Authors: Ralph Reed
The temperature in the Caucus Room of the Russell Senate Office building resembled a sauna from a combination of body heat and television lights. The room was packed, with bodies lining the wall, the press corps buzzing with rumors flying across the Capitol like stray bullets. Chief among the scuttlebutt: Penneymounter would stonewall, vigorously denying an “inappropriate” relationship with Natalie Taylor, parsing words and wagging a finger like Bill Clinton when the Monica Lewinsky scandal broke. Still others claimed Taylor had resigned and Penneymounter would fall on his sword for the good of the Democratic caucus. Which rumor, if either, was true? No one knew. Even Sal Stanley was in the dark.
At 9:00 a.m. sharp Penneymounter entered the room and strode purposefully to the podium, his wife in tow. The press corps rustled. His face was lined with exhaustion. His wife stood by his side, her face wan and stricken. Penneymounter pulled a statement from his coat pocket.
“Good morning. For seventeen years I have worked hard to uphold the trust that the people of Minnesota placed in me as a member of the U.S. Senate. I have tried throughout that time to conduct myself according to the highest standards of ethical conduct. However, I must acknowledge I have failed to live up to that standard. I have come here this morning to admit publicly and accept responsibility for a personal indiscretion.” Just like that, Penneymounter admitted the affair, with all the usual euphemisms. “I apologize to my wife Anne,”âhe turned in her direction and acknowledged her with a bob of his headâ“to our three wonderful children, and to the people of Minnesota. As painful as this is, it is a reminder that some things are more important than politics. For now my priority must be to heal my family and my marriage. I ask respect for our privacy as we do so, and I will have no further comment regarding this personal matter.” Penneymounter paused, clearing his throat, appearing to brace himself for what came next. “To that end, I am stepping down as chairman of the Judiciary Committee, effective immediately.”
Audible gasps went up from the crowd. For Penneymounter, who reveled in his role as chairman and loved it more than anything, it was like having his right arm wrenched off.
“The issues at stake in the nomination of Judge Marco Diaz to the Supreme Court,” he continued, “are too important for the Senate to be distracted by a purely personal matter.” In his humiliation Penneymounter was still a skillful litigator, asserting he committed no official transgression. (A Senate Ethics committee investigation loomed; Penneymounter was lawyered up.) Raising his eyes from the paper, he made eye contact with the press corps for the first time, his gaze intense. “Serving as chairman of the Judiciary Committee has been the highest honor of my public life. Out of respect for the Senate I love so much, I relinquish it for the greater good of this institution and the nation. Thank you very much.”
Penneymounter grabbed his wife's hand and hustled through a door that led backstage, ignoring an explosion of shouted questions from the restless press mob. The act of public humiliation complete, the media bolted for the door to file their stories and do stand-ups. Some Twittered from cell phones or blogged on laptops in the hallway. The effect was feverish, ritualistic, tribal sacrifice mixed with
schadenfreude
âoh, how the mighty had fallen!
The vote on Diaz's nomination in the Judiciary Committee loomed. Penneymounter's announcement unleashed a flood of questions: Who would succeed him as Judiciary chairman? Would he remain on the committee, pulling strings from the sidelines? His statement left open the question of whether he would even show for the vote. If he did not, the committee could deadlock 10 to 10, or, if Rhoades voted for Diaz, the nomination would go to the floor with a favorable recommendation, all but ensuring Diaz's confirmation. With only three hours left before the vote, confusion reigned.
CHRISTY LOVE WATCHED JOE Penneymounter's news conference at Pro-Choice PAC headquarters surrounded by senior staff. The mood was maudlin. Christy and Penneymounter had crossed swordsâmost recently over calling Maria Solis as a witnessâbut she found his egotism and wandering eye endearing in a way. There had even been talk of a presidential bid. But now Joe was done. Natalie Taylor was collateral damage; the Judiciary Committee had already announced her resignation.
“I wish I could say I was surprised,” said Christy. “But everybody knew Joe had a zipper problem. I went to him and warned him about Natalie. He wouldn't listen.”
“How about Natalie's double life as an Internet-trolling sugar babe?” asked one of her legal eagles. “You can't make this stuff up!”
“Now that did shock me,” replied Christy. “You could have knocked me over with a feather. It just goes to show, you never really know people the way you think you do.”
Scandal-mongering gossip preliminaries dispensed with, the group turned to the matter at hand: How would all this affect the vote on Diaz? Everyone was just guessing. But the conventional wisdom was it helped Diaz. His main nemesis fell on the field of battle.
“The timing is horrible,” said one of Christy's aides, slumped on the couch, looking like he crammed all night for an exam. “Three hours before the vote!”
“It's very suspicious,” agreed Christy, hands on hips. “I see Jay Noble's fingerprints. He's evil and he'll do anything to win.”
“Well, now what?” asked the staff attorney.
“Joe has to show up and vote, and then we have to get lucky and get R-squared,” replied Christy. “If we don't get both of them, it's over.”
“Joe didn't say anything about stepping down from the committee.”
“He better not,” said Christy. “He's done enough damage as it is. If he's AWOL on the Diaz vote, he might as well resign from the Senate now.” She glanced at her communications director. “Work up a statement praising the new chairman of Judiciary and urging a continued fight against Diaz.”
“Who's the new chairman?”
“How do I know?” snapped Christy. “I can't do your job and mine. Just get it done.” She stood looking at them. They stared back. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go!”
They hurriedly filed out to get to work. Pro-Choice PAC staffers were used to Christy's volcanic explosions. She was in the bunker, stressed out, and one vote short.
AT 11:00 A.M. THE members of the Senate Judiciary Committee filed into the hearing room in the Hart Senate Office building to cast their votes on Diaz. Joe Penneymounter was among them, his presence unavoidably awkward and a clear sign of the high stakes. In the hours since his news conference, Sal Stanley named his replacement, Chuck Hurley of Iowa, the next-highest ranking Democrat on the committee by seniority. Hurley was not the sharpest pencil in the box, but Stanley decided this was no time to upend seniority.
Hurley, pale and dough-faced, sharply parted helmet hair combed to a perfect pitch, took his seat and banged the meeting to order with the gavel. His facial expression was the pained, muted exuberance of a back-up quarterback called off the bench in the Super Bowl: nervous and giddy. Tom Reynolds of Oklahoma sat to his left, Penneymounter to his right.
Hurley cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Committee on the Judiciary will now proceed in executive committee to a vote on the nomination of Judge Marco Diaz for associate justice of the United States Supreme Court.” He raised his chin, bracing himself as he prepared to address the elephant in the room. “Before we do, I want to express my sincere appreciation to Senator Penneymounter for his leadership of this committee. No one in recent history has led this committee more ably. He has been an effective legislator at a time of great national challenge. Senator, you are a tough act to follow.” He smiled weakly. “Thank you for your leadership and friendship, and please know I will be counting on you to continue to be an important voice on this committee.” The members of the committee applauded in an obligatory, joyless manner. Penneymounter managed a weak smile.
“I am going to be brief in my comments on Judge Diaz's nomination. I hope other Senators will do the same,” said Hurley. “In spite of the reporters and cameras joining us this morning, I don't believe there is a great deal of suspense about how each of us plans to vote”âhe paused for effect, staring straight aheadâ“with one possible exception.” Nervous chuckles filled the air as all eyes fixed on Rebecca Rhoades. “I will vote against Judge Diaz's nomination. I do so reluctantly. He is a fine individual and a man of enormous talent and accomplishments. His story is the fulfillment of the American dream. But a seat on the highest court does not go to one with the most compelling biography. It goes to the person with the right judicial temperament and philosophy who will uphold the law and protect individual rights.” His eyes narrowed. “On issues of gender and racial discrimination, antitrust law, a woman's right to choose, and the separation of powers, Judge Diaz fails that test. This nomination will be pivotal in deciding a number of issues pending before the court, including a woman's right to choose. I vote against Judge Diaz not because I do not share his
opinion
on these matters but because I have concerns about his
temperament
and judicial philosophy.”
Hurley leaned back in his chair, satisfied he had pushed all the buttons for the liberal groups without committing any gaffes. He turned to Reynolds.
“Mr. Chairman, thank you,” said Reynolds in a firm voice. “Let me say that I look forward to working very closely with you so the committee can move forward in an efficient and hopefully bipartisan basis. In just the few short hours since you assumed the chairmanship, you have been unfailingly courteous and professional in your dealings with the minority, and for that I want to thank you publicly.” (Another knife in Penneymounter, which Reynolds twisted with glee.) “Ladies and gentlemen, I am saddened by the state of affairs in this body as we cast our votes today on the nomination of Judge Diaz. I am saddened not only as a member of the U.S. Senate; I am saddened as an American.”
People rustled in their chairs. Reynolds was not taking Hurley's cue that everyone mail it in before the vote. He was doing what he did best: posturing before the cameras.
“Have our differences over contentious issues like affirmative action, marriage, and abortion reached such a low we no longer treat one another with decency and respect as fellow citizens? I fear that is the case. The manner in which this nomination has proceeded is frankly a disgrace to the Senate and our nation.” His eyes were aflame, his hands shaking with rage as he glanced down at his notes. “Judge Diaz is a man of integrity, honor, and personal rectitude. He has been endorsed by Democrats who served with him, progressive and liberal attorneys who appeared before his court, and Democratic clerks who served him. They have all testified to his character, his fairness, his open mind, and collegiality.”
Like an NFL player looking to make the highlight reel, Reynolds moved in for the kill. “Judge Diaz has been subjected to the most vicious, sustained campaign of personal attacks and smears I have witnessed in my entire career. A good man and his wife have almost been ruined.” Hurley began to squirm in his chair. Reynolds ignored him. His audience was in front of himâthe cameras. “Two people are dead, one a baby, the other a witness subjected to her own tabloid-like news coverage. The confirmation process bears no resemblance to the vision of our founders for our nation. It is search and destroy, smear and fear, the worst kind of politics of personal destruction.” Reynolds was putting the committee on trial. No one made a sound. “The Diazes lost a child. But we have lost something, too. We have lost the sense of fairness central to America.”
Hurley sat silently, stone-faced. “I will vote yes on this nomination not only because Marco Diaz is eminently qualified to sit on the Supreme Court but as a symbolic rebuke of the campaign of lies and smears that plagued previous nominations and has brought this one to such a disgraceful and ignoble conclusion.
Shame on us,
Mr. Chairman.
Shame on us.
”
The entire room exhaled. Penneymounter glared at Reynolds, eyes mere slits. The rest of the statements were anticlimactic, droning on along predictable lines. Then it was Rebecca Rhoades's turn, the woman of the hour.
“Senator Rhoades?” said Hurley expectantly. The entire room snapped to attention.
“Mr. Chairman, thank you for the job you and Senator Penneymounter have done conducting a thorough and fair process,” she began ambiguously, declining to signal her intentions. “I have listened to the arguments of both sides. I paid close attention to Judge Diaz's three days of testimony. I have now reread that testimony twice. For me the question boils down to a simple one: Is Judge Diaz the most qualified person the president could have nominated to be an associate justice of the Supreme Court.”
Diaz's opponents' hearts leapt:
Of course he wasn't!
Rhoades raised the bar high. For this fleeting moment in time, she was the most important person in the world, and she clearly intended to milk her fifteen minutes of fame. Washington was a parallel universe, an inversion of reality in which an anonymous politician from a small state with more oil derricks or cows than people held the fate of the nation in her hands. Was Rhoades up to it? No one knew, including her.
“I am pro-life in my personal views,” Rhoades declared. “But I have never believed I have the right to impose those beliefs on others. Whatever one's personal views,
Roe v. Wade
is the law of the land. Judge Diaz said as much during these hearings. To paraphrase him,
stare decisis
requires respect for precedent, imposing on both policy makers and judges a prudential reticence to vitiate the social contract for women explicit in its ruling. Given his responses to these questions, I found Judge Diaz's judicial philosophy to be well within the mainstream.”