Will the hammer fall?
Once more, an ethics storm is swirling around Tom DeLay, but he's hanging tough
It takes a lot to work off a bad handle. So it says something about Tom DeLay that the scrappy Texas legislator once known as "Hot Tub Tom" has become "the Hammer," one of the most powerful Republicans to come down the pike in a long time.
It didn't happen overnight, of course. It took years, but as he accumulated more and more power, DeLay also made more than his share of enemies, and some began looking for him to slip, wondering if there would finally be a payback time for his cozy relationships with lobbyists, his fundraising schemes, and his ham-handed politics.
These days, Washington is on the edge of its seat as the Hammer faces a maelstrom of legal and ethical troubles, caught up in scandals involving former aides, eight-figure lobbyists, and political action committees. Among his woes:
Texas District Attorney Ronnie Earle has charged three leaders of Texans for a Republican Majority (TRMPAC), a political action committee, with money laundering and accepting illegal campaign contributions during a successful bid to fund Republican legislative candidates in the state. Jim Ellis, a former DeLay aide and the director of his national fundraising vehicle, Americans for a Republican Majority (ARMPAC), is among those indicted. Earle has refused to rule out DeLay, a founder of and adviser to TRMPAC, as a possible target.
Documents in one of two civil lawsuits show that ARMPAC funneled money through TRMPAC to Republican candidates in Texas, a possible violation of state election laws. DeLay is the chairman of ARMPAC, which has also employed his wife, Christine.
Jack Abramoff, a longtime DeLay associate, and Michael Scanlon, DeLay's former spokesman, are being investigated by both the Senate and the Justice Department for allegedly defrauding several Indian tribes of millions of dollars. U.S. News has learned that the FBI has more than three dozen agents working on the case. One area under review is how tribal money funneled through Abramoff may have illegally benefited DeLay's political operations.
DeLay may have violated House ethics rules by taking a 2000 junket to Scotland's fabled St. Andrews golf course that appears to have been paid for by Abramoff and financed by the Indian tribes who hired him.
DeLay also faces questions about a 2001 trip to South Korea paid for by the Korea-U.S. Exchange Council, a registered foreign agent.
Sharks. Last week DeLay came out fighting, saying he would happily appear before the House ethics committee, asserting that the trips were handled properly and calling other allegations against him "fiction and innuendo" planted by mean-spirited Democrats. That may be, but in Washington, political scandals have a momentum all their own, and right now DeLay is reaping the whirlwind. "What happens in these things," says a former top Democrat who has seen his share of Washington feeding frenzies, "is that once there's blood in the water, the sharks come out in droves."
This isn't the first time DeLay, 57, has been in hot water. In the late 1970s, when he was still drinking, smoking, and having a good old time as Hot Tub Tom, he ran afoul of the IRS, which placed several liens against his exterminator business. By 1985, DeLay had risen to the U.S. House of Representatives, taking his championship of laissez-faire economics to the national stage. By the next year he was wooing the Conservative Christian vote, having become born again. The Texan railed against environmental regulation and attacked federal funding of the arts. He won his new name, the Hammer, for his ability to push through close legislation on the backs of moderate Republicans he'd either threatened or wooed.
Not everyone got to see the softer side of the Christian spirit, however, and the Hammer continued to rack up personal and political troubles. He was sued in 1994. A business partner, Bob Blankenship, charged DeLay with using company funds to pay off old debts.
In defending himself, DeLay said in a sworn deposition that he didn't believe he was an officer in the company. The problem was that DeLay had been filing financial-disclosure reports listing himself as "chairman of the board." Pressed to explain, DeLay blamed a Democratic cabal and said he really wasn't sure of his role in the company. He later amended his financial-disclosure forms and added a clarification for the court.
DeLay has denied taking retribution after settling with Blankenship for an undisclosed sum. But both the plaintiff and many others in the Fort Bend County GOP establishment disagree, saying what occurred was a warning to would-be opponents. Calling it "quite a coincidence," Blankenship's lawyer, Gerald DeNisco, said he and several others associated with the case were audited by the IRS the next year. Blankenship's wife, Jacqueline, a prominent GOP organizer, was stripped of her party posts. DeLay then ordered Sheriff Milton Wright to remove her from his campaign. When Wright refused, DeLay tried unsuccessfully to unseat him. Asked why he didn't fold, the sheriff said in an interview that, as a former Texas Ranger, he "wasn't accustomed to being shoved around." But he added that after the primary, DeLay made peace. "Tom is driven by a pretty strong propulsion system that makes him go in the direction he wants to go," Wright says. "And he doesn't like to lose." After the campaign, Wright recalled, "DeLay said that 'it's politics and it's over, I support you now.' And he has."
His desire to win, possibly at any cost, may be DeLay's Achilles heel. During his 11 terms in Congress, DeLay's drive to enforce party loyalty and build a well-oiled fundraising machine has bumped up repeatedly against ethical and legal guidelines. According to a 1998 affidavit filed by Peter Cloeren, a Texas businessman and political novice, he flew DeLay to his factory for a fundraiser for a local Republican candidate. DeLay and his staff, Cloeren said, encouraged him to help fund the local candidate using means that turned out to be illegal. Cloeren then poured tens of thousands of dollars into the candidate's campaign through intermediaries, to get around campaign limits. In the end, Cloeren and his company paid $400,000 to settle illegal fundraising charges. DeLay, who was never charged, told CNN he didn't know Cloeren "from Adam."
DeLay's troubles didn't end there. Last year the House ethics committee rebuked him three times, once for inviting executives of several large electricity companies to a TRMPAC fundraiser just days before a conference committee he served on was going to discuss a new comprehensive energy bill. The panel noted that the bill "was of critical importance to the attendees" and that DeLay was "in a position to significantly influence" it. DeLay called the rebuke politically motivated.
Despite DeLay's assertion last week that he's ready to face new questions about his ethics, it's unlikely he will hear from the committee anytime soon. Following his knuckle-rapping by the committee last year, House Speaker Dennis Hastert replaced the three Republican members who voted to admonish DeLay. Two of the new Republicans on the panel, Lamar Smith of Texas and Tom Cole of Oklahoma, are DeLay backers who have contributed to his legal-defense fund. DeLay did not respond to U.S. News questions regarding the current and past allegations.
He may be tough on his enemies, but DeLay certainly has some loyal friends. House Majority Whip Roy Blunt, a possible candidate for DeLay's post should he fall, says the Texan "continues to have the strong support of our conference."
Back in his hometown of Sugar Land, DeLay's base appears almost emboldened by the charges. "He has always been there for me, whether it's the Barber Board or coon hunting," says A. D. Eversole, 65, who first met DeLay in the early 1970s, right after he was elected to the Legislature. At Eversole's barber shop, an autographed photo of DeLay hangs on a wall, flanked by two cutouts of John Wayne.
For all his support, there are also some signs of trouble. DeLay, running against a virtual unknown last year, took just 53 percent of the vote in Fort Bend County, his longtime stronghold. Some say he might do worse next time. "He got elected at a time when all you had to do around here was put Republican in front of your name," says Republican Beverly Carter, a longtime DeLay critic. But, Carter adds, people are getting tired of voting for DeLay just because "he's our son of a bitch."
Meantime, the pressure is building. In Washington, Democrats say they'll keep the heat on DeLay when they return next month and attempt to flush some moderate Republican colleagues from the blind. Then there's the criminal case back in Texas. Buck Wood, an attorney in one of the civil suits related to TRMPAC, says there's something about the prospect of doing prison time in Texas that tends to loosen lips. "At that point, you stop worrying about politics and start worrying about your liberty," he says. "You stop thinking about Tom DeLay's interests."
SUCH VERY GOOD FRIENDS
Much of the controversy surrounding the House majority leader stems from legal troubles of former aides and associates.
Michael Scanlon, political consultant
UNDER INVESTIGATION for influence peddling. "I want all their money!!!" wrote Scanlon, DeLay's former spokesman, to his partner, Jack Abramoff.
Warren Robold, fundraiser
CHARGED with making and accepting illegal contributions. DeLay's Washington-based moneyman, he worked alongside a top aide to the Texas congressman.
Jim Ellis, political operative
CHARGED with money laundering. A Texas prosecutor says fundraising efforts there are "an effort to use corporate contributions to control representative democracy in Texas."
Jack Abramoff, lobbyist
UNDER INVESTIGATION for influence peddling. The Justice Department and the Senate are trying to determine whether lobbying work that he and partner Michael Scanlon did on behalf of Indian tribes with casino gambling interests violated federal laws and illegally benefited DeLay's political operations. Abramoff is also under scrutiny for having raised money for a lavish trip DeLay, DeLay's wife, and others took to England and Scotland in 2000, in violation of House rules.
Ralph Reed, political heavyweight
NOT CHARGED. The former head of the Christian Coalition, Reed received at least $4 million from gambling interests represented by Abramoff and Scanlon hoping to thwart competition.
John Colyandro, political operative
CHARGED with money laundering. The former head of Texans for a Republican Majority, he is accused of diverting donations to the RNC to Texas state candidates.
Will the hammer fall?
It takes a lot to work off a bad handle. So it says something about Tom DeLay that the scrappy Texas legislator once known as "Hot Tub Tom" has become "the Hammer," one of the most powerful Republicans to come down the pike in a long time.
It didn't happen overnight, of course. It took years, but as he accumulated more and more power, DeLay also made more than his share of enemies, and some began looking for him to slip, wondering if there would finally be a payback time for his cozy relationships with lobbyists, his fundraising schemes, and his ham-handed politics.
These days, Washington is on the edge of its seat as the Hammer faces a maelstrom of legal and ethical troubles, caught up in scandals involving former aides, eight-figure lobbyists, and political action committees. Among his woes:
Texas District Attorney Ronnie Earle has charged three leaders of Texans for a Republican Majority (TRMPAC), a political action committee, with money laundering and accepting illegal campaign contributions during a successful bid to fund Republican legislative candidates in the state. Jim Ellis, a former DeLay aide and the director of his national fundraising vehicle, Americans for a Republican Majority (ARMPAC), is among those indicted. Earle has refused to rule out DeLay, a founder of and adviser to TRMPAC, as a possible target.
Documents in one of two civil lawsuits show that ARMPAC funneled money through TRMPAC to Republican candidates in Texas, a possible violation of state election laws. DeLay is the chairman of ARMPAC, which has also employed his wife, Christine.
Jack Abramoff, a longtime DeLay associate, and Michael Scanlon, DeLay's former spokesman, are being investigated by both the Senate and the Justice Department for allegedly defrauding several Indian tribes of millions of dollars. U.S. News has learned that the FBI has more than three dozen agents working on the case. One area under review is how tribal money funneled through Abramoff may have illegally benefited DeLay's political operations.
DeLay may have violated House ethics rules by taking a 2000 junket to Scotland's fabled St. Andrews golf course that appears to have been paid for by Abramoff and financed by the Indian tribes who hired him.
DeLay also faces questions about a 2001 trip to South Korea paid for by the Korea-U.S. Exchange Council, a registered foreign agent.
Sharks. Last week DeLay came out fighting, saying he would happily appear before the House ethics committee, asserting that the trips were handled properly and calling other allegations against him "fiction and innuendo" planted by mean-spirited Democrats. That may be, but in Washington, political scandals have a momentum all their own, and right now DeLay is reaping the whirlwind. "What happens in these things," says a former top Democrat who has seen his share of Washington feeding frenzies, "is that once there's blood in the water, the sharks come out in droves."
This isn't the first time DeLay, 57, has been in hot water. In the late 1970s, when he was still drinking, smoking, and having a good old time as Hot Tub Tom, he ran afoul of the IRS, which placed several liens against his exterminator business. By 1985, DeLay had risen to the U.S. House of Representatives, taking his championship of laissez-faire economics to the national stage. By the next year he was wooing the Conservative Christian vote, having become born again. The Texan railed against environmental regulation and attacked federal funding of the arts. He won his new name, the Hammer, for his ability to push through close legislation on the backs of moderate Republicans he'd either threatened or wooed.
Not everyone got to see the softer side of the Christian spirit, however, and the Hammer continued to rack up personal and political troubles. He was sued in 1994. A business partner, Bob Blankenship, charged DeLay with using company funds to pay off old debts.
In defending himself, DeLay said in a sworn deposition that he didn't believe he was an officer in the company. The problem was that DeLay had been filing financial-disclosure reports listing himself as "chairman of the board." Pressed to explain, DeLay blamed a Democratic cabal and said he really wasn't sure of his role in the company. He later amended his financial-disclosure forms and added a clarification for the court.
DeLay has denied taking retribution after settling with Blankenship for an undisclosed sum. But both the plaintiff and many others in the Fort Bend County GOP establishment disagree, saying what occurred was a warning to would-be opponents. Calling it "quite a coincidence," Blankenship's lawyer, Gerald DeNisco, said he and several others associated with the case were audited by the IRS the next year. Blankenship's wife, Jacqueline, a prominent GOP organizer, was stripped of her party posts. DeLay then ordered Sheriff Milton Wright to remove her from his campaign. When Wright refused, DeLay tried unsuccessfully to unseat him. Asked why he didn't fold, the sheriff said in an interview that, as a former Texas Ranger, he "wasn't accustomed to being shoved around." But he added that after the primary, DeLay made peace. "Tom is driven by a pretty strong propulsion system that makes him go in the direction he wants to go," Wright says. "And he doesn't like to lose." After the campaign, Wright recalled, "DeLay said that 'it's politics and it's over, I support you now.' And he has."
His desire to win, possibly at any cost, may be DeLay's Achilles heel. During his 11 terms in Congress, DeLay's drive to enforce party loyalty and build a well-oiled fundraising machine has bumped up repeatedly against ethical and legal guidelines. According to a 1998 affidavit filed by Peter Cloeren, a Texas businessman and political novice, he flew DeLay to his factory for a fundraiser for a local Republican candidate. DeLay and his staff, Cloeren said, encouraged him to help fund the local candidate using means that turned out to be illegal. Cloeren then poured tens of thousands of dollars into the candidate's campaign through intermediaries, to get around campaign limits. In the end, Cloeren and his company paid $400,000 to settle illegal fundraising charges. DeLay, who was never charged, told CNN he didn't know Cloeren "from Adam."
DeLay's troubles didn't end there. Last year the House ethics committee rebuked him three times, once for inviting executives of several large electricity companies to a TRMPAC fundraiser just days before a conference committee he served on was going to discuss a new comprehensive energy bill. The panel noted that the bill "was of critical importance to the attendees" and that DeLay was "in a position to significantly influence" it. DeLay called the rebuke politically motivated.
Despite DeLay's assertion last week that he's ready to face new questions about his ethics, it's unlikely he will hear from the committee anytime soon. Following his knuckle-rapping by the committee last year, House Speaker Dennis Hastert replaced the three Republican members who voted to admonish DeLay. Two of the new Republicans on the panel, Lamar Smith of Texas and Tom Cole of Oklahoma, are DeLay backers who have contributed to his legal-defense fund. DeLay did not respond to U.S. News questions regarding the current and past allegations.
He may be tough on his enemies, but DeLay certainly has some loyal friends. House Majority Whip Roy Blunt, a possible candidate for DeLay's post should he fall, says the Texan "continues to have the strong support of our conference."
Back in his hometown of Sugar Land, DeLay's base appears almost emboldened by the charges. "He has always been there for me, whether it's the Barber Board or coon hunting," says A. D. Eversole, 65, who first met DeLay in the early 1970s, right after he was elected to the Legislature. At Eversole's barber shop, an autographed photo of DeLay hangs on a wall, flanked by two cutouts of John Wayne.
For all his support, there are also some signs of trouble. DeLay, running against a virtual unknown last year, took just 53 percent of the vote in Fort Bend County, his longtime stronghold. Some say he might do worse next time. "He got elected at a time when all you had to do around here was put Republican in front of your name," says Republican Beverly Carter, a longtime DeLay critic. But, Carter adds, people are getting tired of voting for DeLay just because "he's our son of a bitch."
Meantime, the pressure is building. In Washington, Democrats say they'll keep the heat on DeLay when they return next month and attempt to flush some moderate Republican colleagues from the blind. Then there's the criminal case back in Texas. Buck Wood, an attorney in one of the civil suits related to TRMPAC, says there's something about the prospect of doing prison time in Texas that tends to loosen lips. "At that point, you stop worrying about politics and start worrying about your liberty," he says. "You stop thinking about Tom DeLay's interests."
SUCH VERY GOOD FRIENDS
Much of the controversy surrounding the House majority leader stems from legal troubles of former aides and associates.
Michael Scanlon, political consultant
UNDER INVESTIGATION for influence peddling. "I want all their money!!!" wrote Scanlon, DeLay's former spokesman, to his partner, Jack Abramoff.
Warren Robold, fundraiser
CHARGED with making and accepting illegal contributions. DeLay's Washington-based moneyman, he worked alongside a top aide to the Texas congressman.
Jim Ellis, political operative
CHARGED with money laundering. A Texas prosecutor says fundraising efforts there are "an effort to use corporate contributions to control representative democracy in Texas."
Jack Abramoff, lobbyist
UNDER INVESTIGATION for influence peddling. The Justice Department and the Senate are trying to determine whether lobbying work that he and partner Michael Scanlon did on behalf of Indian tribes with casino gambling interests violated federal laws and illegally benefited DeLay's political operations. Abramoff is also under scrutiny for having raised money for a lavish trip DeLay, DeLay's wife, and others took to England and Scotland in 2000, in violation of House rules.
Ralph Reed, political heavyweight
NOT CHARGED. The former head of the Christian Coalition, Reed received at least $4 million from gambling interests represented by Abramoff and Scanlon hoping to thwart competition.
John Colyandro, political operative
CHARGED with money laundering. The former head of Texans for a Republican Majority, he is accused of diverting donations to the RNC to Texas state candidates.
With Edward T. Pound
This story appears in the March 28, 2005 print edition of U.S. News & World Report.