Gayle McKeachnie likened it to the Constitutional Convention — the closed-door, intense process that led to the massive tax-reform plan Utah's lame-duck governor unveiled last week.

When McKeachnie, Utah's lieutenant governor, said this toward the end of a special briefing for editorial writers Monday morning, it sounded a little hyperbolic, to say the least. The nation's founders were crafting a document that would define liberty and opportunity for generations to come. Tax reform is, well, a plan for paying the bills while still making ends meet. It's also enormously complicated and a bit on the dull side for the average citizen in the midst of the Christmas season.

And yet, the more I think about it, the more interesting the comparison becomes.

I doubt McKeachnie meant us to take what he said literally. He wanted to emphasize that the plan — a thick book with six goals, 16 recommendations and 19 appendices — had been crafted by high-minded people in isolation. There were no special-interest groups at the table. No state lawmakers, either. The governor took some heat for that, but it was the only way to come up with a plan that was pure.

Unfortunately, it also pretty much guarantees you're not going to see Gov. Olene Walker's plan appearing in a tax code near you any time soon. Nor will you see what may be its most enduring visual symbol — a simple, post-card-size form that could serve as your entire state tax-return; something you could easily fill in on your way to the post office near midnight April 15.

I knew it was a lost cause the minute I heard the governor say the plan had to be enacted as a whole; it would do no good to pick and choose only parts of it.

This isn't a dictatorship. Governors can craft plans to their heart's content, but they have to expose them to the sunlight, and all the other types of weather that strike in the public arena, before those plans have a chance of becoming law. And, like it or not, this country is a lot different place than it was in the late 18th century.

The Founding Fathers had to guide their document through political bodies in 13 states. That was daunting. But today, even in a state as small as Utah, interest groups with paid lobbies, e-mail campaign strategies and phone trees make sweeping reform almost impossible. Imagine if everyone from the ACLU to the NRA had a shot at influencing the original Constitution. Imagine the demonstrations and the endless sound bites and verbal attacks on television. Then imagine all this taking place only weeks before a duly elected leader who had nothing to do with the plan was scheduled to take charge, as Gov.-elect Jon Huntsman Jr. is in Utah.