Why anybody would put any reliance in the political judgment of Sen. Don Benton, R-Vancouver, is beyond my comprehension.

Isn’t this the guy who, as state Republican chair, squirreled away over $1 million in campaign donations in 2000 to pay cash for an office building in Olympia so he could move party headquarters there from Tukwila after the election? Money that might have made the difference in U.S. Sen. Slade Gorton’s effort to keep his seat against the challenge of millionairess Maria Cantwell, which he lost by a couple thousand votes? The GOP might even control the Legislature today if some of that money had been spent on tight legislative races.

When Benton came around seeking signatures on his letter to Senate leadership protesting the plan to have all lawmakers put on the feed bag together during the two years they won’t have use of their private dining rooms while the Legislative Building is being refurbished, his fellow senators should have reached for the Raid and hung a bag of garlic around their necks.

Instead, 36 of the 49, about half and half Democrats and Republicans, signed it. Actually, only 34 names appear. Two came to their senses and had their names blacked out.

I believe those who said they didn’t read before signing because they’d have to be as politically out of sync as Benton otherwise, whose hyperbole included “THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE,” yes, in capital letters, unacceptable being the very thought of breaking bread with representatives instead of enjoying with their upper chamber peers the gourmet services of two French cooks.

Senators have always looked upon themselves as the House of Lords and their cohorts across the rotunda as the House of Commons. Or, perhaps, as college seniors compared to high school freshmen. I don’t know why they should be so uppity. I never saw a House member take off his shoes and socks and trim his toenails at his desk as a senator from Spokane once did.

Let me say, first, that I approve of the lawmakers’ private dining rooms, not so much to get away from lobbyists, but for convenience and time saved. If they had to go out to lunch, it would take hours for them all to come back, and some might be a little the worse for wear. Not that there wasn’t temptation in the Senate dining room when they had wine there. One of my fellow reporters who ate there used to show up for the afternoon session with rosy cheeks and rosy nose and doze at the press desk. We poked him awake when he snored.

I ate in the House restaurant for the 30 plus years I covered the Legislature in Olympia, paying just as they did. I chose the House over the Senate because the House was more of a fun place. I never broke the rule that what was said down there was off limits. The problem usually was the reverse. Members would want to tell me something and I’d have to say no, not here. Tell me afterward in the hallway or upstairs.

I also sat on the minority side, which most of the time was with the Republicans. I wanted to be out of earshot of the majority who liked to strategize over lunch and I didn’t want them to think I was eavesdropping. My informants in the majority usually clued me in on what was being said anyway, which I considered to be legit as long as I hadn’t overheard it in the lunchroom myself.

Anyway, Senate leadership apparently is unmoved by the distress of 36 of the members, giving no consideration to suggestions that they be bused to the French restaurant their chefs operate in Olympia, or that meals be catered.

They’re going to have to eat with the House members even if it does make them feel like remote cousins at Thanksgiving who have to sit with the kids at card tables far below the salt.

House members aren’t so bad. I ate with them, didn’t I? So what if they spill their milk once in awhile? Can’t we all just get along? Well, can’t we?

(Adele Ferguson can be reached at P.O. Box 69, Hansville, WA 98340.).