Seducing the Class of ’92 : They Came to Congress as Agents of Change, the Largest Turnover in the House Since 1948. Then They Met the Old Boys, and Things Got Steamy.

WHEN IT COMES TO HANDLING THE press, congressional staffer Katie Cullen favors the direct approach. “Get back,” she barks at a gang of reporters and photographers awaiting the arrival of four busloads of newly elected members of Congress. “Let’s go. Move it!”

Huddled in the subfreezing dawn with camera equipment and note pads at the ready, the media mob obediently retreats across the Capitol parking lot. Cullen, assistant superintendent of the House Radio and Television Gallery, is in charge of access to the Freshman Class Picture--and coverage begins when she says it does.

This year, there are so many new representatives--110 in all--they have to be arranged in a seven-tier flying wedge on the Capitol steps. “Wow,” says a voice from somewhere in the middle of the group. “We must have won.”

The question now is what happens next.

To get here, the Class of ’92 campaigned against government gridlock, special privileges and all the other bad things for which Washington is infamous. But that was back home. As of today, they’re part of the franchise and face-to-face with every nasty menace that goes with it, one of which is unleashed when Cullen gives the signal and dozens of cameramen, sound technicians and assorted pencil jockeys make a mad dash for the Capitol building.

While the incoming lawmakers pose for photographers, reporters yell questions at anyone who makes eye contact. What are they going to do about the deficit? When will they tackle the old-boy network? And how about franking abuse, term limits and campaign spending?

Feisty Florida Democrat Carrie Meek, the daughter of black sharecroppers, says she’s ready to start reforming right now. “I may look like a sweet grandmother,” she warns, “but I’m capable of impaling.” The combative reference is to plans for challenging the white-male power structure that Meek and 23 other new women representatives have promised to take on during the first 100 days of the 103rd Congress.

Michael Huffington, owner of a film production company, declares he’s also anxious to get down to work. He should be. The Santa Barbara Republican spent an all-time House record $4.2 million of his own money to win a seat. “I’m an athlete and runner,” he says, “and I put everything I had into the race.” His top priority, the Californian insists, is to eliminate congressional perks--every one of them. The fact that he can afford to pay for his own makes no difference. In this election cycle, it’s principle that counts.

The freshmen elected last November compose just over a quarter of the 435 representatives in the new Congress, making this the biggest turnover in the House since the postwar overhaul in 1948. (The 100-member Senate has 13 new arrivals.)

Many first-term representatives say they came to Washington on a mission to change the system, and almost every one of them has arrived on the scene with a formula for rebuilding public trust and making government work more efficiently.

For the record, the Class of ’92 contains 65 Democrats and 45 Republicans, with 69 of them from the baby-boomer generation born after World War II. Sixteen of the new members are black, eight are Latino, and there are four immigrants in the mix--from Cuba, Kenya, the Netherlands and Korea. The class includes a member of the Trilateral Commission (that high-toned organization of international wheelers and dealers), a descendant of one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, and a founder of the Illinois Black Panther Party. One freshman was drawing unemployment while he ran for office; one is an impeached federal judge, another is a former governor. There is an optometrist, a psychotherapist and two public relations consultants. There are two Rhodes scholars, four television news reporters and 48 lawyers. Seventeen are from California, two have served on the New York City Council, and 10 have no previous political experience. One of the most diverse groups in recent years, its members come with a mandate for change that has House veterans and Capitol Hill observers studying every move they make, trying to figure out what they’ll do.

“They’re not a bunch of bomb throwers. Everybody knew that,” says Washington political analyst Charles Cook. “They got elected on a changed agenda. They’re inside-the-system types. But that doesn’t mean they’re business-as-usual types.”

They look like America, but the problem is to teach them to act like they’re in Congress. It’s a task fraught with more political implications than usual since the newcomers have enough potential voting weight to squelch the big boys’ game plans.

IT’S NOT EASY TO HOLD A SMILE FOR FIVE MINUTES, MAKE MEANINGFUL hand gestures and dispense broadcast-quality sound bites, all at the same time. But if you’re going to be a serious member of the House, those are just some of the skills you’d better master before reelection time rolls around in two years.

As if to drive that point home, who should suddenly appear as the picture session is breaking up but Rep. Newt Gingrich, the GOP whip and king of the in-your-face wing of the party, who just happens to be jogging past the Capitol at 8 a.m.

“Hi, fellas,” beams the chubby, gray-haired Georgian as he and a female assistant trot past the press herd. Gingrich makes no secret of his designs on the minority leader’s job, and his morning workout-cum-media-run-by seems designed to impress the new Republican members. Gingrich is wise to get an early read on this group--but he’s not the only one interested.

House Speaker Thomas S. Foley and the rest of the Democratic hierarchy set out on a three-city Victory Tour two weeks after the November election to scope out the talent and bring their new colleagues into the fold. Foley’s unprecedented trip--part fact-finding mission, part peace feeler--was aimed at learning what the new people wanted and making sure all the uproar about reforming Capitol Hill was mostly colorful campaign rhetoric.

But following stops in Atlanta, Chicago and Los Angeles, the tough talk showed no sign of abating. “We’ll be a force to be reckoned with. Watch out,” announced Democrat Maria Cantwell of Washington state shortly after the Speaker made his rounds.

Foley, a soft-spoken Walter Cronkite look-alike, had good reasons to be nervous. So did his GOP opposition. Republican freshmen at a special post-election summit in Omaha, Neb., issued a shock-therapy manifesto to their leaders, calling for a ban on all campaign contributions from political action committees, an end to the seniority system and the immediate abolition of free parking for members of Congress at Washington’s National Airport.

Veterans were definitely concerned. This new crowd appeared to have more in mind than a little House cleaning. It was as if a chain saw of do-goodism was about to descend on Washington and turn the whole legislative branch of government into a pile of wood chips.

“By sheer force of numbers, we have terrific potential to do great things,” new GOP member Deborah Pryce of Ohio told a reporter at the Omaha gathering. “We will have incredible strength if we’re unified across party lines.”

As always, the deepest political concerns of the leaders were disguised as praise: “They are not reform-the-system people,” assures Maryland Rep. Steny H. Hoyer, chairman of the House Democratic Caucus. “These freshmen are coming here to make changes that people back home can feel in their lives.”

But the people back home were hoppin’ mad; 21 million of them in 14 states, including California, cast ballots in favor of congressional term limits. That’s more votes than Ross Perot got.

THE CLASS OF ’92 COMES TO WASHINGTON WITH MUTUAL GOALS--many shared by the new President--and a sense of combined strength. To defuse the rookie menace, party bosses activated a mechanism already in place: Freshmen Orientation, the first line of defense in their incumbency-protection plan.

Freshmen Orientation, a sort of Congress 101, buries newcomers in three weeks of nonstop instruction: two weeks in Washington to learn the nuts and bolts, from the basics of giving a floor speech to where to pick up locker combinations for the House gym, followed by a week at Harvard or, new this year, three days at Annapolis for theoretical political discussion.

During orientation, even the most determined anti-Washington outsiders would be encouraged to confront the realization that the institution they mercilessly ripped apart on the campaign trail is now their main source of clout and charisma, not to mention the only reason they’ll ever be called to appear on “Nightline,” assuming in the first place that they can land a choice committee assignment.

It’s one thing to run against the institution and another to keep running against it once you get in. Among Democrats, most of whom made congressional misbehavior, like check bouncing and sexual harassment, a major campaign theme, their first official trip to Washington was a time for talk about cooperation, especially with the new Bill Clinton White House. Granted, Clinton also campaigned against Congress. And because these are House Democrats, elected with a new Democratic President, voters will likely hold them accountable for how well Clinton’s programs fare on Capitol Hill. It’s been 12 years since Democrats controlled both houses of Congress and the White House.

“I’m heavily invested in the success of Congress and Bill Clinton,” says Democrat Leslie L. Byrne, a new member from Virginia. Many other new arrivals express the same sentiments.

The freshmen have already shown a willingness to give Clinton what he wants to control health costs and bring down the deficit. “When the executive proposes legislation that will help the country, he will have our support,” says Florida Republican Lincoln Diaz-Balart.

This class, though, will be judged by what it does in a hurry. “Voters,” says James A. Barcia, a Michigan Democrat, “won’t tolerate any more gridlock.”

But a Democratic Congress and a Democratic White House don’t necessarily mean smoother and better government.

“Congress is tending to become the government,” says conservative observer Paul Craig Roberts. “The presidency is becoming more or less a ceremonial position. Congressional committees have taken over most of the functions of the executive branch. Cabinet secretaries report to Congress; agency heads report to Congress. We like to think of government as a balance of powers. But the balance is tilted toward the Hill, and I don’t see Clinton tilting it back toward the White House.”

The difference between Jimmy Carter, who ran against Washington and won, and Clinton, who did the same thing, is that Clinton, by all indications, is prepared to stop running and start making deals. The same is apparently true of a large number of new members of Congress.

“I believe most of us campaigned against Congress,” says Oklahoma Republican Ernest Istook Jr. not long after the cold truth hit him. “It was us against them. Now we find we’re going to be one of them.”

ON DEC. 2, DAY 1 OF FRESHMEN ORIENTATION, MOST NEW MEMBERS appear right at home as they file into their first party caucuses, slapping each other on the back and eyeballing the hallways for incumbents who can help them get a key committee slot.

Congressional committees make the big-bucks appropriations, and anybody who’s picked for one with the power to dispense money to his or her district is well on the way to a brilliant career. Like joining a hot fraternity or sorority in college, landing on an important committee can propel the novice toward political stardom. In 1992, the mass exodus of House veterans left scores of empty seats on top committees, vacancies that ambitious freshmen want and that the leadership knows how to use to keep them in line.

“My brother Dan, who was in Congress for 10 years, told me to never announce what committees I wanted,” says John L. Mica, a Republican from Florida. If you don’t get the one you’re after, you look like a jerk.

But even before orientation began, some fledgling representatives were in Washington lobbying hard for committee jobs. A Florida newcomer, Democrat Karen L. Thurman, let it be known that she wanted a seat on the powerful House Ways and Means Committee. The problem is that Ways and Means Chairman Dan Rostenkowski, who has the right of approval, is known to dislike freshmen. True, Rosty, as he’s called, could have had his resistance lowered after recent press accounts alleged that thousands of dollars in campaign funds may have been illegally funneled to him and his family--but the only way to find out for sure is to ask.

“I went in and talked to him for an hour,” Thurman says. “It was a very nice meeting. But when we finished, he said he didn’t like freshmen.” What she learned from the experience, she reports, is basic to every political transaction: “You gotta know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em. You have to be persistent in this business. I’ll just try again next time.”

After lunch with the Speaker, Democratic freshmen, lugging around thick red folders of information, are already complaining about the workload. Not yet sworn in (the official ceremony took place Jan. 5) and having only a mail drop for their new address, most say they’ve been inundated by constituent letters and job-seeking resumes. Typical of many, Georgia Democrat Cynthia McKinney estimates she’s received more than 500 applications from people looking for work. She’s been storing them in shopping bags at her parents’ house until she can find time to read them all.

“I’m going to spend the next few weeks prioritizing,” says Karan English, a Democrat from Arizona. With each member getting a yearly budget of $557,400 (plus a salary of $133,600 and $122,500 for official expenses) to cover up to 18 full-time and four part-time salaries, finding enough cheap labor just to help run the office is near the top of everyone’s things-to-do list.

On the Republican side, where Gingrich and Minority Leader Robert H. Michel greet freshmen by telling them Congress is a place for team players, the theme du jour isn’t reform but peaceful coexistence. Crusading against the seniority system and other congressional traditions may impress voters back home, new members hear, but that’s not the way to win influential friends and useful committee appointments. Down by 82 bodies to the Democrats in the House, the GOP’s opening day good-neighbor policy clearly disappoints some of those who came to town looking for a fight.

“My biggest surprise was hearing Newt Gingrich say he thought we could work with Bill Clinton,” says Alabama Republican Spencer Bachus. “That’s not the Newt Gingrich I’ve been seeing on television.”

Bachus was right. Both parties were playing a very carefully planned game of power politics with new arrivals, some of whom after just a few days on the Hill were telling reporters they felt controlled and manipulated by leaders conspiring to preserve the status quo.

“I’m really disappointed by the way most of these new guys became socialized into the system,” says James Glassman, editor of Roll Call, an independent paper that covers Capitol Hill and often finds itself defending Congress. “The freshmen were supposed to be agents of change, but so far they’ve pretty much gone along with the program.”

Seventy-two percent of the congressional freshmen have held elective office before, so they know the routine. In politics, there are dues to pay at every level, and part of the price of moving up the ladder is treating each rung with proper respect.

Still, in the time-honored tradition of letting the numbers speak for themselves, new Democrats as a group did finally ask for a piece of the action commensurate with their class size, specifically that new members be given three seats on each of the most powerful money committees in the House: Appropriations, Ways and Means, and Energy and Commerce. What they got were five seats on Energy and Commerce, three on Appropriations and one on Ways and Means, where Rostenkowski broke with his own tradition and picked Democrat Mel Reynolds, a first-term member from Chicago, Rosty’s hometown.

The Republican freshmen, who made their presence felt by voting to impose term limits on all ranking GOP committee members, got two seats on Appropriations and two on Energy and Commerce.

How important is being tapped for a big committee? That depends. As more and more House members become issue entrepreneurs, pushing pet causes and attracting media attention outside the normal channels, getting on a powerful committee may not be the absolute necessity it once was. Take the case of Rep. Bernard Sanders, the second-term socialist from Vermont. Not being a member of either major party virtually guaranteed Sanders the worst committee assignments his freshman year. Rather than languishing in obscurity, however, the disheveled left-winger became a regular fixture on cable talk shows such as CNN’s “Crossfire.” The leadership on both sides may think he’s a flake, but the voters in Vermont love him. And if the goal is being reelected, what else counts?

“Sure, you can get reelected without sucking up to the leadership. Bernie Sanders is a good example,” says Glassman. “But maybe the whole point of being here is voting your conscience and not caring about what people think. There are two kinds of congressmen: The mindless politician who gives constituents exactly what they want and the guy who acts on principle. I suppose the ideal member is a little of both. The sad fact is that I see a lot more of the former.”

Of course, it’s hard not to play follow the leader when you’re a rookie in the Washington power game.

Change definitely was not the message Democrats sent when they voted to retain all but one standing committee chairman. The single exception to a sweep by Democratic incumbents was 82-year-old Rep. Jamie L. Whitten of Mississippi, the longest-serving House member in history, who was ousted as chairman of the Appropriations Committee, only to be replaced by 83-year-old Rep. William H. Natcher from Kentucky. In another move, engineered by Gingrich and his conservative faction, Rep. Jerry Lewis of Redlands was replaced as head of the House Republican Conference by Texas Rep. Dick Armey.

All briefing sessions are closed to the press, but Administration Committee Chairman Charlie Rose brings a reporter in through the back door to watch his panel’s ethics lecture. Rose, the kind of guy you might run into clocking speeders at a North Carolina radar trap, clearly wants to show off his updated audio-visual approach to teaching the do’s and don’ts of dealing with people who try to buy votes. As new members studiously take notes, a message flashes in huge letters on a screen in front of them: “Don’t accept payment for any service where the federal government is involved.”

“You can’t use your office to enhance your personal gain,” explains a serious-sounding Ohio Democratic Rep. Louis Stokes (551 bounced checks in the House bank scandal). “But you can vote for things to enhance your financial well-being.”

BY THE MIDDLE OF WEEK 2, AS THE WASHINGTON PHASE OF FRESHMEN ORIENTATION was coming to an end, so were all pretenses at peaceful bipartisanship. Michel and Gingrich were threatening to go to court over a rules change proposed by the Democratic majority that would give delegates from Guam, Samoa, the Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico and the District of Columbia full voting membership in the House, thus increasing the current Democratic majority by five. (A modified version of the proposal was passed, and the Republicans filed suit to block the change.) Foley retaliated by pressuring new Democratic members not to attend a conservative-issues conference in Annapolis. None did.

When Republican and Democratic freshmen first arrived in Washington, there was among them a sense of camaraderie, or at least a general feeling they weren’t elected to high office simply to beat each other up. All distractions, including lobbyists and other influence peddlers, were kept away, so freshmen could bask in what one House staffer calls “the pure rush of being here.” However, by the time freshmen make their separate ways to Annapolis and Harvard for briefings by current events experts, congressional veterans have so divided them over political turf squabbles that some are literally sneering at one another. A few just turn around and go home.

The three-day get-together in Annapolis, sponsored by the Heritage Foundation, Free Congress and the Family Research Council, was purposely scheduled to conflict with the traditional week of freshman seminars at Harvard, and organizers in Cambridge are not pleased.

“We wanted to break up the Harvard monopoly,” admits Kate O’Beirne, vice president of the Heritage Foundation. O’Beirne, who talks like an Inside-the-Beltway version of Lauren Bacall, says she thinks it’s about time somebody offered an alternative to the liberal point of view. “We’re free-market types,” she says, “so let’s compete.”

Former Education Secretary William Bennett tells the 30 GOP freshmen who show up at Annapolis to read the Federalist Papers. Outgoing HUD Secretary Jack Kemp urges them to embrace cultural diversity, fiscal restraint and family togetherness. “One night,” Kemp relates, “I saw Gerald Ford moping around the Capitol, and I asked him what was wrong. He said he had to work late and was going to miss seeing his son’s football game. ‘Jack,’ he said, ‘never miss seeing your son play football.’ ”

Another speaker, Dan Oliver, former federal trade commissioner during the Ronald Reagan Administration, concedes that some regulation, like the white line down the middle of the road, serves a useful purpose. “But the regulators ,” he says, “they want to turn this land of freedom into a sterilized ward!” Many in the audience clap in agreement, among them Ken Calvert, a new representative from Riverside who gets a big laugh when he tells everyone he sent away to Washington recently for a copy of the Paper Reduction Act, and he got back three.

The Annapolis gathering has the distinct feel of conservative boot camp. Between closed-to-the-press sessions with titles like “Dethroning the Imperial Congress,” new members mill around the hotel comparing committee assignments over coffee and potato chips (no raw veggies here) and asking each other for pointers.

Donald Manzullo from Illinois never even considered going to Harvard. “I’m not interested in that kind of stuff,” he says. “They’ll have people explaining why we should have a deficit. As far as I’m concerned, that place ought to be called the Kennedy School of big Government.”

IF THERE HAD BEEN ACCURATE polling techniques 100 years ago, public opinion probably would have rated politics, as a profession, somewhere between horse theft and circus performing. Thanks in large part to Harvard’s John F. Kennedy School of Government, politics today is a legitimate field of study, right up there with criminology, statistics and casino management.

The J.F.K. School, a sprawling three-building complex on John F. Kennedy Street--no wonder conservatives feel funny here--is a monument of sorts to the New Frontier notion that politics should be a noble calling. And in keeping with that idea, the school has been adding an Ivy League polish to new members of Congress since 1972.

The Institute of Politics, which does the actual polishing, is famous for turning out Washington notables. Former Atty. Gen. Dick Thornburgh was once a director, and Robert Reich, Clinton’s selection for labor secretary, is a past faculty member.

“We put new members of Congress together with the best people we can find,” says current director Charles Royer, a former mayor of Seattle. “The Heritage Foundation can call it tax-and-spend training if they want, but we try to give a balanced program.”

The week is funded by the Pew Charitable Trust and the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, with a small amount kicked in by the House Administration Committee.

A few Republicans skip the Annapolis conference and come straight to Harvard, while others, like Robert W. Goodlatte from Virginia and John Mica of Florida, attend parts of both functions. Nevertheless, for the first time, a large number of new GOP members pass up Cambridge completely. Democrats admit they’re more than a little miffed at the Heritage Foundation for going head to head with Harvard, one of the most venerated names in education. “Heritage is a fringe group at best,” says David Dreyer, the ponytailed director of communications for House Majority Leader Richard A. Gephardt. “I assure you, no party line is being shoved down anybody’s throat here”

Another Democratic staffer sees the opposition conference as part of a breakdown in civility between the two parties. “The Republicans want to tear down the institution of Congress, to make war against the Democrats. The theory is, if you go to an orientation organized by the party that runs Congress, you’re co-opted. If you don’t, you’re rebelling. This sounds like the people who dominated the Left in the 1960s.”

Several Republicans find their experience at Harvard not only educational but also emotionally rewarding. The week begins with an evening of informal speeches, with participants prompted to open up Oprah Winfrey-style about the plans and dreams, hopes and schemes that made them get into politics.

Rick Lazio, a New York Republican, brings tears to the eyes of listeners as he speaks about his late father’s influence on his life. Ohio Democrat Ted Strickland is particularly moved.

“Even though he’s a Republican, I feel I understand him,” Strickland says. “We may disagree, but I could never hate him now because I know what’s in his heart.”

The atmosphere around the J.F.K. School is focused yet laid-back, with some new members attending lectures in blue jeans and tennis shoes. After a few days of hearing the biggest names in the business hold forth on agriculture, the Middle East and the problems in Russia, things are so convivial that one bunch gets together and takes in a movie, “The Distinguished Gentleman,” in which Eddie Murphy plays a con man who gets elected to Congress. The freshmen give it good reviews for truth and yuks.

By contrast, most leave Harvard sobered by the job ahead. “It’s all pretty frustrating,” says Ukiah Democrat Dan Hamburg, who sports bolo ties instead of the usual neckwear. “The message is that there isn’t much you can do because the deficit is so overwhelming.” On another level, though, terms like “gridlock” and “tax reforms” take on a very human face. Some Republicans and Democrats even own up to liking each other.

Still, important questions remained unanswered: “They covered a lot of stuff,” says Anna G. Eshoo, a Democrat from Atherton, showing all the classic signs of information overload. “But they never told us how a bill becomes law. I guess that’s something you learn on the job.”

Up-and-Coming HOUSEhold Names

Michael Castle (R-Dela.). A former governor of Delaware, Castle took a step down in prestige to join the House. “They used to pick me up in a Lincoln Continental,” he says. “Now I have to wait 15 minutes for the bus.” Still, Castle’s long experience in government and a good relationship with Bill Clinton should keep him plugged in.

Dan Hamburg (D-Calif.). If appearance is reality--and in politics, what else is it?--Hamburg could be in the driver’s seat already. Described by tough-minded female reporters as “a babe and a half” and “the House hunk,” he was on the MacNeil/Lehrer News Hour and C-SPAN even before he was sworn in. Hamburg, a grandfather at 44, was out of work when he ran for Congress and refuses to wear a necktie. Expect to see a lot of him on TV defending various liberal causes.

Carrie Meek (D-Fla.). At 66, Meek is the oldest freshman on the Hill. The granddaughter of a slave, Meek was picked to serve on the Appropriations Committee; she could turn out to be the most outspoken newcomer. “She’s smart. She’s funny. She gets along with people,” says a former colleague in the Florida state legislature. “And she’s not going to let anybody push her around.”

Earl Pomeroy (D-N.D.). As his state’s insurance commissioner, Pomeroy has been in the forefront of the push for health-care reform.

Deborah Pryce (R-Ohio). Pryce, a former judge, is a moderate who’s pro-choice, pro-family and pro-law and order. Her fellow GOP freshmen were so impressed with her talents that they named her Republican class president.

Mel Reynolds (D-Ill.). An ambitious and articulate politician, the African-American Rhodes scholar will surely use his position on the House Ways and Means Committee to get plenty of airtime. The fact that he was the victim of a Southside Chicago shooting during his primary campaign did nothing to diminish his image as a brave and determined reformer.