Well, folks, South Dakota’s Legislative Research Council (LRC) has lost its resident boss. Picture a game of musical chairs; only when the music stopped, Reed Holwegner decided he didn’t want a seat anymore. He dropped his resignation letter amidst the Executive Board’s meeting, causing quite the stir among the 15-member panel made up of our esteemed senators and representatives.
Adding a melodramatic flair to the proceedings, the board suspended their rules and retreated into their secret lair, also known as an executive session, to discuss the shocking development. It was a unanimous vote that accepted Holwegner’s resignation like an unwanted holiday fruitcake.
Next on the board’s agenda was ensuring the LRC did not remain a headless chicken, running aimlessly in the legislative field. They unanimously voted (these folks sure do love their harmony) to appoint John McCullough, the chief research and legal analyst, as the interim director. Remember that episode of Star Trek where Spock takes over the captain’s chair? It’s like that, but with less aliens and way more paperwork.
The LRC plays a role in the South Dakota legislative machine. It’s like the backstage crew of a Broadway show, doing all the dirty work while the 105 lawmakers take the spotlight. This crew of political stagehands drafts bills and amendments, and even babysits lawmakers during the summer studies and interim committee meetings when the Legislature is on hiatus.
The E-Board holds the responsibility of hiring the director. It’s like choosing the lead in a school play, only with fewer tears and more paperwork. Still, no one’s quite sure why Holwegner decided to bow out. Is it because of a mid-life crisis? Is he starting a llama farm? Or did he just have one too many encounters with a stapler? Executive sessions, much like the Magic 8-Ball, are all-knowing but incredibly vague. They’re not open under public meeting laws for discussions about employee issues or consultations with legal counsel.
So, while we wait for the dust to settle and the LRC to find its feet, we’re left with more questions than answers. Good luck, Mr. McCullough, you’ve got some big shoes to fill, and remember, if all else fails, there’s always llama farming.