With toughest of talk, first-term lawmaker stands out

(AP) Rep. Tom Emmer hadn't been in office two months last year when he held a news conference to promote "asexualization therapy" for pedophiles - in laymen's terms, castration. The Republican from Delano followed that first act with more attention-getters - "sexual predator" license plates for sex offenders, no more subsidized prenatal care for pregnant illegal immigrants, a ban on gambling.

None has passed yet, but Emmer has made his reputation; some of his colleagues, in fact, would make a scissors motion in his direction after the castration proposal.

A trial lawyer and father of seven, Emmer says he's not afraid to speak his mind, and that makes him stick out in a sea of politicians more inclined to weigh their words carefully.

"What happens when I go right at you with the very issue that strikes lightning?" Emmer said, leaning forward, eyebrows furrowed into a scowl. "You tend to come out, don't you? Minnesotans will tend to speak out when they have been pushed to the point."

Even opponents give him grudging respect for getting straight to the point.

"I disagree with practically everything he does, but I kind of like the guy," said Rep. Tom Huntley, DFL-Duluth, who serves with Emmer on a health policy committee. "He's very direct, says what he thinks - doesn't monkey around."

Emmer grew up in a forgotten corner of Edina, near the city's edge and a hockey rink where he often played into the night. He made it as far as the United States Hockey League, the only Tier 1 junior league in the country. Hockey still plays a major role in his life - he's been coaching youth hockey for almost two decades and says it's one of his best stress relievers.

Though Emmer focuses on social issues now, he first got involved in politics simply to save some trees.

In the mid-1990s, he said, he was outraged when he found out that the city of Independence planned to cut down oaks and maples on his land to make way for a new road. He persuaded officials to adjust their plan.

He ran for the Independence City Council, where he ended up serving for 7½ years until he moved to Delano and was elected to the city council there.

Emmer brought his courtroom combat style to the council, said Marvin Johnson, the longtime mayor of Independence. He remembers him as bright and easy to work with. Emmer would "really put the final nail in the coffin on an issue" during debates, Johnson said.

"He's not afraid of that," Johnson said. "We've never had that many controversial issues, but he was very learned in the subject matter and never afraid to express his opinion to the public when they asked hard questions."

Emmer's hard-charging style was on display earlier this month, when he pushed a bill that would make new arrivals to Minnesota - those without children - wait three months to get full welfare benefits.

The 45-year-old lawmaker explained his plan in clipped sentences that made him sound like an angry version of the Twilight Zone's Rod Serling. Reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, he cited legal research and parried Democrats' objections - including the prospect of a constitutional challenge and the bill's impact on the mentally ill and veterans.

Rep. Neva Walker, DFL-Minneapolis, asked him what the bill would do to someone who left the state for an opportunity that didn't pan out and had to return.

"Your bill would keep her from being able to access services even though she had paid Minnesota taxes," Walker said.

"You are correct - that's what my proposal would do, but it would be for 90 days, not forever," Emmer said. "There is no constitutional requirement that a state provide a standard of living to its residents."

A watered-down version of his bill has passed the House, but with no Senate counterpart is unlikely to become law. That's been the fate of some of Emmer's highest-profile proposals - they don't have backing in the Democrat-dominated Senate.

Walker and Emmer have clashed over welfare recipients, illegal immigrants and others, and she describes them as "polar opposites."

"He's definitely a lawyer and definitely has more of a penal way of looking at things," Walker said. "I don't agree with many of his views at all. We come from different places."

But the situation is different on a bill spelling out rules for pharmacists who don't want to fill prescriptions for contraception because of moral objections. Several Democrats have signed onto Emmer's House bill, and the Senate version has the support of a few powerful DFLers, including Linda Berglin, who heads the Senate Health and Human Services Budget Division.

Emmer's original bill took a more extreme position - it would have allowed pharmacists to refuse to dispense prescriptions, period. The compromise requires them to notify their employers of any objections in writing ahead of time, and makes the employer come up with a backup plan so patients don't face delays.

Meanwhile, some of Emmer's outspoken positions in debates have led to epithets. He's been called a fascist and a racist, and gets e-mails from one man who addresses him as "Tom Jim Crow Emmer."

"Go ahead, call me whatever you want," Emmer said.

He said he's convinced he's doing what he's supposed to be doing. That's doubly true after two traumatic experiences - the death of his sister from breast cancer in 2000 and a brain tumor suffered by one of his sons several years ago. His son, Bill, is now doing well.

"You tend to realize that life is very finite," Emmer said. "And I don't believe that people should sit still and bitch. You are either part of the solution or you're not."

He added: "Maybe I'm going to open my mouth on an issue that somebody's going to call me a fascist or a racist or some hate-filled deal - you know, there's only one face I've got to look at in the mirror in the morning, and that's mine."

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