A Slice of Life from Capitol Hill

Diana DeGette's First Days in Office

By ERIKA NIEDOWSKI

ust before 10 p.m. on election night, in a crowded ballroom at Denver's Marriott Hotel, hundreds of Diana DeGette's supporters are chanting her name, waving signs, beseeching her to make a victory speech. But the Colorado College graduate - political science, class of 1979 - is stranded in a service room off the kitchen.

"President Clinton is going on," someone explains. "We're going to have to wait until he's done."

Surrounded by stacked chairs and serving carts, the smell of stale food in the air, the Colorado Democrat can vaguely hear Clinton basking in victory on the big screen TV outside. "This could take a while," jokes an aide.

Ten minutes pass, then 20. DeGette scans her notes, sings nursery school songs to appease her 2-year-old daughter, and ponders the prospect of replacing Pat Schroeder, a Democratic legend.

At 10:35, some nine months after announcing her candidacy at a community center in the heart of Denver, DeGette swings open the door and marches toward the stage in an aisle carved out by her staff. The crowd cheers; the cameras follow.

She is the story now.

***

For Rep.-elect DeGette, along with more than 70 others in the Class of 1996, a two-year pilgrimage on Capitol Hill has begun. Just one week after the election, there are already party leaders to install; class officers to select; committee seats to campaign for; office spaces to size up; interviews to give; real estate prices to compare; thick House manuals to read; ethics briefings to attend; and nearly as many questions to ask as have been answered.

"My style is to kind of ease into a job, get the lay of the land and figure out where the bathrooms are," explains the 39-year-old attorney. "Then find out where I can be of most use to the caucus."

But easing into the job is not easy. At one Saturday orientation session, an ABC News crew corners an overwhelmed DeGette, peppering her with questions about partisanship in the upcoming Congress. The former state legislator fixes her hair and suit before the camera lights click on. "In talking with both my Democratic and Republican colleagues," she begins diplomatically, "I get a sense that the new Congress ... ."

It is an assessment she'll be asked to make over and over in the first few days.

***

The Hyatt Regency, the Capitol Hill hotel turned freshman dorm for a fortnight, swarms with congressional initiates, who check their watches as if they're going to be late for class.

"You don't go in and say, 'I'm Martin Luther and here's my manifesto,'" DeGette is saying now, explaining what lessons should be learned from the GOP freshmen of the 104th Congress. "[A slim majority] can be gridlock, or it can be a wonderful way for coalitions to form."

Following several days of orientation - and several hundred more on the campaign trail - DeGette slumps in her chair. She never planned to go into politics, and suddenly she has retiring Democrat Pat Schroeder's shoes to fill, an entire staff to hire and a new house to find. This weekend she browsed local neighborhoods as if she were window-shopping, and has even hired an education consultant to help find a school for her 6-year-old daughter.

DeGette is puzzled as she tries to pin down her top priority. "It varies hour to hour," she explains. "Probably this morning, top of the list will be the committee assignments."

***

Six weeks later, a slot on the coveted Commerce Committee safely hers, DeGette sits under the glaring overhead lights of the crowded House chamber on the opening day of the 105th Congress. Her young daughters are in matching green and blue dresses on either side. She is about to cast her first vote - a historic and controversial one for House Speaker.

"Gephardt," she shouts, surprised by the sound of her voice.

The House reading clerk drones on, calling for Delahunt and Dellums and Deutsch. There are nearly 350 more names to go, and DeGette anticipates the moment of her swearing-in. She has big ideas about what she'll be able to accomplish as Colorado's 1st District representative.

By now, the 'M's are casting their votes. DeGette's older daughter leans toward her. "Mom, I think Mr. Gingrich is going to be re-elected," she whispers.

"How come?" asks DeGette.

"Because there are more Republicans than Democrats."

It is an early, simple lesson for a member of the minority.

***

With the bang of a gavel, the 105th Congress begins. The freshmen find themselves in a city obsessed not with legislative blueprints but the ethics investigation of Newt Gingrich. It is an inauspicious way to open a new Congress.

In January, the House is in session only 11 hours and 52 minutes. DeGette is disappointed: She is used to the faster pace of the Colorado state legislature, where the sessions are 120 days long.

"Here, we had only two votes in January," she explains, rushing past colleagues on her way back from a freshman class press conference in the Capitol to her office suite. "One was to elect the Speaker of the House, the other was to reprimand him."

Earlier in the day, DeGette gives her first remarks on the floor - a one-minute speech on education. Walking to the well, she notices there are only a handful of people in the chamber. She feels more like she's giving a small press conference than addressing the nation.

Some of her newly-hired staffers are in the gallery above watching the debut, and her daughter is tuning in from Longworth. The only person missing the moment is her husband, who is working at home: The cable in their single-family rental in suburban Maryland still hasn't been hooked up.

Back in her office, whose only adornment so far is a vase of pink tulips, DeGette reflects on her first month. "I don't see us as having a rudder because we haven't set out on the seas yet," she explains. "I'm still waiting for things to get going."

***

DeGette spends Valentine's Day in Colorado without her family, holding a press conference on the welfare bill. In March, she discusses ways to make the Congress less acrimonious at a bipartisan retreat in Hershey, Pa. For the two-week Easter recess, she flies home to meet with local editorial boards, drink latte with constituents at a West Denver coffeehouse, and talk with doctors and patients at Children's Hospital about uninsured children.

But, back in the nation's capital, the legislative agenda remains thin, the schedule skimpy. One cold, windy day, DeGette huddles with her freshman colleagues at an outdoor press conference convened to decry the "do-nothing" GOP Congress.

While the Democratic fund-raising scandals plague the White House, and congressional lawmakers bicker over the Republican-led probes, official Washington has all but reached legislative lockjaw. One month after Hershey, the Republican Whip and the top Democrat on the Appropriations Committee get into a shoving match on the House floor.

DeGette is frustrated. "It's more dead than I thought it would be," she explains. "I thought there would be an agenda. I wasn't sure if I was going to agree with the agenda, but I thought there would be something discussed."

She doesn't hesitate when asked if that will change: "I don't have a clue."

Erika Niedowski, who attended CC from 1991-93, is a staff writer at The Hill, a weekly newspaper in Washington, D.C.

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