By Kirk Victor, National Journal
© National Journal Inc.
Saturday, August 2, 1997

It's no secret that success in politics is often as much about timing and luck as it is about a well-executed strategic plan. Just look at the 1992 elections, when more women than ever made the calculation that the time was right to run for Congress. After a record-breaking number of them won, pundits declared it the "Year of the Woman."

Three women elected to the Senate during the "Year of the Woman" in 1992 -- Barbara Boxer, Carol Moseley-Braun and Patty Murray -- are on the Republican hit list as the most vulnerable incumbents in 1998. Will they be able to convince voters they've got the insider savvy to get things done in Washington, but also still are independent enough to shake up the system?

By portraying themselves as outsiders who could shake up the system, many of these women exploited unhappiness with a Washington establishment that, they argued, was simply out of touch with the everyday needs of families.

That message resonated. The number of women in Congress jumped by more than 60 per cent -- from 33 to 55. Even the insular Senate took on a decidedly different look. In 1991, 98 of its 100 Members were male, but two years later, women held six seats. (A seventh, Texas Republican Kay Bailey Hutchison, won a special election in June 1993.)

Fast-forward to the present. Three women who won long- shot Senate races in 1992 now sit atop the Republican hit list as the most vulnerable incumbents in 1998: Barbara Boxer of California, Carol Moseley-Braun of Illinois and Patty Murray of Washington.

Their much-ballyhooed candidacies in 1992 were helped by lingering images from the bruising battle over the confirmation of Clarence Thomas to the Supreme Court the year before. The riveting confirmation hearings before the Senate Judiciary Committee pitted Thomas against Anita Hill, a former colleague of his at the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, who accused the nominee of sexual harassment. The spectacle of the all-male, all-white Judiciary Committee awkwardly grilling two African- American lawyers helped all three candidates make their case that the Senate was out of step with the country.

"In retrospect, the American public realized that Anita Hill struck an honest chord; Clarence Thomas struck a disturbing chord; and the Senate Judiciary Committee, looking like a relic from another time and place, struck a chord of irrelevancy," Boxer wrote in her 1994 book, Strangers in the Senate. "America and, in particular, American women were uncomfortable with the way the whole issue was handled, were uncomfortable with the way the Senate looked -- and the Anita Hill incident became a catalyst for change."

But if the politics of gender played in 1992, it no longer seems to be such a major factor in voters' minds. In the two congressional elections since then, the success rate for women candidates has dropped. They now hold 60 seats in Congress (not counting delegates from Washington, D.C., and the Virgin Islands) -- just six more than in 1993, according to Rutgers University's Center for the American Woman and Politics.

For their part, Republicans dismiss 1992 as a fluke. They say most of the Democratic women candidates took advantage of a record number of open seats in 1992 and didn't have to face formidable incumbents. The Republicans also argue that the congressional candidates were given a boost by Bill Clinton's victory. "This 'Year of the Woman' was one of the greatest frauds perpetrated on the voters," said John S. Herrington, former chairman of the California Republican Party. "It was hype."

Maybe so, but lengthy interviews with Boxer, Moseley- Braun and Murray revealed that they are likely to make gender an issue on the campaign trail again, unless, of course, they face women opponents. They make the case that their presence -- along with that of the six other women now in the Senate -- has made a difference in that clubby chamber. For example, during the bitter fight two years ago over whether to hold public hearings on charges of sexual misconduct against Sen. Bob Packwood, R-Ore., they -- especially Boxer -- led the charge.

Looking back at lessons from that case, as well as from other fights involving the military brass's slow response to allegations of sexual harassment, leads Moseley-Braun, the first African-American woman elected to the Senate, to conclude, "That is why it is so important to have this institution reflective as well as representative of the American people as a whole."

How voters respond to that theme in these three closely watched races will go a long way toward showing whether the Year of the Woman was just a blip on the nation's political radar screen brought about by the fortuities of the Thomas hearing, as well as a seeming economic downturn and a desire for change after 12 years of GOP control of the White House.

The races are complicated for Boxer, Moseley-Braun and Murray because, as incumbents, they have dual roles. They must prove they are effective in cajoling their colleagues into supporting them on issues of importance to their states. But they also must show they have retained enough independence to take tough stances and even ruffle feathers -- the qualities that appealed to many voters in the first place.

Each of them has pursued that dual course, with varying degrees of success. They have taken some stances that have put them at odds with senior colleagues, but they have also shown skills as insiders in nailing down important committee assignments and bringing home some bacon.

Even so, Republicans are already salivating at the prospect of taking them on -- and in Moseley-Braun's case, there is even the possibility of a nasty primary fight.

But if Sen. Robert Kerrey, D-Neb., chairman of the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee, is worried, he's not showing it. He sees a winning issue: the booming economy. "If the country was in recession from the '93 vote [on President Clinton's budget package] or job loss was occurring at a rapid rate or unemployment was going up and welfare rolls were growing, then I would be very concerned about them," he said. "In all three cases, they have a strong record that they can go home and sell."

Boxer's Rebellion
As she prepares her reelection drive, Boxer is a campaign consultant's dream. She stays on message, exudes energy and connects with folks around her. The 56-year-old former stockbroker, who served five terms in the House representing liberal Marin County before winning an open Senate seat in 1992 against hard-right Los Angeles commentator Bruce Herschensohn, is used to being put on the endangered list by pollsters and pundits.

"She is consistently underestimated," said former Rep. Mel Levine, D-Calif., who should know because Boxer overcame the odds to defeat him in the 1992 Senate primary. "She was clearly helped by the national election and the fact that it was the Year of the Woman -- that was a substantial part of her strategy."

Boxer's admirers repeatedly speak of her willingness to go nose-to-nose with anybody on issues that she feels deeply about. In 1991, she led a brigade of seven women House Members who marched over to the Senate -- an unprecedented maneuver -- to push for a delay of the vote on Thomas's confirmation to allow time for a closer examination of Hill's charges. This year, she was way out front on another combustible issue: the right of women to have late-term abortions.

"Her basic image in the state is of being a fighter," said former White House chief of staff Leon E. Panetta, a onetime Democratic House Member from California. "Her willingness to be out there, to fight, to really push for what she believes in earns her a lot of points."

But her combativeness and penchant for the klieg lights sometimes sticks in the craw of colleagues. Two years ago, she was adamant in calling for public hearings on Packwood. By then, the Ethics Committee had found "credible evidence" that Packwood had engaged in repeated acts of sexual misconduct and tampered with evidence by altering his diaries. At one point, Boxer even threatened to introduce a resolution to force all Senators to vote on whether to hold public hearings.

Her demands infuriated Ethics Committee chairman Mitch McConnell, R-Ky., who threatened to retaliate against Democrats. In McConnell's opinion, Boxer and others were interfering in his panel's investigation before it had even made recommendations. "He basically poked his finger at me and said, 'I am going after Ted Kennedy,' " Boxer recalled. "I said, 'Look, if you have reason to bring a case against anybody in the Senate, do it, but don't threaten.' "

The lesson from that battle, which culminated in Packwood's resignation, was that "this is no longer a club -- we have to be accountable," Boxer said. "It was a very lonely battle in the beginning, but the more the facts came out, the easier it became. In the end, I think I won a lot of respect." Boxer's style, however, did not endear her to then-Majority Leader Bob Dole, R-Kan., who called her "the most partisan Senator I have ever known."

The Packwood episode was revealing in another way. It underscored the differences in style and temperament between the combative Boxer and her cautious, less predictable California Democratic counterpart in the Senate, Dianne Feinstein. When Packwood announced in September 1995 that he would do "the honorable thing" and resign, Feinstein in a floor statement declared: "I do not believe it is a happy day for the U.S. Senate. I do believe it is a day of some courage and bravery on the part of Sen. Packwood, because even those of us who did not know him well know of his love for this body."

It could not have been a happy moment for Boxer to hear Feinstein praise Packwood's "courage." When asked about the comments, Boxer puts the best face on them. "Everybody does what is in their heart," she said. "I have no problems with people saying what is in their heart."

The two Senators have come to each other's aid. When Feinstein was running in 1994 for a full Senate term, Boxer seemed to lower her profile and allow Feinstein to dominate the spotlight. Feinstein returned the favor last year by waiving her seniority rights to a precious seat on the Appropriations Committee until 1999 so that Boxer could take advantage of its power and visibility to give her campaign a boost.

As hard-nosed as Boxer can be, she also plays the insider's role with ease. "If you talk to the leadership or to Members," Panetta said, "they often are critical of Dianne Feinstein because she sometimes takes a position and won't move, or they have to lobby her strongly to bring her [around], whereas Barbara tends to be much more of a team player. And because of that, she has developed a lot of friendships [with colleagues who] are willing to work with her."

She also unabashedly defends programs that critics deride as little more than pork. Take an Agriculture Department program that funnels money to help farmers and food corporations advertise and market their products overseas. It has sent more than $50 million into the coffers of California-based E&J Gallo Winery Inc. "I never fight for anything unless I believe it's the right public policy," Boxer said. "I tell people -- 'You make the public policy argument, [but] don't tell me it's good for your business, because that is not my business.' "

When pressed about the GOP charge that she is out of step with California, Boxer fires back that she's in the mainstream on a wide range of issues -- from the environment and freedom of choice for women, to support of the death penalty for "heinous crimes."

She also rejects the charge that she has flip-flopped on any issues. While in the House, Boxer took on a high-profile crusade against waste in military procurement. But these days, as a Senator representing a state with a numerous military installations and contractors, she's far more receptive to defense spending, especially on the C-17 cargo plane. She also has fought to protect McClellan Air Force Base in Sacramento from being closed.

Said former state GOP chairman Herrington of the seeming incongruity: "This is the great antiwar protester who prides herself on her liberal credentials suddenly getting serious about military installations and the military. That's ridiculous -- it's phony. She's a phony." Boxer, however, counters that she has a "burden and a responsibility" to represent the whole state. Noting that in the post-Cold War era, she has opposed additional spending on "Star Wars" and on B-2s, she said that if she reversed herself on those positions, "then I don't deserve to be reelected."

For now, Boxer says she worries about the daunting challenge of raising $20 million to run for reelection. When quizzed about the possibility of facing San Diego Mayor Susan Golding -- a moderate Republican who is pro-choice, has a strong environmental record and is viewed by some political analysts as her most formidable potential challenger -- Boxer seems unfazed. Other GOP hopefuls vying for her seat include state treasurer Matt Fong and Darrell Issa, a deep-pocketed entrepreneur.

"At any given moment, for every issue that I champion, one-third of the people love me for it, one-third of the people hate me for it and one-third of the people say, 'Can you tell me a little more, and who is Barbara Boxer?' " she said. "It's going to be a very hard race no matter who runs, [because] California is a swing state and it's very polarized."

Moseley-Braun's Bold Calculation
Allison Davis, a Chicago lawyer-turned-real-estate- developer, still recalls how stunned he was in 1991 when Carol Moseley-Braun, his friend and colleague from his former law firm, told him of her ambitious plans to challenge incumbent Democratic Sen. Alan J. Dixon.

"I was in her office when she was the recorder of deeds, two days after the Senate voted on Clarence Thomas, and she said, 'I am going to run for the Senate,' " Davis recalled. "I said, 'What are you talking about?' She said: 'Dixon has made the biggest mistake of his life. I am going to run for the Senate, and I am going to win.' "

It was bold to conclude that Dixon, one of the most successful politicians in the state's history, had made a fatal mistake by voting to confirm Thomas. But Moseley-Braun, a 49- year-old lawyer with an easy laugh and disarming charm, knows a thing or two about Illinois politics, having been elected Cook County recorder of deeds in 1989 after serving in the state legislature from 1978-88.

"I thought she was crazy," Davis said in an interview, even as he expressed enthusiastic support for her run for a second Senate term.

These days, predictions that Moseley-Braun will be reelected surely would be greeted with a similarly incredulous response. Even though Election Day is 15 months away, Moseley- Braun appears to be in deep political trouble.

A look at the 1992 election is instructive. Critics say it was a fluke because Moseley-Braun won by keeping a low profile through much of the primary. She benefited from a primary brawl between Dixon and Albert F. Hofeld, a millionaire lawyer. They hammered away at each other, and Moseley-Braun squeaked through with a small plurality -- 38 per cent to 35 per cent for Dixon and 27 per cent for Hofeld. She then won the general election by 10 percentage points, despite having to respond to charges that she had split an inheritance with her siblings that should have gone to her mother to pay Medicaid bills. Later there were charges of sloppiness, at the least, in accounting for her campaign expenditures.

What did she do for her victory lap? She went on a month-long trip to Africa and England with Kgosie Matthews, her then-fiance and controversial former campaign manager, who subsequently was accused of sexual harassment by campaign workers. Talk about messy.

Those events got her off to a bad start, with lots of bad press. Critics said she should have been tending to things at home, especially building a staff. (Her office has seen more than its share of upheaval, including four chiefs of staff.) The potshots reached something of climax last summer, when on the eve of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, she paid a "private" visit to Nigeria with Matthews, a former registered agent of that country's government, to meet with its oppressive dictator -- to the horror of her colleagues and of human rights activists. When asked if she would make the Nigerian trip if she could do it over again, she replied: "No -- probably not. I think probably the hardest lesson for me in all of this is coming to understand that I don't have a private life at all."

Others say that she has squandered opportunities to make a mark. "She keeps telling everybody that she's the only African-American woman in the United States Senate, and that's important -- I don't disagree... but I don't think you give somebody a pass simply because of their race and gender," argued Michael Bikalis, who was state comptroller in the 1970s and is considering challenging Moseley-Braun in the primary. "You've got to be somebody who exercises good judgment and who is productive."

A recent Chicago Tribune poll shows nearly half the voters would prefer to elect a new Senator; a whopping 40 per cent have an unfavorable view of her. She also has been abandoned by many of the suburban white women who helped her win in 1992. If popular GOP Gov. Jim Edgar jumps into the race, as Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott, R-Miss., is reportedly encouraging him to do, he would be a heavy favorite.

But if she is worried, Moseley-Braun is doing her best not to let on. When asked what the main obstacle to her reelection is, she doesn't miss a beat: "$10 million," she says, referring to the campaign war chest that she will have to build.

Moseley-Braun has shown that she can be an effective inside player. In early 1995, she cleverly leveraged her position in the battle between Thomas A. Daschle of South Dakota and Christopher J. Dodd of Connecticut for the post of Minority Leader. She ultimately cast the decisive vote for Daschle, who rewarded her by giving her his seat on the influential Finance Committee.

When asked about gripes that Moseley-Braun had kept everybody guessing during that episode in order to cut the best deal for herself, Sen. Kerrey laughed. "It's a criticism by people who wanted to be on the Finance Committee and didn't get on," he said. "Is it fair? You tell me -- she won; they lost. I admire that she got on. I might feel differently about it if I hadn't got on it; it is a very important committee. Is it hardball? Yes."

No less a conservative than Sen. Orrin G. Hatch, R-Utah, chairman of the Judiciary Committee, on which Moseley-Braun served for two years, praised her as "a very shrewd politician, who, if you can get her on your side, really makes a difference." He singled out her support of the balanced budget amendment and said that "no amount of pressure" from other Democrats changed her mind.

When asked to name her biggest accomplishment and her biggest disappointment, Moseley-Braun cited the same issue -- her initiative to get federal assistance to repair crumbling schools. She is still pushing for the $5 billion project that got dealt away during this year's budget negotiations. "I've passed a lot of bills and I've gotten a lot of amendments and I've taken home a lot of bacon to Illinois, to use an old-fashioned term, but all of that notwithstanding, crumbling schools is so important because it really started a new dialogue at the national level about the responsibility of the national government for elementary and secondary education."

But perhaps the most memorable moment so far in Moseley- Braun's career occurred on the Senate floor on July 22, 1993, when she put down efforts by Sens. Jesse Helms, R-N.C., and Strom Thurmond, R-S.C., to renew the design patent on the United Daughters of the Confederacy's insignia, a part of which is the Confederate flag. Congress had routinely renewed the patent every 14 years since 1893. "On this issue, there can be no consensus," she said at the time. "It is an insult. It is absolutely unacceptable to me and to millions of Americans, black or white, that we would put the imprimatur of the United States Senate on a symbol of this kind."

"It was a very significant moment," she now says. "The really good thing about it was that everybody felt better about themselves, about this institution and about the country after it was over."

Murray: No Headline Grabber
When asked what her biggest surprise has been since her election to the Senate, Patty Murray gives a response that you would expect if you had followed her career. "My biggest surprise," she said, "is the amount of time that people talk about issues that are irrelevant to everyday, average people."

Murray, a 47-year-old former preschool teacher, school board president and state senator, is no headline grabber. In interviewing her, one emerges with the sense that she is still not entirely comfortable in this heady role of U.S. Senator -- quite a contrast to Boxer and Moseley-Braun.

Murray's approach is in keeping with her oft-used slogan that she is "just a mom in tennis shoes." That label was slapped on her by a state official in Olympia in the early 1980s when he dismissed her efforts to preserve a parent-child preschool program, and ever since, Murray has worn it like a badge of honor.

Her soft-spoken demeanor hides what some see as a fierce ambition. Dwayne Slate, an official with the Washington state school directors, recalls a conversation with Murray years ago in which she raised the possibility of running for the Senate. "Her attitude was like, 'Damn it, there's too many blue suits there. Somebody has got to change that and it may as well be me,' " Slate said. "Patty is politically astute enough to see which way the political winds are blowing, and [she thought] this was a good time to do it." In late 1991, she decided to challenge then-Democratic Sen. Brock Adams, who was under a cloud of sexual harassment charges. He decided not to run, and Murray beat then- GOP Rep. Rod Chandler for the Senate seat.

But as her reelection campaign begins to take shape, Murray's critics are already sounding the theme that her term has been far more about symbols than substance. They also point to a National Journal rating, based on 47 votes in 1996, that found her to have the most liberal record in the Senate. (See NJ, 12/14/96, p. 2681.)

Rep. Linda A. Smith, R-Wash., who has launched a challenge to Murray, says the incumbent Senator's populist message is belied by her actions. "She is the most party-line Democrat vote. She is pretty obedient," Smith said. "She has done what everyone says they won't do, and that's go and care about the special interests and raise money from the special interests. She doesn't just sit there and they happen to give to her, she holds parties for them."

Smith is a fierce advocate for sweeping campaign finance reform and hopes to ride that issue to victory. Even though she barely won her House race in 1996 -- by less than one-half of 1 per cent -- Smith confidently predicts, "I'll be the first person to win a U.S. Senate seat without special-interest money wrapped around me."

Murray, however, has one clear advantage in that she will not face a primary challenge, while Smith will. Pierce County Executive Doug Sutherland, from the moderate wing of the GOP, is running. Others contemplating a race include Rep. George R. Nethercutt Jr., R-Wash., and conservative talk-show host John Carlson. Should Smith prevail in the primary, look for her to make lots of comparisons between her own fastidious approach to fund raising and Murray's more-aggressive tactics. Smith takes no political action committee money, doesn't solicit from lobbyists and limits the amount of money she accepts.

When asked how she would respond to such attacks, Murray makes no apologies. "I live absolutely within the rules of the campaign laws as they are written today," she said. "I am very proud of the fact that I have almost 20,000 individual contributors in the state of Washington -- a lot of them never have contributed to campaigns before, but they identify with who I am."

In contrast with Smith and her in-your-face style, Murray tries to accomplish things by using a more conciliatory approach. Her method is "more through insisting on the importance of the issue itself and what it means for people, as opposed to the political hardball of Carol Moseley-Braun," Panetta observed. "You can't help but want to try to help her."

Murray has made headway recently in reaching a compromise on several contentious issues with her Republican counterpart, Washington Sen. Slade Gorton. For example, for two and a half years, she sought a hearing on her measure to protect a 51-mile stretch of the Columbia River known as the Hanford Reach by designating it a recreational river under the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act. Gorton finally relented and presided at a hearing on the issue.

Gorton reportedly favors more local control than Murray's bill calls for. Still, both Senators have expressed confidence that a compromise can be worked out. If so, it marks a thawing in a once-testy relationship, in which they always seemed at each other's throat on issues from logging to salmon conservation. Things got so sour between them that in an editorial last year The Seattle Times urged them to "quit your squabbling" and "lighten up."

The earnest Murray has also been quite willing to upset the party establishment and take on the military brass when questions have been raised about their handling of sexual harassment allegations. In 1994, she fought for a full debate with recorded votes on the retirement awards of two high-ranking officers -- Adms. Frank Kelso and Henry H. Mauz Jr. -- whose men were involved in highly publicized sexual harassment cases. Murray's efforts failed, despite the support of Boxer and Moseley-Braun, but she is adamant that the military promotion system should be reformed. She has successfully moved legislation to toughen regulations against sexual harassment in the military.

Murray got a rude political shock in 1994, when the dramatic election returns turned the state's congressional delegation upside down, from eight Democrats and one Republican to seven Republicans and two Democrats. Even House Speaker Thomas S. Foley, D-Wash., was sent packing.

It was sobering. Murray wasted little time in making swift personnel moves that showed a side of her that is quite different from her public persona. She abruptly dismissed her chief of staff, her legislative director and her state political director. Folks on Capitol Hill familiar with the swiftness of her actions said she acted more like a guillotine operator than like that caring mom in tennis shoes. "I was looking for leadership from Washington state," she explained, noting that two staff members who left were from New York and Washington, D.C.

Today, as she reviews her accomplishments, Murray emphasizes her personal attributes. "I have had a different life -- I am not a millionaire; I had two working parents," she said. "Because of who I am and my experiences, I see issues a bit differently. I can bring an outsider's perspective to the inside and use it to make sure that legislation works for everybody."

Actually, that is the message of all three of these candidates. They have the know-how to get things done, but the independence to shake the place up if they have to. Voters in California, Illinois and Washington can expect to hear variations of that theme as they decide whether the candidates who so deftly exploited the "Year of the Woman" should be returned to Washington for another term.

• For more on this topic, read Hotline's Charles Todd's recent column entitled Return Of The Year Of The Woman.
• All National Journal subscribers can access recent National Journal stories in the National Journal News Archive.
• More information about National Journal is available at http://www.nationaljournal.com.

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