Governing under the influence; Washington alcoholics: their aides protect them, the media shields them

Washington Monthly, Jan, 1988 by Steven Waldman

Consider the case of Wilbur Mills, whose drinking occurred mostly after hours. When I asked Mills, who now speaks on behalf of Alcoholics Anonymous, whether he thought his drinking had affected his work quality he said, "No. At least it didn't affect my judgment." How did he know? "I went back and checked my votes." And why did he have to go back and check his votes? "Well," he said, "I was experiencing alcoholic blackouts throughout the whole period."

Brain cells can adapt over time and learn to function in the presence of alcohol. This is the building of tolerance. The problem is that when the person wakes up in the morning and doesn't get alcohol, the cell has to adjust back to functioning without alcohol. Over time, the constant adjustment and readjustment causes enduring, sometimes irreversible damage. So there's a key difference between a politician who sleeps around with models half his age and a politician who drinks too much: one activity kills brain cells and the other doesn't.

Heavy drinkers can develop such a high tolerance that they won't even appear drunk. And the mind as a whole can adapt by managing the brain's incapacity, the mental equivalent of favoring a healthy leg over an injured one. For example, an individual can perform adequately, or even well, by concentrating on a smaller number of jobs and delegating the rest. "I am often amazed to see how fighter pilots, air traffic controllers, commanding officers--people with really demanding jobs--manage to do jobs well," says Douglas M. Grodon, who runs the treatment program at Bethesda Naval Hospital. In fact, Wilbur Mills seemed so adept at guiding complex tax bills through the House that most reporters were surprised to learn of his problem once he announced it.

So it's not suspicious that many of Michael Deaver's friends and colleagues claim to have been surprised when they heard about his problem. "There was little to give me away," he writes in the draft of a book to be released in February. For one thing, Deaver devoured three rolls of breath mints a day so he undoubtedly smelled more like a candy shop than a distillery. "I did not humiliate myself at parties, did not get arrested for driving while intoxicated, did not jump into the Tidal Basin with a stripper or make love to my wife--or anyone else's wife--on the steps of Congress. But clearly I was headed for a disaster."

A cozy, comfortable arrangement

Where does this leave reporters? While alcohol abuse is likely to affect a legislator's mental capacity, it might not noticeably affect his job performance. Even the most alert reporter will have some trouble determining how the congressman's gray matter is faring on any given day. Knowing how much a member drinks isn't enough to go on because different people handle alcohol differently.

Besides, it's very difficult to distinguish a legislator who can't figure out the National Porkbarrel Appreciation Act because too much liquor has tormented his brain cells from one who can't figure it out under any circumstances. Even personality changes can be ascribed to many different causes. One reporter who covered Deaver now recalls episodes that, in retrospect, may have shown hints of alcoholism but that he wrote off as signs of pressure typical to many White House officials. "There was some erraticness," the reporter says, "but he wasn't erratic in a way that was different from anyone else."