[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 167 (Thursday, October 26, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Pages S15972-S15973]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                         GOVERNMENT THAT WORKS

 Mr. LEVIN. Mr. President, there has been much talk recently 
about how our Government is no longer able to solve society's problems, 
how it is unresponsive to citizens' needs, how people feel they do not 
have a say in how their country is run, and how it seems that when the 
Government makes decisions that affect industry, it does not seek their 
input beforehand. Well, I would like to share with my Senate colleagues 
a story that should help give a different perception.
  It is a story about a mother who suffered a terrible tragedy and 
through it, summoned the strength and courage to help solve a serious 
problem across the country. The story is about Thelma Sibley, a woman 
from Milan, MI, who experienced the worst nightmare of any parent--the 
death of her child Nancy. Nancy Sibley died from a hidden hazard that 
no parent could be expected to anticipate. Nancy Sibley was strangled 
to death by the drawstring of her winter coat when the drawstring 
caught on a playground slide.
  After her child's death, Thelma Sibley became dedicated to ensuring 
that no other parent would have to relive her experience. Thelma Sibley 
looked to the Government for help and answers. As it happened, Ann 
Brown had recently been appointed Chairman of the U.S. Consumer Product 
Safety Commission. Chairman Brown was well aware of the danger 
drawstrings presented and reached out to Thelma for help in solving 
this problem. Working together, Thelma Sibley and Ann Brown were able 
to bring together representatives from the Nation's 33 leading 
manufacturers of children's clothing. When these industry officials 
were presented with the evidence of what these drawstrings were capable 
of doing, there was no hesitation in their decision to remove 
drawstrings from virtually all of the 20 million kid's garments 
manufactured annually in this country.
  It is indeed a remarkable story. I commend Thelma Sibley for her 
courage, and CPSC Chairman Ann Brown for bringing a human face to 
Government by reaching out personally to Thelma Sibley and working 
voluntarily with industry to solve this problem. I ask that the text of 
a Los Angeles Times article detailing this story be printed in the 
Record.
  The article follows:

                            A Powerful Pair

                         (By Elizabeth Mehren)

       BETHESDA, Md.--This could be the story of the bureaucrat 
     and the bereaved mother. Except that neither Ann Brown nor 
     Thelma Sibley comes close to either stereotype.
       Brown is a mother of two, grandmother of three and full-
     time advocate for children. As vice president of the Consumer 
     Federation of America, she was such a thorn in the side of 
     the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission that many 
     staffers feared her name. Imagine their reaction in March, 
     1994, when President Clinton named her to head the agency she 
     so relentlessly watchdogged.
       Sibley and her husband, Bob, live on a small farm in 
     Michigan, where for 20 years she has worked as a color and 
     soft-trim designer in the automotive industry. At 46, Sibley 
     is a devout Baptist and projects the kind of calm that 
     bespeaks solid, sensible values. She is probably one of a 
     handful of Americans who refer to Hillary Rodham Clinton as 
     ``the First Mom.''
       On Jan. 4, 1994, Sibley's 5-year-old daughter, Nancy, was 
     killed when the drawstring on her winter coat snagged on a 
     spiral slide at her school playground and strangled her. The 
     paths of Brown and Sibley were tied together by that 
     drawstring. Both women see the friendship and collaboration 
     that has blossomed between them as something organic, 
     something vital and something that was probably preordained.
       In her office here on the outskirts of Washington, Brown 
     explained, ``Were both strong women, determined women and 
     women of faith. We're also both extremely pragmatic.''
       With a perfect poker face, Sibley--a full head taller and 
     12 years younger than the small, compact Brown--remarked, 
     ``We're twins. But we were separated at birth.''
       In Sibley's case, ridding the children's clothing world of 
     the slender string that claimed Nancy's life became a 
     crusade. She remembers all too well how after Nancy's death, 
     her own words--the words of so many parents whose children 
     succumb to tragically preventable accidents--kept pounding in 
     her ears: ``If I'd only known.''
       If she'd only known, she would never have bought a coat 
     with a drawstring. If she'd only known, she would have ripped 
     out the drawstrings on every item in Nancy's wardrobe. Never 
     mind that it was January in Michigan--if she'd only known, 
     she wouldn't have bundled Nancy into a hood that closed tight 
     with a string.
       After the death of a child, two extreme reactions are 
     common. In one scenario, mothers and fathers descend into a 
     paralyzing miasma. Even the most ordinary of daily activities 
     drains them. Conversely, some parents spin into a maelstrom 
     of action. Psychologists call the latter response agitated 
     depression.
       That description captures the flurry of energy Thelma 
     Sibley experienced after Nancy died. For a full seven months, 
     her grief manifested itself kinetically. She ran on high 
     speed but felt nothing. ``I believe God put me in a numb 
     chamber because he knew I had a job to get done,'' Sibley 
     said.
       The job began when, reviewing a report to the school board 
     of Ann Arbor, where Nancy's accident occurred, Sibley came 
     across the name of the Consumer Production Safety Commission. 
     ``I had never heard of the agency before that,'' She said.
       While it made sense to Sibley that the school board and 
     possibly her own state might investigate Nancy's death, she 
     had no such expectations from the federal government. She 
     viewed Washington as remote and alien, too tied up with 
     politics to care much about people. ``I was very surprised 
     there actually was a federal agency, and that they were 
     actually going to do a report,'' Sibley said.
       She was also stunned to discover that drawstrings had been 
     removed from children's clothing in Great Britain in 1976. In 
     the same report she learned that the Canadian province of 
     Ontario, just across the border from Michigan, had taken 
     similar action in 1988, following the drawstring 
     strangulations of five children. Her research also revealed 
     that Nancy was one of a dozen American children to succumb to 
     drawstrings since 1985. The strings were associated with an 
     additional 27 nonfatal accidents.
       ``I thought, wait a minute, I live in Ann Arbor, Mich. 
     We're not talking Upper Yukon here. How come I didn't know 
     this?'' Sibley said.
       Sibley did what she always does in crisis. She prayed. The 
     next thing she knew, she was writing to ``the First Mom.'' 
     She and her husband were not blaming anyone for their 
     daughters death, Sibley wrote, but rather were seeking the 
     voluntary removal of accessories on children's clothing that 
     might cause harm. Since Nancy's accident occurred on an old, 
     outdated slide that was subsequently dismantled, the Sibley's 
     also wanted their child's death to help raise awareness about 
     playground safety.
       The White House wasted no time in forwarding Sibley's 
     entreaty to the Consumer Product Safety Commission, the same 
     agency to which Sibley was referred when she contacted the 
     Consumer's Union and Public Citizen, Ralph Nader's 
     organization. This is where the tale takes on a Twilight Zone 
     quality not normally found in stories concerning the federal 
     government, for Brown, newly installed as chairwoman of the 
     agency she once loved to hate, had already taken steps both 
     to ban drawstrings from kids' clothes and to contact Thelma 
     Sibley.
       ``There was a confluence,'' Brown said. ``Both of us are 
     convinced it was meant to be.''
       In Michigan, the inquiry into Nancy Sibley's death made 
     headlines in April, 1994, three months after the death and 
     just weeks after Brown began her government job. Although it 
     was a Sunday when Brown came across the Sibley file, she 
     instantly picked up the phone and called Nancy's parents.
       As Brown knew from decades of activism, personal contact 
     with parents is often a first step toward enlisting them as 
     catalysts of change. Nearly 30 years ago, Brown took up her 
     mission when her daughter Laura, then 2, began chewing on 
     what looked like a piece of cherry candy--but turned out to 
     be a potentially poisonous paint pellet. Brown and 

[[Page S15973]]

     Sibley were soon brainstorming--and later, barnstorming.
       By then Brown was well aware of the hazards that 
     drawstrings posed for children. She knew about the steps 
     taken in Britain and thought American children were ``just as 
     valuable as British children.'' In addition, Brown said, 
     ``There was already an existing memo about drawstrings, right 
     here, but nothing had been done.''
       She also understood the perils of bureaucratic blockage. 
     Legislating compliance was an invitation to inaction, Brown 
     maintained. In a congressional setting, a children's issue 
     was likely to be marginalized, watered-down and tacked on to 
     some unrelated measure, she thought.
       So Sibley and Brown called upon a secret weapon known by 
     parents to be fearsome, and usually foolproof. ``Peer 
     pressure,'' Sibley said, nodding knowingly. Brown called a 
     manufacturers' summit conference. No pressure, she said to 
     representatives of the 33 leading makers of kids' clothes who 
     came to her office soon after she brought Sibley onto her 
     team. No threats, Sibley added: ``no lawyers bugging them.''
       With no opposition, drawstrings were quietly removed from 
     virtually all of the 20 million children's garments 
     manufactured annually in this country. The low-key, 
     collaborative approach avoided legislative logjams and 
     eliminated any sense of government coercion.
       A quick tour of kids' or discount stores shows that where 
     one year ago there were drawstrings, now there is Velcro, 
     elastic or safety flaps to secure a hood or hat.
       Compliance was basically a ``nobrainer,'' said Deborah 
     Siegel, general counsel for Baby Guess/Guess Kids in Los 
     Angeles. ``I'm not sure how many companies were aware of what 
     had happened [to Nancy Sibley and other children],'' she 
     said. But once the problem was pointed out by Brown and 
     Sibley, ``it was fairly simple'' to make the necessary design 
     changes.
       Sibley and Brown agree that the move toward safer 
     childern's clothing was a fitting memorial for Nancy. But it 
     was by no means the end of their teamwork--nor, they hope, 
     their triumphs. Sibley has channeled her determination into a 
     push to improve playground safety.
       She and Brown have taped several video spots showing how 
     parents can monitor classroom and playground equipment that 
     may have been produced or installed before current standards 
     were enforced. Much of this equipment is poorly 
     maintained, and a great deal of it is too high off the 
     ground. In many areas, children still tumble onto hard 
     concrete rather than softer wood chips. Tattered old 
     swings can collapse if a child pushes the sky.
       In the course of working together, Sibley and Brown have 
     developed a remarkable relationship. They are girlfriends, 
     and both know this form of friendship to be as mighty as any 
     corporate conglomeration. When Sibley is in Washington, she 
     stays at Brown's house. They work a full day together, then 
     go home and throw on their bathrobes. Over a glass of wine, 
     they settle the problems of the planet while Brown's husband 
     fixes dinner.
       ``I want you to understand,'' Brown said, ``I do not invite 
     every-one I work with at this agency to come and stay at my 
     house.''
       But here's where the girlfriend connection tugs hard, and 
     where the link of motherhood builds fierce bonds. Ann Brown 
     never met Nancy Sibley. But she knows that the brown-eyed 
     girl Bob and Thelma Sibley adopted in infancy was a long-
     awaited gift. She has heard how Thelma Sibley did the 
     vacuuming with Nancy in a backpack. She knows how much the 
     Sibleys miss Nancy's zeal, her passion and her empathy for 
     people. She instinctively reaches over and clutches Sibley's 
     hand as Sibley recalls how Nancy used to brag that she looked 
     just like Mommy. At this disclosure, both women's eyes cloud 
     up.
       In the pyramid of Washington, Brown's agency is nobody's 
     idea of a powerhouse. The Consumer Product Safety Commission 
     narrowly escaped extermination in recent cutbacks, and its 
     current budget remains close to what it was more than a 
     decade ago. Until Brown took over, the commission was widely 
     viewed as moribund.
       ``Wrong,'' Sibley corrected. ``Dead.''
       But Brown and Sibley feel certain that a heavenly 
     cheerleader is breathing life into their efforts. Their work 
     is not just in Nancy's memory, Sibley said, ``it's in her 
     honor.''
       Parents who have not lost children often nod approvingly 
     when mothers like Sibley take up a cause. Catharsis is a word 
     you often hear. But parents of dead children know that true 
     catharsis is elusive, if it is attainable at all. The hole in 
     your heart is there forever. Still, said Sibley, who has kept 
     her day job in the auto industry while pursuing her unpaid 
     work with Brown, ``You don't cling to `if only I'd 
     known'''forever.
       ``That's fine for a few months,' Sibley said. ``But for me, 
     that's not inner healing. Inner healing is doing something.''


           Top Ten Giveaways In Senate Republican Budget Bill

   Mr. LEAHY. Mr. President, from the home office in Beebe 
Plain, VT, I bring you the top 10 giveaways in the Republican budget 
bill.
  10. ``What's white and black all over? A polar bear in an Arctic oil 
field.'' The bill opens the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to oil and 
gas drilling.
  9. ``You don't go to jail for this?'' The bill would permit companies 
to withdraw excess assets from their pension plans.
  8. ``One more write-off for the road.'' The bill would allow 
convenience stores with a gas pump to depreciate their property over 15 
years instead of the less generous 39-year period available for other 
convenience stores.
  7. ``And you thought baseball owners were greedy.'' The bill would 
allow the American College Football Coaches Association to avoid tax 
penalties and stop an IRS challenge of its pension plan.
  6. ``The oil is on the House.'' The bill eliminates the 12.5-percent 
royalty oil companies used to pay to drill for deep-water oil.
  5. ``You can keep the gems--but we're charging you for the dirt.'' In 
exchange for taking $2 to $3 billion of minerals each year from public 
lands, mining corporations return a measly $18 million to taxpayers 
under this bill.
  4. ``This should keep' em down on the farm.'' The bill would lift the 
current $75,000 cap on profits per farmer under Department of 
Agriculture marketing loan programs so the sky is the limit for wealthy 
farmers.
  3. ``Oh, I thought nurses came with the nursing home.'' The bill 
repeals national requirements for nursing homes to provide proper 
health standards--a loophole that will be seized by some to lower the 
quality of care and life for grandparents and parents.
  2. ``Say Aaaah.'' The bill repeals patient protection against 
excessive doctors' bills, allowing doctors to go after seniors for 
charges not reimbursed by Medicare.
  1. ``Rich guys finish first.'' The bill would give the top one 
percent of wealthy Americans an average tax break of $5,600 per year 
while raising taxes on 51 percent of American families --those who earn 
less than $30,000 a year.

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