I used to hold an open house at the Wilson Center on the first day of a new Congress so staff and fellows could drop by and observe on a big screen the pomp and pageantry of the world’s greatest democratic legislature organizing itself. In addition to providing coffee and doughnuts, I put together helpful handouts and provided a running commentary on what was transpiring in the House chamber.
Being a former Rules Committee staffer, I built my presentation to the moment at which the majority leader called up the resolution to adopt House rules for the new Congress. Much to my dismay, however, I found that after the election of the speaker, his or her acceptance speech and the swearing-in of members, my Wilson audience slowly vanished. I was left alone to ponder the fine procedural points being debated and to wonder why no one else found this fascinating.
I should have known, after having served nearly three decades in the House, that my colleagues’ reaction to the rules debate was no different than that of nearly all the House members who had been on the floor just moments before. As the speaker pro tem was gaveling for order (the actual speaker had already exited stage right), the chamber was cast into near darkness. It wasn’t a power outage. It was just the dousing of all the extra klieg lights that had been installed to brighten things for network and local TV cameras that had been given special permission to televise the opening ceremonies.
As far as the television people were concerned, the speaker’s election, acceptance speech and subsequent swearing-in of members were the only matters of interest. The constituents from around the country who packed the galleries to watch their new congressmen being sworn in seemed to concur. They, too, slowly filed out and headed for swearing-in parties in the House office buildings.
Left on the floor to carry on were a handful of members and staff responsible for managing the debate on adopting House rules. No matter how contentious some of the rules changes might have been, it was always difficult for minority party members to work up a high dudgeon of protest before an empty House.
In such moments of relative quiet, I tried to imagine what it must have been like in the post-Civil War years when, according to House historian George Galloway, it was the customary practice when a new House met “to proceed under general parliamentary law, often for several days, with unlimited debate, until a satisfactory revision of former rules had been effected.” Galloway observes that on these occasions the old rules were discussed “in a leisurely, good-natured way and the meaning of the complex code of the House was explained to the new members.” It was, in short, an opportunity for new and old members to size each other up while acquainting newer members with the way the institution functions.
Rep. Christopher H. Smith, R-N.J., left, David Goldman, center, and Arvind Chawdra right, attend a news conference in the Rayburn House Office Building on international child abduction. Goldman and Chawdra are fathers whose children were abducted by their mothers and taken abroad.
Each year since 1990, CQ Roll Call has reviewed the financial disclosures of all 541 senators, representatives and delegates to determine the 50 richest members of Congress. This year's report, derived from forms covering the calendar year 2012, shows it took a net worth of $6.67 million to crack the exclusive club.