[Congressional Record Volume 145, Number 85 (Wednesday, June 16, 1999)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E1279-E1281]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                   A FAVORITE SON GOES TO WASHINGTON

                                 ______
                                 

                           HON. NANCY PELOSI

                             of california

                    in the house of representatives

                        Wednesday, June 16, 1999

  Mr. PELOSI. Mr. Speaker, I commend to my colleagues the following 
article about one of our very own, Congressman George Miller of 
California, who this year marks his 25th year of service in Congress.
  This article poignantly captures George's commitment to public 
service and his unwavering belief in our system of government. As 
George says in this article, being a Member of Congress ``is a 
privilege. It's what makes me get up in the morning and go to work, 
knowing in one fashion or another you're going to get to be a 
participant in our Democratic system. It sounds really corny, except 
it's really energizing.''
  This article also presents comments from the people who do not share 
George's views but who bestow upon him their respect for his integrity, 
his candor, and his unrelenting pursuit of what he believes to be right 
for this country.

              [From the Contra Costa Times, June 6, 1999];

             A Favorite Son Goes to Washington--Repeatedly

                          By Daniel Borenstein

       Washington--Despite George Miller's limp from his surgery, 
     the 6-foot-4-inch congressman sets the brisk pace as he and 
     fellow liberal Rep. John Tierney of Massachusetts cross the 
     Capitol grounds.
       The pair lament the high prescription drug prices Americans 
     without health insurance are forced to pay. To Miller, it's a 
     political weapon to embarrass Republicans with ties to drug 
     companies.
       And it's a wrong that could be righted--if the Democrats 
     were in the majority. ``It sure would be fun if we could get 
     this place back,'' he says.
       Meet George Miller, ambivalent congressman.
       On the one hand, he loves throwing political grenades 
     across the aisle and watching Republicans squirm. On the 
     other, he longs for days before the 1994 elections when 
     Democrats ruled the House of Representatives.
       Those were days when he wrote landmark legislation on water 
     subsidies, nutritional aid for poor pregnant women, foster 
     care and offshore oil drilling. These days, he tries to 
     defeat Republican bills.
       Miller, D-Martinez, was first elected to the House a 
     quarter-century ago, at age 29. Today he is 54. Of the 435 
     House members, only 17 have been there longer.
       He came to Washington with the Watergate class of 1974, one 
     of 75 new Democrats elected to the House three months after 
     President Nixon resigned. Only six remain in the House.
       Although most of the players have changed, the game 
     continues. And Miller, who played linebacker in school and 
     belongs to the minority party in Congress, is once again 
     playing defense.
       ``On offense, you've got control of the game, you know when 
     the ball is going to be hiked, you know what the play is,'' 
     he says. ``On defense, you've got to try to anticipate, 
     you've got to think about it. You've got to stop things from 
     happening.''
       A mischievous smile spreads under his white mustache. 
     ``Sometimes,'' he says, ``it's more fun.''
       Miller's time on the floor is up, but he won't stop 
     talking.
       Rep. William Goodling, R-Penn., chairman of the Education 
     Committee, raps the gavel repeatedly. Finally, he slams it 
     down with a thunderous bang that echoes through the cavernous 
     hearing room in the Rayburn House Office Building.
       ``Oh, bang it again if it will make you feel better,'' 
     Miller says.
       ``I'll bang it and I'll bang it on your head,'' Goodling 
     snaps back, then threatens to have the sergeant at arms 
     remove him.
       This is what Miller calls ``calculated chaos.''
       Later, he marches out of Rayburn House, across South 
     Capitol Street, into the Longworth Building--bypassing the 
     metal detectors as members of Congress are entitled to do--
     and into the elevator. All the time ranting about the 
     Republicans.
       He checks the elevator lights to see what floor he's on and 
     realizes the man next to him is watching Miller complain to a 
     reporter.
       ``Never mind us,'' Miller says with a smile. ``I'm 
     pontificating.''


                               A big bark

       Miller is a top Democratic pontificator. With his booming 
     voice, imposing physical presence and quick debating skills, 
     he has become a liberal voice for, and within, the party.
       ``Nobody out-barks George when he's trying to make a 
     point,'' says Leon Panetta, former congressman and former 
     White House chief of staff.
       Panetta knows Miller well. He served in Congress with him, 
     lived in Miller's row house 2\1/2\ blocks from the Capitol 
     for about eight years and played basketball with him in the 
     House gym.
       In some ways, Miller is the same on and off the court, 
     Panetta says. ``If he felt somebody hit him wrong, he'd tell 
     him, he'd yell at him, and sometimes he'd stomp off, and 
     everybody knew George was pissed.'' But, ``stay out of his 
     way for an hour and you'd be fine.''
       There was little doubt you'd want him on your team. ``When 
     he plants himself under the basket there aren't a hell of a 
     lot of people who are going to go through him.''
       These days, the Democrats plant Miller on talk shows, at 
     news conferences and on the House floor. He is one of about 
     15 House Democratic leaders who meet almost daily in a small 
     windowless conference room in the Capitol to plot strategy.
       Last month, when, in the wake of the Littleton, Colo., high 
     school shooting, the Senate passed new gun laws, Miller 
     insisted House Democrats push for the same without delay, 
     despite warnings from some Democrats that there could be 
     political fallout from the gun lobby.

[[Page E1280]]

       When former Speaker Newt Gingrich, R-Ga., was facing 
     accusations he used tax-exempt money for political purposes, 
     Democrats sicced Miller on him, dispatching him to make the 
     case on every national television show from Washington that 
     was interested.
       When Miller couldn't get the House to take up campaign 
     finance reform, he used delaying tactics that forced Members 
     to repeatedly drop what they were doing and rush to the House 
     floor to vote on motions to adjourn. It was what the Los 
     Angeles Times called ``Miller's guerrilla war.''


                            Political blood

       It's little wonder Miller thrives on politics. He was 
     reared on it.
       His father, George Miller, Jr., was a state senator who 
     became chairman of the powerful Senate Finance Committee. 
     Today, the bridge spanning the Carquinez Strait between 
     Benicia and Martinez bears his name.
       George Miller III was born in Richmond on May 17, 1945. He 
     was one of four children, and the only boy. About five years 
     later, the family moved to Martinez.
       When he was still a baby, his father was first elected to 
     the Legislature. The Miller household was as political as 
     they come.
       ``When I was younger, it was race relations. We had people 
     coming to our house to get counseling and encouragement from 
     my father to get involved one way or the other, organizing to 
     send people to the South, the Freedom Riders.
       ``When I was older, in college, it was the free speech 
     movement, the war in Vietnam. Those were the debates that 
     took place in our living room.''
       When he was in high school, his father would drive by the 
     bus stop in the morning.
       ``He said, `What's going on in school?' I said, `Nothing,' 
     `Get in the car. Don't tell your mother.' And I'd go up and 
     follow him around. Sit in on meetings in the governor's 
     office, or sit on the floor in the state Legislature, run 
     errands for him, and get to know people.
       ``And watch and listen and watch and listen.''


                         A learning experience

       Shortly after midnight on New Year's Day 1969, Miller's 
     father had a heart attack and died. He was 54.
       Looking back, Miller says, that time is a blur. He had just 
     started law school in the fall and he and his wife--Cynthia, 
     who was his sweetheart at Alhambra High School in Martinez--
     had two young boys.
       ``I don't think I really had a chance to mourn my father's 
     death the way I would have liked to have,'' he says.
       He was soon running in the special election to replace his 
     dad. Though Miller was just 23, then-Assemblyman John Knox, 
     D-Richmond, and Democratic Party leader Bert Coffey, friends 
     of Miller's father, felt he was the best shot to keep 
     Republicans from gaining a majority in the Senate, which at 
     the time was evenly divided between Democrats and 
     Republicans. He beat Supervisor Tom Coll of Concord and 
     banker Fortney Stark of Danville in the Democratic primary. 
     But then he had to face John Nejedly, who had been a district 
     attorney for 11 years.
       Miller was outmatched. ``There was no record,'' Nejedly 
     recalls. ``The only thing that could be said was he was his 
     father's son.''
       The voters agreed. Nejedly trounced him and served in the 
     state Senate for the next 11 years.
       Miller went to work in Sacramento as legislative assistant 
     to then-Sen. George Moscone. While working in the Capitol, 
     Miller completed law school.


                            Off and running

       He says he would probably be practicing law today had 
     Democratic Rep. Jerry Waldie not decided to run for governor 
     in 1974.
       ``I had been to Washington once,'' Miller recalls. ``I 
     thought back east was Reno.'' But law school had taught him 
     how much influence he could have in Washington. ``There was a 
     real sense you could bring about change.''
       Coffey, who had been his father's longtime political ally, 
     conducted a poll and found the young Miller had a shot. With 
     that, Miller was off and running.
       ``He was still young, but now he was experienced and 
     ready,'' says Philip O'Connor, his campaign manager in 1974. 
     ``He had five years in Sacramento.''
       This time, the bigger battle was expected to be the 
     primary, in which Miller faced a local labor leader and 
     Concord City Councilman Dan Helix.
       ``His previous run against Nejedly helped him a lot,'' says 
     Helix. This time, ``he came over as someone who had studied 
     the issues. He was articulate. He showed a good sense of 
     humor. He was relaxed.''
       Miller won the primary and defeated Republican Gary 
     Fernandez, Richmond's vice mayor, in the November general 
     election by 56-44 percent.
       It was the last time Miller received less than 60 percent 
     in a congressional election. Blessed by reapportionments for 
     the 1980s and 1990s that continued to leave him a heavily 
     Democratic district, Miller has never had another tough 
     election challenge.
       Sanford Skaggs, the prominent Walnut Creek attorney who 
     chaired Fernandez's campaign in 1974, says Miller could 
     easily survive in a less Democratic district.
       ``I respect him a lot for his attitudes and honesty and 
     devotion to public service,'' says Skaggs. ``Even though I 
     disagree on some of his major positions, I think his motives 
     are pure. He could survive in a tougher district.''


                          Banking on his name

       The most valuable thing his father left him, Miller likes 
     to say, is his good name.
       He also left his son his political connections. The senator 
     was not only one of the most influential members of the 
     Legislature, he was also former chairman of the state 
     Democratic Party and one of the early supporters of Rep. Phil 
     Burton.
       He supported Burton when he ran for Assembly in 1956. 
     ``Burton never forgot the kindness,'' writes Burton 
     biographer John Jacobs. ``Miller had helped legitimize his 
     candidacy.''
       Burton went on to Congress, where he became one of the most 
     influential liberals ever to serve in the House. When young 
     Miller ran for Congress, Burton, a prolific fund-raiser, 
     helped the kid. Miller remembers seeing Burton work a crowd 
     that year on his behalf at a political event for U.S. Sen. 
     Alan Cranston in San Francisco's Fairmont Hotel.
       ``He was raising money, literally taking it right out of 
     people's wallets,'' Miller recalls. ``He was saying, `What 
     are you going to do for the kid?' He came to me and said, 
     `You need to raise money for George Miller.' I said, `I am 
     George Miller.` He said, `Wait a minute,' and then he went on 
     to the next guy.''
       When Miller arrived in Washington, Burton took him under 
     his wings. ``Phil was really his great mentor,'' Panetta 
     recalls. ``It was as close to a blood relationship as you can 
     get.''
       Burton made sure he and Miller were on the same two 
     committees, then called Interior, which handles environmental 
     issues, and Education and the Workforce. Those are the same 
     assignments Miller holds today, although Interior is now 
     called Resources.
       And Burton taught Miller the ropes. ``First and foremost, 
     he taught me the place isn't on the level,'' Miller says. 
     ``What you hear is not always what's being said and what you 
     see is not always what's being done. You really have to 
     increase your abilities to observe and dissect information.''
       Burton also taught Miller how to bridge the partisan gulf. 
     Known for being loud and brash, Burton cribbed together 
     bipartisan coalitions to pass some of the most significant 
     park bills in the nation's history. He made sure his bills 
     had something in there for everybody.
       Where Burton doled out parkland as a way to reward 
     supporters or punish opponents, Miller reaches across the 
     aisle with fiscal enticements.
       John Lawrence says Miller's approach has often been through 
     economics. Lawrence went to work for Miller's campaign in 
     1974 while he was a UC-Berkeley doctoral student, followed 
     him to Washington and has worked for him ever since.
       ``It's been as much how much it tears at your wallet as how 
     much it tears at your heartstrings,'' Lawrence says. ``From a 
     fiscal standpoint, George has always been very attuned that 
     these programs have to make economic sense.''
       It's a concept embraced by Rep. Dan Miller, R-Fla. The two 
     Millers are not related and are far apart on most issues. But 
     they are the lead sponsors of the bill to end sugar 
     subsidies, which they call corporate welfare that stimulates 
     overproduction of sugar, and pollution, in the Everglades.
       When it comes to sugar subsidies, cheap mining of federal 
     lands or building roads in national forests. Dan Miller says 
     he and his East Bay colleague find common ground in their 
     opposition.
       ``I'll come at it from a fiscal perspective, he'll come at 
     it from an environmental perspective, but we agree.''


                             Staying power

       The reality is that the Miller-Miller bill has almost no 
     chance of passage in this Congress. But George Miller is used 
     to that.
       Most of his legislative accomplishments have come after 
     years of persistence. ``He's had a lot of staying power,'' 
     says Lawrence. ``That has served him well. That's what is 
     largely responsible for his reputation as a legislator.''
       It also helped that he was in the majority party for his 
     first 20 years in Congress. It was then that he won passage 
     of some of his most significant legislation, including:
       Poor pregnant and postpartum women and their infants 
     receive free food and nutritional supplements.
       Oil drilling rights on federal lands are now awarded by 
     competitive bidding, replacing lotteries that gave the rights 
     away for almost no fee.
       The federal government shares revenue it receives from off-
     shore oil drilling with the affected state. In California, 
     the money is earmarked for education.
       Federal matching grants are available for local programs 
     that aid victims of domestic abuse.
       Parents who adopt foster children receive federal money for 
     a youngster's care. Previously, funds were cut off when a 
     foster child was adopted, leaving a disincentive for adoption 
     that kept a child from being bounced from home to home.


                               Water wars

       Miller's toughest and biggest legislative victories have 
     been in his battle with California farmers over water. It 
     culminated in 1992, when Congress passed legislation co-
     written by Miller and then-U.S. Sen. Bill Bradley, D-N.J.

[[Page E1281]]

       The bill is Miller's ``legacy,'' says one of its opponents, 
     Dan Nelson, executive director of the San Luis & Delta-
     Mendota Water Authority.
       ``He is thought to be the father of that legislation. It 
     has fundamentally changed the way we do business. Some of it 
     good and needed and some of it, frankly, punitive or 
     inequitable.''
       The Miller-Bradley bill overhauled the distribution of 
     federal water in California.
       Farmers lost the open-ended contracts for cheap water and 
     now face tiered pricing that encourages conservation. For the 
     first time, using water to restore fish life in San Francisco 
     Bay and the Delta became a priority.
       Many California farmers hate the bill, which dramatically 
     drove up their water costs. And they blame Miller.
       ``He's got a long history of vilifying and terrorizing 
     agriculture, which has given him a bigger-than-life place in 
     the eyes of farmers,'' says Jason Peltier, manager of Central 
     Valley Water Project Association.
       Though Peltier has fought Miller for years, he admires the 
     political skills the congressman displayed as he masterfully 
     pushed through the bill.
       The water reforms weren't left by themselves in the 
     legislation, but packaged with dozens of major projects for 
     16 Western states. The lessons from Miller's mentor were 
     being used.
       ``We needed the ornaments on the Christmas tree,'' Lawrence 
     says. ``We learned a great deal at Phil Burton's knee.''


                            Clinton clashing

       Those were heady times for Miller. He had just ascended to 
     chairman of the House Interior Committee, the post Burton had 
     held until his death in 1983.
       With Bill Clinton's defeat of President Bush in 1992, 
     Miller was about to lead the House's environmental committee 
     while his party controlled Congress and held the presidency.
       Miller was even being mentioned as a possible interior 
     secretary in the new Democratic administration. He took 
     himself out of the running, however, saying he didn't want 
     the post.
       It's unlikely he would have fit in. The Clinton 
     administration has been a disappointment to him on 
     environmental issues.
       ``They get a little weak in the knees when the pressure 
     gets turned up,'' Miller says.
       Most recently, Miller was sharply critical of a Clinton 
     administration decision to weaken the standards for labeling 
     tuna ``dolphin-safe.'' Miller, who fought for the original 
     standards, says the latest move will increase the number of 
     dolphin caught in tuna nets.
       ``You have to look at all of this on a continuum,'' he 
     says. ``The clock doesn't run out and you win or lose. Things 
     ebb and flow in politics, and that's what makes it 
     frustrating to some extent because it's never static.''


                          A haven in Martinez

       Miller is also in continuous motion.
       He usually rises Monday morning in Martinez, gets on a 
     plane and heads for Washington. Barring a congressional trip 
     to Brazil, Japan or the Northern Mariana Islands, come 
     Thursday night or Friday, he returns to the district.
       That's the way he's done it for the past 25 years. For a 
     few years, his family lived with him in Washington, but his 
     late hours during the week and the need to be back in the 
     district on the weekend led to even less time together.
       During that period, the family bought the Washington row 
     house, where Miller still stays when he is in the capital.
       The two-bedroom, two-story, pale green brick house with the 
     chipped paint and overgrown front yard in the middle of urban 
     Washington is a striking contrast to Miller's suburban 
     Martinez home nestled under towering trees.
       Martinez is his sanctuary. ``It really is the one place 
     where I can just relax,'' he says, ``because I know on Sunday 
     night or Monday morning I have to get back on an airplane and 
     go back to Washington.''
       The house is just down the road from the house he grew up 
     in. His mother, now in her mid-80s, still lives nearby. The 
     house is also where his two boys grew up.
       They're both grown now. In 1996, the oldest, George Miller 
     IV, tried to follow his father and grandfather by running for 
     the Assembly. He lost in the Democratic primary to Contra 
     Costa County Supervisor Tom Torlakson, whose campaign slogan 
     was ``His own record, his own name.''
       Once again, a young Miller was beaten because voters felt 
     he had little to offer other than a family name.


                               The future

       Certainly, that can no longer be said of the congressman. 
     At a time when many Democrats can only win by moving to the 
     center, Miller clings to his liberal roots.
       ``He has never apologized for it.'' says Lawrence. ``He has 
     never taken to the term progressive.''
       Although he's been in Congress nearly 25 years, he's 
     relatively young for a senior congressman. The 17 House 
     members who have been there longer are all at least 60.
       On the other hand, his mentors--his dad, Burton, Moscone 
     and Coffey--are all dead. And Miller is the same age his 
     father was when he suddenly died from a heart attack.
       It all makes him think about his future. Sitting with his 
     sleeves rolled up and his tie loose as he adds hot sauce to 
     his enchilada at a restaurant half a block from his 
     Washington home, he reflects on life in the capital.
       ``The loneliness factor, the empty house factor, it just 
     wears on you,'' he says. ``But with all the stress and the 
     strain and the long hours, I still think it's worth it.''
       Miller still loves to be a political player. He ticks off 
     the issues he had worked on that very day: child labor and 
     sweatshops, sugar subsidies, the war in Kosovo, Sierra 
     forests, Delta water, education standards.
       ``I've never taken the honor of being a member of Congress 
     lightly,'' he says. ``It is a privilege. It's what makes me 
     get up in the morning and go to work, knowing in one fashion 
     or another you're going to get to be a participant in our 
     Democratic system. It sounds really corny, except it's really 
     energizing.''
       The bottom line is that there's no sign Miller will retire 
     any time soon. Indeed, he's making plans for the next phase 
     of his congressional career.
       Rep. William Clay, D-Mo., the ranking Democrat on the 
     Education and the Workforce Committee, announced last month 
     that this will be his last term. Miller is in line to succeed 
     him, to lead the Democrat's education agenda in the House. 
     And to become committee chairman if Democrats win back a 
     majority. Miller has put out word he wants the job.
       But to get it he will have to give up his ranking position 
     on the Resources Committee. Central Valley water leaders are 
     quietly gleeful.
       ``I'm excited for him to go pursue other areas,'' Peltier 
     says. ``It also excites me that if the Democrats take control 
     of Congress again, he won't be breathing fire on us 
     immediately.''
       Nelson concurs. ``Someone will just have to warn all the 
     education people just what they're in for. It will not be 
     status quo.''

     

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