Breaking the rules: as Congress frets over Clinton, two of its most ethically challenged Republicans are getting off scot-free.

AuthorAizenman, Nurith C.
PositionTom DeLay and Bud Schuster

Back in February of 1996, normally easygoing Gary Ruskin was on the warpath. His call to arms: news reports that two of the most prominent Republicans in Congress, Representatives Bud Shuster and Tom DeLay, had handed out legislative favors to family, friends and financial contributors. As director of The Congressional Accountability Project, a Ralph Nader watchdog group, Ruskin felt it was his job to make sure they didn't get away with it. His plan was simple; he'd file a complaint with the House Ethics Committee so that it would be forced to investigate the allegations.

It wasn't long before Ruskin realized that he had chosen a mission impossible. Just lodging the complaints was a Herculean chore. Outsiders are not allowed to file directly. Instead, the House's quirky rules required Ruskin to either find a Congressman to sponsor his complaint, or obtain three letters from members officially refusing to do so. Ruskin figured Republicans would be less than happy to help him attack two of their own, so he went straight to the Democrats. But the reception from the minority party was equally cool. Why? Possibly because Majority Whip Tom DeLay is the third most powerful member of the House; and as Chairman of the House Transportation Committee, Bud Shuster effectively controls the funding for roads in every member's district. No one, it seemed, was eager to cross them. And even if Ruskin did manage to file his complaints, sympathetic Detmocrats warned, his chances of ultimate success were nil. "I knew [the Ethics Committee] wasn't going to do anything about it," recalls former Representative Patricia Schroeder. "I felt like I was telling him there was no Santa Claus!"

Sixteen months later -- and over two-and-a-half years after Shuster and DeLay first engaged in their dubious activities -- the Ethics Committee has yet to launch even a "preliminary inquiry." At a time when members of Congress insist on analyzing every drop of President Clinton's coffee, Shuster and DeLay appear to have escaped notice. The story of how they did so reveals as much about the troubled ethics process as it does about the questionable morality of these two members.

The Hammer

What is particularly disturbing about the charges against both Shuster and DeLay is that they involve the most pernicious form of political corruption. These are not your run-of-the-mill tax evasion or petty theft cases. Instead the two men are accused of the kind of quid pro quo that most fundamentally threatens our democracy: the exchange of money and friendship for legislative influence.

Perhaps the starkest example of this was the allegation that DeLay had directly linked campaign contributions to official actions. Washington Post reporters David Maraniss and Michael Weisskopf described how corporate lobbyists meeting with DeLay were instructed to look themselves up in a book listing the "amounts and percentages of money that the 400 largest political action committees had contributed to Republicans and Democrats over the last two years. Those who gave heavily to the GOP were labeled `Friendly,'the others `unfriendly.'" One of the lobbyists interviewed by the Post learned the hard way that his PAC was in the wrong category. "By the time [he] left the congressman's office, he knew ... his group would have to give the party a lot more money."

As for those in the "Friendly" camp, there's little doubt that they were rewarded with unprecedented perks. During the 104th Congress, DeLay openly invited favored lobbyists to write the legislation deregulating the very industries they represented. Some were even spotted sitting on the dais during committee hearings.

DeLay's fundraising tactics were in direct violation of House ethics rules barring "considerations such as political support, party affiliation, or campaign contributions," from affecting "either the decision of a Member to provide assistance, or the quality of the help that is given." His blunt approach earned him a new nickname: "The Hammer."

Questions have also been raised about DeLay's work on behalf of interests represented by his lobbyist brother, Houston lawyer Randy DeLay. The younger DeLay got into the lobbying business almost immediately after his brother was elected majority whip. The clients came running. According to Frank Greve of Knight-Ridder, Randy DeLay raked in over $550,000 during his first year in business.

Among DeLay's customers was a Mexican cement company called Cemex, which was involved in a trade dispute with the United States. Cemex had been slapped with an anti-dumping tariff for selling its cement over the border at unfair prices. According to Greve, Randy DeLay met or called his brother 21 times for the specific purpose of lobbying him on the Cemex issue. In August of 1995, Congressman DeLay wrote letters to the U.S. Trade Representative and the Secretary of Commerce unsuccessfully urging that the tariff be lifted. DeLay also helped draft a failed bill which would have accomplished the same thing. And both DeLays got other prominent Republicans to sign letters in support of Cemex.

This was not the only time the brothers DeLay worked in tandem. When Congressman DeLay fought to allow Union Pacific Railroad to acquire Southern Pacific for $5.4 billion, some Texas voters were confused. There was significant concern that the merger would have anti-competitive effects -- particularly in Houston, where the deal...

To continue reading

Request your trial

VLEX uses login cookies to provide you with a better browsing experience. If you click on 'Accept' or continue browsing this site we consider that you accept our cookie policy. ACCEPT