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Lives of the Republicans, Part Two
The strange case of Helen Chenoweth, Idaho's two-term Republican representative from the conservative rural state's northern district, shows that playing the sex card against the Democrats as a political strategy can be, in Idaho parlance, as "dumb as a mud fence."
BY DAVID NEIWERT
She may have committed adultery and lied about it, just like President Clinton. But Helen Chenoweth has one up on the president, so far -- she says she's had a chat with the Lord, and he says it's OK.
"I've asked for God's forgiveness, and I've received it," she reports.
Whether Idaho voters will forgive her is another matter. The two-term Republican representative from the conservative rural state's northern district has always made a big deal about morality -- after all, she was first elected over the back of a Democratic incumbent who stumbled when he admitted (in an increasingly familiar-sounding scenario) to a one-time sexual relationship with a former co-worker after earlier denials.
Chenoweth's own vulnerability in the sexual arena came to light when she decided to go on the attack over Clinton's troubles in the Lewinsky affair. A longtime champion of "family values" (only one of a wide range of right-wing causes she's associated herself with over the years, including support for the militia movement), she ran a series of ads that sought to link her opponent, a Democrat named Dan Williams, to Clinton.
"Our founding fathers knew that political leaders' personal conduct must be held to the highest standards," intoned Chenoweth in the first ad. "President Clinton's behavior has severely damaged his ability to lead our nation, and the free world.
"To restore honor in public office, and the trust of the American people, we must affirm that personal conduct does count, and integrity matters. Where do you stand, Dan?"
A couple of veteran political reporters from Boise's Gannett-owned Idaho Statesman, who like nearly everyone else who worked the state's political beat had heard rumors of several Chenoweth affairs, decided it was time to ask her about one in particular: a longtime sexual relationship with an associate named Vernon Ravenscroft. Chenoweth confessed.
She admitted that she had carried on a six-year illicit romance with Ravenscroft, now 78, a rancher from Tuttle who is something of a right-wing legend in his own right: Ravenscroft was the architect of the "Sagebrush Rebellion," a 1980s anti-federal land-use movement popular in Western states like Idaho and Nevada. Chenoweth and Ravenscroft had the affair in the 1980s, when she worked for his natural-resources consulting firm. .....................................
The revelation, arriving at a moment when Clinton's troubles were hitting a feverish pitch on the television networks, suddenly propelled Chenoweth onto the evening broadcasts -- most of which featured quick hits of her confession as a seriocomic leavening to the day's gloom. Chenoweth quickly ducked from view and continues to refuse to grant further interviews, issuing only a few terse press releases with her official position on the matter.
The day following her confession, she was hit with another barrage: Turns out she actually had denied the affair when questioned about it in 1995. When the Spokane (Wash.) Spokesman-Review's Ken Olsen had asked her about the Ravenscroft affair in an interview, she had acted offended and aghast at the mere suggestion.
"For heaven's sakes, that is low," Chenoweth reportedly sputtered. "That is so bizarre. I'm utterly speechless. My official answer would have to be, this indicates a measure of desperation. When they can't debate the issues, they turn to character assassination ... People who know me, know better than that. People who know Mr. Ravenscroft and his fine family know better." ...........
Chenoweth's problems may have just begun. Rumors had swirled around her for years linking her romantically not just with Ravenscroft, but with a bevy of Republican figures. These ranged from a former attorney general to her former boss, retired U.S. Sen. Steve Symms. Chenoweth had been Symms' chief of staff in 1977-78, when he held the same seat in Congress she now occupies, and the rumors had begun circulating then. They continued through all the years prior to her sudden 1994 ascension aboard the anti-Clinton wave that swept the GOP to majorityhood. Since then, they've quieted down considerably.
Chenoweth had been the beneficiary of the same gentility that spared her old boss. Symms, too, had gained something of a sexual legend over his eight years in the House that grew larger once he was in the Senate; it was widely known among reporters that he was a big-time D.C. party animal and could be seen most evenings in the company of a woman other than his wife, Fran. She in fact was a kind, sweet woman who suffered terribly from arthritis and couldn't socialize much. Most of the state's political reporters knew about the situation but figured it was no one's business unless Symms made it an issue. However, when Fran finally had enough and divorced him, the emergent details of his philandering -- and the ensuing shelled-out poll numbers -- persuaded him to not pursue reelection in 1992.
Likewise, the tales were ripe surrounding Chenoweth. And the breadth of the rumors, most of them related to her term as a lobbyist for the timber industry, is impressive. One veteran political reporter told Salon: "On Thursday (the day Chenoweth made her confession), there were a lot of nervous legislators down at the Statehouse." As one GOP political operative in northern Idaho once told a reporter in an unguarded moment: "Helen is living proof that you can fuck your brains out." (Chenoweth is widely considered, in Idaho parlance, dumb as a mud fence.) ...................
Chenoweth changed the landscape by striking what is now a familiar Republican pose: outraged moralist shaking her finger at the naughty Democrats. To her regret, she discovered that making your private morality a story by questioning the president's is a really bad campaign idea. The ads that provoked the Statesman reporters promptly disappeared. Asked if they -- or any further references to Clinton's morality -- are likely to reappear in the campaign, Chenoweth spokesman Chad Hyslop replied tersely: "Probably not."
Several observers of the Idaho political scene say that Chenoweth, who has looked unbeatable up until now and whose seat was considered locked up for the GOP, could prove to be vulnerable if Williams delivers a good campaign this time around. ...................
Whether that is Chenoweth's fate will depend somewhat on the strength of the opposition building against her back home for the bold hypocrisy of her now-buried attack ads. Harriett Ravenscroft, the wife she wronged, was among the many who were steamed by the ads. She voiced what probably crossed many voters' minds when she told the Statesman: "I don't see how Helen can live with herself and do this."
Luckily, Chenoweth at least has gotten God's forgiveness. Clinton, with his new coterie of spiritual advisors, can hardly be far behind.
SALON | Sept. 16, 1998
David Neiwert, a former political reporter and editor in Idaho and Montana, is now a freelance writer in Seattle. His book "In God's Country: The Patriot Movement and the Pacific Northwest" will be published this spring.
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