Chapter 24. Meeting the Chairman
After tossing and turning and getting up to go to the bathroom four times, Dan finally gave in and got up at 4:30 – still four hours away from his meeting with Congressman Weymouth. Whatever would he do with himself for that length of time, besides get even more nervous? He took a long shower and dressed in the quintessential Washington outfit – a dark blue, almost black, suit with a red tie. He arrived at work before 6, the time that Caribou Coffee opened. He felt both spacey and hyper-alert, like a sleep-deprived person on speed.
For days he had been rehearsing what he would say: in the shower, at the gym, riding on the Metro. He imagined taking out the note and dramatically handing it to him and demanding, “Congressman, how could you allow SOFA to pass out of your committee?” In his fantasy, Weymouth hung his head in shame and agreed to pull the bill from consideration.
The Rayburn Building, normally a buzz of activity, was eerily quiet since all of the members were away for the Christmas holiday. Dan wondered if Weymouth suspected the nature of Dan’s interest and so choose a meeting time when no one else was around.
Someone had decorated the magnetometer with plastic evergreens that seemed to smell like greens. Must be air freshener, or maybe some primal smell was triggered by the sight of pine boughs. With no line to get through security, and no wait for an elevator, Dan arrived at Weymouth’s office early. .
No one greeted Dan as he entered the reception area. He waited a moment and the Congressman himself appeared to escort Dan into his office. The Congressman wore a shirt and tie, instead of the usual suit. Dan felt slightly overdressed. They shook hands and Dan felt a tingling sensation, like a centipede crawling up his spine. Dan caught a whiff of cologne – was it Brut? No two ways about it, Weymouth was hot. Dan had seen him, of course, many times at Committee hearings, but had never stood so close to him before. Against his will, Dan saw images of Weymouth and John in bed together. With terrific concentration, he forced those images out of his mind.
“Have a seat,” Weymouth said, pointing to the leather couch. The Congressman sat down behind his large oak desk, putting a barrier between him and Dan. Dan thought he saw a touch of anxiety on Weymouth’s handsome face and Dan felt sorry for him, wondering what his life must be like to be gay but be living a double life.
“How can I help you?” Weymouth asked.
Dan had practiced this moment a dozen times, but his words failed him. He took out the note and walked over and placed it on the desk.
“I met a friend of yours. John Anderson. He gave me this note that you wrote him.” To his annoyance, Dan felt ashamed. Remember why you’re here he reminded himself.
The Congressman said nothing. His hands were folded together and he looked intently at Dan. Dan’s heart was pounding, and he felt the sweat on his forehead. He couldn’t believe that he was accusing Jim Weymouth of having had a homosexual affair. Weymouth was one of the most powerful men in Washington. He could ruin Dan’s career. After an interminably long period of silence it became clear that the Congressman had no intention of responding. Dan realized he was going to have to do all the talking.
When he first started as a lobbyist, Dan believed that if he could just find the right words, like a poet creating a perfect sonnet, he could convince anyone of the righteousness of his cause. Soon, reality exposed his naiveté. Politicians might start off their careers in Washington with the intention of doing the “right thing,” of standing up for what they believed in, but the reality of dealing with constituents and powerful interest groups and one’s own party and worst of all, the reality of raising millions of dollars for re-election campaigns, changed idealists into pragmatists. Politicians that rose to power in Washington did not do so by acting on their ideals.
Over time, Dan learned to lobby differently. Instead of merely arguing the merits of his cause, he looked for arguments to appeal to a person’s self-interest. Lobbying someone was like putting together a puzzle with many pieces, you had to figure out how each person’s interests fit together with the larger group.
But the visit to Weymouth was not the usual lobby visit. It was personal. Dan wanted to confront this powerful man with his own hypocrisy. He didn’t harbor any illusions that he would be able to convince Weymouth to vote against SOFA, but he wanted Weymouth to know that he knew the truth about Weymouth. He had decided to be direct and to the point.
“I don’t care about your sexual proclivities,” he said trying not to sound as self-righteous as he felt. “But I do care about SOFA. I don’t understand how you could let this mean-spirited, hate-mongering piece of legislation move through your committee.”
Weymouth chuckled. “Ah, c’mon Dan. You’re a sophisticated Washington lobbyist.” He pronounced each of the five syllables in sophisticated very slowly, drawing them out. “You know the way this game is played. I’ve been elected to represent my district and the interests of the people there.” He unfolded and folded his hands again. Dan tried to read the expression in the placid smile. Was it – fear, need? Dan wasn’t sure. “And the interests of my party, of course,” he added.
“Why is it in your party’s interests to promote hatred?” Dan demanded. “This isn’t even a federal issue. Whether a state decides to give benefits to gay families should be a state issue. Congress should stay the hell out of it.” Dan was losing control. He took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself down. “The Republican Party says it is for limited government but whenever it comes to private matters you can’t wait to jump in and tell people how to live their lives. You’re a bunch of hypocrites.”
The Congressman was amused by Dan’s outburst. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel? What do you think would happen if I killed this bill? I’d lose the next election and probably lose my chairmanship. Then you’d be stuck with someone worse than me.”
“Why don’t you frame the issue differently? Make it a state’s rights issue instead of a gay rights issue. Tell your party you support limited federal government and leave it at that.”
The Congressman looked like he was considering the suggestion.
“What do you intend to do with this information?” Weymouth asked.
As much as he wanted to scare Weymouth into doing the right thing, Dan realized he didn’t have the heart to go public with the information.
“Nothing more than what I’m doing now. I’m not going to out you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Weymouth didn’t say anything, but his demeanor seemed to relax. He had neither confirmed nor denied the allegation.
“I’ll consider your request,” Weymouth said. “Do you have anything written up about the federalism issue?”
Dan reached into his brief case and pulled out a shiny folder with the OutReach logo on it, filled with position papers, letters, and talking points. “This is probably more than you’d ever want to know about the issue, but if there is anything else we can get for you, don’t hesitate to call. My card’s in there. It has my cell phone number on it. Call me anytime.”
It sounded like a suggestion for a date. The Congressman was attractive and powerful. Dan could see why John had slept with him.
“Thank you for your time,” Dan said as he got up to leave.
Weymouth nodded. “Thank you for your discretion.”
Dan nodded in return, suppressing a giddy smile. As soon as he was safely out of the office he whooped in delight.