The Ides have it

National Review, August 11, 1997 by Ramesh Ponnuru

Julius Caesar could have used Brutuses like this. In the confused wake of a failed attempt to depose Newt Gingrich as Speaker of the House, that may be the only point about which there is near-unanimity. Leading House Republicans -- if that phrase isn't an oxymoron now -- are still putting reporters through the spin cycle with competing, and self-serving, versions of events. So here's my positive spin, free of charge to the Republican National Committee: Republicans have flattered the public by vindicating its judgment that they were not to be trusted with complete control of the Federal Government.

The story began on the evening of July 8, as Gingrich's deputies met to discuss how to get their act together. Organization, procedures, communications needed to be revamped so as to avoid humiliations like the June disaster-relief fiasco; Gingrich might have to be reined in. Fourth-ranking Republican Rep. John Boehner (Ohio) walked into the meeting and told the others to forget trying to salvage Gingrich's operation: it was all over for the Speaker. Boehner said he had spoken to Gingrich's most vociferous conservative critics, and they were planning to go to the floor to oust him. Since many Republicans had returned from the July Fourth recess dismayed to learn that their constituents still considered Gingrich an issue and dreading the prospect of his still being an issue at the next recess, the rebels were likely to succeed.

The other Republicans present -- Majority Leader Dick Armey (Tex.), whip Tom DeLay (Tex.), and Bill Paxon (N.Y.) -- had the natural human reaction: they wondered what this development would mean for them. Armey piped up that he was sick and tired of saving Gingrich. "If they try to take Gingrich down I won't lift a finger to help him," he said. "I'm going to run for Speaker and I want Henry Hyde to nominate me." The response was stunned silence followed by further speculation. They deputized DeLay, who is the closest of the bunch to the hard-core class of '94, to "go to the roof and see if there really are jumpers," in the words of an aide to one of those present -- i.e., to verify Boehner's story and gauge the strength and seriousness of the rebels.

So on Thursday, July 10, DeLay approached Lindsey Graham (S.C.) on the House floor and said they had to talk. (Some accounts have DeLay telling Graham that Gingrich's deputies wanted to remove Gingrich and asking whether the rebels would support them; it appears that DeLay wasn't that aggressive.) In Graham's office Thursday evening, DeLay asked the rebels whether they had thought through their plans. Who would be Gingrich's successor? What was to stop the Democrats and a handful of Republican defectors from electing a Republican squish as Speaker? The rebels tossed out various names and possibilities, but reached no consensus. Some weren't sure it was the right time to topple Gingrich. It was clear they didn't have their ducks in a row.

Most press accounts of the abortive coup feature the meeting in Graham's office, but there were other meetings on Wednesday and Thursday. Groups of three rebels met with each individual member of the leadership (except Gingrich, of course). And sundry conversations took place in the corridors of the Capitol. The rebels received the distinct impression that the leaders were willing and eager to dump Gingrich.

In any case, on Thursday night DeLay reported back to the others --sans Boehner, who couldn't be found. DeLay seems to have mentioned to Armey that a lot of the rebels were saying that Paxon would have broader support than Armey as Speaker. (A few drinks may have been consumed.) At that point or soon thereafter Armey stopped toying with the idea of vacating the Speaker's chair. The following morning, with the plot apparently over, the leaders agreed to brief Gingrich on how they had put down an attempted revolt.

By the time that meeting happened, Gingrich already knew. Thursday night Rep. Steve Largent (Okla.), an over-eager member of the anti-Gingrich cabal, had tried to recruit moderate, and Gingrich ally, Chris Shays (Conn.) to the cause; Largent told Shays the motion to vacate the chair would be made Friday. Shays declined, and tipped Gingrich off. So did Rep. Mike Parker (Miss.). In addition, Armey had his chief of staff, Kerry Knott, call Gingrich's chief of staff, Arne Christenson, to warn him that something was afoot and to promise to keep him posted. (Armey's camp says the call was placed before the meeting with DeLay and Paxon.) The other leaders strongly suspect that Armey himself met with Gingrich Friday morning and made a separate peace.

Later Friday morning, Armey, Boehner, DeLay, and Paxon met with Gingrich and told him they had put down a revolt. Gingrich was livid that they had kept him in the dark for so long. Then the quartet met with the rebels and told them to get in line: among other things, deposing Gingrich would be "immoral" -- a claim whose audacity may have been what motivated one of the rebels to leak the events of the week to Sandy Hume, a reporter for the Hill, a Capitol Hill weekly.