Tom Foley, House speaker and 30-year congressional veteran, began his re-election campaign last week much as he always has -- pointing out all the goodies he brings home for Spokane, Wash. First came the press conference to announce 26 new city police officers as a result of the recent crime bill (a contingent, it was duly noted, larger than that bestowed upon San Francisco). Next came the announcement of the expansion of the survival training school at Fairchild Air Force Base, which Foley said he was "not ashamed" to have helped rescue from extinction in 1985.
But in the Alice in Wonderland world of the 1994 elections, being a powerful House speaker can be a bad thing, even if it means good things for the folks back home: Every federal bequest is seen as pork, costing more tax money. Small wonder that Foley is in the political battle of his life, a too-close-to-call race against Republican George Nethercutt. "Normally, one would assume being speaker is not a disadvantage," Foley said on the plane ride to Spokane. "But now some want to convince this district to send a message of dissatisfaction [with the system]." Nethercutt's slogan: "We need a listener, not a speaker."
Foley is running more like a challenger than an incumbent -- daring his opponent to debate him on agricultural issues, complaining about all the special interest money pouring into the Fifth Congressional District to ensure his defeat. He voted for the assault-weapons ban, incurring the wrath of the gun lobby; he also led a legal challenge to a term-limits law passed by Washington State voters. The measure failed in Foley's district, yet it remains popular -- more so since Nethercutt promises in an ad that he would "never sue my constituents." Americans for Limited Terms and the National Rifle Association are spending $350,000 on anti-Foley TV spots. Nethercutt meekly protests their tone. Foley uses them to sound very much like Ross Perot: "I don't think people in this district need outside groups telling them how to vote."
The challenger. Nethercutt himself is what Republican pollster Ed Goeas calls Foley's "worst nightmare." An adoption lawyer and two-time chairman of the county Republican Party, he is low key and nonthreatening in style. A top aide describes his politics as "practical conservative." In many ways, Nethercutt is this year's generic GOP candidate, supporting budget cuts and government reform with few specifics. He criticized Foley for not voting for the House Republican budget, but when a Foley ad pointed out that it would have cut children's immunizations, Nethercutt backed off. "I don't know whether I would have voted for it," he now says. "I haven't read it."
For Foley to win, he has to repair a disconnect among his independent-minded constituents: GOP polls show that half of them approve of his job as speaker, but almost half also disapprove of his job as their congressman. Even a local TV poll that had the speaker trailing by 8 points also showed that 57 percent of the voters figured he had done a pretty good job. The problem is that many constituents also believe it's time for a change -- and they hate the Congress that Foley runs. "He's done a lot for us," says Everett Eccleston, owner of a vending machine service who voted for Foley in the past and is still undecided. But, he adds, "some of this pork is a waste, even if it helps us."
If Nethercutt, who is 49, wins, it will be because the voters think it is time for Foley, who is 65, to leave. In fact, a recent local poll showed that only 11 percent of the voters affirmatively support the challenger; 36 percent said they are just against the speaker. "I think he should retire. I just have a problem with career politicians," says Joe Thomsen, 23, a coffee vendor who admits, "I don't know much" about Nethercutt.
The Foley campaign is desperately trying to fill in Nethercutt's blank slate but without much obvious success. Foley's last tough race was in 1978, and it shows: While the challenger's storefront on West Riverside is always bustling, Foley's new headquarters in the only local mall is eerily quiet. The campaign schedule has been lackluster; the congressional campaign committee has sent an emissary to jump-start the process.
Thirty years ago, it was Foley who told voters that the 22- year incumbent had been there too long. They believed him. Soon Nethercutt will run a new ad: "In 1964, `Bonanza' was the top TV show, Lyndon Johnson was president and Tom Foley was elected to Congress. Except for Tom, a lot has changed in 30 years." Now Foley has to convince them that 30 years is not long enough.
