The Tennessee General Assembly's 1997 performance, on the other hand, was described by a prominent Nashville newspaper columnist as nothing less than an utter failure. In one infamous instance, an amendment that effectively suspended the annexation powers of every city in Tennessee passed both chambers virtually unnoticed. 

"[The session] did nothing to increase public confidence in the institution," he wrote. "All in all, taxpayers got a poor return on their investments for five months of pandering and posturing." 

Even so, neither development alters the fundamental conclusions of "The Sick Legislature Syndrome." The linkage between professionalism, partisanship and incivility still remains as obvious as ever, even if Minnesota and Tennessee--the two legislatures featured in the article--failed to follow the script exactly in 1997. 

Because for all its goodwill, Minnesota's 1997 session still ended on a bitter note--this time in a shrill battle over tuition tax credits. And in Tennessee, while legislators may not have delivered an inspiring performance, the General Assembly methodically accomplished about the same as it does every year: Not a great deal, but a little something for everyone, within a context of bipartisan comity. 

Contrary to how many have viewed it, the article was not a call for the return of the citizen legislature. It was, instead, an attempt to explore what has been gained and lost in the headlong rush toward professionalism. 

"The Sick Legislature Syndrome" article hardly stated anything Minnesotans did not already know themselves. By the beginning of 1997, after several years of legislative scandal and fierce infighting, both sides of the aisle had recognized the need to rise above partisan gridlock. But many legislators, I am told, took great offense to the indignity of such unfavorable national attention anyway. 

So did a variety of other capitol insiders. A local newspaper editorial uncharacteristically defended the legislature, while a widely-circulated, in-state political newsletter panned the story for its alleged factual inaccuracies (without citing any). Even the president of Minnesota Common Cause defended the legislature in a lengthy letter to Governing. 

Yet not everyone in St. Paul disagreed with the story's premise. One capitol correspondent with whom I discussed the story felt the assessment was accurate. Later, House Minority Leader Steve Sviggum cited sick legislature syndrome in a press release advocating shorter sessions, a smaller legislature, and a return to a "citizen" legislature. 

In Tennessee, as you might expect, legislators were elated--and a little bit surprised. One reporter described the scene as "bipartisan glee in Legislatorland," and Governor Don Sundquist went so far as to congratulate the General Assembly in his State of the State address. 

The Democratic caucus even issued instructions as to how best to take advantage of the positive publicity. Each legislator was encouraged to send out a press release with the good news. A sample release offered this line: "'I want to continue the bipartisan cooperation that Governing magazine has recognized in this month's cover story,' said state Representative (Insert Name)." 

Neither in Tennessee nor Minnesota, however, did the responses actually address the conceptual flaws and strengths of the article. The measured--and less emotional--academic responses did so quite effectively. 

Peverill Squire correctly observes that one possible problem with the sick legislature syndrome analysis is that "if professionalization is the cause, then the problems it causes should be found in both houses and to the same degree." 

He cites California as a state where that is not readily apparent, noting that the Senate, "while no bastion of exemplary manners, has managed to maintain a reasonable level of civility and productivity." 

Critics of the sick legislatures article have made the same point about Minnesota, since it seems clear that the Senate is afflicted to a lesser degree than the House. I would argue that the symptoms surface intermittently in both bodies, and that the quality of legislative leadership is actually the main determinant in whether they are inflamed or kept in check. 

In any case, it seems apparent that voters are uninterested in or unable to make distinctions between chambers, either in California, where term limits have been adopted for all legislators, or in Minnesota, where the 1996 elections were marked by record low turnout and the overwhelming approval of a ballot measure permitting the recall of officeholders. 

These developments should heighten the concern, voiced by Gary Moncrief, that public opinion will blindly embrace the notion of the citizen legislature. Indeed, it may be too late already, judging from bitter opposition to legislative pay hikes, resistance to the idea of lengthening legislative sessions, and enthusiasm for the return of the part-time legislature. 

For some states, this would be an unfortunate and short-sighted mistake. Despite the numerous shortcomings of the professional institution, in a state as economically and demographically diverse as Texas, for example, a biennial session filled with underpaid part-timers seems stunningly inadequate these days. Likewise, anything less than modern, fully-professionalized legislatures would badly underserve a handful of states that already have them. 

Moncrief also makes a separate, but no less relevant point: While professional legislatures experience heightened partisanship and diminished civility, these features show up in other institutions as well. He is, of course, correct. After all, in an in-your-face culture, why should popularly elected representatives be expected to act any different? 

The impact of the media, unexamined in the article but highlighted by Cynthia Opheim, also plays an unquestionably consequential role in the public's perception of the professionalized institution. 

Opheim's own finding that the Minnesota legislature ranked first in its efforts to inform and educate the general public is ironic, for it reveals that even the most determined attempt to make an institution open and accessible is rendered meaningless by a few sessions' worth of negative publicity. 

This is almost certainly true in California as well, where few voters are likely to recognize the benefits of professionalization, but many are apt to remember media coverage of the legislative lowlights of 1997. First, there was the gallery of crestfallen school students who witnessed the Senate deadlock over a resolution to designate the official state soil. Then there was the debate in which the President Pro Tem declared, "[T]here's no obligation that any member tell the truth." 

Christopher Mooney also considers the role of the media, but from a different perspective. His observations about the values implied by the media are incisive and, as of yet, unanswered. But of all the questions he suggests pursuing, the most fascinating, to me, are those regarding the impact of legislative professionalism on state policymaking. 

"Are certain types of policy more likely to be addressed or avoided by professional legislatures? Do some interests fare better in professional versus citizen legislatures?" he asks. "Is there a difference in the influence of lobbyists and interest groups between these types of legislatures?" 

I suspect the answer is yes to each. The most striking findings in my reporting seem to suggest an often seamless relationship between party caucuses and powerful interest groups. 

One reason why might be the fact that in Minnesota, as in several other states, the legislature is pollinated with members who are not simply ideologically in sync with these special interests, but who are former activists and officials of these groups. 

More troubling still is what appears to be a strain of capitol "mission creep", in which these lobbies expand their purview beyond narrow areas of self-interest and into a wider range of policy issues that only tangentially affect them. 

But that is a story for another time.