A lot of Utahns probably read or watch news stories about the state Legislature, what it's doing, some of the good ideas being discussed, or the absolutely crazy stuff the 104 part-time lawmakers do.

It's likely a few citizens actually know their Utah House member or senator. (Yes, we all have one of each.)

Surveys by the Deseret Morning News' pollster, Dan Jones, show that few people can actually name their legislators. (It's likely Jones can, since his wife, Pat Jones, is a Democratic House member from the Holladay area.)

I've covered the Utah Legislature for 25 years.

And one of the biggest changes I've seen is the huge growth in the number of professional lobbyists. Part of that growth, I'm sure, has to do with the complex issues dealt with these days and the difficulty of actually getting something through a 104-member body.

When I first covered the Legislature in 1981, there were only a handful of people who could be called lobbyists — who actually got paid to talk to legislators. Most were public affairs people for big businesses, like Utah Power & Light, or the executive directors of associations, like the Utah Mining Association.

There were no so-called "contract lobbyists" — people who hang out their lobbying shield and get paying clients as best they can.

Now there are more than 450 registered lobbyists.

These are mostly highly intelligent, highly motivated people who tend to suck up the air outside of the House and Senate chambers during the annual 45-day general session. A legislator steps out into the hallways and, like some sick kind of Velcro, lobbyists stick to them.

Now a legislative committee will look at ways that citizens (lobbyists, too) can get better access to lawmakers, especially during the time-packed general session.

It's certainly understandable that citizens feel lost and overwhelmed when they come up to the Capitol to try to talk to their representative.

A current state employee just this week told me a story that I've heard in different forms dozens of times.

He came up to see his senator (whom he actually knew slightly) to talk about a local water problem. He had an appointment with the guy — who as a leader actually had an office. But because the Legislature was in session, you can't just walk into the leadership offices, there are Sergeant of Arms in coats seated out front.

So the guy sent in a note; the senator didn't come out for half an hour, and when he did a bunch of lobbyists glommed onto him as he tried to walk to his visitor in the hallway. It took the senator 20 minutes to work his way to the constituent, then the bell went off for a floor vote, and he said he had to get back in to vote.