His own ways, his own means
Bill Thomas is charting an independent course on Social Security
Democrats say Social Security is different, and they're willing to fight to the death. "It is part of their theology," Thomas says, "but the society has changed behind the program, and it is no longer sustainable. They have to be willing to face up to that." Democrats say that except for the private accounts, Republicans have not been specific about their plans, including Thomas's concept for wholesale review of the federal budget. "I have no idea where he is going with all this stuff," says McDermott.
Whatever Thomas has in mind, there's little question that he will be dogged in advancing it. In recent years he has been described in the press as abrasive, acerbic, irascible, blustery, prickly, imperious, edgy, volatile, and headstrong. "He scares people," says one senior GOP House aide, "but he is a good chairman."
Touch-me-not. Among Thomas's favorite refrains is: "I came here to make law." Not friends, apparently. In 1995, Thomas told the Los Angeles Times: "People say I'm not as touchy-feely as I should be. But I never ran for the job to be touchy-feely."
Born the day before Pearl Harbor in Wallace, Idaho, Thomas is the son of parents who never graduated from high school. He grew up in Orange County and went to San Francisco State University, where he also got a master's degree. He taught political science at Bakersfield College from 1965 to 1974 before being elected to the California Assembly. After two terms in Sacramento, Thomas was elected to Congress in 1978. From the very beginning he built his reputation as a smart, prepared, hardworking legislator, even if he was not the fuzziest kitten in the litter. "He'll work with you if he needs you," says Levin. "If he doesn't need you, he won't."
That overly determined certainty has enraged many a Democrat over the years, but it has also regularly put Thomas at odds with those in his own party. He was close to former Speaker Newt Gingrich, who briefly roomed with Thomas when they both came to Congress in 1979, but Thomas's occasional willingness to cut deals with Democrats caused the two to fall out briefly.
The folks back home have seen several other sides to Thomas. He's been married to his wife, Sharon, for 36 years, and the couple have two grown child-ren. But there has been personal tragedy as well. In 1987, the congressman's parents were on their way to see their son ride in a holiday parade when they collided head-on with another car. Thomas's mother, Gertrude, was killed, and his father was seriously injured. Virgil Thomas lived three more years, never fully recovering.
"He can be a very softhearted and caring individual, and I think that's the way he is seen in his district," says Mark Abernathy, a political consultant who has worked for and with Thomas.
Washington, of course, is different.
Charles Rangel, the top Democrat on the Ways and Means Committee, says Thomas is not tough to work with because they don't work together. "It's not difficult at all--we just don't talk," Rangel says. "Since Thomas is talking to no one but himself, the only thing I'm waiting for is for the president to say what he wants. Nothing is going to happen in the House, not even conversation, until the president steps in."
Thomas says the president has already done his job by starting the discussion. Now, Thomas thinks, it's time for him to do his job and write some law. Which means it's time for Democrats to be watchful, indeed.
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