The Cool Cajun to See
Taking the
Hill: If
anybody can
make peace, it
may be John
Breaux
Man in the middle: No
matter who wins,
Breaux's phone will
ring
By Matt Bai
NEWSWEEK
Dec. 18 issue — You never know where a
conversation with John Breaux is going
next. One minute he’s discussing George
W. Bush, and then he remembers that
when Bush recently called his mobile
phone, Breaux was unloading garbage at a
dump in suburban Washington.
“I’VE HAD THE WHITE HOUSE call me
at the trash dump,” Breaux says, straight-faced,
in his Louisiana drawl. “I do some of my best
work there.” This reminds him of the time his
dog locked him out of his pickup truck at the
dump by stepping on the automatic lock, and
that gets everyone in the room laughing. “He just
kept looking at me with his big tongue hanging
out,” Breaux recalls, doing a pretty fair imitation
of a dog with its big tongue hanging out. “I had
to get my wife to come get me.”
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Hard as it may be to discern, there is a
point to all this rambling: in a Congress
coarsened by personal attacks, Breaux is a hard
guy to hate, and that’s how he gets things done.
He draws you in with a story, then pulls you
toward the middle ground. Which is why he’s
the only guy who’s talking warmly with both
Bush and Al Gore. He alone could land a
cabinet post in either administration. And no
matter who wins the White House, Breaux—a
close friend to both Bill Clinton and Trent Lott,
and the Hill’s reigning tennis champ—may be
the only one who can bridge the partisan divide.
It’s asking a lot. As the spokesman for
moderates in a 50-50 Senate, Breaux could get
caught between warriors on both sides who’d
rather pick up seats in 2002 than pass laws in
2001. And if the presidency comes down to a
brawl in Congress, all the storytelling in the
world may not heal the wounds. “I’m not sure
this is something you can broker a deal on,”
Breaux says. “If we’ve really got to be involved
in it, then the way to do it is to talk to each
other, rather than holler.”
Breaux—a
close friend to
both Bill
Clinton and
Trent Lott,
and the Hill’s
reigning
tennis
champ—may
be the only
one who can
bridge the
partisan
divide.
As it happens, talking is what Breaux does
best. A kid from Acadia Parish in the heart of
Cajun country—see his Web site for Grandma
Daigle’s rice dressing recipe—Breaux was
always up for a good time. “He fell asleep
during the bar exam,” says GOP Rep. Billy
Tauzin, a law-school buddy. “I had to wake him
up. He partied all night.” But Breaux made
himself into what a colleague describes as a
“legislative animal” in the great Southern
tradition, mastering arcane issues and squeezing
hundreds of shoulders to get deals done. A
protege of Louisiana’s roguish former governor,
Edwin Edwards, Breaux is now the state’s most
popular pol. “As rambunctious and as volatile
as we are down here,” says local pollster Bernie
Pinsonat, “Breaux just moves through it slick
and easy, and nothing sticks to him.” It helps
that well into his third Senate term, Breaux never
forgets who he is; he showed up in full regalia to
his Mardi Gras reception at the Los Angeles
convention, looking to the uninitiated a lot like
Tinker Bell. “When I do these things in other
states, people just shake their heads and say,
‘How does he get re-elected?’ ” Breaux muses.
“I can’t get re-elected without doing these
things.”
In a Senate
boiling with bad
blood, where he
and Maine Sen.
Olympia Snowe
lead the bipartisan
“centrist coalition,”
Breaux will need all
of his unfailing
political instincts.
The post-Florida
chill will also test
the humor and
charm that have
helped Breaux repair rifts in the past. One of his
lower political moments came at the hands of
Bill Clinton, who turned his back on Breaux’s
Medicare commission when it veered toward
some tough remedies. Breaux shook it off,
suggesting a “Commission on Courage.” For a
lot of Washington types, that experience would
have touched off a bitter feud. But Clinton
spoke constantly to Breaux during his
impeachment. Last week, when Clinton attended
a reception for Senate spouses, Breaux arrived
with a name tag proclaiming: “Hello, my name is
Bill.”
Just what Breaux wants, beyond harmony,
is a question no one seems able to answer.
Tauzin, who talks to the Bush campaign, says
the post of Energy secretary would be Breaux’s
for the asking. The senator says he’d consider
it, but adds: “I wouldn’t be a good secretary of
anything.” Meanwhile, Lott has all but begged
him to switch parties and might offer a
committee chairmanship. “He’s promised me
things he doesn’t even have,” Breaux says,
laughing. He flat-out rejects a run for president,
but sounds mildly interested in the Louisiana
governor’s race in 2002. For the moment,
though, Breaux seems bent on pursuing a far
more elusive goal: hammering out deals between
a split Senate and a weakened president.
Whether that’s Bush or Gore, you can bet
Breaux’s phone will be ringing. Good thing the
folks at the dump are used to it. |
