A conspiracy of silence among journalists and Capitol Hill staffers enabled some of the most influential lawmakers in the history of Congress to hide their drinking problems. Times, however, are changing.
Caught up in the drama of the president's State of the Union address, and against a backdrop of the O.J. Simpson civil-trial verdict, congressional staffers, lobbyists and members of the media raised their glasses together at a Capitol Hill pub. It was a paradigm of drinking in Washington--people gathered for a patriotic event, exchanging job titles and business cards or just avoiding the media spotlight that usually is turned away once the glasses are filled.
Despite a common assumption that drinking has become more temperate in the nation's capital, the closely guarded social pathology of the Capitol Hill bar remains an integral part of Washington's power subculture. Only when confronted by a cataclysmic event--such as a diplomat's recent drunken auto crash that killed a teenage girl in the Dupont Circle neighborhood -- does the "moral majority" in Washington sit up and take notice.
Why, in a town where political reporters long since have blurred the line between personal and private life, has heavy drinking remained the third rail of Washington's fourth estate? One answer may be that when alcohol flows freely so does conversation. Reporters who frequent bars with their sources may obtain exclusive scoops during the wee hours of a bleary morning.
Or the press simply may want to avoid the role of hypocrite. "He who is without sin should cast the first stone," says former Sen. Bob Packwood, who claims his sexual harassment of women stemmed from alcohol abuse. Speaking from his new business, Sunrise Research in Washington, he says, "Some of the harder drinking people I have known have been journalists." Packwood says he did not realize he was an alcoholic until he consulted his diary about the sexual-harassment charges against him and discovered that he was drinking heavily and "blacking out" during the periods of misbehavior.
Packwood says he has been sober for four-and-a-half years. The former chairman of the Senate Finance Committee attended a oneweek alcohol clinic, followed by a year of trying to cope with the problem alone, before finding a support group.
In 1995, disgraced, the Oregon Republican left office, but is enjoying a fresh start as a business consultant and lobbyist. Yet Packwood's exit still is clouded by allegations similar to those made in 1987 against Michael K. Deaver, the former deputy chief of staff to President Reagan. Charged with perjury after an inquiry into his lobbying activities, Deaver declared his alcoholism amid the public scandal, leaving critics to allege that his admission simply was an excuse, a way to seek judicial leniency or save political face. Packwood denies that his public announcement was a convenient alibi. "Alcohol is not an excuse; it is an explanation," he states solemnly.
In contrast, Texas Sen. John Tower, whose nomination to be secretary of defense was rejected by his peers in 1989 amid allegations of drinking and womanizing, denied that his boozing ever demonstrated a pattern of abuse.
Kari Peters, who works for the Washington Regional Alcohol Program, says that despite the lessons of Deaver, Tower and Packwood, drinking in Washington remains a major problem that often goes unnoticed by the public. "If you go to any [Capitol] Hill function, alcohol is always there," she says. "Look what happened to [former White House Press Secretary] Dee Dee Myers." In 1995 Myers was arrested for driving under the influence; the charges were dropped after she agreed to attend a week of alcohol-education classes.
Peters suffered staggering consequences of her own drinking. She was convicted four years ago after a drunk-driving accident in Virginia Beach, Va., that killed her boyfriend. She now works to convince Congress to pass tougher penalties and laws. Peters says it's difficult to persuade politicians to crack down on drunk driving when alcohol is ubiquitous at Washington receptions, embassy parties and fundraisers. Washington police seldom charge drunk drivers no matter who they are, she alleges, noting that of the 62 fatalities in 1995 believed to be alcohol-related, alcohol levels were tested in only 12 of the cases.
Despite pronouncements by assorted authorities that educational awareness, a frenetic congressional schedule and the advent of the health club have caused people to drink much less on the Hill, a congressional source contends that not much has changed in 20 years--that alcohol still is a major problem. "Alcohol flows freely" the source says, noting that "there is alcohol in every office up there. Washington is like a college town. It's like a fraternity."
Packwood ardently disagrees. He says the drinking climate on the Hill has changed dramatically since he entered Congress some 30 years ago. "When I first get there I would think nothing about going back to the [majority] leader's office at 5:30 in the afternoon, while the Senate was still in session, and they had a little bar set up and we'd sit around and drink." But in the last 10 years, when staff and members would imbibe, he says, they "would have a glass of wine instead of three vodka and tonics."
With only anecdotal accounts, it is difficult to quantify the problem. The District of Columbia sells more alcohol per capita than any state in the union, yet those figures include buyers from the entire Washington metropolitan area--sales to people who go home to Virginia and Maryland as well. Twenty years ago Central Liquors on 9th Street in Northwest Washington was a major supplier to Capitol Hill. "There was a truck out there every day," one congressional source says. But because of tighter security on the Hill--where trucks now are searched--the liquor store doesn't make as many trips. Instead, Capitol Hill staffers pick up the alcohol, says Greg Green, one of the store's managers. "We're a regular supplier," Green admits. "But I think people are drinking less. They drink a better, higher grade than that jug wine"
There is a long history of tippling in Congress, where some of the most legendary leaders were problem drinkers. Heavy drinkers almost never are identified in the press during their service. A 1988 article in Washington Monthly listed members notorious for their drinking problems who served in Congress from 1965 to 1980. On the Senate side there were Finance Committee Chairman Russell Long (code name: "Jack Daniels"), Agriculture Committee Chairman Herman Talmadge and Harrison Williams.
In the House, heavy drinkers included Speaker Sam Rayburn, Ways and Means Committee Chairman Wilbur Mills, Majority Leader Hale Boggs, Administration Committee Chairman Frank Thompson Jr., Armed Services Committee Chairman L. Mendel Rivers and Rules Committee Chairman Richard Bolling.
Former House Ways and Means Committee Chairman Dan Rostenkowski, former House Select Committee on Intelligence Chairman Louis Stokes and Sen. Bob Kasten all have been convicted of driving while under the influence or driving while intoxicated. Massachusetts Democratic Sen. Ted Kennedy's 1969 Chappaquiddick car accident that killed Mary Jo Kopechne, where drunk driving widely was suspected, still vexes his political aspirations.
Congressmen may anticipate harsh scrutiny and enormous political risk if they publicly acknowledge a pattern of abuse. That did not stop Rep. Rod Chandler, a Washington Republican and a recovered alcoholic for nine years before he entered Congress, from helping his friend, Rep. Bill Emerson, a Missouri Democrat, go public with his dependence in 1988. After Emerson passed away last year, his wife won his seat.
Chandler celebrated 23 years of sobriety on Feb.11. During the height of his drinking days, he was a journalist covering the state Legislature for an Olympia, Wash., television station. Despite his belief that by refraining from reporting it, the press only enables alcoholics to keep drinking, he says he understands reporters' quandary. "Lots of my drinking buddies were committee chairmen and my sources, so I wasn't about to do or say anything about them," he says.
