Rep. Gonzalez: He Packs a Punch When It Gets Tense

When Rep. Henry B. Gonzalez slugged a knife-carrying man who called him a communist four years ago, it was nothing new.

The Texas Democrat once swatted a Republican House colleague for suggesting the same thing. And when Gonzalez’s second grade teacher tried to wash his mouth out with soap for something he didn’t do--angrily declaring that she was “getting tired of little Mexicans”--he smacked her, too.

“I’m not prone to violence,” the 74-year-old, barrel-chested Gonzalez insisted the other night over a dinner of chicken, beans, squash and tortillas served by his wife, Bertha. “But I came up the hard way. I’ve had to face a tense situation time and time again.”

Though he hasn’t thrown any punches lately, Gonzalez is proving to be a tough fighter and key player as Congress grapples with a tense situation of a different sort: trying to clean up the savings and loan mess, while staving off a similar collapse of banks.

Since becoming chairman of the House Banking, Finance and Urban Affairs Committee last year, Gonzalez has directed an extraordinary probe of the politically charged S&L; scandal--including one brouhaha that led to the resignation of a top regulator and others that badly bruised five senators and Neil Bush, President Bush’s son.

He also was a leader in toughening legislation that is now being used to close failed thrifts and bail out depositors. Currently, he is working on an emergency overhaul of federal deposit insurance, aimed at keeping the multibillion-dollar thrift crisis from spreading. And he is managing a massive housing bill whose scope and expense are sure to provoke battles with both the President and the Senate.

In all of this, Gonzalez’s performance has confounded his many critics and delighted his friends. For most of his 29 years in Congress, Gonzalez was widely dismissed as a liberal loner with a quixotic taste for pursuing hopeless causes--a buffoon who couldn’t control an assassination inquiry, an Uncle Tomas who was out of step with Latino militants and an eccentric who sometimes wore garish suits, made rambling speeches, told endless stories and--yes--even punched out an occasional critic.

So far was he from being a member of the congressional insiders club that he twice had to overcome campaigns to deny him House committee chairmanships, first of a housing subcommittee and then of the full Banking Committee. Capitol Hill-watchers say the moves were inspired partly by lobbyists, who were worried that Gonzalez’s independent streak would make him difficult to deal with.

Today, however, while losing none of his distinctive character or style, Gonzalez has begun to win the grudging respect of the critics. Which merely proves, say longtime friends, how much he was underestimated and misunderstood in the past.

Friends remember his days as a San Antonio city councilman and Texas state senator, when they saw him as an eloquent, filibustering populist who throttled segregation measures and battled tax benefits for the rich. They recall him as a patently honest congressman who once stood alone among Texans in support of civil rights legislation and the New Frontier programs drafted by President John F. Kennedy.

They also revere him as a visionary, an insatiable reader and student of history whose warnings of German resurgence and allegations of illegal U.S. military interventions may be validated over time.

Many in the westside barrios here worship Gonzalez as an inspirational man of the people--the American-born son of Mexican immigrants who clawed past discrimination barriers to a law degree and lawmaking; a big-shot who lives modestly, mixes warmly with common folk and heaps affection on his eight children and 20 grandchildren.

“In a number of homes, there are pictures of John Kennedy in one corner and Henry Gonzalez in the other, and in the middle is the Vision of Guadalupe with a candle,” said Frank Herrera, chairman of the Mexican-American Legal Defense Fund. “Henry B. has almost saint-like status.”

Above all, Gonzalez is admired for his fighting spirit in the political arena.

“He’ll take on a Mexican-American or an Anglo indiscriminately, and he’ll pull you out into the middle of the street in full sunshine,” said Maury Maverick Jr., a liberal San Antonio newspaper columnist and former state legislator who once competed with Gonzalez in a run for governor. “He’s meaner than a riled cat when he goes after you.”

As chairman of the Banking Committee, Gonzalez is credited with displaying fairness as well as toughness, in sharp contrast with his autocratic predecessor, Fernand J. St Germain (D-R.I.), who was defeated for reelection in 1988 amid charges that he maintained improper financial ties to the savings and loan industry.

“He started out as chairman saying he wanted to operate in a fair, bipartisan way as much as he could, and he certainly did that with the (S&L; bailout) legislation and also the housing bill,” said Rep. Chalmers P. Wylie of Ohio, the top-ranking Republican on the 49-member committee. “He’s kind of a let-the-chips-fall-where-they-may individual.”

Another Republican panel member, Rep. David Dreier of LaVerne, agreed. “Philosophically, we rarely see eye to eye, but Henry has always allowed me the opportunity to offer amendments,” Dreier said. “He is very kind and generous.”

But the good feeling is not universal. Gonzalez has a feud going with Rep. Joseph Kennedy (D-Mass.) that began with his refusal to use the proxies of absent Democrats in favor of a Kennedy-sponsored amendment to an international banking bill.

“I lost my cool,” Gonzalez conceded, referring to the run-in with the son of the late Robert F. Kennedy. But, he added: “Little Kennedy has a tendency to get excited.”

Meanwhile, some Democrats complain that Gonzalez is too even-handed. They have pushed for the creation of a special committee that their colleagues could use during the election campaign to pile blame for the S&L; scandals on the Republicans.

“How are you going to get those damn Republicans?” Gonzalez said he was asked by Rep. Paul E. Kanjorski (D-Pa.) at one point. His answer: “I think you have to be down-the-middle and patient.”

With pressure mounting to contain the financial crisis, Gonzalez is mulling options to revamp the system under which deposits are federally insured up to $100,000. That system has been widely cited as a major factor in causing the S&L; crisis. He has not yet proposed a remedy, but he has decried the way the insurance limit was raised from $40,000 in 1980.

“There was never one minute’s consideration or hearing on that increase,” Gonzalez says. “It took minutes. There was no debate.”

As part of his own study of the matter, Gonzalez flew home over the Fourth of July congressional recess to solicit views from constituents. He makes such trips frequently, usually presiding at sessions in restaurants. His image is underscored by his unforgettable head: a magnificent landscape of cavernous eyes and mouth, mountainous nose, bushy eyebrows and deep, undulating facial creases.

Over lunch with members of a business establishment that once virulently opposed him, Gonzalez heard warm words of support for his S&L; work. But the businessmen expressed concern that land values were being depressed and that credit is drying up because of new federal regulatory actions involved in the cleanup. “The backbone of the country”--small business--”is being crushed,” developer Jack Rich said.

Gonzalez responded quietly that “the S&L; crisis is really a symptom of a larger problem. Everybody is yelling: ‘Pass a law, get the crooks.’ But it’s not that simplistic. The big issue is the insurance fund. We’ve simply got to find out how we got to the point we are today.” He offered no immediate solutions, saying action probably would have to wait until a new Congress convenes in January.

In conversations later, the businessmen praised Gonzalez’s work and integrity. “He’s done a good job establishing a forum in which everyone can be heard,” said Gerry Solcher, a former S&L; president who lives near Gonzalez and often spots his neighbor mowing the lawn.

Added real estate executive Cliff Morton: “He damn sure researches his position before he jumps out on something. And you might be one of his closest friends, but if you are involved in something wrong, he is not going to cover for you. His ethics are impeccable.”

Gonzalez accepts relatively little campaign money from special-interest political action committees. The $215,000 that he has received over the last eight years is only one-seventh as much as Senate Banking Committee Chairman Donald W. Riegle Jr. (D-Mich.) accepted.

Gonzalez’s assets are modest: a two-story brick house and a savings account with less than $2,500 in it, according to his financial disclosure report.

Gonzalez cements the support that he gains on issues by paying close attention to local problems.

“He’s always fighting to get jobs here, especially at Kelly (Air Force Base) and Ft. Sam (Houston),” said Martin Trevino, a bus driver. Tito Chavarria, president of Alamo Technology, a defense contractor, lauded Gonzalez for swiftly helping his firm resolve a dispute with government auditors. And grocery wholesaler Wilson Toudouze said the congressman has “uncovered a lot of scandals” in Texas and Washington, and “we’re hoping he gets some more big fish in the S&L; mess.”

There are dissenters, of course. Businesswoman Barbara Maras, suggesting that Gonzalez should be replaced, said: “With new blood comes new ideas. A few radical ideas couldn’t hurt at this point.”

But Gonzalez has proved unbeatable, waltzing off with 71% of the vote two years ago. When he first ran for the House in a 1961 special election, though, he scraped by with only 55%. But it was an extraordinary victory: Gonzalez figures that less than 10% of the total came from Latino and black voters, who faced severe barriers at the polls.

A colorful storyteller with near-total recall, Gonzalez relishes describing how Republicans tried to defeat him in that first race by bringing in former President Dwight D. Eisenhower to campaign at rallies where free tamales and beer were served.

Ignoring cries of panic from his family and staff, Gonzalez decided to “store my energy for a last push.” Without telling anyone, he took a blanket, pillow, loaf of bread and book of poems to a hill north of town and camped out for two days while Ike created a sensation.

When he returned, Gonzalez produced his friend, then-Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson, to endorse him for the congressional seat, declaring: “I’d rather have a live and kicking vice president campaign for me than a has-been President.”

And when he learned that Ike had flown into San Antonio on an oil-company plane and was staying at the home of an oil millionaire, the fiery populist had just the issue he needed.

Gonzalez, who proudly recalls his first grade teacher telling him he was “an American, not a Mexican,” attributes his broad voter appeal in part to refusing to run on ethnic issues. He alienated Latino militants by opposing creation of a separate La Raza Unida party, and he stirred up friction by dropping out of the congressional Hispanic Caucus--ostensibly in protest of the organization’s fund-raising and dues-paying practices.

Actually, it was more than that. “Isolating oneself in the tribe means strangulation,” Gonzalez said in declaring his belief that Latinos should seek opportunity within the general framework of American society.

In that context, Gonzalez’s image has come a long way from the day in 1963 when he punched then-Rep. Ed Foreman (R-Tex.) for accusing him of being a “pinko” supporter of communist causes. Today, another conservative, Rep. Wylie of Ohio, considers Gonzalez a solid American.

“He talks about his family a lot and that has a lot of appeal to me,” Wylie said. “I think he has his head screwed on right as far as the values which make our country great are concerned.”