ROY BLUNT, A SECOND-TERM CONGRESSMAN from Missouri, may be the most influential Republican no one’s ever heard of. GOP presidential favorite George W. Bush just made him his liaison to House Republicans. And Tom DeLay, the House GOP whip, recently tapped him to be his top deputy, the post Dennis Hastert left to become speaker. But mention “Roy Blunt” in political circles and you’re almost guaranteed a “Who’s that?” So low is Blunt’s profile his name appeared just once last year in Congressional Quarterly, the weekly bible of Capital Hill.
His first term, however, is a model for climbing the House GOP leadership ladder. Blunt started campaigning on behalf of other GOP challengers even before being elected in his heavily Republican district. That helped him win a seat on the coveted Steering Committee, which determines House GOP committee assignments. In turn, he gained exposure to GOP leaders, who were impressed with his prolific fund-raising — $ 250,000 on behalf of other Republicans — and his willingness to take on scout work. “You’d never see Roy’s name in the headlines,” recalls Bill Paxon, the former New York congressman, “but you’d see the impact of his work in the headlines every day.”
Last year’s debate over campaign-finance reform illustrates Blunt’s work ethic. By late spring it had become painfully obvious that a regulation-heavy bill sponsored by Republican Chris Shays and Democrat Martin Meehan would pass the House. Tom DeLay had to find people for the thankless and laborious task, of slowing the bill’s passage. Blunt quickly signed up, which meant spending late nights on the House floor introducing and debating amendments to a bill destined to win a House majority.
Blunt not only delayed the bill’s passage until late summer — helping to kill its prospects in the Senate — but his tenacity helped persuade DeLay to make him his deputy when Hastert became speaker. “He really believed in what we were doing,” says DeLay. There were intense lobbying campaigns by several of the other Republicans hoping to replace Hastert, but Blunt once again distinguished himself, this time by barely lifting a finger. “I certainly didn’t anticipate being selected,” he told me.
Longtime friends, like Missouri senator John Ashcroft, are not surprised by Blunt’s speedy rise through the House ranks. He is willing to let others take credit for his initiatives, they say, and has considerable political experience. He was elected county clerk at the tender age of 23 and 12 years later became secretary of state. (Mike Castle of Delaware is the only other member of the House also to have held statewide office.) After losing the 1992 Republican primary for governor, Blunt took his talents to South-west Baptist University, his alma mater. Negotiating with campus constituencies led him to joke that he would leave politics to run for Congress. Which he did in 1996, winning a closely contested GOP primary and then breezing to victory in the general election.
Yet Blunt doesn’t fit the stereotype of the glad-handing pol. People who saw him at a recent GOP dinner in Washington noted that while other House Republicans schmoozed with lobbyists, Blunt was diligently canvassing his colleagues on an array of minor matters. Even his legislative proposals reflect a low-profile, workhorse mentality. While some junior Republicans have proposed terminating the tax code, Blunt has sponsored a bill that would revoke the driving privileges of teens caught with tobacco, and another that would bar the Occupational Safety and Health Administration from issuing new work place regulations until the National Academy of Sciences completes a $ 1 million ergonomics study.
Such modest proposals begin to explain how the conservative Blunt maintains good relations with the small but vocal band of House GOP moderates. Tom Davis calls Blunt “a pro” who’s “very mature in his judgment.” Connie Morella says she and Blunt “have a great relationship” and that she has “great respect” for him. Even Chris Shays, whose campaign-reform legislations Blunt tried to undermine, praises him as “a straightforward and sensible person” who has “made a nice impression on all” House Republicans.
No less surprising than the selection of Blunt to be chief deputy whip was Bush’s asking him to be the House liaison to his presidential effort. The two know each other only from Bush’s occasional visits to Missouri for political events during his dad’s presidency. But Blunt was recommended for the job by some of Bush’s other House supporters, who liked Blunt’s clout, his relations with moderates, and his workaholic tendencies (Bush’s Senate liaison, Paul Coverdell, shares all of these qualities). Blunt jokes that winning the governor more support from House Republicans — almost half the caucus has already endorsed Bush — is “the easiest job I’ve ever been asked to do.”
Blunt’s political future is bright. Blessed with a safe district, he has every reason to expect he’ll stay in the House and continue his meteoric ascent through the GOP hierarchy. A Bush presidency would only boost his standing and enhance his chances of winning one of the House’s eight elected leadership positions. Indeed, while chief deputy whip was once considered a dead-end job, Dennis Hastert used it as a launching pad to become speaker. A few years from now, Roy Blunt just might follow in his footsteps.
Matthew Rees is a staff writer at THE WEEKLY STANDARD.
