TOM DELAY, THE HOUSE REPUBLICAN WHIP, is keeping his own job and affecting everybody else’s. The morning after Christopher Cox of California announced he was running for speaker of the House, DeLay endorsed Cox’s chief opponent, Bob Livingston of Louisiana. Within 48 hours, Cox was out of the race, and Livingston had won by default. At roughly the same time, DeLay threw his weight behind the bid by Tom Davis of Virginia to replace Rep. John Linder of Georgia as chairman of the House GOP campaign committee. Davis quickly was able to line up more votes than Linder. And when J. C. Watts of Oklahoma launched his drive to oust John Boehner of Ohio as conference chairman, an old DeLay hand, Mildred Webber, became Watts’s campaign manager. Watts’s prospects improved immediately.
Two things are going on here, one obvious, the other more subtle. The obvious one is that DeLay, while remaining in his No. 3 post during the Republican leadership shuffle, is gaining power. Less apparent is the effort, led by DeLay, to remove any residue of Newt Gingrich’s influence on House Republicans. True, some of Gingrich’s allies — chiefly majority leader Dick Armey and Linder, less so Boehner — may hold on. But they’ll have less clout, as Livingston and DeLay run the House.
This is not a bad development for conservatives. Despite the media’s insistence that congressional Republicans should move to the center, Livingston and DeLay aren’t likely to. At least DeLay isn’t. He’s the most unswerving right-winger in the GOP hierarchy, and he didn’t attract a challenger. Why not? “It’s an honesty thing,” says a House Republican. Conservatives like him and moderates appreciate his candor. Moderates are leery of Armey, who once suggested in print they should be tossed aside.
How exactly is DeLay increasing his power? Mainly by moving into policy making. Under Gingrich, DeLay was merely a tactician, the guy who counted votes and mustered majorities. He had a seat at the leadership table, but not a loud or influential voice. Now it’s clear he has a following consisting of people who look to him for cues. Plus he has the inclination to play a policy role. And the more Gingrichites booted from the leadership, the bigger the role.
DeLay never fit in with Gingrich. To win the whip’s job in 1994, he ran against Gingrich’s best friend, Bob Walker. (Webber ran DeLay’s campaign.) Walker’s top aides were then hired by Gingrich, and, not surprisingly, they clashed with DeLay’s staff. Nor did DeLay get along with Armey. In 1995, he sent Armey a letter demanding that he stop criticizing DeLay in private. Then the split widened when Armey pulled out of the abortive anti-Gingrich coup last year and denied that he’d ever wanted to oust Gingrich. DeLay admitted his role, endearing himself to conservative firebrands like Joe Scarborough of Florida. “DeLay was straight with us,” says Scarborough. DeLay also was never close to Boehner, who became conference chairman with Gingrich’s help, or Linder, who was appointed to the campaign post by Gingrich.
In DeLay’s view, Gingrich was secretive, mercurial, and insufficiently conservative. Livingston is more his type, a legislative insider, not a visionary with schemes for the next century. Also, DeLay and Livingston are what one House Republican calls “institutionalists.” They chafed at Gingrich’s attacks on the House. “Newt would trash the institution — the House bank, the pay raise, term limits,” says a Republican aide. DeLay almost didn’t sign the Contract With America in 1994 because it endorsed term limits, which he loathes. And he and Livingston are both conventional conservatives, with none of Gingrich’s libertarian tendencies. DeLay is far closer to the Christian Right and sympathetic to its agenda.
DeLay’s influence wasn’t really needed in Davis’s race against Linder, who was toast from the moment it was clear Republicans had slipped on Election Day. But DeLay encouraged Davis to run, then publicly backed him. Since Davis was a shoo-in, DeLay couldn’t be accused of trying to be a kingmaker. Oddly, Linder sought to keep the campaign job by blaming Gingrich for the poor Republican showing on November 3. He told Mark Sherman of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution that Gingrich was trying to avoid blame by accusing others. “I remember when Newt Gingrich’s wife left a press conference in tears when he blamed her,” Linder said. “So I don’t think he has any compunction about blaming me.” Linder later told the reporter he “regretted” mentioning Marianne Gingrich.
Linder distributed a letter dated April 23 that complained: “Circumstances are conspiring to halt the momentum that favors our party and drag it to a standstill by November.” Linder said the GOP base was “dispirited” and that Republicans should “set a simple, straightforward and focused agenda that not only energizes our base, but defends our principles.” This didn’t happen, yet Linder and his staff continued to predict solid Republican gains right up to Election Day. Republican colleagues said Linder’s aides assured them that Republicans would win a minimum of 15 House seats and perhaps as many as 30. Instead, they lost 5.
DeLay stayed out of the Boehner-Watts contest, nominally, even though Watts backed DeLay for whip in 1994. It’s not that DeLay has forgotten; he just doesn’t want to be seen as power-hungry. Webber, after all, first met Watts when she solicited his vote for DeLay in the 1994 whip’s race. It’s clear DeLay could have stopped Webber, who is staff director of a House subcommittee chaired by David McIntosh of Indiana, from aiding Watts now. He didn’t. So it’s not hard to know whom DeLay likes for conference chairman. “This election is much bigger than J. C. Watts,” says Watts. With that, DeLay is sure to agree.
Fred Barnes is executive editor of THE WEEKLY STANDARD.
