[R-G] [BillTottenWeblog] Saving the World for Plutocracy

[Bill Totten]

Beltway Bacchanal

Congress lives high on the contributor's dime

by Ken Silverstein

Harper's Magazine (March 2008)


Try to list the stakes at play in the congressional elections this fall,
and one might settle on health care, taxes, immigration, Iraq. Seldom
considered, though, is an issue of more direct importance to the members
of Congress themselves: Which party will get to live more lushly in the
nation's capital, where those who control the levers of legislation also
command the most and best perks? Washington by and large is a
restrained, workaday sort of town, its residents not known for high
living; but a significant exception can always be found among the
denizens of Capitol Hill, and especially among the legislators who
command a majority there. For this convivial crew and its hangers-on,
the most pressing matter to be decided on Election Day is, as ever,
whether they can hold on to that majority and all its accompanying boons.

The most lavish benefit of winning a congressional campaign is,
ironically enough, the right to keep on campaigning - and therefore to
keep raising and spending donor money. Uninformed citizens may still
think of "campaigns" as discrete events, waged mostly in home districts
and just before election time. In fact, political fund-raising is now a
nonstop activity, with candidates chasing dollars far outside the
borders of their home states and districts. And although the Federal
Election Commission (FEC) is supposed to monitor the use of this money,
it has interpreted the relevant rules in a highly flexible fashion.
Politicians have two primary vehicles with which to raise and spend
money, the first being their campaign treasuries, which according to
ethics rules must be kept "separate from [the member's] personal funds"
and can be used only for "bona fide campaign or political purposes". But
in practice the FEC has permitted virtually any expenditure, from a
night on the town to a resort stay with big contributors, to be drawn
from these funds. (Last October, in a rare act of censure, the FEC cited
New York Democratic Congressman Gregory Meeks for using $6,230 to pay
for a personal trainer, whose services initially had been justified by
his office as necessary to alleviate stress brought on by "the
candidate's duties".) Spending from the second vehicle - the Leadership
PAC - is less restrictive still, since it is not even subject to the
nominal "personal use" prohibition that applies to campaign treasuries.
Furthermore, individual contribution limits to Leadership PACs are
$5,000 per year, versus $2,300 per election for political campaigns. Not
surprisingly, most senators and more than a third of House members now
run Leadership PACs, which were quite rare as recently as a decade ago.
During the 2006 election cycle, fund-raising by Leadership PACs exceeded
$160 million.

Most of the political spending by members of Congress is no doubt
legitimate, at least under existing rules, because it is in fact
connected (if often tenuously) to winning reelection. But as the
"campaign" has lost all temporal and spatial boundaries, and the FEC has
largely turned a blind eye, misuse of donor money has become positively
shameless. Those who hold safe seats spend just as freely as those in
highly competitive districts, if not more so, and these allegedly
campaign-related expenditures continue year-round. According to the
Center for Responsive Politics (which helpfully provided much of the
data for this article), at least eight House members spent more than
$10,000 in campaign funds on food, travel, and fund-raising in the eight
weeks between Election Day 2006 and New Year's Eve - not exactly a peak
campaigning period. These included Democrat John Murtha and Republican
Don Young, whose respective margins of victory were 22 and 17 percent.
Three of the other big spenders, interestingly enough, were Republicans
who lost their seats in the 2006 midterm, vote; in their dwindling days
of public service, they apparently decided to treat themselves well on
the way out.

Inside Washington itself, such casual appropriation of political
contributions bankrolls much of the city's social life. Some of the
spending on food and drink is related to fund-raising events, but a
notable portion is for private restaurant meals - sometimes classified
in disclosure forms under the category of "political meetings". These
"meetings" are held at a circuit of nightspots that include the two
political parties' clubs - the semiprivate National Democratic Club and,
for Republicans, the strictly cloistered Capitol Hill Club - and
otherwise range from such old standbys as Morton's (where, in the 1980s,
the corrupt House boss Dan Rostenkowski held court so frequently that a
bronze plaque near the bar read "Rosty's Rotunda") to chic eateries like
Bistro Bis and the Sonoma Wine Bar. Most Americans could not afford to
eat at any of these restaurants. The price of an appetizer alone - like
the $15.95 lobster mac-and-cheese at the Oceanaire or the $18 crabmeat,
lobster, and shrimp cocktail at the Capitol Hill Club (why settle for
one when you can have a!I three?) - tends to be daunting. The a la carte
entrees begin at the low end with items like the stuffed rabbit loin at
Bistro Bis ($29.50), move up to the signature porterhouse at the Capital
Grille ($41) or the double-cut prime rib at Morton's ($43), and for the
truly memorable occasion climb to $20 per ounce (five-ounce minimum) for
the Kobe strip steak at Charlie Palmer's. With drinks, dessert, and a
tip, a meal for two can easily run into the hundreds of dollars.

In the land of the permanent campaign, though, these are the everyday
haunts of our elected leaders. Between 2005 and late 2007, at just ten
of Washington's priciest restaurants, House members collectively spent
$5.4 million of their campaign money. (Note that this does not even
include senators, who typically spend even more than their colleagues in
the lower chamber; but because senators are not required to file
disclosure forms electronically, categorizing their expenses with any
specificity is a nearly impossible task.)

Last year, in the aftermath of scandals involving Jack Abramoff and
Randy "Duke" Cunningham, among others, Congress passed an ethics bill
that barred lobbyists from directly buying members food and drinks", a
step that was hailed as imposing a barrier between lawmakers and special
interests. But political donations continue to underwrite legislators'
nightly entertainment in Washington - helping to maintain the hermetic
Beltway bubble in which lawmakers fraternize with precisely those people
from whom ethics laws, and the demands of good governance, aim to
separate them.

To see just how well one can live while in the public employ, stand near
the Capitol South metro station around 6:30 PM on those weeknights when
Congress is in session. One can witness a steady stream of members,
staffers, and their acquaintances, in groups of twos, threes, and fours,
fanning out across the city. The stream soon divides, with some branches
flowing toward such nearby destinations as the Capitol Hill Club or the
cavernous Charlie Palmer steakhouse. Among the other popular options are
the Caucus Room, whose owners include Democratic lobbyist Tommy Boggs
and former Republican National Committee chairman and current
Mississippi Governor Haley Barbour; and Sam & Harry's, a beef shrine
downtown.

During the period of GOP rule, the Capital Grille, which, at
Pennsylvania Avenue and Sixth Street, sits in the reflected glow of the
Capitol dome, was perhaps the most popular hangout in town for
Republican insiders. The restaurant opened here in 1994, the year that
Newt Gingrich led the GOP takeover of Congress, and on its opening night
handed out $100,000 in free food and drink to legislators. "It might as
well be part of the Capitol complex", The Hill remarked in 2003, "like
the Russell Senate Office Building or the Rayburn House Office Building,
since you're likely to run into almost as many members of Congress and
staffers at the Capital Grille as you do on Capitol Hill". Business has
reportedly dropped off now that Democrats are back in charge, but it
remains one of the best spots in town to hobnob with members of Congress
and their entourages.

When I visited the Capital Grille one night last fall, three SUVs were
idling out front for lawmakers who were finishing up inside. As I walked
toward the revolving front door, Representative Charles Rangel
(Democrat, New York), head of the House Ways and Means Committee, was
walking out. A man just in front of me - likely a lobbyist, given his
power suit, leather briefcase, and Bluetooth earpiece - immediately
accosted Rangel, furiously shaking his hand, and the two struck up a
short but friendly conversation. After Rangel stepped into his waiting
car (license plate NYREP15), the man turned to me, eyes afire, and
exclaimed, "He's da man!"

Inside, just past a window display of aged beef hanging like holy
relics, the first thing one sees is a wall of wine lockers, their
owners' names engraved on brass plaques. Defense contractor Brent
Wilkes, who was convicted of bribing former Representative Duke
Cunningham, used to have a locker here, as did businessman Mitchell
Wade, who pleaded guilty to similar charges. Former lobbyists whose
names grace lockers include Jeffrey Shockey, a longtime aide to
Republican Congressman Jerry Lewis, as well as the late Ann Eppard, who
pleaded guilty in 1999 to taking payoffs while working for former
Pennsylvania Republican Bud Shuster, a longtime powerhouse on the House
Transportation Committee. (Her locker is kept in memoriam.)

In the bar just beyond, an assortment of politicos can inevitably be
found mingling about. On one night in October, I saw Terry Nelson, who
until the summer had served as John McCain's presidential-campaign
manager, strolling through toward the dining room; William Pickle, the
recently retired Senate sergeant at arms, moving from stool to stool,
chatting with acquaintances; and a dapper Arthur Wu, the Republican
staff director of the House Veterans' Affairs oversight and
investigations subcommittee, who stood at center stage with a big smile
and glass in hand. Senator Norm Coleman (Republican, Minnesota), who had
dropped by after a fund-raiser held in his honor earlier in the evening
at the US Chamber of Commerce town house, sipped from a drink while
chatting with Matthew Brooks, head of the Republican Jewish Coalition.

On another night, Senator Ben Nelson (Democrat, Nebraska) came into the
bar from the dining room and struck up a conversation with two men while
several suitors lined up to wait their turn. Also on hand was Edwina
Rogers, a lobbyist and the wife of Republican power broker Ed Rogers,
who along with a female friend was enjoying a night on the town whose
itinerary still included a stop at Georgetown's Cafe Milano. Rogers,
whose freewheeling style seemed hard to square with her role as a
conservative strategist and former Bush White House aide at the National
Economic Council, was immersed in conversation with someone whom she
identified to me, moments later, as an important committee staffer. The
topic wasn't hard to discern.

"You need to make Rick an offer of at least three times what he's making
now", the man told Rogers.

"Let's get together Thursday at Charlie Palmer's", Rogers replied with a
laugh. "And bring Rick".

I shared drinks with several lobbyists who meet regularly at the Grille.
"They decided to criminalize everything", one said, referring to the new
ban on lobbyists buying meals for lawmakers. "My reaction is, 'Have a
good life'. It's not going to hurt me, I already know people, but it's
going to make it hard for those who are new [at lobbying] and are trying
to build personal relationships."

One of our tablemates was similarly untroubled. "So far, it's saved me a
lot of money", he said. "But I'm not sure what's going to happen in the
long run. When they lowered the speed limit to 55, everyone paid
attention for six months. Then they started driving seventy again."


As originally envisioned by the founders of the American republic,
serving in Congress was to be strictly a part-time job. Early
officeholders, typically farmers and businessmen, came to Washington for
only a few weeks to deal with national affairs and then returned home.
Too much time in the capital, it was thought, would diminish the bond
between representatives and their constituents. "As it is essential to
liberty that the government in general should have a common interest
with the people, so it is particularly essential that [Congress] should
have an immediate dependence on, and an intimate sympathy with, the
people", Federalist #52 opined.

It is perhaps too easy to romanticize this era of "citizen legislators",
who of course generally came from, and represented the interests of, the
economic elite. And yet holding office was then genuinely seen as a
public service rather than a career, let alone a path to riches. Today's
lawmakers complain bitterly about the rigors of the job, including the
incessant fund-raising, but they overwhelmingly opt to seek term after
term and in recent decades have won reelection at a rate of roughly
ninety percent, in part because both parties have gerrymandered
congressional districts so that few incumbents are dislodged.

Why do they so dearly want to stay? The pay is very good but not
outlandish: at $169,300 per year, a member of Congress earns less than
what he or she could likely command in the private sector {1}. More
generous, arguably, is the retirement plan, which (for members serving
at least five years) is guaranteed for life, at a payout that the
National Taxpayers Union estimates to be at least twice what a similarly
salaried corporate executive would get upon retirement. Another factor,
no doubt, is the entourage that tends to members' needs. As recently as
World War II, lawmakers got by with a minimal staff, but today each
congressman typically has a score of young, eager aides who do
everything from managing his schedule to driving him around town. Only
the nation's most elite CEOs can afford to have so many talented minions
at their beck and call around the clock.

But among the greatest perks of congressional service today is the
campaign dole, which provides legislators with potentially limitless
funds to lavish on associates, or on themselves. One cannot flip through
disclosure reports of the most powerful members of Congress without
finding vast sums being dispensed for purposes that hardly seem
essential to their reelection. Over a recent four-year period, Senate
Majority Leader Harry Reid has used more than $125,000 in political
funds to pay for stays at such Las Vegas hotels as the MGM Grand, the
Wynn resort, Caesars Palace, and Mandalay Bay. His House counterpart,
Congressman Steny Hoyer of Maryland, has displayed similarly pricey
tastes: during the 2006 election cycle alone, his Leadership PAC doled
out $66,146 on hotels, including the Intercontinental Hotel in Chicago,
the Ritz-Carlton in Phoenix, the Breakers in Palm Beach, and the W in
Seattle. In the fall of 2005, Virginia Congressman Eric Cantor, now the
GOP chief deputy whip, charged his political funds more than $42,000 for
stays at the Beverly Hills Hotel and Bungalows, as well as $1,224 for a
tour of the Warner Brothes studios.

Such eye-opening use of donor money is by no means confined to party
leaders. Consider the case of Representative James McCrery (Republican,
Louisiana), who has held no post in the Republican leadership and whose
national profile is fairly limited. McCrery's campaign took in $3.3
million between 2005 and 2007, a staggering amount given that his seat
is utterly secure; he crushed his most recent Democratic opponent, who
spent all of $7,000, by some forty percentage points. McCrery's
Leadership PAC - which is named, without apparent irony, the Committee
for the Preservation of Capitalism - raised another $2.3 million during
the same period. McCrery recently announced that he would not seek
reelection this fall, a choice that analysts described as a serious blow
to the GOP's financial prospects for the 2008 election.

By congressional standards, McCrery is poor: his assets, as listed on
disclosure forms, are estimated at between $25,000 and $200,000, ranking
him in the bottom fifth of his peers. Yet life in Congress has been good
for McCrery, as well as for his friends, family, and associates. In 2004
his wife, Johnette, until then an assistant professor at Louisiana State
University - Shreveport, was named a vice president at the Washington
office of Ketchum, one of the world's largest PR firms. A number of his
staffers have gone on to become lobbyists or consultants, and the wife
of one former aide gets paid to run the Committee for the Preservation
of Capitalism {2}.

McCrery has cut a broad gastronomical swath through Washington, using
political funds to dine out frequently at twenty-five different
restaurants since 2005. Although his favorite spot seems to be the
Capitol Hill Club (twenty-eight visits and events, totaling more than
$59,000), the congressman has spread his wealth around town, spending
thousands of dollars from his political funds at Bistro Bis and the
Capital Grille, as well as at Johnny's Half Shell, a seafood spot near
Union Station, and Acadiana, whose menu reflects "the bounty of
Louisiana, in the finest of seafood and premium meats". When in his home
district, McCrery regularly drops by the Southern Trace Country Club
(twelve visits in three years, at combined costs to his political funds
of some $40,000) and the Shreveport Club (seven visits, $2,200).

For travel, McCrery appears to enjoy the Napa Valley, having charged his
political funds tens of thousands of dollars for fund-raising trips
there in the past three years. His fall 2007 expenses at Sonoma's
Benziger Family Winery, which "produces Sonoma cabernet sauvignon,
merlot, and chardonnay wines with a strong sense of place", set back his
Leadership PAC $13,000. The congressman also enjoys a good party.
McCrery sits on the executive committee of the Mystick Krewe of
Louisianians Inc, a group of "displaced Louisianians living in our
nation's capital". In 2005, his campaign paid $7,725 to the group for a
Mardi Gras-themed party.

McCrery's passions include golfing - several years ago, he appeared on
Golf Digest's list of the top 200 players among members of Congress,
White House officials, Supreme Court justices, and lobbyists - and he
frequently can be found on the links, courtesy of his political funds.
McCrery spent $1,592 in December of 2005 at the Calusa Pines Golf Club
and another $994 the following month at the Olde Florida Golf Club, both
in balmy Naples, Florida. He frequently holds his fund-raising events at
golf clubs, where donors have given him the money to pay for yet more
golfing{3}. He spent $7,488 at the Talking Stick in Scottsdale, Arizona
(winner of the Golden Nugget Award for Best Recreational Facility), and
$32,036 at the Kiawah Island Golf Resort off the South Carolina coast
(named Number One golf resort in America by Travel + Leisure Golf
magazine and Number 2 tennis resort by Tennis magazine).

He and donors traveled farther south for an affair McCrery hosted at the
Rio Mar Beach Resort and Spa in Puerto Rico, which, says its website,
"lies between a magnificent palm-lined beach and lush mountains" and
boasts "an award-winning staff at your beck and call". The resort offers
- naturally - two championship golf courses, as well as eleven tennis
courts, two ocean front swimming pools, and "oceanfront meditation
areas". Still another golfing affair - a single-event expense record for
McCrery, costing his Leadership PAC nearly $52,000 - was held at the
Lansdowne Resort in Virginia's Hunt Country.

McCrery's non-travel-related payments of note include an $88,512 bonus
to his fund-raising consultant last year, $10,000 in checks to the Tom
DeLay Legal Expense Trust, more than $10,000 for gifts (much of it spent
at the Tiny Jewel Box in Washington), $3,000 labeled only as petty cash,
$1,427 at the Marble Slab Creamery, and $1,102 more at the Cake House.
There is seemingly nothing that McCrery has not seen fit to charge to
his political funds, including babysitting for his children: a bill of
$300 was paid to one Katie Raffaelli, the daughter of John Raffaelli, a
lobbyist and campaign donor to the congressman.

I called McCrery and asked whether he thought some of his expenditures
might have been a bit extravagant - for example, the donor event in
Puerto Rico. McCrery explained that early in his career, he had attended
many fund-raisers, and had developed a keen sense of what made for a
memorable affair. "I tried to emulate those events that attracted people
so that they would want to come back", he told me. "Yes, we do go to
some very nice places, and we like to make sure that people have a good
time ... So I plead guilty".

What about expenditures for meals and other non-fund-raising events? I
asked. "It's fairly loose in terms of the use of campaign money", the
congressman replied. "It has to be connected to the campaign, but that
can be any number of things". For example, McCrery might pick up the
dinner tab for other members of Congress "if I'm talking to them about
fund-raising activities, or if I'm trying to get them to come to a
campaign event". At the Capitol Hill Club, some of his expenditures were
for what he called "check presentations", ceremonial events (often
including donors) at which the PAC hands out checks to members and
candidates. As for babysitting, the congressman said that he had asked
the FEC for an opinion about that matter, and he had been assured it was
appropriate. "We don't use it often, but we have occasionally", he told
me, adding that he usually paid $100 "if the person comes in and spends
the night". The 2007 tab for $300 was for babysitting when he and his
wife were away for a few days at a Republican retreat - at the Hyatt
Regency Chesapeake Bay Golf Resort, Spa and Marina.

All in all, McCrery has allocated some $650,000 in political funds for
food, drinks, catering, and hotels during the past three years. This is
a pace of roughly $18,000 a month - and keep in mind that this figure
excludes tens of thousands of dollars more in airfare, rental cars, and
related travel costs. For Democrats just beginning to enjoy the enhanced
perks of majority status and hoping to tighten their grip thereon,
McCrery's story can only serve as election-year inspiration.


Even as the Democrats' triumph in 2006 has accomplished almost nothing
in terms of policy, it has produced a stunning reversal in the parties'
respective finances. As of January, the Democratic Senate and House
congressional campaign committees had combined cash on hand of $56
million, almost five times more than their formerly cash-swollen
Republican counterparts. At one point last fall, the GOP's House
campaign committee was technically insolvent, with $2.3 million more in
debt than in the bank. "Washington is a town that operates on the basis
of what people can do for you", says Melanie Sloan, director of Citizens
for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington. "Now that the Democrats
control Congress, it's a lot easier to get people to show up at their
fund-raisers. As a donor, you can't afford to say no."

In Washington, the Democrats' political and social resurgence can be
witnessed in the revived fortunes of the National Democratic Club ,
which serves as a semiprivate venue for party lawmakers and elected
officials, as well as the lobbyists, consultants, fund-raisers, and
others whose livelihood depends on access to them. Monthly fees at the
club - located on Ivy Street, a few minutes' walk from the House and
Senate office buildings - are only $25 per month for members of
Congress; others pay $80 monthly, on top of a $300 initiation fee.

I stopped by the club on a cold, windy evening last December to meet a
party political consultant. It was a jovial spot, to be sure, but
surprisingly modest, with pre-Christmas decor reminiscent of a roadside
hotel lounge. Thick pillars in the dining room were wrapped in faded
red, white, and silver decorations, and a small Christmas tree squatted
against a wall. Among the customers were a few members of Congress,
including Carolyn McCarthy of New York and Barney Frank and Michael
Capuano of Massachusetts, as well as an elderly foursome playing bridge
at a corner table. At the bar, Hill staffers, assorted politicos, and a
few locals from the neighborhood chatted over drinks and bowls of a
low-grade nut mix.

The club was founded by former staffers in the Truman Administration,
and for decades it was a de rigueur stop on the local social circuit. In
March 1986, when Democrats held a huge majority in the House, a capacity
crowd gathered for "a glittering gala" to mark the completion of a major
remodeling, the website relates. Eight years later, catastrophe struck
when the party lost both chambers for the first time in over forty
years. More than 1,000 members promptly resigned from the club, and the
smart action drifted a few blocks away to the Republican Party's more
lavish Capitol Hill Club.

As the Republican grip on Washington tightened in the ensuing years, the
National Democratic Club was forced to sell its three-story building and
then rent back the ground floor for its dwindling operations. Up until
recently, the mood here had been desultory, but a renaissance arrived on
Election Night 2006, when hundreds of revelers gathered to celebrate the
sweeping Democratic victory. "Once again, the place to be is your NDC",
said the club's first post-election newsletter. General Manager
Christine Hilty describes the club as a refuge for Democrats and their
supporters. "There's certainly networking going on, but people come here
because it's a safe place", she' said. "There are no cameras".
Membership has climbed by about thirty percent since the 2006 elections,
she estimated, and business is more bustling than at any point in the
six years she's worked there. During the first nine months of 2007,
congressional Democrats and party committees used political
contributions to pay for $426,431 worth of food and drink at the club.
That was an increase of about seventy percent from the same period in
2005, when the Democrats were still in the minority {4}.

Not only does the majority party have more to spend; it is also more
spent upon. Democrats have found themselves newly fashionable on the
Washington scene, whether as party guests, as dinner partners, or simply
for a coffee or office meeting, especially, of course, with lobbyists.
"You're vying for time and you're not going to vie for the time of
someone who has no power", one lobbyist explained to me about his
post-2006 shift in social priorities. Former Democrats, and those
considering retirement, have seen their prospects soar as K Street firms
look to enhance their outreach to the new kings of Congress. The
Republican-dominated lobby shop of Barbour Griffith & Rogers - founded
by Haley Barbour, the Mississippi governor - recently announced that it
would begin hiring Democrats. "I'm not going to deny the obvious", the
firm's chairman, Ed Rogers (Edwina's husband), told the Washington Post.
"The expectations of our clients are such that we have to have a full
range of political, policy and business expertise, and in today's world
that includes Democrats".

The new ethics rules ostensibly prohibit lobbyists from buying members
drinks and meals, but it almost certainly will still happen, albeit with
a variety of winks and nods. One of the lobbyists I met at the Capital
Grille explained a common method of picking up tabs for members in the
past. "Let's say there were four or five members sitting at a table with
a couple or three lobbyists", he said. "The bill might come to $1,500.
But when it came time to pay, they [the members] would pay nothing, or
throw in a twenty and say, 'There's my share'".

Every so often, public outrage compels law-makers to make a show of
their determination to "clean up" Washington. Congress's "ethics reform
package", passed last year, widely hailed as the toughest ever approved,
is at least the fourth enacted since the end of World War II. Over the
years, members have tightened the rules about their use of corporate
jets, the amount of money they can receive from political donors, and
the legality of having private entities pay for their food and travel,
among other matters. But largely exempted from the chopping block have
been the extraordinary benefits and perquisites available to members,
which have grown exponentially and transformed a seat in Congress from a
comfortable but relatively modest office into a sort of modern-day lordship.

Last November, the Senate Finance Committee announced that it would be
scrutinizing, as part of a probe of tax-exempt organizations, the
compensation packages and perks enjoyed by leaders of some of the
nation's top ministries. The committee expressed concern about religious
officials granting themselves high salaries, huge travel allowances,
private jets, and luxury cars, all paid for by donations to their
ministries. "I don't want to conclude that there's a problem, but I have
an obligation to donors and the taxpayers to find out more", Senator
Charles Grassley. (Republican, Iowa) said at the time the probe was
announced. "People who donated should have their money spent as intended".

Whether or not the ministers are a worthy target of investigation, the
fact that a high committee of the US Congress would be in charge of such
an inquiry is, to put it mildly, ironic. For if there is any single
group in America that lives high on funds donated for other purposes, it
is our 535 members of Congress. Perhaps they should overlook the motes
in the reverends' eyes until they have considered the beams in their
own.

Notes:

1 Though of course a seat in Congress virtually guarantees members a
high-paying job in the private sector upon retirement.

2 Numerous lawmakers view their political funds as job programs for
friends and family members, thus offering yet another means of enhancing
their incomes and lifestyles. The wife and daughter of former House
Majority Leader Tom DeLay were paid several hundred thousand dollars to
serve as his PAC's fund-raising and political consultants. The wife of
Representative John Doolittle (Republican, Caliornia.) took a fifteen
percent cut of all the money she brought in for his PAC, and Senator
Barbara Boxer (Democrat, California) pays her own son's firm $72,000
annually to run hers. But no one can top Representative David Scott
(Democrat, Georgia.), who since winning office in 2002 has paid, from
political funds, more than $600,000 to his wife, his two daughters, his
son-in-law, and an advertising firm he owns. "The payments to his family
and company became larger and more frequent in 2003, around the same
time Representative Scott was falling behind on his federal income taxes
and property taxes", reports the watchdog group Citizens for
Responsibility and Ethics in Washington. "At the same time the Scotts
were failing to pay their taxes, they increased their stock holdings
from $5,000 to about $67,000 and bought a $702,000 row house in
Washington, DC".

3 Last year's much-lauded congressional-ethics bill specified that
members of Congress can no longer travel on a lobbyist's dime. Now
lawmakers host and sponsor vacation-style fund-raisers, that lobbyists
and others pay for through their donations.

4 And again, this does not include the Senate.
_____

Ken Silverstein is the Washington editor of Harper's Magazine. His last
article for the magazine, "Making Mitt Romney", appeared in the November
2007 issue.

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