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28 Wandering in the Wilderness The 1994 elections resulted in the Republicans gaining control of the House for the first time in forty years. It seemed that none of us Democrats saw it coming, but we should have. The arrogance of being in power for forty years shone brightly among the leaders of our caucus. Some committee and subcommittee chairmen were literally unapproachable. John Dingle and Joe Moakley were notable exceptions. Almost everybody was talking with significant disdain about the high-and-mightiness of most other chairmen. I experienced some of that with the chairman of the Judiciary Committee. Having spent almost eighteen years directing a quasijudicial state agency, I thought I could make a significant contribution as a member of the Judiciary Committee. But, when I approached the chair requesting his support for one of the vacancies on his committee, he asked whether I was a lawyer. When I told him that I was not, he slowly cast his eyes up toward the tally board. I had been warned that his response would be something akin to what it was, and I was prepared with what I thought would be an appropriate retort. I told the gentleman that although I was not a lawyer , as head of a quasijudicial agency for eighteen years, I had hired and supervised a few of them and had even fired one. He looked at me rather disdainfully but did not respond. Several months later I ran into that gentleman in Taiwan when the schedule of a congressional delegation that I was heading crossed paths with one that he was heading . We merged the two groups for a meeting with local officials, and seniority dictated that he preside at that meeting. He could not have been more gracious when he introduced me. He was one of the casualties of November 1994. Going into the minority after just one term was a tremendous blow to my plans. I wanted to make a significant impact on the communities of which I had been such an integral part for all of my life. I wanted to put pipes in ditches that were dug to catch water draining from roads that were scraped when they should have been paved. I wanted to build bridges to reconnect communities that had been busted up to get commuters back and forth from their homes in suburbia to their downtown office buildings. I wanted to put water systems in those rural communities where the people should not drink, cook with, or bathe in the only water that was available. In short I wanted to improve the quality of life of people I had grown up with, gone to 254 Treading and Toiling school with, and worshipped with—the voters who had seen fit to send me to represent them in Washington. Losing fifty-four seats meant that Democrats were going to be something they had not been in more than a generation: the loyal opposition. I understood that. I also understood what that meant for me. The loyal opposition’s role is to oppose. I had not campaigned to be the loyal opposition, but for that matter neither had I campaigned to enjoy the fruits of being in the majority. I had campaigned to bring hope and change to the communities of the Sixth Congressional District of South Carolina. People who voted for me knew little and cared even less about inside-the-Beltway shenanigans. They were looking for me to fulfill the promises I had made to put “service above self and principles above politics .” I had given them every reason to believe that I could, and they had every right to believe that I would. I had enjoyed reasonable success serving in state government during the administration of four governors, two Democrats and two Republicans. So working with Republicans was not foreign to me. But that was South Carolina; this was Washington. Could I have as much success in Washington as I had bridging the political divide in South Carolina? How could I fulfill expectations as a member of the loyal opposition and maintain sufficient relationships with the new majority to serve my constituents effectively? While contemplating the real dilemma I was facing, I thought about one of the blessed experiences I often reflected on while serving as Human Affairs commissioner. During my first year in the governor’s office, I commuted home to Charleston every weekend. One Friday, as I was preparing to leave the office for that drive...

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