By Spencer S. Hsu and R.H. Melton
Washington Post Staff Writers
Tuesday, March 3, 1998; Page D01

RICHMOND—One day, newly empowered Republicans in the General Assembly are steamrolling their Democratic rivals, ramming through new limits on abortion and assisted suicide that have been demanded by the GOP's conservative backers.

The next thing you know, many of those Republicans in the Senate are alongside Democrats, scaling back a plan by Republican Gov. James S. Gilmore III to cut the car tax.

Unusual? Not this year in Virginia, where power-sharing agreements in both houses of the General Assembly have created a legislature without a clear political voice; a body where no one's totally in charge, bipartisan compromise is at a premium and anyone, regardless of seniority, can be a player.

Since a nasty opening week when the 49 House Republicans and an independent demanded -- and won -- a share of committee chairmanships in the 100-seat chamber long dominated by Democrats, the parties have been engaged in an uneasy dance.

The Senate, where Republicans hold a 21 to 19 edge, has operated under a similar agreement for two years. But the second power-sharing pact in the larger, more raucous House has changed the dynamic of the overall legislature, with long-neglected Republicans learning to occasionally lead, and long-powerful Democrats still figuring out how to sometimes play second fiddle.

"We are only at the very beginning of what is being called power-sharing," said Del. Jerrauld C. Jones (D-Norfolk), leader of the legislature's black caucus. "I think people feel unsettled and approach every day not knowing where we are going to end up at the end of the day.

"Every single Democrat or Republican can be a hero for a day, or a villain for a day," Jones added.

For Republicans, the greatest change since a string of seven special election victories in December and January enhanced their power in both houses has been assuming the responsibility of governing, rather than merely criticizing and sniping.

"It's made people communicate who never had to talk before. It means a lot more work for Republicans, which is good and bad," said Del. John H. "Jack" Rust Jr. (R-Fairfax).

The uncertainty can lead to chaotic and unpredictable floor debates. "You don't know where to go, and suddenly realize you have an opportunity to do something you couldn't do before," Rust said.

"Republicans may not know how to operate in the majority yet," said J. Scott Leake, spokesman for the Joint Republican Caucus, "but Democrats certainly don't know how to be a minority."

Republicans are savoring unprecedented power and perks. Armed with committee co-chairmanships and even numbers on both House and Senate panels for the first time since Reconstruction, a new generation of Virginia Republicans is enjoying larger offices and more prestigious titles, as well as shared control over the state's judiciary, budget and appointed commissions.

With neither political party dominant this year, lawmakers by necessity have formed and dissolved rare bipartisan coalitions, passing bills on a range of issues that never would have survived under one-party, conservative Democratic rule.

So far, Northern Virginia Republicans in the House have joined liberal Democrats to approve a pro-labor bill in what has been a vehemently right-to-work legislature to allow public employee unions to meet with management.

Rural Republicans also enlisted younger Democrats to slap back the state's largest health insurer for predatory pricing policies, a stab against politically powerful Richmond-based Trigon Blue Cross/Blue Shield.

Young Republicans in their thirties with two or three terms' experience, and a handful of more senior Republicans, have triggered standoffs and defied House Speaker Thomas W. Moss Jr. (D-Norfolk) over issues such as the appointments of judges and state commissions.

"We were under one-party domination longer than the Russians. It is a liberating feeling," said House Republican leader S. Vance Wilkins Jr., 61, a road paver from rural Amherst County whose rusty-razor style did little more than annoy ruling Democrats for two decades. Now, the more powerful Wilkins says, "it's like when the Berlin Wall fell down."

The new spirit of cooperation among lawmakers has led to bipartisan majorities that have advanced several bills that the new governor opposes. Some of the bills would reinstate sex education and elementary guidance counselors in public schools, regulate chicken farms in an effort to prevent runoff in waterways, and expand child health care for low-income families.

The success of such bills, several lawmakers said, is an indication that Democratic and Republican legislators have put a priority on getting along -- even if, in the Republicans' case, it means sometimes crossing the Republican governor.

"I said we will have to avoid fighting on too many fronts," Wilkins said. " . . . We'd have to be very careful at first and not make wholesale changes just because we could."

For Democrats, their weakening grip on power has not discouraged leaders -- especially in the House -- from trying to revive a party that seemed moribund only five weeks ago. By selecting politically popular issues and deftly wielding the levers of parliamentary power, Democrats have recast themselves as backers of fair tax relief and school construction.

Led by fiery Del. C. Richard Cranwell (D-Roanoke), House Democrats have become a thorn for Gilmore, who at the beginning of the session in January had hoped that the car-tax cut that drove him to victory last fall would sail through the legislature on that mandate.

But Democrats have managed to delay a resolution on Gilmore's proposal until the final two weeks of the session, and now the governor's $493 million, two-year plan to begin phasing out the car tax is competing with two expensive Democratic initiatives: one to cut the state's 4.5 percent sales tax on food, another to spend $100 million to begin a massive school construction program.

"It certainly looks like the Democrats are still relevant, doesn't it?" said House Democratic consultant Alan Secrest, echoing President Clinton's comments after the party's congressional losses in the 1994 midterm elections.

The question, said Cranwell, echoing other Democrats, is whether Republicans can assume power without falling into bickering factions.

With House committees where co-chairmen split duties and each party enjoys equal numbers, the new order certainly has improved attendance at committee meetings. It also has slowed work to a snail's pace, lawmakers and lobbyists said, as both sides grapple with their new roles.

"Initially there was unease, a time for people to get their sea legs until power-sharing came," said Del. Barnie K. Day (D-Patrick). "Since then, civility reigns. Bills die on merit, not politics."

"It may be fun and games to be partisan and in your face, but the public doesn't like it," said Robert L. Calhoun, an Alexandria Republican and former state senator who now lobbies the legislature, echoing several lawyers who say the assembly is more substance-oriented than in past years. "Even people who had an instinct for the jugular" have backed off some, he said.

Such fresh air may be temporary, lasting only until either party has a clear majority. But for now it has created openings for ambitious young lawmakers such as Day and Rust.

Looking ahead, though, lawmakers in both parties say further GOP gains in the legislature may be inevitable in this conservative state. With several older and conservative Democrats headed toward retirement, many lawmakers view power-sharing as a temporary arrangement -- which, analysts said, may be useful in helping lawmakers learn to work together in the more partisan sessions ahead.

"It's actually fairly useful to not have complete control. You have some opportunity to learn and make mistakes," said Robert D. Holsworth, a Virginia Commonwealth University political scientist. "Republicans really have agreed to limit their own power for now. For now, it's government with training wheels."