Metzenbaum may indeed see his Senate seat warmed by the despised disciple. His would-be successor, Joel Hyatt, is running behind. But even if the tide turns for Hyatt, a lawyer and liberal who happens to be his son-in-law, no one can really replace Howard Metzenbaum. At a time when most senators – and most liberals – are known for what they don’t get done, the departure of one liberal legislator seems like a doubtful occasion for commentary. But Metzenbaum is that rare species, a powerfully effective senator and a powerfully effective liberal. Consumers’ groups are mourning Metzenbaum’s imminent departure, and business groups are toasting it – even as they note that such an enemy has his uses. “When you raise his name with members, it gets their blood boiling,” says Stephen Bokat of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce.
A renaissance liberal, Metzenbaum fought the nomination of Clarence Thomas, was the original sponsor of the Brady bill and is trying to get J. Edgar Hoover’s name removed from the FBI building. But there will always be congressional champions for such sexy issues. It’s in the nitty-gritty, detail-laden battle about business that his absence will be most obvious. This is the man who forced faltering giants of the 1980s to pay up on retirees’ health benefits and companies such as Dillard Department Stores to pay for failing to give notice to laid-off employees. This is the guy who interrupted genial confirmation hearings for Supreme Court nominee Stephen Breyer recently to question a conflict of interest in a pollution case.
Some freshmen senators hope to pick up the baton from Metzenbaum: Carol Moseley-Braun, Russ Feingold and Paul Wellstone each cite Metzenbaum’s coaching. Still, the Ohio senator has been a rare package deal for his constituents: a self-made millionaire who fights for the union maid and a mince-no-words man whose sense of humor and integrity have made ideological foes such as Orrin Hatch and Alan Simpson into friends.
Metzenbaum made his millions leasing land near airports in the 1940s, when he realized that a growing flood of air travelers would need somewhere to park. While Mike Roush, a small business lobbyist, calls the senator “a pain in the butt,” Metzenbaum sees himself as a trustbuster serving small business people, whether it’s MCI fighting AT&T or nurse-practitioners tilting at the American Medical Association. He also challenges the equation that an antibusiness liberal is a big spender. By reading the fine print of every bill to root out hidden tax breaks, colleagues say, he has saved billions for taxpayers.
Still, Metzenbaum enjoys needling business and has a talent for finding villains with public appeal. He ranted at baseball executives in Florida this spring for their monopolistic behavior, “plush limos” and high salaries. And he accused Tele-Communications Inc. chief John Malone of trying to create a cable “megamonster” in his proposed merger with Bell Atlantic.
Metzenbaum’s success would have been easier to explain in the ’70s, when Congress took a more jaundiced view of business. But for most of his 19 years in Washington, the political culture has defined business’s interests as almost synonymous with the nation’s. So Metzenbaum has pulled off his wins by learning how to play the Senate game. He was nicknamed “Senator No” in the 1980s because he would attach endless amendments to Republican bills he wanted to block. One would have allowed the export of products deemed unfit for U.S. consumption. When Metzenbaum attached a measure banning the export of faulty baby formula, the baby-food makers pulled out and the bill died. The mere threat of a Metzenbaum filibuster can often kill a bill; Republican Alan Simpson compares him (fondly) to a horror-movie monster who is knocked down again and again but “keeps coming back.”
Young senators studying Metzenbaum may be able to match his mastery of the written rules. Harder to imitate is his comfort in violating the unwritten rules, particularly the one that says a senator shall annoy neither his constituent nor his fellow senator. Metzenbaum infuriated Ohio workers with his votes for gun control and against the gulf war. In the Senate, he drives even allies crazy, often simply by refusing to stop arguing when a debate reaches the wee hours of a session before a holiday. It’s hard for most people to take the criticism Metzenbaum gets. Says Simpson: “We all go around saying it doesn’t affect us, then we go home at night and practically suck our thumbs.” How does Metzenbaum do it? “He’s an unthreatened man.”
Twenty years ago the Senate bid goodbye to another unreconstructed liberal and Senate master, Philip Hart, by naming a Senate office building after him. Metzenbaum, a pricklier personality in a pricklier time, is unlikely to enjoy a similar honor. And as times change, even his record may be challenged. Ben Fischer, Carnegie Mellon professor of labor studies, says Metzenbaum has failed to push the cutting edge of labor issues.
For the moment, Metzenbaum isn’t talking about his legacy. But he has told staffers he wants to “go out with a bang.” That may be hard, especially since a top priority was the striker-replacement bill. The bill died in early July, but Metzenbaum has said he may find a way to bring it back to life. Can he do it? In June, lobbyists were swearing that Metzenbaum couldn’t succeed with another pet project: killing their bill to limit product liability. Among other things, the bill would have barred punitive damages against companies that followed Food and Drug Administration rules; that would have eliminated big awards, for example, to women hurt by breast implants. Then, hours before a critical vote, Metzenbaum and a few colleagues outmaneuvered their opponents, and the bill died. For now. When the bill comes up in 1995, the Senate will debate it without him.
title: “Fighting At The Finish” ShowToc: true date: “2022-12-05” author: “Henry Villarreal”
Metzenbaum may indeed see his Senate seat warmed by the despised disciple. His would-be successor, Joel Hyatt, is running behind. But even if the tide turns for Hyatt, a lawyer and liberal who happens to be his son-in-law, no one can really replace Howard Metzenbaum. At a time when most senators – and most liberals – are known for what they don’t get done, the departure of one liberal legislator seems like a doubtful occasion for commentary. But Metzenbaum is that rare species, a powerfully effective senator and a powerfully effective liberal. Consumers’ groups are mourning Metzenbaum’s imminent departure, and business groups are toasting it – even as they note that such an enemy has his uses. “When you raise his name with members, it gets their blood boiling,” says Stephen Bokat of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce.
A renaissance liberal, Metzenbaum fought the nomination of Clarence Thomas, was the original sponsor of the Brady bill and is trying to get J. Edgar Hoover’s name removed from the FBI building. But there will always be congressional champions for such sexy issues. It’s in the nitty-gritty, detail-laden battle about business that his absence will be most obvious. This is the man who forced faltering giants of the 1980s to pay up on retirees’ health benefits and companies such as Dillard Department Stores to pay for failing to give notice to laid-off employees. This is the guy who interrupted genial confirmation hearings for Supreme Court nominee Stephen Breyer recently to question a conflict of interest in a pollution case.
Some freshmen senators hope to pick up the baton from Metzenbaum: Carol Moseley-Braun, Russ Feingold and Paul Wellstone each cite Metzenbaum’s coaching. Still, the Ohio senator has been a rare package deal for his constituents: a self-made millionaire who fights for the union maid and a mince-no-words man whose sense of humor and integrity have made ideological foes such as Orrin Hatch and Alan Simpson into friends.
Metzenbaum made his millions leasing land near airports in the 1940s, when he realized that a growing flood of air travelers would need somewhere to park. While Mike Roush, a small business lobbyist, calls the senator “a pain in the butt,” Metzenbaum sees himself as a trustbuster serving small business people, whether it’s MCI fighting AT&T or nurse-practitioners tilting at the American Medical Association. He also challenges the equation that an antibusiness liberal is a big spender. By reading the fine print of every bill to root out hidden tax breaks, colleagues say, he has saved billions for taxpayers.
Still, Metzenbaum enjoys needling business and has a talent for finding villains with public appeal. He ranted at baseball executives in Florida this spring for their monopolistic behavior, “plush limos” and high salaries. And he accused Tele-Communications Inc. chief John Malone of trying to create a cable “megamonster” in his proposed merger with Bell Atlantic.
Metzenbaum’s success would have been easier to explain in the ’70s, when Congress took a more jaundiced view of business. But for most of his 19 years in Washington, the political culture has defined business’s interests as almost synonymous with the nation’s. So Metzenbaum has pulled off his wins by learning how to play the Senate game. He was nicknamed “Senator No” in the 1980s because he would attach endless amendments to Republican bills he wanted to block. One would have allowed the export of products deemed unfit for U.S. consumption. When Metzenbaum attached a measure banning the export of faulty baby formula, the baby-food makers pulled out and the bill died. The mere threat of a Metzenbaum filibuster can often kill a bill; Republican Alan Simpson compares him (fondly) to a horror-movie monster who is knocked down again and again but “keeps coming back.”
Young senators studying Metzenbaum may be able to match his mastery of the written rules. Harder to imitate is his comfort in violating the unwritten rules, particularly the one that says a senator shall annoy neither his constituent nor his fellow senator. Metzenbaum infuriated Ohio workers with his votes for gun control and against the gulf war. In the Senate, he drives even allies crazy, often simply by refusing to stop arguing when a debate reaches the wee hours of a session before a holiday. It’s hard for most people to take the criticism Metzenbaum gets. Says Simpson: “We all go around saying it doesn’t affect us, then we go home at night and practically suck our thumbs.” How does Metzenbaum do it? “He’s an unthreatened man.”
Twenty years ago the Senate bid goodbye to another unreconstructed liberal and Senate master, Philip Hart, by naming a Senate office building after him. Metzenbaum, a pricklier personality in a pricklier time, is unlikely to enjoy a similar honor. And as times change, even his record may be challenged. Ben Fischer, Carnegie Mellon professor of labor studies, says Metzenbaum has failed to push the cutting edge of labor issues.
For the moment, Metzenbaum isn’t talking about his legacy. But he has told staffers he wants to “go out with a bang.” That may be hard, especially since a top priority was the striker-replacement bill. The bill died in early July, but Metzenbaum has said he may find a way to bring it back to life. Can he do it? In June, lobbyists were swearing that Metzenbaum couldn’t succeed with another pet project: killing their bill to limit product liability. Among other things, the bill would have barred punitive damages against companies that followed Food and Drug Administration rules; that would have eliminated big awards, for example, to women hurt by breast implants. Then, hours before a critical vote, Metzenbaum and a few colleagues outmaneuvered their opponents, and the bill died. For now. When the bill comes up in 1995, the Senate will debate it without him.
