees lobbyists as vital in a system where part-time lawmakers have little staff and rely on advocates for information. He emulates Bart Brassey, a business lobbyist who first lobbied Roden when he was a freshman senator in 1961. Brassey made his best case, noted opponents' arguments and left Roden to vote his conscience.

"You never got blindsided," Roden said. "That always impressed me. I want them to vote for or against my legislation based on how they actually feel. That may sound altruistic or pollyannaish, but I hope the people I deal with understand that."

This session, Roden famously continued his winning streak, beating a bill increasing taxes on beer and wine. The last time the beer tax rose was 1961, when Sen. Roden voted for a bill to use the tax to help establish a Permanent Building Fund. In 1971, working as a lobbyist, Roden wrote the first wine-tax bill, which ended a state monopoly and allowed wine sales in grocery stores. The wine tax hasn't risen since.

"I've been lobbied by hundreds, maybe thousands of people," said U.S. Sen. Jim Risch, who spent 22 years in the state Senate. "Bill's the best there is."

Roden is now part of an 18-month effort to rewrite the law on liquor-by-the-drink at Otter's behest.

"He sits; he listens," said Ken Burgess, a lobbyist for the Idaho Licensed Beverage Association. "When he finally sees something he thinks won't work, he speaks up. And when he weighs in, he carries a lot of weight."

The son of a Boise wine-and-spirits salesman, Roden is best known for alcohol issues. Risch tells of a senator coming to him "all lathered up in a sweat" because he figured the beer tax was ripe for raising revenue.

"There are two reasons why the beer tax hasn't been raised in 30-some years," Risch told his colleague. "William. Roden."

HOW RODEN WORKS

Since lobbyists were required to register in 1974, Roden has represented 276 clients, about eight per session. He's reported spending $275,000 entertaining lawmakers, ranking first among lobbyists 11 times. In the nine elections since 1992, Roden's clients have given $1.1 million in campaign cash.

Roden declines to say how much he earns. But he jokes that if lobbyists' earnings were disclosed, "Maybe I could convince my clients they ought to be paying me more. I may have a lot of clients, but I don't think I'm the best-compensated lobbyist in the state."

In a Statesman survey in 1986, Roden was named the top lobbyist. "It is not fair to place Roden in a class with other lobbyists," wrote one fellow lobbyist. "His skills are far superior."

Roden follows four rules:

® Make your case, but acknowledge the opposition's strong points.

® Don't give up after a lost vote. There's another way.

® Don't lose your temper. Today's enemy could well be tomorrow's friend.

® Respect legislators' time: "Realize how much a nuisance you can make of yourself."

Roden also shies from the spotlight. Approached about this story marking his last session as a full-time lobbyist, Roden said he was reluctant to divert attention from legislators while they're meeting. "I'd rather wait," he said. "The focus should be on them." He ultimately agreed to cooperate in the interest of an accurate report.

Central to Roden's success are his eight years in the Senate, including two years as majority leader. "Their first obligation is to their constituents, not me or my clients," Roden said.

His empathy works. House Judiciary Chairman Jim Clark, R-Hayden Lake, became friends with Roden in 1997 after Clark muffed his maiden floor speech.

"Bill was there when I came out and he said, 'It's OK. The bill will pass,'" Clark recalled. "He's as honest as the day is long and I just think the world of him."

GROWING UP IN THE SAWTOOTHS

Roden's intellect and ability to see facets are legend. His parents were staunch Democrats, but he became a Republican. His grandparents ran the hotel in the tiny mining town of Warren. His parents owned the Sawtooth Lodge in Grandjean.

Roden loved reading, and still remembers the librarian, Mildred Shelby, at the Carnegie Library near his North End home. He graduated from Boise High and the University of Idaho, saving money as a bellhop and elevator operator at the Hotel Boise, now known as the Hoff Building, in Downtown Boise.

He spent two years in Army counterintelligence after law school. Married in 1950, he and his wife, Betty, have two children, three grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

His daughter, Lindy Mansfield, said her father was always home for dinner. At bedtime, he'd kill the lights, crawl in with Lindy and her brother, Tim, and make up Peter Pan stories. With a hidden flashlight, he'd conjure Tinker Bell.

Betty Roden said Bill's only serious hobby is reading. He's had a heart bypass and throat cancer and given up skiing. He still runs the boat and plays gin rummy at their cabin in McCall in the summer, a place his folks bought in 1951. Betty worries about Bill keeping busy now that he's scaling back.

"I may just turn the kitchen over to him," she said. "He loves to cook." For 20 years, the Rodens hosted legislators for a big home-cooked meal. Bill's specialty is stuffed flank steak.

Judiciary Chairman Clark lunches with Roden every Friday. A nonlawyer, he relies on Roden's legal mind to scrutinize complex bills. The next-senior lobbyist at the Legislature, Russ Westerberg, said Roden's great skill is unraveling intentionally obscure language and explaining it to lay lawmakers.

Roden has some scars. From 1972 to 1974, he stopped practicing law. The Idaho Supreme Court ordered Roden removed from the active practice of law "upon the report of the Board of Commissioners of the Idaho State Bar." The June 1974 issue of The Advocate, the bar's official publication, said Roden withdrew voluntarily, but did not say why.

The bar's file is confidential. Roden declined the Statesman's request that he permit a review of the documents as part of a complete report on his career. Instead, he asked that this statement be published in its entirety:

"Thirty-seven years ago I voluntarily withdrew from the practice of law for approximately two years for a variety of reasons. It was a difficult time in my life and I had made some mistakes. Those two years allowed me to step away from the practice of law, re-evaluate my priorities, and get on with my life. While difficult, it was the right thing to do at that time. The fact of my temporary withdrawal from the law practice was reported in the Statesman at the time, but during the 37 years since that time, this issue has never been raised. I am surprised and puzzled by the Statesman's present interest in the matter."

During Roden's break from law, he began lobbying for the tobacco industry, a relationship that lasted 30 years. In the late 1970s, he began representing the Idaho Beer & Wine Distributors Association. After 2009, Roden is shedding the distributors and most other clients.

When Roden was twice arrested for DUI in the 1980s - with a single conviction after representing himself at trial - the media always noted his liquor clients. But distributors never considered finding another lobbyist, said Keith Stein, owner of Stein Distributing and a cofounder of the association.

"Bill's a bulldog," Stein said. "If he can't get something accomplished one way, he'll come back around another way and get it done."

Secretary of State Ben Ysursa, who regulates lobbyists, was at this year's dinner for legislators hosted by the distributors. After word of Roden's retirement was announced, "The place gets up and gives a standing ovation," Ysursa recalled. "You don't go many places where the lobbyist gets a standing ovation."

Roden also has lobbied for public employees, drug manufacturers, dentists, chiropractors, accountants, psychologists, vending machine owners, developers, a race track, the financial industry, Qwest and Micron.

Among his favorite jobs has been parrying efforts to hamstring tribal gaming on behalf of the Coeur d'Alene tribe. The tribe is one client Roden may keep in 2010.

Roden's office is kitty-corner from the Capitol and within a few blocks of where he grew up and spent his entire professional life, excepting the Army. He occupies a 12-by-12-foot space. It includes photos of his wife and a cocker spaniel, a lithograph of a monk passed out in a wine cellar, 11 elephants on a bookshelf, and an award from the Associated Taxpayers of Idaho. Behind his desk are a dreamcatcher from the Coeur d'Alene tribe and a painting of a mounted warrior by Indian artist George Flett.

Chief James Allan, chairman of the Coeur d'Alene tribe, spent two weeks in the summer of 2007 traveling in Roden's Honda Pilot to meet lawmakers.

"We'd have ice tea and lemonade," said Allan, who credits Roden for instructing him on living to fight another day. "Folks got to know me. We can get more done as partners."

Allan is among the few who know that Roden spent two years in Japanese internment camps during World War II, where his father worked. Roden's parents had him attend school with the Japanese, rather than leave the camps as others did.

"Think about the measure of a man," Allan said. "He does what's right, he stands up for people who can't stand up for themselves. It's how he grew up. He respects everybody."