[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 145 (1999), Part 2]
[Senate]
[Pages 1969-1970]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                         ADDITIONAL STATEMENTS

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                       TOWARD A BIPARTISAN SPIRIT

 Mr. HOLLINGS. Mr. President, I believe it would be helpful for 
all of us to consider the example of bipartisan cooperation and 
collegiality set by many of our predecessors. Jack Valenti, a former 
advisor to President Lyndon Johnson and a man many of us know 
personally, nicely captured that spirit in a recent editorial, 
published in the Los Angeles Times, urging a return to ``political 
civility.''
  There was a time, Mr. President, when leaders of both parties, men 
like President Johnson and Everett Dirksen, knew the importance of 
maintaining cordial relations and cooperating to further the national 
interest. As Jack Valenti puts it, ``they knew that compromise was not 
an ignoble word.''
  In today's atmosphere, I fear that cooperating on anything for the 
good of the country will prove extremely difficult. In this trying 
time, we all should consider Jack Valenti's words, as well as the 
spirit of the bygone era he invokes.
  At this time, Mr. President, I ask that Mr. Valenti's editorial be 
printed in the Congressional Record.
  The editorial follows:

              [From the Los Angeles Times, Jan. 29, 1999]

                 Two Old Pols Knew the Art of a Bargain

                           (By Jack Valenti)

       Controversy rages in Washington. But there is one fact in 
     which agreement is universal: Between a majority of the 
     people's representatives and the people's president, there is 
     a continuing antagonism that makes civil communication almost 
     impossible.
       But ``what if''? What if, frequently, President Clinton put 
     his feet up on the coffee table on the second floor of the 
     mansion with either the speaker of the House (or the majority 
     leader of the Senate) lounging before him, chatting about 
     where the nation ought to be heading. Not that either would 
     change course or declare defeat. But the easy give and take 
     of an informal conversation, some pieces of worthy programs 
     might find daylight.
       Looking back is usually not very fruitful, but I remember 
     when it was different than it is now. When I was special 
     assistant to President Johnson, he charged me with 
     ``handling'' key members of the Senate and the House, which 
     meant they could call me direct with grievances, needs, 
     requests. I was authorized to use my best judgment in 
     responding.
       I bore personal witness to long-ago discourses wherein 
     President Johnson and the minority leader of the Senate, 
     Everett Dirksen of Illinois, would sip a drink, field some 
     little joke that poked fun at each other and do the nation's 
     business. Dirksen, the Republican leader, would call me 
     around noon in that voice dipped in cream and ladled out in 
     large velvet spoons, deep, sonorous tones to soothe even the 
     most obsessively discontented. ``Jack, would you tell the 
     boss I would like to see him today. Possible?'' Without 
     hesitation, ``Absolutely, senator. You want to come by around 
     6 o'clock for a drink with him?''
       At 3 o'clock that afternoon, Dirksen would rise on the 
     Senate floor and flail LBJ with a rhetorical whip, comparing 
     him unfavorably to Caligula. Three hours later, the two would 
     gather in the West Hall in the living quarters of the 
     president, with me as observer.
       ``Dammit, Everett, the way you treated me today made me 
     feel like a cut dog. You ought to be ashamed of yourself,'' 
     the president would say with a mocking grin. ``Well,

[[Page 1970]]

     Mr. President,'' came The Voice, trying in vain to suppress a 
     chuckle. ``I have vowed to speak the truth so I had no choice 
     in the matter.'' Much laughter. They both knew who they were 
     and why they were leaders. They were two warriors who had 
     fought a hundred battles against each other. They knew the 
     game, how it was played, no quarter given, no quarter asked 
     in the public arena. But when the day was done, they sat 
     around the campfire, as it were, to recount the details of 
     the fight over a flagon of fine refreshment. They both knew 
     that each needed the other, and the country needed them both. 
     If they fumed and fussed, determined to wound and kill the 
     other, no ultimate good would come of it. The land they 
     served would be agitated and stunted by stalemate. They both 
     understood the meaning of ``duty'' to the nation, and they 
     knew that compromise was not an ignoble word.
       The president would say, ``Now, Everett, I need three 
     Republican votes on my civil rights bill, and, dammit, you 
     can get them.'' Dirksen would ponder that somberly, and then 
     pull a sheaf of papers out of his inside pocket. ``I have 
     here, Mr. President, some potential nominees to the FCC, the 
     ITC, the SEC'' and so on through the catalog of acronyms 
     wherein the nation's regulatory labors get done.
       LBJ would sigh, and say, ``Jack, take down the names and 
     see if Mr. Hoover (J. Edgar) will certify them.'' Dirksen 
     would smile broadly, sip his drink. LBJ would do the same. 
     After more intimate joshing between them, Dirksen would 
     depart. There was no mention of a deal. There was no formal 
     commitment. But each knew the pact was struck. Each would 
     redeem the unspoken pledges given. And there was no leakage 
     to the press. Moreover, the warriors' code was intact. 
     Neither gloated in a supposed triumph over the other.
       By whatever mutations the gods of politics brew, there has 
     to be a return to political civility, whose end result is to 
     the nation's benefit. Neither LBJ nor Sen. Dirksen lost their 
     honor or abandoned their crusades when they talked. Nor did 
     they lose their bearings. For they knew such damage would 
     diminish them both, and most of all the country, whose people 
     they had by solemn oath sworn to serve, would be the loser. 
     They did their duty.

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