Cunningham Is Flying High in Washington : Politics: The Gulf War makes the freshman congressman, a Vietnam War fighter ace and former head of the ‘Top Gun’ school, an instant Washington celebrity.

Former House Speaker Sam Rayburn, who believed that freshmen congressmen should “go along to get along”--meaning they should be seen but rarely heard--probably would not know quite what to make of Rep. Randall (Duke) Cunningham.

Since his inauguration last month, Cunningham has been attracting the kind of fawning attention inside and outside Congress that not only is extraordinary for a first-termer, but that also often eludes even most senior legislators.

Thanks to his background as a highly decorated Navy fighter pilot in Vietnam, the San Diego Republican has become an overnight media star who has the networks and major national papers--as well as many veteran congressmen--clamoring for his analysis of the Persian Gulf war.

At a time when many freshman still occasionally draw quizzical “Sure-you-belong-here?” glances in members-only elevators and dining rooms, Cunningham has appeared on NBC’s “Today” show and CNN, was featured in a lengthy Washington Post story and has drawn saturation coverage from the San Diego media.

At a White House reception, President Bush pulled Cunningham aside for a 10-minute chat, and colleagues often stop him after Defense Department war briefings to ask questions like, “Duke, why is it so hard to knock out a concrete bunker?” He already is widely known among congressional staffers as “Ace”--the honor that he won by shooting down five enemy planes in Vietnam--and even Capitol Hill police officers, at his encouragement, casually greet him as “the Dukester.”

“I’ve never seen anyone-- anyone --get out of the starting blocks so fast,” said National Republican Congressional Committee (NRCC) staffer Gary Koops. “The Duke Man is dynamite.”

Seemingly unaffected by his new-found celebrity, the 49-year-old Cunningham has approached his new job with an affable style that blends “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” with the kind of cockiness that comes from surviving 300 combat missions in Vietnam.

For example, when asked whether he finds the reality of being a congressman intimidating, Cunningham dismissively says, “I’ve overcome tougher challenges before.” Yet a moment later, he speaks of the prospect of a private tour of the U.S. Capitol dome with a tourist’s enthusiasm, and says that, when he walks onto the House floor, he does so with a mixture of giddiness and patriotic pride right out of the civics books.

“This is the part that gets me a little emotional,” Cunningham said recently as he walked briskly up the Capitol steps to vote. “You look around the House chamber, and it’s hard to believe you’re really part of this. It’s a pretty awesome feeling. It kind of makes your hair stand up to think of all the history of the place.”

There are other frequent reminders that Cunningham is, after all, a freshman who--the current media spotlight notwithstanding--still ranks as one of the least among equals on Capitol Hill following his upset of four-term Democratic Rep. Jim Bates last November.

Cunningham has gotten lost in the tunnels connecting the Capitol to the House office buildings, his office is a cramped basement suite with a view unlikely to be seen on any postcards and his knowledge of notable Washingtonians is somewhat lacking.

In his second week in office, Cunningham was interviewed by two Washington Post writers whose names are among the best known in political journalism: nationally syndicated columnist David Broder and Haynes Johnson. When it was pointed out to Cunningham that many congressmen wait an entire career for such a coup, he replied with a sheepish smile: “I might have been more nervous if I had known who they were.”

Not all of the attention has been welcome or flattering. Still unaccustomed to the added scrutiny that comes with elective office, Cunningham recently found himself embroiled in controversy when he claimed that major terrorists were based in San Diego. Though the FBI later disputed his comments, Cunningham stood by them, saying they were based on background briefings that he could not disclose.

Such missteps, however, have been the exception for Cunningham. Indeed, though it is hazardous to make any long-term projections based on a freshman’s first six weeks in Washington--even ones as heady as Cunningham’s--among top GOP leaders, Cunningham is seen as a bright, rising star in House Republicans’ political galaxy.

“I already consider him a treasure who I could send out anywhere in the country and be confident of his drawing power,” said Rep. Guy Vander Jagt (R-Mich.), NRCC chairman. “The older members treat him more like a celebrity than a freshman. In the short time he’s been here, Duke’s captured more attention than any other freshman I’ve ever seen.”

Democratic leaders, however, suggest that Cunningham is merely enjoying a brief period of Warholian fame that will fade quickly after the war ends. Moreover, they predict that Cunningham’s first two-year term will be his only term, unless redistricting dramatically changes the demographics of his district, where Democrats hold a daunting 53%-35% edge among registered voters.

“We’re willing to grant Congressman Cunningham his 15 minutes of celebrity, but it won’t be enough for him to hold the seat,” said Laura Nichols, a spokeswoman for the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee. “Admittedly, the Gulf and redistricting are political unknowns. But we see this as a Democratic seat and expect to reclaim it in 1992.”

Cunningham’s unusually high visibility owes as much to timing and luck as it does to his background, because seldom has a freshman arrived in Washington with world events more perfectly suited to his experience. His heroics in Vietnam and experience flying Mirage jets in the Middle East, combined with his former directorship of Miramar Naval Air Station’s “Top Gun” fighter pilot school--the inspiration for the popular film of the same name--instantly made him a much-sought-after analyst of the United States’ air war strategy.

“Maybe God puts you in the place where He thinks you could do the most good,” Cunningham said in an interview in his office, sitting amid the half-filled cardboard boxes, bare walls and empty shelves marking his new occupancy. “No one wishes war could have been avoided more than I do. But now that there is war, if I can help bring it to a successful conclusion sooner, there’s probably no better time for me to be here.”

Though he arrived in Washington strongly backing Bush’s Persian Gulf policies, Cunningham said he spent several sleepless nights in his office agonizing over his vote to commit American troops to war--a decision that he calls “a nightmare revisited.” In the end, Cunningham said his vote turned on his conviction that diplomatic sanctions would never prompt Saddam Hussein to withdraw from Kuwait, and giving the Iraqis more time to prepare for conflict could cost more American lives in a showdown that he saw as inevitable.

“It’s easy to pick a scorpion off the sand without being stung,” Cunningham said, using one of the homey aphorisms that pepper his speech. “But, if you allow it to burrow in its hole, you’re going to get stung when you try to pick it up.”

Aware of Cunningham’s background, many congressmen turned to him for guidance during both the congressional debate that preceded the war and in the month since.

“He knows more than anyone else what our men and women are experiencing, because he lived it,” noted Rep. Richard Santorum (R-Pa.).”He has insights no one else does.”

“He’s been getting beaucoup press, but he deserves it,” added Rep. Jim Nussle (R-Iowa). “Because of what Duke did in Vietnam, he’s almost a legend.”

Cunningham’s partisans profess confidence that the current attention and deference paid him will outlast the war. His impressive military record not only helped win him a seat on the coveted Armed Services Committee, but will, they argue, continue to add weight to his comments on any defense matter, even in peacetime.

“This is not a fleeting thing--it’s an opportunity Duke will build upon,” Vander Jagt said. “He’s not just a meteor hurtling through the congressional firmament. He’s a permanent star.”

Cunningham himself says he has no concerns about fading into obscurity in the House. Although his “Top Gun” connection probably will always be his main calling card, he hopes to gain recognition in other areas as well--notably, education and anti-drug efforts.

“I’m not going to go around beating on my chest, but I’ll get attention one way or another,” Cunningham says. “The tip of my spear is pretty sharp, and I’m not willing to just sit back and settle for scraps.”

Critics, however, scoff at some of Cunningham’s loftier aspirations, questioning his knowledge on non-military issues. “Get this guy out of his pilot’s seat, and he can’t find his way down the hall,” Bates said last week.

Even if Cunningham’s star should dim, its current brilliance has quickly opened many doors that he is determined to prevent closing. His poignant remarks during the House’s floor debate on the war--which he concluded by saying, “For those of us who have fought for life, and those that face death in Saudi Arabia, life has a special flavor that you, the protected, will never know”--drew praise from Republicans and Democrats alike.

Eager to forge alliances born of initial differences, Cunningham has met with members who voted against the war to foster better mutual understanding of their respective positions--and to underline the message that, as he puts it, “We can work together in the future.”

After one recent vote, as congressmen strolled back across Independence Avenue to their offices, Cunningham buttonholed Rep. John Lewis (D-Ga.), a prominent civil rights leader who in both philosophy and life experience is light years apart.

“Yeah, sure, Duke, let’s get together,” Lewis said, patting him on the shoulder.

Beaming, Cunningham turned and said: “See, I’m not going to get hung up on labels like liberal or conservative or whether there’s an ‘R’ or ‘D’ in front of your name.” Though a doctrinaire conservative on most major issues--as typified by his opposition to abortion and gun control--Cunningham prefers to describe himself as “someone who spends more time trying to work the middle than either of the ends.”

Cunningham, meanwhile, continues to adjust to life as a congressman. After spending his first six weeks in Washington living in the homes of aides and colleagues, he will finally move into a northern Virginia apartment next week. For the immediate future, his wife, a North County school principal, and their three children will remain in San Diego, with Cunningham returning most weekends.

Though he reached a lofty perch in his first bid for elective office, Cunningham seems more impressed with some of the job’s minor perks than with the fact that he is one of only about 5,000 Americans to serve in Congress in the nation’s history.

“I like this,” he jokes when officers wave him around newly tightened security checkpoints in House buildings. He also has ordered staffers to block out time in his daily schedule--listed in military time, as in “1400 hrs--roll call”--for him to visit the House gymnasium, where he hopes to build valuable friendships in pickup basketball games while trying to shed the 25 pounds that he gained during last fall’s campaign.

As he contemplates the future, Cunningham draws confidence from the past success that he achieved, not only in the Navy, but in careers ranging from a high school swimming coach in Illinois to head of a small company that markets aviation products.

“For me, being a freshman in a minority party is just one more challenge,” Cunningham said. “When I talked about getting some of my swimmers in the Olympics, people said it would never happen, but I ended up coaching a couple of gold medalists. Then they said I wouldn’t be able to shoot down a MiG, but I did. They said crossing the Atlantic with an 11-year-old pilot (retracing Lindbergh’s flight) couldn’t be done, but it was. And last year, they said there was no way a first-time candidate could beat an entrenched incumbent.”

Cunningham paused, then smiled broadly as he surveyed his office.

“Well, I’m here,” he said. “And, when I leave this place in 10 or 20 years, I think I’ll have left my mark.”