Jackhammered

by Ed Bethune

  Congressman Whitehurst called my remarks a “ringing statement that defined the debate in a way that no one else had.” We did not have to vote on the resolution. Dick Kelley resigned from the Republican Conference. We had done all we could do. The rest was up to the Ethics Committee and the Justice Department.

  24

  SAVED BY SAILING

  The sea! the sea! the open sea!

  The blue, the fresh, the ever free!

  Bryan Waller Procter

  In the spring of 1980, Lana, ever wise, realized that serving in Congress is hazardous to family life. I had finished my first year in Congress, and we were settling in to life in the fast lane. Many marriages of congressional representatives, mostly those that are fragile to begin with, collapse under the pressure of official and political duty. In most cases the wreckage includes one or more of the things Wilbur Mills had warned me about: money, women, booze, and power. Lana was not worried about Wilbur’s no-no’s. I did not take a drink during my time in Congress, and money had never been a driving force in my life, so I was not likely to fall prey to either of those. I was lucky to have Lana. I knew it from the beginning of our relationship, and she knew that I felt that way about her. We have never questioned our commitment to each other or the lifelong loyalty we pledged when we had our conference with Dr. Kenneth Shamblin, the pastor who married us. Power was another thing. We had never had it so we were not sure how it could be a problem. In any event, we figured the best antidote for power and outsized egos would be to have time alone doing something that would keep us from taking ourselves too seriously. That “something” was sailing on the Chesapeake Bay.

  Lana heard about a sailing course at the Annapolis Sailing School. Sailing is the heart and soul of Annapolis, Maryland, and there is no finer place to sail than the Chesapeake Bay. The beginner’s sailing course takes one weekend, and successful completion qualifies graduates to rent a sailboat. We signed up and on the first day the school surprised us by putting us in separate boats. The sailing instructors knew from experience that husbands and wives do better when they learn the fundamentals independently of one another. It prevents what they call “Captain Bly Disease.” We had a good time, learned a lot, earned our certificates, and rented a boat the next weekend.

  It was our intention on our first sailing trip to spend the night on the boat at anchor, so we provisioned the boat with food for lunch, dinner the first night, and breakfast the following morning. We raised full sail, headed into the Chesapeake Bay, and, with some nervousness, charted a course for the Wye River, a tributary on the other side of the bay. We spent a beautiful night on the Wye River listening to Canadian geese honking their way north, and watching the watermen put out crab traps. There is nothing like the sights and sounds of the Chesapeake. On the way home we sailed around in the mouth of the South River, so named because it is south of Annapolis. We were under full sail, heeled over, strutting our stuff. All of a sudden, we learned that the bay is a shallow estuary, with many shoals. We hit bottom and for the first time in our sailing career we were hard aground. Ironically and fittingly, we were just off Turkey Point. I felt like a turkey as I tried to get the boat unstuck. As luck would have it, the wind piped up and in short order we were in a bit of trouble. The wind was blowing us toward the shoal and if it had not been for a gentleman in a powerboat, we would have spent an uncomfortable second night on the water. He pulled us off and we headed back to port. Chastened, we turned the boat in and headed back to D.C.

  In spite of going aground off Turkey Point, we loved our first taste of sailing. We pledged to go at least once a month, and we kept that pledge. Sailing was, at first, a simple way to escape the pressures of high office but soon we began to notice and discuss the difference between sailing and serving in politics. Politics is artificiality writ large. It is a necessity, for we must have a means to manage the messy business of government, but the endless posturing, fund-raising, deal-making, and ever-recurring elections, lie in stark contrast to the natural forces at play when you are on a sailboat on the Chesapeake. At sea, there are no artificialities. The wind, the waves, the currents, the tides, and the question of whether you have enough water and food are dominant. One might overcome, on occasion, the forces that permeate politics but in sailing, as King Canute proved when he was trying to get people to realize his limitations, you cannot order the tide to go out or in, and there is nothing you can do to change the weather.

  Sailing is, therefore, the antithesis of politics. We soon were addicted and that led us to consider the next step, blue water sailing. It is one thing to sail in the Chesapeake or other protected waters; it is another to venture into, or across an ocean.

  Jim Ford became chaplain of the House of Representatives in 1979. In 1976, when he was chaplain of the United States Military Academy at West Point, he and three friends flew to England, bought a thirty-one-foot Golden Hind sailboat and sailed from Plymouth to New York Harbor to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. When Jim got his congressional appointment, he sailed his boat to Annapolis, and it was not long before we met him and became fellow sailors. Jim enthralled us with stories about his thirty-day crossing of the Atlantic Ocean. My favorite was his explanation that neither he nor his comrades knew anything about sailing or navigation, so when they left Plymouth Harbor they just headed out into the English Channel and “turned right.” Jim guffawed when he told that story, but then he explained that one of his comrades was a professor of math who quickly mastered the tricky business of celestial navigation. Totally hooked, I began to read books about blue water sailing, particularly those written by married adventurers, the Hiscocks, the Roths, and the Pardeys. Lana did not read about blue water sailing as much as I did, but we talked endlessly about it. Our responsibilities had us tied down, but that did not keep us from dreaming about sailing away into the blue water.

  In January of 1981, I was scouring the Washington Post classifieds and saw an ad for a thirty-one-foot Golden Hind sailboat. I called the owner and within thirty days, Lana and I were the proud owners of a boat just like the one that Jim Ford had sailed across the Atlantic. We named her Salute and every time we got a chance we would go out for a day sail, but we especially enjoyed the times when we would anchor out for the night. We gained experience and soon began planning a trip to Maine, which would take us from the Chesapeake to the Delaware Bay and then into the blue water between Cape May, New Jersey and Block Island, Rhode Island.

  25

  SAVED IN ANOTHER WAY

  Skepticism is the beginning of Faith.

  Oscar Wilde

  Sailing, and our dreams of blue water voyaging helped us to see the distinction between natural forces and the artificiality of politics, but how did God fit into the picture? How did God fit in with the Vermilye creed? These great puzzles, lifelong quandaries for me, began to clarify soon after I got to Congress.

  Once we settled into our house in Arlington, we started looking for a church home. We considered several churches that were close by, but then we realized that the National Methodist Church—the representational church for the Methodist denomination—was only a twenty-minute drive just across Chain Bridge, in the District of Columbia, near American University.

  We were married in the Methodist Church, raised our children in that denomination, and I had served a term as chair of the Administrative Board of the First United Methodist Church in Searcy. The pastor at the National Methodist Church was Dr. William A. Holmes, an Arkansas native who graduated from Hendrix College in Conway, Arkansas. It was a natural for us—or so we thought.

  We attended regularly for six months, but it did not take that long to realize that, too often, the church seemed to be teaching and preaching about human philosophy, science, or Supreme Court decrees. I have the utmost respect for Dr. Holmes; he has a good heart. He exalts Christ and points people to Him but we needed to go elsewhere.

  Lana heard about a new church that was meeting in a nearby junior high
school. It was nondenominational, started by Don and Sally Meredith, the couple who planted Fellowship Bible Church in Little Rock. On our first day at Potomac Chapel, I knew we were in the right place. There was a period of singing and praise, then a period of sharing, followed by a lesson. The lesson was always about scripture not current events, political, or social issues. We were also pleased to see that several congressional colleagues attended the new church. Mickey Edwards of Oklahoma was a regular as were Senator Bill Armstrong of Colorado and his wife, Ellen, a good friend of Lana’s. Several Democrats also found a home at Potomac Chapel. Congressmen Tony Hall of Ohio and Marvin Leath of Texas were regulars. Marvin’s wife, Alta was also a good friend of Lana’s.

  It was at Potomac Chapel that I first heard about The Four Spiritual Laws. Bill Bright’s little tract teaches us to put God—not man—in the center of our life. It was a simple revelation that enabled me, for the first time in my life, to see the Bible as entirely consistent and understandable. Before then, I saw the Bible as a beautiful, poetic collection of magnificent stories. To me it was a good guide for a busy man making his way through the challenges of life, but that was about it. I did not see the Bible as the inviolate word of God, and I certainly did not know how to put God in the center of my life. Man was in the center of my life, and it was my Vermilye will—not God’s will—that mattered most.

  I still had a long way to go, but at least I was now on the right road.

  26

  THE 1980 CONVENTION,

  MY HIGH WATER MARK

  Success is not measured by the position one has reached in life,

  rather by the obstacles overcome while trying to succeed.

  Booker T. Washington

  In 1980, I attended my first Republican National Convention. I was on the platform committee, so I needed to arrive in Detroit, the site of the convention, before most delegates. Lana and the kids left a few days later, driving our BMW. When they got to Detroit, we stayed with the Arkansas delegation at the Holiday Inn in Windsor, Canada, on the banks of the Detroit River, just across from the Joe Louis Arena.

  Ronald Reagan was the nominee-apparent, having turned back a serious bid by George Herbert Walker Bush. The national economy was in the tank. Interest rates and inflation rates were nearing twenty percent, unprecedented levels. The memory of gasoline shortages, closed filling stations and long lines at the pump, was fresh. The American people were furious, and as an added insult, fifty-three United States citizens were in their eighth month as hostages of the rogue state of Iran. They had been in captivity since militants seized the U. S. Embassy on November 4, 1979. The country was desperate for leadership.

  Reagan asked Congressman Guy Vander Jagt to deliver the keynote speech for the Republican National Convention. Guy was a renowned public speaker. President Richard Nixon called him the “best ever.” President Reagan said, “Some call me the great communicator but if there was one thing I dreaded during my eight years in Washington it was having to follow Guy Vander Jagt to the podium.”

  The stage was set. Expectations were sky high; it was going to be a good year for the Republican party. Ronald Reagan was almost certain to turn back President Jimmy Carter’s bid for a second term, and it appeared that we would gain several seats in the House and Senate.

  I had no idea that the historic confluence of events would lift me as high as I would ever get in national partisan politics. A few days before I left for Detroit, Congressman Guy Vander Jagt asked me to introduce him as the keynote speaker. He wanted me, as president of the freshman class, to make the point that a new force was moving in America, a force built on Republican principles. I would only have ten minutes, but it was a rare opportunity for a rookie.

  I, of course, thought my speech was perfect. I showed it to Vander Jagt before I gave it and he liked it too but as I read it three decades later, I realize any national politician, of any party, could say the same thing, in any year. I am a little disappointed in myself for that reason, but bearing in mind that my main job was to whip twenty thousand people into a frenzy, here is part of what I said when the chairman introduced me:

  Thank you, Mr. Chairman. My fellow Americans, tonight I am excited about introducing the keynote speaker because something good is happening in America, something that is long overdue.

  There is a new force building in this country. I felt it in 1978 when I got close to the good people of Arkansas in my race for Congress …

  This year, people in and out of government, politicians, businessmen, workers, farmers, homemakers, everyone—the young, the old—tell me that they feel the same force building in this country. Everyone can sense that something is happening in America…

  As we enter the ‘80s, a ground swell is coming and it is coming from the grass roots and it can’t be turned back. People want a change. People want to start acting like Americans again.

  People want to build for the future on the solid foundations that made America great. They don’t want more of the same. It is an American renaissance—that is what the new force is all about. It is a rebirth of the American character, that special something that sets this country apart from all the nations of the world.

  One writer put it this way, ‘France is a land and England is a people but America is more.’ America, he said, ‘is a willingness of the heart.’

  And, that is what it is. The American character is that drive, independence, optimism, determination, grit, gumption, all those qualities wrapped up in our trust in God.

  Tonight the Renaissance begins and it begins with the keynote that is more than a theme for this meeting. This is a keynote for the future and who better to give such an important address than a man who personifies our national character, a man of hope who treasures his heritage and loves his family, one who worked hard to get an education and make his way in the world. Who better to sound the keynote for our future than a man who truly understands America.

  As a leader in Congress, Guy Vander Jagt has traveled to every state in this Union helping to elect almost half the members of the United States House of Representatives. He has crisscrossed this country from East to West, from North to South, and he has listened and he has learned.

  Who better to start us on a new beginning than a man who loves his country and gives up so much to do his duty? Who better to call out to the American people than a man so eloquent and sincere that Americans everywhere will cling to and savor his every thought tonight?

  My fellow Delegates, I ask you, do you want to hear from such a man? (A chorus of ayes.)

  With one voice, do you want to hear from such a man? (A chorus of ayes.)

  Do you believe there is hope? (A chorus of ayes.)

  Do you want a new beginning? (A chorus of ayes.)

  Do you want to hear a keynote for the future? (A chorus of ayes.)

  Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my honor to present my colleague in the Congress from this beautiful and friendly state of Michigan, the keynote speaker, the Honorable Guy Vander Jagt. (Applause and standing ovation.)

  The huge crowd loved it and even though it now sounds as phony as most election-year speeches, it was my high water mark in national partisan politics.

  27

  1980 ELECTION, REAGAN INAUGRAL

  Can we solve the problems confronting us? Well, the answer is

  an unequivocal and emphatic “yes.” To paraphrase

  Winston Churchill, I did not take the oath I

  have just taken with the intention of presiding over the

  dissolution of the world’s strongest economy.

  Ronald Reagan, First Inaugural Address, Tuesday,

  January 20, 1981

  The 1980 election produced greater Republican gains than anyone had predicted. In the House, we did not win enough seats to take the majority, but in the Senate, Republicans picked up twelve seats and gained a fifty-three to forty-six seat majority. Portentously, the Republican party held a sizable majority of congressional representatives from a Deep S
outh state, South Carolina, for the first time since Reconstruction.

  In Arkansas, Frank White unseated Governor Bill Clinton to the surprise of everyone, including Frank. Clinton had raised the license fee for cars and mishandled the relocation of Cubans at Fort Chaffee. Frank became famous for his two-note campaign: Cubans and car tags.

  There was no change in our congressional delegation but that is because I resisted the temptation to run against Dale Bumpers. My closest friends and advisors said I would look uncharacteristically opportunistic if I challenged Dale after only one term in the House. I was convinced I could win, but I was not sure we could hold the Second District seat. For those reasons, I passed up my best chance to go to the Senate. After I chose not to run, a political unknown, Bill Clark, was the only person to file for the Republican nomination for U. S. Senate. He raised almost no money and got his biggest headline by handing out miniature Clark Bars, a popular candy at the time. Clark wound up getting forty-three percent of the vote, an unbelievably strong vote for a Republican in a statewide race. I won my first re-election contest with seventy-nine percent of the vote. My Democrat opponent was Jacksonville Mayor James G. Reid. Dale Bumpers told me later that I could have beaten him had I chosen to run. I believe he was right. In politics, timing is everything.