Chapter 110: 1991 In Our Nation’s Capital

I got a call from Marty on Monday afternoon, late. “I need to have my head examined, but I’m in. If you still want me, let me know. I haven’t given any notice yet.”

“What about your law firm, Dewey Cheatem and Howe? Is this going to screw up any partnership bids? How does that work, anyway?”

Marty snorted. “That’s part of it. I have been weighed in the balance and found wanting. I nosed around some this morning, and there won’t be a partnership offer made to me. At least, not under current circumstances. If I were to make the appropriate investment, they might reconsider.”

“Ouch!”

“Right, so I might as well consider my other options.”

I shrugged to myself. There are lots of reasons not to make somebody a partner, and job performance wasn’t the only factor. Maybe Marty simply pissed off a senior partner. “Come over on Wednesday and we’ll talk some more.” We hung up on that.

I talked to Marty on Wednesday, and we confirmed he would come to work as my Chief of Staff. Thursday morning, I called Sherry, Babs, and Mindy into my office and gave them the word. They sat there and nodded in understanding, but I felt an undercurrent of relief. They were getting somebody to sort things out. Marty would start soon, not the next Monday, but the Monday after that. They would pass it along to everyone.

After Marty joined up, you could see everybody settling into a new scheme of things. The entire office tightened up some, in that there was a method to the madness, and some needed discipline. Marty would have a meeting every morning, with me, him, and the three top ladies, and we would plan out the day and review what needed to be done. At least once a week he met with Babs and the Constituent Support people, and with Sherry and the Legislative Support people. He also made a schedule to visit the District Office in Westminster on a regular basis. Even my own schedule began tightening up, as I began to meet with people I needed to see, and not just people who wanted to buy my soul.

After a few weeks, as things began to work together much more smoothly, I made a comment at our morning meeting that, “I think this new arrangement is going to work out.”

Marty laughed dryly. “That just means it’s all going to fall apart by lunchtime.”

He was right, of course. By the beginning of April, I found myself called on the carpet by Newt Gingrich. He had discovered, horror of horrors, that I was interested in co-sponsoring Al Gore’s Internet bill. I was ‘asked’ to meet with him in his office. It was a lot like being called into the Principal’s office. He sat behind his big desk, and I sat in a chair in front of him. “Carl, I understand you are interested in co-sponsoring HR656.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” I replied. I didn’t want to elaborate unless I had to. Newt Gingrich had the moral instincts of a shark looking for a wounded guppy. There was a reason he was the Minority Whip.

“I’m curious why you would do that. That’s Al Gore’s computer bill, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Basically. It’s the House version anyway. He had George Brown propose it. Sherry Boehlert is one of the co-sponsors.” Maybe I could deflect any wrath by throwing Sherry under the bus.

Newt looked like he was sucking a lemon as I said that, so maybe that wasn’t a great line of thought. “That’s really a Democratic bill, Carl. It would be best if you took your name off it.”

“It’s a bill that is going to pass, so maybe it would be good to get my name on it,” I countered.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. You know that Minority Leader Michel and I are working to build a Republican majority, right? Neither of us thinks that successful Democratic legislation will be conducive to that. We’d rather wait until we returned to power to do these things.”

Well, that was blunt enough. The massive Congressional gridlock that characterized Washington from about 2008 on really got its start twenty years prior, under the Gingrich reign over the Republican Party. Strategy meant nothing; tactics meant everything. It was a beggar thy neighbor, scorched earth approach to legislation. Better that nothing gets done than that anything bipartisan might get accomplished. The only way this works, though is when one party has an unassailable hold on both houses and the Presidency. Under any other circumstances it just makes for not much action and bad blood.

I nodded in understanding, but countered, “Newt, this is an important bill, and it will have consequences that will benefit the Republican Party as well. We should be supporting this bill.”

“Explain how this will benefit us.”

“Are you aware of exactly what this bill does? In a nutshell, it opens up existing government computer networks and allows them to be expanded on. In effect it is privatizing the existing government networks. We’re in favor of privatizing. There will be a lot of money made from this.”

That made Newt wake up. He sat upright and looked at me hard. “Computer companies are going to buy this?”

“Probably not, but the phone companies will.”

“I’m not convinced,” he told me.

“Let me put it another way. Al Gore is taking to calling this thing the ‘Information Superhighway’, right? Have you ever heard of a highway that didn’t need construction? I would think you’d be interested in figuring out how to regulate and control that construction.” Regulate and control - in other words, get money from the companies building the highway so that the construction would be regulated and controlled the way they wanted.

Newt gave me a noncommittal grunt at that, and I could see the wheels whirling inside his head. I pushed in a different fashion. “Here’s another thing to think about. You don’t want Al Gore claiming he built the Information Superhighway, do you?”

“That’s why I’m meeting with you,” he said tersely.

“Well, you’ve heard that when somebody hands you lemons, make lemonade. This bill is going to pass, that’s a given. You can’t stop it. Make some lemonade. Remember, I’m a mathematician. I have a doctorate in applied mathematics and my thesis was on computer networking. If Al Gore starts saying he’s building the Information Superhighway, trot me out. I drew the blueprints!”

Gingrich’s eyes popped open at that. He grumbled some more at me but let me out. I don’t know if I was first on his list or last, but I knew he wouldn’t let it go. A couple of other Republicans were going to co-sponsor it as well, Steve Schiff of New Mexico, and my fellow Marylander, Wayne Gilchrest.

By the end of April, I was listed as a co-sponsor of the bill, which was reported out of the Science Committee mid-May. From there it had to go to the Senate to be sorted out with the joint committee, to make the wording match what was reported out of the Senate Commerce Committee. It was just a matter of time after that. The Democrats had a solid majority of both the House and the Senate, and this thing wouldn’t even be brought up to a counted vote. A voice vote would be good in both houses. It’s like I told Newt Gingrich, this thing was going to pass no matter what.

Also, by the end of April, most of the troops in the Gulf were coming home. I got a call from the USO, and Mindy set me up with a room down in Fayetteville. I flew down for a few days and helped host a ‘Welcome Back!’ party. No, I didn’t give any speeches, or at least not too many, but I did talk to the generals and colonels commanding the division and the brigades and attached battalions. I also left my business cards. Little Captain Buckman had left home and grown up. If the 82^nd needed help in Washington, they now had their own pet Congressman.

There was one speech I gave, which I began using with lots of military groups in the future. I was asked to say some words to a group of senior non-coms who had seen their last war. The Army was still downsizing, and the Gulf War had been their last hurrah. I was expected to say fine things and thank them for their dedicated service, and I did that of course. Then I added an extra.

“Now I am going to close this by saying that your nation is not done with you. Some of you came into the Army as draftees. Others enlisted. All of you had chances to get out after doing a hitch, and all of you thought that your service to the nation was important. It still is. Now you are retiring, to start second careers, many of them in the private sector. However, your nation still needs you, now more than ever! I want everyone here to think about the sacrifices you have made and have been asked to make. I want all of you to consider a new sacrifice, the sacrifice of serving in political office. It’s not easy, but it is important. From now on, every time you complain about something dumb in government, I want you to think about what you could do to make it better. I want you to think about becoming part of the solution, and not just complaining about the problem. Republican, Democrat, or Independent - I don’t care! Just get involved! Run for alderman or county commissioner or the school board. Hell, run for dogcatcher! The skills that got you here today, the pride and dedication and courage and smarts, those are the skills your hometowns need! You’ve spent a lifetime serving your country. Now go home and serve there as well!”

At the end, as I was shaking hands, several commented to me that I had given them something to think about, and some of the senior officers told me the same thing. Later, while talking to some of the colonels and generals, I stated that for years, military service had been a requirement for holding political office, but that was going out of fashion. Maybe it should come back into fashion, and what better way than this? Maybe one of those non-coms would become an alderman, and then maybe leverage that upwards. It worked for a beat-up old battery commander, didn’t it? (Not me - Harry Truman!)

In May, the Queen of England visited and gave a speech to Congress. In preparation, I went home the night before and practiced waving to the peasants with Marilyn playing the role of peasant. She returned the favor, using a special wave involving the middle finger being extended. How very peasant-like!

One of the things that Marty forced us into was the role of host and hostess. It was one thing to buy a home large enough to do this, but another to do it. Still, Washington floats on a sea of shrimp cocktails and Swedish meatballs. Some of my colleagues had reputations as being very private homebodies, but more than a few had a quite different reputation. There were at least a half-dozen A-list parties every night somewhere in this town, some given by politicians, some given by lobbyists and think tanks (which had the advantage of being tax deductible), and some given by high-end reporters and pundits.

Marty gave me my marching orders. I had to pick a date and we would hold our first dinner, something small, for the Maryland contingent of Congress. That was nine Representatives and two Senators. If everybody came and brought a spouse/significant other/insignificant other/somebody-they’re-just-trying-to-get-in-the-pants-of that would be twenty-two. Not all would attend, and somebody would probably add an extra. Add in a few reporters, pundits, and hangers-on. Toss in an invitation to the Governor of Maryland, since Annapolis is only a half hour away. Figure about three dozen people. Marty checked out the name of the ‘party liaison’ and made a few calls.

“Don’t sweat it, you can afford it,” he told me. He had a particularly evil grin as he said this.

I just rolled my eyes at that. “You’re really getting off on ordering me around,” I told him.

“Damn straight! Marilyn told me to keep you on the straight and narrow.”

The dinner was on Friday, May 17. For the average Congressman, meeting your fellow Congressman on a Friday night isn’t so great since most of them are back in their district on a Friday night. Maryland was a little different, though, since it is right next door to Washington. Other than the Gilchrests from the Eastern Shore, everybody else could almost commute.

Marilyn brought the kids and Dum-Dum down right after school, and Sherry’s niece came over to babysit upstairs with them. That went well, but there were a few hitches. Charlie and his sisters were neatly dressed, and all three were at an age where they understood that “Behave or else!” involved an ‘or else!’ Our party coordinator brought in a chef and wait staff, and the chef used our fancy showroom kitchen to make some Maryland dishes, including soft shelled crabs and oyster soup. He also made up some Maryland fried chicken and did some drumsticks for the kids. We allowed them to troop through, grab some plates, and head back upstairs. At that point Dum-Dum snuck past them and zoomed down the stairs. Fortunately, I was able to snag her before she disrupted too much. I picked her up and calmed her down in my arms, and several people came over and got enthusiastically licked before I maneuvered her back up the stairs.

That elicited a discussion of child rearing techniques. Everybody commented that our children had been extremely well behaved, and I simply mentioned the ‘or else!’ method of child education. Since Marilyn and I were the youngest in the group, everybody else in the room thoroughly understood this time-tested technique and passed along how they had raised their children and how they had been raised. None of us believed all that touchy-feely New Age no spanking bullshit.

In general, it went well. We didn’t really discuss anything important. Everybody thought the kids were adorable (which had Marilyn and me scratching our heads) and Dum-Dum was a real scamp. I made sure I told the others, all of whom, other than Wayne Gilchrest, had more experience in Washington, that whatever I could do to help Maryland, to let me know. Governor Schaefer immediately asked me for a campaign donation, saying how that would be good for Maryland. That got a loud round of laughter, since he was a Democrat, so I countered by saying, “Don, I already married a Democrat,” and pointed to Marilyn. “Just how much more can I do for you guys?” That got even more laughter and the Governor shook my hand, saying that was sufficient. The photographer Marty had ordered up took several group pictures.

I did earn Brownie points when, over dinner and joking about Schaefer’s comment about helping him out, Wayne Gilchrest commented, “Maybe you can donate to some of my volunteer fire departments like you do your own?”

I glanced over at Marilyn, and she shrugged at me, so I shrugged back. I looked over at Wayne and said, ‘Okay.”

Beverly Byron, who represented the Maryland Sixth, the Appalachian counties, joked, “Can the Democrats get in on the action, too?”

I looked across the table and said, “Sure. I hear even Democrats have fires.”

She gave me an odd look. “Are you being serious?”

“Yes. Are you?”

There was a level of consternation around the table. Governor Schaefer, who was sitting a few seats down, asked, “Carl, are you serious about donating money to other districts’ charities, even the Democrats’?”

I glanced over at my wife, who smiled and nodded. “Governor, unless you can guarantee me that all the bad things that happen to people in the state of Maryland will only happen to Republicans, then yes, I am serious,” I looked around the room. “Look, I’ve heard the stories, I know what’s been said. I bought the election by throwing my money around to charities. I’ll admit I’ve given a lot of money to fire departments and emergency squads and police departments in my district, but it’s because that’s where I live. If you have some charities in your districts you’d like to see helped, then let me know. Or let Marilyn know. She’s the head of the Buckman Foundation. Just be prepared for the consequences.”

“Such as,” asked Steny Hoyer.

I shrugged at him and smiled. Steny was a leading Democrat. “Such as my smiling face handing over the check while the cameras are clicking. What’s more important, that the charity get the money, or that a Republican not get credit? Hmmm? Something to think about, isn’t it?”

There was considerable murmuring about that! However, it wasn’t all bad. Kweisi Mfume, who represented one of the poorest inner-city districts in Baltimore, said, “I don’t care if your face is on the check! The people in my district need money for health care and clinics, and they don’t care where it comes from. Are you serious?” He had a rebellious look on his face, and I recalled that he and Schaefer had their differences about this.

I looked him in the eye and said, “Yes. How much are we talking about?”

“How about twenty thousand for a clinic in Pimlico?”

“Fifteen,” I countered, “but it is in matching funds. You scrape up fifteen elsewhere, anywhere, and I’ll cough up another fifteen. Deal?”

“Make it twenty, and you get to stand there and cut the ribbon,” he pushed.

“Only if the Sun and the television stations cover it,” I replied.

“Deal!”

You could see wheels whirling in people’s heads about this. I knew some wouldn’t want it, if I were attached, and some either wouldn’t care, or would be happy to see me (mostly the other Republicans.) Over the next ten minutes, I got requests for quite a bit more, again, all for various clinics and fire/emergency units.

“Just how much are you planning on donating?” asked the Governor.

I thought about it for a moment. “I’ve been giving about two hundred grand to various charities around my district for years, simply because it’s where I live. If we expand that same amount to the rest of the state ... maybe $2 million. Seem fair?”

“Every year?” asked an incredulous Steny Hoyer.

“Well, as long as the economy holds up, so maybe you Democrats should vote Republican and help us with the economy,” I said, smiling.

That earned me a few laughs, and a lot of thoughtful looks from the others. More than a few people asked me about things, and then said, “I’ll hold you to that!” which I replied to in kind.

By the end of the dinner, we were invited to several dinner parties by the others, including one at the Governor’s Mansion in Annapolis. We politely accepted that one and promised to check our schedules on all the others. It is entirely possible to spend damn near every lunch and dinner eating somewhere on someone else’s’ dime, although how much you will accomplish is debatable at best. You’d better be a sparkling conversationalist at the least! As for Governor Schaefer, well, Don Schaefer was the Maryland politician of our generation, and it didn’t matter that he was a Democrat; if you wanted to do something political in Maryland you made sure you played nice with Don Schaefer, and at the least didn’t piss the man off.

Otherwise, however, 1991 passed along without much excitement. Unfortunately for George Bush, the economy began swirling around the bowl. In the early spring, following the American victory in the Gulf (okay, Coalition victory, but really, who cares?) the President had approval ratings in the ninety percent range. Unfortunately, this proved the high point of his presidency. By the summer, the economy was beginning to tank seriously. A combination of higher oil prices due to the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, massive government deficits, and a general decline in the housing market combined to really slow the economy.

To a certain extent my holdings in the Buckman Group weren’t affected. When I had been elected, I had to place my financial assets into a ‘blind trust’, a trust where the trustee had full control of the assets and I had no legal ability to modify the investments. In theory, this prohibited me from changing my investments to benefit from any knowledge of what I was doing in my public life. I was not to communicate with the trustee other than to learn how the cumulative investment was doing.

In practice, the blind trust is one of the weakest methods of insuring fiscal independence. The trustee must be somebody known and trusted by the owner of the trust. My trustee was hired by John Steiner, my longtime friend and lawyer. Since I was such good friends with John it was not unexpected that we would talk frequently. As knowledgeable men of the world, with interests in politics and economics, it would be expected that we would have frequent conversations over market trends. However, since nothing we ever said in these private and unrecorded conversations could be construed to be trading instructions, neither of us was in breach of our fiduciary duties. Likewise, while I never talked to the trustee, it was not out of the realm of possibility that John would talk to him, since they probably did other business together as well.

Realistically, I wouldn’t have given him any trading instructions in any case. My assets were in the form of Buckman Group stock. If, however, John was to pass along any of my comments and insights to other friends, such as those involved in the management of the Buckman Group, that was to be expected. It wasn’t even a case of insider trading.

The practical effect was that the Buckman Group focused even more closely on computer and networking companies, as the ‘Information Superhighway’ began to be built. On the rest of the market, we began betting on a recession-based economy. I just reminded them of my trading philosophy that there was just as much money to be made on the downside as there was on the upside. Jake Junior and Missy took the bit in their teeth and ran with it.

This was an amazing part of being a Congressman. If I were still with the Buckman Group and pulled this shit, I’d be doing time at Club Fed for insider trading. As a Congressman, the rules simply didn’t apply to me. At least I kept up the semblance of innocence; when LBJ had been President, he’d had a phone in a desk drawer with a direct line to his stockbroker.

On my weekends home I made a deal with Marilyn to spend at least one day with her and the kids as just a regular dad. I would also usually do a pancake breakfast or chicken-and-biscuit dinner somewhere in the district. It kept my face out there and allowed me to make an appropriate charitable donation to the local firehouse or ambulance squad. I wasn’t buying votes, at least not technically. My donations weren’t out of line with what I had been giving before I got into politics, however, they were a lot higher profile. I even had a big fake check made up out of plastic, like a white board, where I could write an amount and a name on it and pose for pictures. Afterwards, I would stick the fake check back in the car and give them a real check.