How to Get Things Done in Washington

by ANN REILLY DOWD

Fortune, August 9, 1993, volume 128, no. 3, pages 60-62

Democratic Senator John Breaux wanted to support Bill Clinton's economic plan. But when he went home to Louisiana, the streets were lined with angry protesters carrying placards that read BTU--BREAUX TAXES YOU. Organized by a coalition of energy producers and users, these demonstrations were only the most visible part of a far-reaching campaign that ultimately persuaded Breaux and other key Democratic Senators to oppose Clinton's now defunct tax on the BTU content of fuels. Says Breaux: "The opposition had full-page ads, radio and TV spots, handouts, 800 numbers. They even called my daddy. It was an onslaught."

The stunning success of business's anti-BTU campaign has persuaded lobbyists up and down K Street that Clinton can be rolled. "The kick-'em-in-the-shins strategy worked," crows National Association of Manufacturers President Jerry Jasinowski, who orchestrated the blitzkrieg. Now, as congressional conferees meet to slug out the final round of the budget fight, more is sure to come.

Already lobbyists for truckers, restaurateurs, and small-business owners are mobilizing workers, investors, customers, and other allies in key states to kill objectionable portions of the budget-reconciliation bills. Others are plotting campaigns to influence looming battles over health care, NAFTA, striker replacement, clean water, and the environmental superfund. "No one cares about 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue anymore," says grassroots lobbying guru Jack Bonner. "They care about Main Street."

The most colorful of all campaigns this year is undoubtedly the National Restaurant Association's drive to kill Clinton's proposal to cut the deductibility of business meals from 80% to 50%. Proponents of the reduction have long framed the issue in terms of fat cats deducting three-martini or three-chardonnay lunches. The restaurateurs would recast it as a jobs issue. Their strongest weapon: a TV ad featuring straight-talking waitress Jan Bergwall of the Silo Inn in Olney, Maryland. "I'm a waitress and a good one," she says directly into the camera. "I'd better be because my three sons depend on me. But I might not have a job much longer. President Clinton's economic plan cuts business-meal deductibility. That would throw 165,000 people out of work. I need this job... Call 1-800-999-8945 now, and you'll be connected to your U.S. Senator."

The restaurateurs have also sent out video feeds of worried cooks, busboys, and waitresses via satellite to TV stations around the country. And they've hired Bonner to generate calls to Congress using the latest in grassroots technology: the patch-through phone bank. Bonner's operators in Washington call potential supporters in important states. If the person at the other end is sufficiently outraged, he is hooked up to the office of his Senator or Representative. The caller doesn't need to know their numbers--or even their names--and, of course, it's free.

By year-end the U.S. Chamber of Commerce expects to have a state-of-the-art patch-through system up and running, enabling it to contact business leaders throughout the U.S. on short notice. Names will be filed by state, congressional district, size of company, and area of interest. Papers and pamphlets will be sent out regularly. But when a crisis hits, operators--or computers--will ring up interested business people. After a brief update, the listener will hear a series of options: Press 1 to send a telegram to your Senator or Congressman; press 2 to be connected directly to his or her office; press 3 to record a voice-mail message; press 4 if you plan to write a letter.

All this high-tech wizardry can backfire. Most congressional offices now discount preprinted mail and phone back correspondents to judge the depth of their understanding or commitment. Says Bonner: "With calls and mail flooding members' offices, the key is quality, not quantity." For example, one lobby lost points big-time when a congressional staffer heard a patch-through operator instructing the constituent in what to say.

Business's increasing focus on people power is a sign of the times. During the Reagan and, to a lesser extent, the Bush years, business could rely on the President to veto Congress's tax and regulatory excesses. But Clinton is often leading the charge. That's fine for some industries--high tech, autos, aerospace--that will benefit directly from Clinton's trade and R&D policies. But it's lousy for those on his hit list, such as drug and oil companies, and uncertain at best for small businesses and manufacturers that prefer less government and lower taxes.

Even those that stand to benefit from Clintonomics rely on the President at their peril. First, Clinton is highly susceptible to pressure, particularly from Congress. In his first six months he has changed his mind on major issues almost as often as he has changed his socks. Second, his team has been poorly organized to mobilize outside groups in support of the President. Third, he has shown little ability to use the presidential bully pulpit to rally public opinion and drive Congress. To the contrary, with his popularity ratings scraping bottom, congressional Republicans are just saying no, and election-wary Democrats are breaking ranks with astonishing ease.

The trust gap between congressional Democrats and their President is as deep--and the conflict as raw--as under Jimmy Carter. "Clinton has managed to tick everyone off," says Minnesota Congressman Tim Penny, a leader of moderate House Democrats. "Republicans resent being left out and are in no mood to help. Moderate and conservative Democrats are angry that they had to fight for things they thought Clinton supported. Now the liberals feel betrayed. There is a feeling that Bill Clinton has no core of conviction."

Black Caucus Chairman Kweisi Mfume is downright bitter. "The black community worked like crazy to elect Bill Clinton," he says. But after the President backed off his position on admitting Haitian immigrants, abandoned his economic stimulus plan, and dumped Lani Guinier, Mfume said ruefully to the President: "I can't believe what you say because I see what you do."

Reinforcing such angry independence is a growing belief among Democrats that, with Clinton, the more you scream the more you get. When Montana's Senator Max Baucus led a group of Western Senators to the White House last March to criticize Clinton's proposals to raise fees for mining and grazing on public lands, the President backed off so quickly even Baucus was stunned. Later, House moderates and conservatives led by Congressmen Penny, Dave McCurdy (Oklahoma), and Charles Stenholm (Texas) held the House budget hostage until Clinton agreed to more spending cuts and a scaled-back energy tax in the Senate. Then stiff opposition from Breaux and other oil state Senators buried the BTU tax.

Many Democrats, particularly moderates and conservatives, believe it's safer to distance themselves from Clinton than to hang with him. When Senator Richard Shelby used a White House photo op to criticize the lack of spending cuts in Clinton's economic plan, which he then voted against, the Alabama Democrat's polls shot up. And in Texas, where Clinton and his tax and spending proposals are horribly unpopular, Republican Kay Bailey Hutchison trounced Democrat Bob Krueger, who had filled Treasury Secretary Lloyd Bentsen's Senate seat. To the 21 Senate and 258 House Democrats up for reelection in 1994, the message was electrifying: When the choice is between Clinton and your constituents, vote home.

All this bad feeling would mean little were it not for the Democrats' narrow 56-44 margin in the Senate. Mustering the 60 votes needed to break a Republican filibuster is already nearly impossible. And with Shelby regularly voting with the Republicans, just six more Democratic defectors can stymie any presidential proposal. Vice President Gore had to break a tie vote on the Senate's budget-reconciliation bill, and the House version squeaked through by six votes, 219 to 213.

In this edgy environment, the wisest business lobbyists agree the way to get things done is to generate popular pressure on the right members--particularly moderate and conservative Democrats in the Senate, many facing tough reelection challenges in 1994. Topping many target lists: Louisiana's Breaux and J. Bennett Johnston, Oklahoma's David Boren, Georgia's Sam Nunn, Alabama's Howell Heflin, Florida's Bob Graham, Arizona's Dennis DeConcini, Wisconsin's Herb Kohl, Nebraska's James Exon and Bob Kerrey, and Connecticut's Joseph Lieberman. They hold the balance of power in Clinton's Washington.

What will move them? Not money, say insiders. The average cost of winning a congressional seat is so high ($545,000 in the House and $3.5 million in the Senate) and the limits on PAC contributions are so low ($5,000 per election) that all money buys you is a ticket to the show. What counts are constituents. A recent Gallup survey for Bonner & Associates found that direct communications from constituents--letters, calls, meetings with leaders of local businesses and groups, or just plain folks--are by far the most effective way to influence a member's votes.

Generating public pressure seems easier than ever. People are worried, particularly about the economy, and thanks to Ross Perot, Rush Limbaugh, and Clinton himself, voters seem more willing to speak their minds to Washington. In the first six months of 1993 Congress was deluged with 16.7 million calls, up from only 11.4 million in the same period last year. On an average day, 2,500 people phone the White House, while another 2,000 send computer mail.

Surely many calls are spontaneous. But thousands of others are generated by special interests, including business. Take the BTU campaign. Opponents used the most effective argument against any legislative proposal today: that it would cost jobs. The National Association of Manufacturers estimated the potential loss at 600,000 nationally. To drive that message home, the anti-BTU-tax coalition produced separate estimates for key states. "We had never done such targeted economic analysis," says Jasinowski. "That made a big difference."

So did the coalition's grassroots strategy. As long as the NAM and the American Petroleum Institute were the only visible BTU critics, they got nowhere. But when they organized more than 2,000 small and medium-size companies, farm organizations, and consumer groups into the American Energy Alliance, what had once appeared a typical big-business lobby was transformed into a grassroots movement. Coalition leaders then used local rallies, press conferences, phone banks, fax machines, TV and print ads, and appearances on radio talk shows to generate an avalanche of calls and letters to swing Senators. In the end, even Clinton's attacks on the oil industry for "trying to wiggle out of its contribution" could not stand up to angry constituents.

Now, as the House and Senate budget reconciliation bills head toward conference, every group whose ox is still getting gored is looking to replicate the Energy Alliance's success. Not all groups will get all they want. But the lesson for business from the first months of the Clinton era is clear: Go directly to the people, and persuade them with pocketbook logic and tug-at-the-heartstrings emotion that U.S. jobs are at stake, and you can move Congress and the President.