Gene Carter, Washington, D.C., a Company Town, Part 1

Gene Carter, 2020

Lessons and Musings for 60^th reunion: Washington D.C., a Company Town  

In 1980 my wife Rita Rodriguez and I moved to a company town, and the company had Nukes.  Rita had accepted a Reagan appointment to the U.S. Export-Import Bank Board of Directors, a position to which she was reappointed in the next four administrations. She was now part of the Washington establishment, and I was a trailing spouse primarily responsible for the care of our daughter Adi.

Some say that Washington is Hollywood for ugly people, and it does have that celebrity aspect on the surface. Last year, 2020, was our first election in 40 years while not living in Washington, a fact we reflected on from quarantine at our house in Massachusetts.  We were and are registered independents.  My wife said she came to Washington as a moderate liberal, became a libertarian, and ended an anarchist.  Truthfully, like most independents, we lean one way or the other, and we are liberal (moderate liberals, actually, though Fred Elder would find that an oxymoron).  Contrarily, my one campaign on the ground was for a Republican congressional candidate.  Over the years I kept a notebook of crazy things about Washington, like a visitor to a foreign land. Some of what follows comes from my notes, but they are in D.C. so I rely here on recall.

The Neighborhood

A few days after we moved into our small and modest home in a post-War DC neighborhood called Cleveland Park, a well-coiffed woman appeared at our doorstep.  She quickly established who I was and why I was there.  The wife of a Congressman neighbor (now Senator), she informed me of two other former Members of Congress (MOC’s) plus one Senator across the street, another MOC who was a neighbor of hers, and three other Senators a few blocks away of both parties.

BUT the Congressman’s wife did not know who lived elsewhere in the neighborhood.  I learned over time that there were long-term civil servants, many Foreign Service types who’d seen the world, etc.  They in turn often did not know the politicians down the street! Nonetheless, they were nearly always civil and polite despite whatever political or cultural differences existed.

It WAS a neighborhood. My daughter quickly established who was good for trick or treat and who was bad. These days, few MOC’s remain in the neighborhood, since they cannot afford the houses, and their families stay in their home states because they return so frequently for fund raising and “listening to the people.” D.C. housing costs are very high. 

(Left, Bill Clinton, Rita Rodriguez, Gene Carter) Norms for our neighborhood and the larger community included protecting the children of celebrities. Horrible photos of Amy Carter’s first day at school, followed by a mob of reporters, reminded everyone of what was at stake. Kids do tend to protect children of Presidents, I was told, and I saw that with our daughter, a contemporary of Chelsea Clinton.  Students from the major area private schools knew each other through sports competitions, debate, etc.  One nice friend of Adi’s was also good friend of Chelsea.  He’d asked Adi to their prom and to Chelsea’s post-prom party, but she wound up going to another prom with another guy.  

Earlier, walking our hated beagle one night, I spotted a Secret Service car a few doors away from us.  I knew some girl lived there, not a friend of my daughter.  I asked Adi and was told, “Oh, yeah, Chelsea stays over sometimes.”  Adi wanted a gap year, working at teen heaven J. Crew while doing art and graphics courses at the Corcoran.  She did everything from modeling to stocking shelves to sales.  She got great prices on clothes of course, and cash bonuses with which to buy them.  One Christmas I saw a picture of the Clintons coming out of the Episcopal church across Lafayette Park, and Chelsea was wearing the same wonderful coat that looked so good on Adi.  Adi said, “Oh, yeah, she came in early one morning.  She asked what I liked and how our friend Alex was doing, and I sold it to her.  Nice look.”  Normally, we heard nothing, not one peep of celebrity kid news.

Walter Mondale and his family lived in the neighborhood, near the public school attended by Amy Carter. A New York Times’ article from the period remarked on how relatively modest the Mondale assets were and noted that he lived in a simple home in an affordable, middle class neighborhood. One of his sons bagged groceries at the neighborhood market, and his daughter Eleanor was a wonderful young woman. Joan Mondale, whose kids attended the same school as Adi, had worked hard to get parental support and involvement. The sometimes rowdy sons were protected from undue public attention by kids and adults alike. Everybody thought Joan was great, and a bunch of neighbors chartered a bus and went campaigning for Walter Mondale when he ran for president. I knew some of the Secret Service guys enough to say hi when I was walking the dog during that time. They had a trailer parked around the corner. The day after he lost, the trailer disappeared. 

I met many political figures and journalists or commentators on shuttle flights or at school basketball games or charity auctions.  A friend described discussing the baseball game with a guy beside him whose son was on the other team and only later realized it was Vice-President Dan Quayle.  Anywhere, celebrities like to be recognized, but I also know they need down time.  I always gave them the option to talk if they wanted but otherwise left them alone on planes and in the neighborhood. 

Rita met an extraordinary variety of people both in the neighborhood and on the job.  She had a very long four hours with Ivana Trump, who was annoyed that Rita was unexcited at her name. Ivana had strong, long and profane opinions. (Right, George H.W. Bush, Marine, Rita Rodriguez, Maureen Reagan)

Politicians

I had noticed by 1970 that we admire the politician who does what we want as doing the right thing, especially if it is a minority opinion we like.  Otherwise, we have contempt for someone who doesn’t listen to the people.  In 1980 I was like everyone I hear today: cussing politicians as craven, corrupt, and/or stupid.  Soon, I observed that there are both smart and dumb Members of Congress who are there because a solid lobbying bunch of voters or moneyed interests back them on some issue; they can do whatever they want on other areas.  And money is vital today. 

For most, being a legislator is a job.  And they related to the institution in which they worked or did once.  Early in our time in Washington at a dinner, I asked a Democratic senator WHY Reagan could not get a political confirmation through when Republicans controlled the Senate.  He politely explained that there were institutional traditions, and Republicans and Democratic Senators would protect their prerogatives.  In practice, this meant that any Senator could object to any appointment, an action his colleagues would respect, killing any chance of confirmation. That’s nice if you like the action, annoying if you do not.  Civil, but quaint. 

Another Senator explained that it was easy for Congress to get the best experts to give advice, as could the Executive branch.  Can you think of a professor who turned down a chance to share his knowledge with Congress or the White House? (I did not decline and learned a lot in testifying before Congress in the years before we moved to Washington.)  This Senator cautioned a staffer who brought great insight on some injustice urgently needing to be addressed.  “What do you take out of the cart?”  He noted one could only attend to so many priorities.  What can be changed with what amount of effort, which are most important, and which are important to his constituency?

Members figure out early in the game that you can lead or you can represent, and those options are not the same.  After all, there is only so much room in the cart of issues and projects.  A marvelous windbag from Illinois, Sen. Everett Dirksen, listened to a group harangue him on something.  He finally told them, “Make me do it.  I’m a politician, not a preacher.  Show me the support.”

And as one politician remarked, anybody who says he doesn’t care about getting re-elected isn’t telling the truth.  Our neighbor, Senator William Proxmire, spent a few hundred dollars on a Senate campaign; as long as he voted right on butter versus margarine, Wisconsin didn’t care what he did, and he was smart.  He stood at the Wisconsin State Fair and shook the hand of anyone who wanted to meet him, always remaining civil and listening thoughtfully.  That strategy is rare today.

You want a politician who doesn’t act like he is better than you, but you don’t want him if he’s as ignorant as your brother-in-law.  That’s a hard balance, especially for self-proclaimed populists and candidates who believe they have a corner on the truth. 

I saw only one of Rita’s Congressional hearings, listening to her answer a representative who confused Iraq and Iran.  During the hearing, an irritated committee chairman watched Joe Kennedy, Jr. wander in late chomping a sandwich, greeting colleagues, and slumping in his seat. The Washington Post annually published the Congressional staffers’ list of the ten dumbest MOC’s.  Kennedy made it.  But he had that great family smile.

Editor’s Note: Part 2 of  “A Company Town” describes influences on government – the voters, media and lobbyists – and how government really operates. You won’t want to miss Prince Philip’s sex story at the National Press Club, to be published here next week.