When asked if he had ever crossed the line of ethical behavior, DeLay gave an answer that could come back to haunt him. "Ever is a very strong word."
All this attention on Abramoff--whom DeLay once called "one of my closest and dearest friends"--is just about the last thing the Texas Congressman, who is now the House majority leader, needs at this moment.
At a moment when House Republicans thought they would be celebrating the 10-year anniversary of their triumphant return to power on vows to clean up the place, they find themselves instead nearly immobilized by the ethics controversy surrounding DeLay. Though they have a full and ambitious legislative agenda, starting with President Bush's call for Social Security reform, "every meeting we have is now a meeting about Tom DeLay," complains a Republican aide.
It was easy for DeLay's allies to dismiss signs of erosion in his support early last week when they were largely confined to criticism by moderate Republican Congressman Chris Shays, often a voice of dissent within the ranks. But it was more difficult after 10 former Congressmen, all Republicans, signed a letter to House Speaker Dennis Hastert imploring him to reverse recent revisions in the House rules that were apparently designed to shield DeLay from being investigated by the ethics committee. What's more, conservative Tom Tancredo of Colorado, while professing his confidence in DeLay's innocence, told his hometown paper that it's "probably not the worst idea" for DeLay to step down as leader until he resolves the ethical controversies that are springing up around him.
The White House is publicly standing behind a leader whose legislative abilities Bush respects and needs for the fights ahead. Bush still calls DeLay a friend, although spokesman Scott McClellan pointedly noted last week that "there are different levels of friendship." The President's team is increasingly frustrated by the majority leader's inability to mount a defense more persuasive than blaming his problems on a liberal conspiracy. DeLay, says a senior Administration official, "is handling this like an idiot."
Having seen how a succession of Democratic leaders fell a decade ago, DeLay should know better than anyone how it tends to happen. Again and again, it was not big violations of the law or congressional rules that landed Washington power brokers in trouble as much as smaller lapses in judgment: House Speaker Jim Wright over how his book was being sold, Ways and Means chairman Dan Rostenkowski over his exchange of stamps for cash at the House post office, Democratic whip Tony Coelho over a questionable junk-bond investment, and eight lawmakers who lost their seats in 1992 in part over checks they bounced at the House bank.
For DeLay, it is hard to imagine that any lapse was greater than the cozy relationship he allowed to grow between his office and Abramoff. The lobbyist's activities might have stayed under the radar had a newspaper in Alexandria, La., not reported the startling fact that a local Indian tribe was paying Abramoff's associate Scanlon $13.7 million for public relations work. Subsequent investigations uncovered a flood of e-mail between Abramoff and Scanlon, in which they referred to their Indian clients as, among other epithets, "monkeys" and "losers," even as they charged these clients fees that totaled upward of $66 million. It's far from clear what, precisely, the tribes were getting for their investment. In one instance, Abramoff and Scanlon secretly maneuvered to shut down a Texas casino operated by the Tiguas--only to turn around and offer their services to get it reopened for a fee of more than $125,000 a month.
"The only way I can be cleared is through the ethics committee, so [the Democrats] don't want one," DeLay told the Washington Times last week. But when the journalists asked DeLay whether he had ever crossed the line of ethical behavior, he gave an answer that could come back to haunt him. "Ever," he said, "is a very strong word."
(4-17-05, Time.)
At a moment when House Republicans thought they would be celebrating the 10-year anniversary of their triumphant return to power on vows to clean up the place, they find themselves instead nearly immobilized by the ethics controversy surrounding DeLay. Though they have a full and ambitious legislative agenda, starting with President Bush's call for Social Security reform, "every meeting we have is now a meeting about Tom DeLay," complains a Republican aide.
It was easy for DeLay's allies to dismiss signs of erosion in his support early last week when they were largely confined to criticism by moderate Republican Congressman Chris Shays, often a voice of dissent within the ranks. But it was more difficult after 10 former Congressmen, all Republicans, signed a letter to House Speaker Dennis Hastert imploring him to reverse recent revisions in the House rules that were apparently designed to shield DeLay from being investigated by the ethics committee. What's more, conservative Tom Tancredo of Colorado, while professing his confidence in DeLay's innocence, told his hometown paper that it's "probably not the worst idea" for DeLay to step down as leader until he resolves the ethical controversies that are springing up around him.
The White House is publicly standing behind a leader whose legislative abilities Bush respects and needs for the fights ahead. Bush still calls DeLay a friend, although spokesman Scott McClellan pointedly noted last week that "there are different levels of friendship." The President's team is increasingly frustrated by the majority leader's inability to mount a defense more persuasive than blaming his problems on a liberal conspiracy. DeLay, says a senior Administration official, "is handling this like an idiot."
Having seen how a succession of Democratic leaders fell a decade ago, DeLay should know better than anyone how it tends to happen. Again and again, it was not big violations of the law or congressional rules that landed Washington power brokers in trouble as much as smaller lapses in judgment: House Speaker Jim Wright over how his book was being sold, Ways and Means chairman Dan Rostenkowski over his exchange of stamps for cash at the House post office, Democratic whip Tony Coelho over a questionable junk-bond investment, and eight lawmakers who lost their seats in 1992 in part over checks they bounced at the House bank.
For DeLay, it is hard to imagine that any lapse was greater than the cozy relationship he allowed to grow between his office and Abramoff. The lobbyist's activities might have stayed under the radar had a newspaper in Alexandria, La., not reported the startling fact that a local Indian tribe was paying Abramoff's associate Scanlon $13.7 million for public relations work. Subsequent investigations uncovered a flood of e-mail between Abramoff and Scanlon, in which they referred to their Indian clients as, among other epithets, "monkeys" and "losers," even as they charged these clients fees that totaled upward of $66 million. It's far from clear what, precisely, the tribes were getting for their investment. In one instance, Abramoff and Scanlon secretly maneuvered to shut down a Texas casino operated by the Tiguas--only to turn around and offer their services to get it reopened for a fee of more than $125,000 a month.
"The only way I can be cleared is through the ethics committee, so [the Democrats] don't want one," DeLay told the Washington Times last week. But when the journalists asked DeLay whether he had ever crossed the line of ethical behavior, he gave an answer that could come back to haunt him. "Ever," he said, "is a very strong word."
(4-17-05, Time.)
posted by Sid Cottingham | 5:10 AM
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