We were still keeping the specific bills locked up, even though we were now talking about them in general terms. Specifics would have been used against us, since there would always be something somebody wouldn’t like. Meanwhile, our high minded opponents would promise a counterplan that would remedy whatever we would do. Without the specifics, they could only guess and screech about Republican promises and how we were high-jacking the ship of state. (I actually heard that phrase a few times!)
We also began to blitz the various Sunday morning talk shows. Newt might be on ABC, while John was on CBS and Rick was on NBC. The following week it might be another three of us. Between the Gang of Eight and Newt, we could alternate networks without wearing out our welcomes. The Democrats were fulminating loudly, but they were playing catch-up ball, and not doing well with it.
As we got closer to November 8, we just kept raising the pressure. I pushed Gingrich to bring the Senate in on things. Originally the Contract with America had been exclusively a House deal. Newt had an ego bigger than his butt, and he really wanted to keep it in the House. I was pushing to bring in the Senate. It wouldn’t hurt to bring in all the Senators we had lined up to sponsor the Senate versions of our ten bills. Newt could stay in charge, but when (not if — I was always stressing the positive) we took control and he became Speaker, he would have all sorts of valuable markers to call on in the Senate, especially if he lined up some support with Bob Dole and Alan Simpson, the Minority Leader and Whip. Newt could be cantankerous as hell, and as proud as a peacock, but he was smart. He might not like what I was pushing him to do, but he could see the benefits.
“Carl, you can be a real asshole at times!” he once told me, while I was pushing for him to play nice with the Senate. “You’re a goddamned pushy bastard!”
I simply smiled. “Those are just my positive traits, Newt. Go talk to my wife. She’ll tell you the bad stuff about me!”
He just shook his head in disgust and made the call I wanted him to make. I only had about a fifty-fifty success rate with him, but there were people around us who told me I was doing better than most.
Back home, in the Maryland Ninth, Catherine Hartwick continued her flaming self-destruction by pissing off the state employee unions, which I had never even talked about. I was running a pretty plain vanilla campaign — I’m wonderful, here’s what I’ve done to help you, let me shake your hand and kiss your baby. I hadn’t needed to go negative, and she was spending all of her time trying to explain what she really meant to say.
On election night, we did the usual. Marilyn’s parents came down and stayed with the kids, although they did drive them over to the campaign headquarters, where we showed them around. Charlie was now 13 and the girls were 10, and they were well behaved, if a little confused by some of it. I introduced Marilyn’s parents to John Steiner and the others, with the proviso, “Don’t tell them any campaign secrets; they’re actually Democrats!” Since we didn’t have any secrets, Marilyn just laughed and Harriet scolded me. Big Bob started arguing politics with John, so we just let him run on while my wife and I snorted in laughter.
After a bit, Big Bob and Harriet took the kids home. None of us were surprised when WBAL called the race at the first commercial break, with me beating Catherine Hartwick like a rented mule. After the applause and screams, things settled down again. Everybody wanted to see the rest of the returns.
I was using John Thomas again as my campaign director, and he and I dragged a white board out into the main room as returns started coming in. We had started the election with a House composed of 177 Republican Congressmen, 256 Democrats, and 1 Independent (One seat was vacant, the previous owner having died two days before the election.) The Senate was 47 Republicans and 53 Democrats. As returns began coming in, John Thomas began calling RNC headquarters and figuring out other races as well. We began erasing the numbers and putting up new numbers for the 104th Congress as the races were called.
By 9:00 it was obvious that we were witnessing something massive and historic. I mean, even I knew we were in for a change, and it seemed phenomenal to me, too. As we put the numbers up on the board, there would be occasional cheers, but as the evening went on, the networks began interrupting with some really big fucking news! John Thomas was on the phone, and he tapped me and looked at me awestruck. “Rosty’s gone!” he told me just before it was announced on television. Dan Rostenkowski had failed to win re-election, which didn’t surprise me in some ways, considering he was linked to the House Post Office mess. Then it got crazy — Tom Foley out of Washington, the Speaker of the House, failed to win re-election! They were saying nothing like that had happened since Reconstruction!
Tom Brokaw and Dan Rather both seemed thunderstruck by what was happening, using terms such as “historic”, “unprecedented”, “watershed”, and the like. I just sat out there in the big room, taking it all in, with Marilyn sitting sideways on my lap, while John Thomas and the others kept changing the numbers on the board. People were coming up to me and congratulating me, and asking how this was going to change things in Washington. I would mumble something, and talk to a reporter or two, saying some routine phrases. By the end of the evening, the Republicans had control of both houses.
It was after midnight when we went home, and the final numbers weren’t clear yet. Some of the races were still too close to call, but even so, we had won big. I made the appropriate phone calls and interviews on Wednesday and then on Thursday morning we kissed the family good-bye and flew down to Hougomont for the rest of the week. Interestingly, Marilyn and I were asked to a small reception at Government House while we were there. We met with the Prime Minister, Hubert Ingraham, who had succeeded Lynden Pindling a couple of years earlier. Marilyn and I went, had dinner and drinks, talked a little shop about the election, and then headed over to Paradise Island for a bit. We flew home on Sunday after working on our tans for a few days and drinking our share of the rum.
The final results were back by the time we got home. We had picked up 60 seats in the House, and were up to 238 Republicans! The Democrats were down to 196 seats (plus Bernie Sanders as an Independent) and it was like a bomb had gone off in the Capitol. People were wandering the halls of the Capitol with shocked looks on their faces. The Senate was almost as bad. We had started out at 47 Republicans and picked up 10 seats, to end at 57. The Democrats were down to 43, and if we got just 3 to go along with us, we could block a filibuster whenever we wanted to.
The staff in my office was positively gleeful! For one thing, Newt had passed the word along to them that if I wanted it, we could find a new home over in the Rayburn building. I had barely walked in my door when my staff started bombarding me with questions. I quickly called a time-out, and looked over at Marty, who was grinning at me. “Is this for real?”
He nodded. “I got the word from Newt’s office while you were gone. I also checked with the House Administration Committee. Newt spoke to them, too. We’ve got a very nice place on the third floor in Rayburn opening up.”