[Mb-civic] Post-Abramoff Mood Shaped Vote for DeLay's Successor - Washington Post

[William Swiggard]

Post-Abramoff Mood Shaped Vote for DeLay's Successor

By Jim VandeHei and Shailagh Murray
Washington Post Staff Writers
Friday, February 3, 2006; A01

A little over two weeks ago, Roy Blunt (R-Mo.) declared the race for 
majority leader over. He released a statement announcing that a majority 
of Republicans had pledged support to him. It was a publicity stunt, of 
course, an effort to turn an early lead into an invincible stampede. But 
he honestly believed he was on an unstoppable trajectory to victory.

John A. Boehner (R-Ohio), on the other hand, thought the claim was 
bogus. Camped out in a smoky office in the basement of the Longworth 
House Office Building, Boehner was hearing from dozens of disgruntled 
members of the House Republican Conference who were fed up with the 
current direction of the GOP and rumors that Blunt was trading favors 
such as better committee assignments for votes.

Boehner called Speaker J. Dennis Hastert (R-Ill.) to privately complain 
about Blunt's tactics, but he spent the bulk of his time pleading with 
Republicans to back him on the first or second ballot come election day.

Boehner's come-from-behind victory after two ballots in a closed-door 
vote on Capitol Hill yesterday was partly a triumph of maneuver -- the 
kind of deft insider intrigue on which leadership races always hinge. 
But it was also influenced decisively by outside events, as Boehner 
tapped into members' election-year anxieties about the GOP's 
scandal-scuffed leadership.

What Blunt presumed would be his greatest asset -- his links to the 
current leadership's system of power and favors -- turned out to be a 
liability. The day's surprise conclusion also positions Boehner as the 
most likely next speaker of the House, in the event that Hastert steps 
down after one more election and Republicans retain control of the House.

Boehner, who has extensive links to lobbyists, hardly represents a 
radical break from the past. He also triumphed over John Shadegg 
(R-Ariz.), who promised the biggest changes and an end to special 
interest pork projects. But Boehner's colleagues concluded that the 
Ohioan represented the right mix of change and continuity.

One person critical to the Boehner approach was Ways and Means Chairman 
Bill Thomas (R-Calif.), a social moderate who refused to publicly 
endorse a candidate until the very end. Thomas had signaled his 
unhappiness with Blunt's performance as acting majority leader in recent 
months, after taking over from the incumbent majority leader, Rep. Tom 
DeLay (R-Tex.), who had stepped aside after he was indicted in Texas.

Sensing opportunity, Boehner talked to Thomas, a notoriously prickly and 
unpredictable chairman, every day, sometimes several times, until he 
secured one of the race's biggest coups in a face-to-face meeting on 
Tuesday.

When 231 members gathered at lunchtime yesterday for the secret-ballot 
vote, it was Thomas who nominated Boehner, calling him "a bridge" 
between the House's varied ideological and generational factions. In the 
end, he defeated Blunt, 122 to 109, in the second round of the election 
that many saw as a referendum on the direction of the scandal-stained GOP.

This article, which is based on interviews in recent weeks with the 
candidates, their supporters and dozens of rank-and-file members, 
explores how Boehner won an often bruising fight to become majority 
leader. Many lawmakers spoke under the condition that some material not 
be disclosed until the race was over. The information was confirmed by 
at least two sources or provided by a person directly involved in the 
episode.

Boehner, a perpetually tanned conservative, had spent much of the past 
year meeting secretly with Republicans who complained about the current 
leadership team, especially Blunt and his mentor, DeLay, and encouraged 
Boehner to launch a political comeback. More than a year ago, Blunt and 
Boehner discussed how they may soon be pitted against each other in a 
face-off over DeLay's successor.

In Florida, when news that DeLay was relinquishing the majority leader's 
position broke in early January, Boehner started calling colleagues from 
his vacation spot. He penned a 37-page manifesto calling for a new 
Republican direction and highlighted his career-long opposition to 
special-interest pork projects in the federal budget.

He struck a more cautious note in private, assuring Republicans that he 
would not overreact to the Jack Abramoff lobbying scandal and eviscerate 
the lax travel and spending rules they had come to enjoy. As the 
candidate himself realized, Boehner as the reform candidate was not an 
easy sell. His beach parties for rich donors were notorious, as were the 
stories of how he handed out checks from tobacco executives on the House 
floor a decade ago.

"Yes, I am cozy with lobbyists," he told lawmakers concerned about his K 
Street connections, "but I have never done anything unethical."

Blunt's Head Start

 From the beginning, Blunt was running a decidedly different campaign 
than Boehner. As a veteran of past leadership wars, he knew that in 
private many legislators craved help winning reelection, securing 
projects and better committee assignments -- not the clean break from 
excess they championed in public.

At the outset, Republicans such as Maryland's Wayne T. Gilchrest were 
flocking to Blunt, who promised to best protect the familiar ways of 
doing business and the members' own self-interest. Gilchrest was a close 
friend of Boehner, but he voted for Blunt after the Missourian promised 
to back his efforts to chair a new committee overseeing the nation's 
oceans policies.

Like Boehner, Blunt is 56. Also like Boehner, Blunt effectively began 
his race years ago. An ambitious politician who persuaded DeLay to take 
him under his wing in the leadership team during only his third term in 
Congress, Blunt steadily built a favor bank for members. Over the course 
of his 3 1/2 -week campaign, he tried to cash in every chit he had saved.

Rep. John R. "Randy" Kuhl Jr., who considered Boehner a closer friend, 
could not resist Blunt's full-service treatment. Blunt had flown to his 
upstate New York district two years ago to campaign for Kuhl, helped him 
get a post office named after a constituent who was killed in Iraq, 
protect grape growers in his rural district, and secure funding for a 
job-creating nuclear waste processing plant. "Those are three things, 
just in one year," Kuhl said.

 From the third floor of the Capitol, directly above the speaker's 
office, Blunt bombarded Republicans with phone calls using a database of 
home, cell and vacation numbers that his leadership office maintains, 
one of the many little-known tools of power of that give incumbents a 
leg up. He had a system: A couple of staffers would dial numbers on the 
list, and as they reached members they would patch them through to Blunt 
or ask them to stand by for a call back. The pitch lasted five minutes 
to half an hour.

Blunt knew there were concerns about his ties to DeLay, K Street and the 
old guard. He assured Republican lawmakers he had never done anything 
illegal or unethical. But he always returned the conversation quickly to 
what he believed was a member's bottom line. One of his first 
conversations was with Lamar S. Smith, a 10-term Texan whose state faced 
a monumental loss of clout with DeLay's departure from the leadership. 
For almost 50 of the past 75 years, since John Nance "Cactus Jack" 
Garner was elected minority leader in 1929, a Texan has held one of the 
top three House leadership posts. With DeLay's retreat, that influence 
was gone.

Seeking to avoid appearances that he was trying to buy the election, 
Blunt not-so-subtly discussed a variety of priorities and concerns of 
the Texas members -- without explicitly making promises or linking 
action to their vote. The message was clear: Texas would do just fine 
with Blunt in the state's corner.

He spoke favorably of enhancing the clout of the delegation and in 
particular of Joe Barton, chairman of the energy committee. "We thought 
by going with Blunt . . . that would help our situation," said K. 
Michael Conaway (R-Tex.). By the end of the first week, 14 of the 21 
Texas Republicans were with Blunt. By the time he declared victory in 
mid-January, Blunt was certain he had 120 votes in the bag.

Splitting the Opposition

But his aggressive tactics were starting to backfire. Across the street 
in Longworth, Boehner was getting flooded with complaints about Blunt's 
tactics. Judiciary Chairman F. James Sensenbrenner Jr. (R-Wis.) was 
fuming about a rumored deal to provide Barton some of his committee's 
control over telecommunications policies. "Where there is smoke, there 
is fire," Sensenbrenner thundered.

Rep. Richard W. Pombo (R-Calif.) was telling Republicans that Blunt 
offered him the chairmanship of the Agriculture Committee in exchange 
for his vote. Blunt denied both charges.

Boehner's biggest break came when Shadegg entered the race, promising 
even broader changes and an outright end to the practice of "earmarking" 
pork projects for individual congressional districts in spending bills. 
"We seem to have lost sight of our ideals," Shadegg told his colleagues 
in his announcement letter. Boehner's numerical tracking system, which 
logged votes on a sliding scale of 1 to 5, showed Blunt with a small, 
but clear, lead when Shadegg jumped in a week after DeLay stepped down.

It takes a majority of the vote to win, so Boehner knew he would 
probably need to force a second round and win over the Shadegg faction 
to prevail.

Shadegg, also 56, regards himself as a conservative purist; his father 
was an adviser to the patron saint of the modern conservative movement, 
the late Sen. Barry M. Goldwater (R-Ariz.).

If Republicans really wanted change, Shadegg offered it. He was a 
reliable advocate of cutting taxes and spending and bucked the president 
and party leaders by opposing the No Child Left Behind education law and 
the new Medicare prescription drug benefit, two big government programs 
that economic conservatives deplore. Boehner and Blunt voted for both. 
The Wall Street Journal, National Review and several conservative talk 
radio hosts heartily endorsed him.

Rep. Mark Edward Souder (R-Ind.), who nominated Shadegg yesterday, told 
the Republican Conference that "the public believes we abused our power" 
and would accept nothing less than wholesale change.

Yet Shadegg committed a cardinal sin of leadership races -- he 
hesitated. He gave Blunt and Boehner a week's head start and his 
campaign never gained traction. Boehner, knowing he needed his votes 
plus Shadegg's, did everything but publicly embrace the Arizonan. If 
Shadegg issued a statement, Boehner endorsed it. If lawmakers pledged 
their support to Shadegg, Boehner praised them for opting for change.

One key part of their joint strategy was to pressure Blunt to step down 
as House majority whip, the third-ranking leadership job, to run for the 
number two position. Several members told Boehner and Shadegg they were 
afraid to endorse them publicly because they might pay a price later if 
Blunt remained in leadership.

"There is always a concern if you bet on the wrong horse in leadership 
races you will be out of favor with leadership for a while and there 
will be some retribution," said Rep. Tom Feeney (R-Fla.).

Boehner and Shadegg spoke privately the day before Shadegg entered the 
race and secretly plotted a strategy together two weeks later to 
pressure Blunt into a joint appearance on NBC's "Meet the Press." They 
sat side by side at the State of the Union address.

By the beginning of this week, Shadegg sounded annoyed by the tactic. 
"If someone gets into the race and he is attracting votes, you want to 
hug him close," he told reporters at a Monday meeting of 60 conservative 
lawmakers. "I am not hugging John Boehner."

That meeting proved to be a turning point. Blunt showed up dressed for 
the office in a navy-blue suit and red tie, and he responded 
sympathetically to the group's calls for legislative changes to cut 
spending and curtail lobbyist influence. He didn't hurt himself, 
participants said, but he didn't set the room ablaze, either.

Boehner, in a red sweater and navy slacks, went immediately on the 
offense with his own detailed agenda for change. He talked about his 
conservative Roman Catholic working-class upbringing as one of 12 
children. Lawmakers who attended said they were dazzled. "It made a very 
big difference for him," said Rep. Paul Ryan (R-Wis.), who attended the 
meeting and seconded Shadegg's nomination but backed Boehner on the 
second ballot.

As Boehner walked into the Cannon House Office Building yesterday 
morning, some of his closest friends were telling him momentum was 
behind Blunt. Boehner survived the first round, but only barely, as 
Blunt won 110 votes, Boehner 79 and Shadegg 40.

"In the last couple of days, the conservative movement started to weigh 
in and encouraged significant reforms of the Republican direction," 
Feeney said. Most members kept their promises on the first round, "but 
obviously a lot of Shadegg and some of Blunt's supporters ended up going 
with Boehner."

Gathering his staff in his office after his defeat, Blunt told them not 
to spend any time trying to figure out the 15 or so members who betrayed 
him. Then he cited an old Hebrew song about how life is a narrow bridge 
and you can't be afraid to fall off.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/02/02/AR2006020202779.html?nav=hcmodule
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