The 

duality of Senator Reid
Las Vegas CityLife (NV) - July 20, 2006
 Author/Byline:  STEVE SEBELIUS
 Section: Cover Story

The bloggers loved Harry Reid.

Crammed into a series of rooms at the careworn Riviera hotel-casino in early June, attendees at
YearlyKOS, a convention of liberal political writers who publish on the Internet, had invited Nevada's
senior senator -- and the leader of the Democrats in the Senate -- to be their keynote speaker on the
conference's final day.

And when he spoke, they gave him three standing ovations, the same number they gave earlier in
the day to U.S. Sen. Barbara Boxer.

The amazing thing? Unlike Reid, Boxer is an actual liberal.

In fact, on paper, Reid and the writers who congregate electronically at DailyKOS, the blog that lent
its name to the convention, couldn't be more different.

They're pro-choice. He's pro-life.

They're against the war, and want the troops out now. He voted for the war, and refuses to sign on to
a timetable for withdrawal, although he has criticized the way the administration has handled the
occupation of Iraq.

They're against the Patriot Act. Reid voted for it.

They're irreligious. Reid's a devout Mormon.

They're free-speech purists. Reid votes for amendments to ban flag burning.

They're gay-friendly. Reid believes marriage should be between heterosexual couples only.

But somehow, they'd found common ground, lavishing praise on Reid, not just at their convention,
but on their blogs leading up to it. Why is a testament to one of Reid's most effective political skills:
His ability to make you think he's just like you, even if he's not.

"Sure, Sen. Reid is a very complex person," says his former press secretary, Tessa Hafen, who's
now running for Congress. "I look at it as being able to balance his various constituents. I think
Sen. Reid absolutely excels at finding common ground with people."

GIVING 'EM HELL, HARRY, IN REIDWORLD

Chief among Reid's accomplishments that earned him blogger love was his invocation in November
of Rule 21, an undebatable provision that forces the United States Senate to immediately recess into
closed session. An angry Reid invoked it on C-SPAN, demanding to know why the Senate
Intelligence Committee hadn't properly investigated the questions about prewar intelligence.

On one level, it was a stunt, a procedural trick that caught an overmatched Senate Majority Leader
Bill Frist off guard. But on another level, a symbolic level that Reid and his media-savvy senior staff
understand well, it was the minority party finally holding a super-powerful majority to account.
And coming on the heels of Reid's greatest hits -- he'd called President George W. Bush a "liar" for a
broken campaign promise on Yucca Mountain, and a "loser" over his domestic policies -- the Rule
21 maneuver was a perfect Reid moment. And it made him a hero to people who, though they might
not have another issue in common, felt disaffected and powerless before a government that took
them to war, spies on them and conducts domestic policy on a rhetorical level that's difficult, if not
impossible, to combat.

But if that incident made Reid friends, it also reinforced traits his critics detest.

"Playing politics with national security is one of the worst things," says Paul Adams, chairman of the
Republican Party of Nevada and a chief Reid critic. (Adams has started a website --
theReidworld.com -- dedicated to monitoring the senior senator, although Reid won't face voters
again until 2010.)

"His focus is obstruction. Leadership is not just standing in the way. It's finding a way out of the
wilderness," says Adams. Both Reid and Bush carried Nevada in 2004, Adams says, "there was
obviously affection for both of them. So coming out and saying 'liar, loser' is out of whack."
(Reid almost immediately apologized to the White House for the "loser" remark, but has stood by the
"liar" comment.)

How could Reid claim he was misled on prewar intelligence, Adams asks, when he failed to read a
classified National Intelligence Estimate that was made available to Congress? And didn't Reid,
along with many other Democrats, say that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction
before Bush declared war?

Reid laughs off the allegation: If his contention that intelligence was faulty is true, would reading a
faulty intelligence estimate have changed his mind? Reid asks, in his deadpan, matter-of-fact style.
"Not only was Harry Reid misled, the whole nation was misled. We were all misled," he says. And
based on what he was told, Reid says he did believe Hussein was arming his nation.

Another Reid trait: He rarely backs down from a fight. Like the one over the "nuclear option," in
which Republicans favored changing the Senate rules to prevent virtual filibustering of Bush's judicial
nominees, some of whom Reid has strongly opposed. Although the votes may have been there to
make the change, Reid won the media battle, saying it wasn't fair to steamroll the minority by
denying them a voice via the filibuster.

The mantra "Give 'em hell, Harry" followed Reid around YearlyKOS, but it's more than a
slogan. Reid's website -- giveemhellharry.com -- promotes his agenda with a Western flair.

HARRY ENSIGN

Harry Reid isn't an imposing man. He's more like a grandfather than the boxer he was in his youth.
His Washington pallor -- the exact opposite of junior Sen. John Ensign's omnipresent tan -- doesn't
help matters. And that's not the only difference between the two men. Reid doesn't inspire the kind
of red-meat passions that the good-looking, athletic Ensign evokes. Where Ensign's support come
from the heart, Reid's come from the head. His fans like what he stands for, what he does and how
he does it.

It shows in election results. Until 2004, Reid's margins of victory could be measured in single digits,
or even fractions, such as 1998's win over Ensign -- by a mere 428 votes -- statewide.

It was that political near-death experience that shook up the Reid camp and forged one of the oddest
relationships in politics. Reid and Ensign frankly acknowledge a "non-aggression pact" between
them that stills both men's tongues when the subject is the other. Reid lent only minimal help to 2000
Ensign challenger attorney Ed Bernstein, and even forgot to utter the man's name during the Clark
County Democratic Party confab. (The result was the embarrassing spectacle of Reid bounding back
to the stage to correct his oversight.) Worse still, an insider said, Reid failed to go to bat for
Bernstein within the Senate Democratic caucus, which signaled to other senators that Bernstein's
candidacy didn't have a good chance.

Ensign returned the favor in 2004, not going out of his way to help social conservative Richard Ziser
challenge Reid, who ended up winning 61 percent of the vote, his biggest margin ever, against Ziser.
For the first time, with Ensign's tacit help, Reid had made a respectable showing. This year doesn't
look to be much different; Ensign is running strong against presidential son Jack Carter.

Reid is still haunted by his past margins, and the sure and certain knowledge that he's vulnerable to
a strong, well-financed challenger. "I would be foolish if I said I wasn't concerned," Reid says.

Why is such a powerful figure in Washington, D.C. still so vulnerable at home?

"People don't have a fixed idea of who Harry Reid is," an ex-Reid aide says. "He doesn't distinguish
himself when he comes into a room." But Reid draws people in, with his grandfatherly demeanor and
soft voice, which makes them lean in to hear him better. "One thing I'll say about him: The man is a
leader."

And he's crafty, too: It was Reid who suggested to Bush last year that his White House counsel,
Harriet Miers, would have an easy confirmation in the U.S. Senate if she were nominated to the
Supreme Court. Bush nominated her, but saw the prospect immolated by a conservative supernova
of criticism. In the background, Reid lamented the conservative tendency to eat their own.

MEDIA MATTERS

Although Adams may be Reid's most dedicated critic these days, the Review-Journal has always
been Reid's nemesis, although the newspaper did endorse Reid in his 2004 race.

Publisher Sherm Frederick wrote a column recently in which he alleged Reid acted like a liberal in
Washington, D.C., but reverted to his conservative roots back home in Nevada. It's the paper's most
common refrain; editorials often append "D-Beltway" to Reid's name. (Full disclosure: Frederick is
publisher of the R-J, where the author of this story formerly worked, and is president of the Stephens
Media Group, which owns CityLife and the R-J.)

The problem is, the theory is wrong: As dedicated Reid watchers know, he's not a liberal, either here
or in Washington, D.C.

"For good or bad, I say the same thing everywhere I go," Reid says, a contention that is supported
by others interviewed for this story. (Reid allows that his position on immigration has changed over
the years, however.)

"That newspaper, the R-J, has been very, very unfair to me editorially," Reid says.

A former staffer says the attacks create the image of a dual Reid: "There's the Harry Reid of reality,
and the Harry Reid that's been helped along by attacks by the media. It's easy to make those
arguments because you can find just enough threads to hold that together."

It's not just the editorial page either. Former reporter and current columnist Jane Ann Morrison is
a Reid-hater, current and former staffers say. When the senator held his 2004 campaign kickoff and
answered questions from reporters, Morrison went off topic to ask why he hadn't ordered more tents
for his outdoor event at UMC. The question became an inside joke in the political press corps and in
the Reid campaign.

But Reid doesn't blame the media for all his troubles. Recently, after he accepted a credential to
attend a prizefight and was called out for the freebie, Reid's press shop responded with a slow-
motion implosion characterized by unbelievable assertions and lame excuses. He was scorchingly
criticized by some, including this writer. (Oddly enough, Reid found solace in the blogosphere, where
the mini-scandal was dismissed.)

"That was my fault. That wasn't their fault," Reid says. "I didn't see how people look at me. That story
hurt me, politically and personally."

It wasn't Reid's first brush with scandal: In 2003, the Los Angeles Times hit him for allowing
members of his family to lobby him and his staff, an unseemly practice that ended after the two-part
series was published. (One critic said the incident summarizes Reid, however: "Harry's totally self-
serving," this person says. "It's all about him, or his kids.")

More recently, Reid has slammed Republicans over disgraced lobbyist Jack Abramoff, a heavy
Republican donor who defrauded clients, especially Indian tribes that run casinos. Reid himself
received donations from tribes represented by Abramoff -- including one donation just a day after he
and Ensign signed a letter to Interior Secretary Gale Norton, advocating a policy helpful to the tribes
-- but Reid took no Abramoff money himself, and famously declared, "This is a Republican scandal."
He's refused to return any of the $61,000 he took from Abramoff-connected tribes, saying he did
nothing wrong.

REID THE RUTHLESS?

Ironically enough, it's critics on the left that inflict the hardest blows on Reid. For them, he can be a
disappointment. "He's like the pasty white version of George Bush," says one. They want him to be
pro-choice, to vote against flag-burning, to sign on to efforts like U.S. Sen. Russ Feingold's proposed
censure of Bush over the NSA wiretapping. Reid doesn't give in.

Another oft-repeated Reid criticism is this one: He doesn't forget injuries. "They [other politicians]
don't want to cross him. He holds grudges." Another adds, "If you cross Harry, punishment is swift.
And people know that about him." It's a trait that probably served Reid well in his climb up the
Senate's leadership ladder, where he was the whip, responsible for enforcing discipline and keeping
often-wayward Democrats on the same page. Reid was a constant presence on the Senate floor in
those days, running the machinery of the place with a comprehensive knowledge of the rules and
procedures.

But if he can be harsh, he can also be kind. It was during these Senate floor sessions
that Reid wooed U.S. Sen. Jim Jeffords away from the Republican Party. Jeffords became an
independent, but votes mostly with Democrats. The move shocked some, because it had been done
in the open, on the floor, in quiet conversations rather than in back rooms at dinners,
which Reid notoriously eschews.

But the episode was classic Reid: Calculating, strategic and smart.

It's how Reid, now the leader of a tiny delegation in Congress, has fought issues like Yucca
Mountain over the years. He's cut its budget, blocked its progress and tossed tools into the gears
and levers of the Senate to slow it down.
When the Bush administration tried to redirect funds from the sale of public land in Nevada -- which
must by law be spent in Nevada -- Reid fought to a draw and finally arranged a trade: He'd support
Idaho Gov. Dirk Kempthorne as Interior secretary if Bush would back off the local money for the rest
of his tenure at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. Bush agreed.

And that's something even liberals know deep down: While Reid not be one of them, and while he
may not do it as vigorously as they'd like, Reid does stand up to Bush.

What may frustrate Reid's critics is his uncanny political cloaking device, his ability to come across in
ways that resonate with an audience, even one that disagrees with him.

"There's the Harry Reid who comes from the heart and there's the Harry Reid who's pure political
calculus," says a former staffer. While a personal story might touch him and spur him to use the
value of his office to accomplish something, "he's got that ability to become totally dispassionate
about things." This is the essence of the two Reids; it breaks not on political lines, but ideological
ones. "The things that motivate him really do come from a true place," the staffer says.

But that doesn't mean Reid never gets caught trying to appeal to both sides. In 2000, Reid sent out
two different letters to constituents on Question 2, Ziser's petition to amend the state constitution to
ban gay marriage. In one letter, he said he'd be voting for the measure, while in another, he said it
was "intended to be divisive and redundant rather than protective of the institution of marriage."

Which was true? How about both? Reid voted for the measure because he really does think
marriage should be reserved for the traditional male-female partners, but he also believed the matter
was being used as a political wedge to divide voters and boost Republican prospects.

When the matter emerged in Washington D.C. this year, Reid didn't waver: He denounced the issue
in a strongly worded speech that listed a dozen priorities that were being ignored while Republicans
tried to pass a federal gay marriage ban, one that was doomed to fail. The matter belongs with the
states, Reid said. And in his state, he'd already helped pass the measure with his vote.

HARRY'S HATS

Harry Reid has several jobs: First, he's Nevada's senator. He's also the highest-ranking Democrat in
the nation. But Reid's also the head of the Democratic Party in Nevada, a role that has lent him
some controversy over the years.

Last year, Reid, along with several other Democratic officials, penned a letter that said both
gubernatorial candidates state Sen. Dina Titus and Henderson Mayor Jim Gibson were "good
Democrats" who "both share the same core values." The missive encouraged "a good, positive
primary contest." An innocuous plea for pre-primary unity it was not; in fact, it was an assault on
Titus' main campaign plank, which is that the conservative Gibson (who has supported Republican
candidates in the past and holds conservative social positions) wasn't a "real Democrat."

Titus and her supporters were outraged by the letter. It stoked lingering resentment left over from
2002, when a seat she coveted on the Clark County Commission was vacated by Dario Herrera,
whom Reid encouraged to run for Congress, and filled by senatorial son Rory Reid, whom Titus
knew better than to challenge. (Herrera was later convicted of taking bribes; Reid says he confronted
the once-promising commissioner with rumors of corruption, and that Herrera lied to him about it.)

Reid's been known to play political chess, recommending former Attorney General Brian Sandoval
for a federal judgeship to avert a Sandoval candidacy in 2004. (As part of their close friendship,
Ensign allows Reid to share his senatorial privilege of recommending judges to the president for
appointment to the bench.)

Similarly, when U.S. Rep. Jim Gibbons waited until August 2003 to announce he wouldn't
challenge Reid for the Senate, it was widely assumed he and Reid had struck a deal; Reid later
endorsed Gibbons' "Education First" initiative, which would result in almost no changes to state
operations, but sounds awfully good in campaign literature.

And what about trying to defeat Ensign and perhaps return the Senate to Democratic hands, instead
of toasting the junior senator at a weekly breakfast for visiting Nevadans in
Washington? Reid explained to reporters at YearlyKOS, "I have to go where I think we have the best
opportunity." He noted later he tried to seduce Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman into running, but
Goodman said no. After that, Jack Carter emerged as a candidate. "The truth is, if I had searched for
somebody, I couldn't have found anybody better than [former President Jimmy] Carter's
kid," Reid said.

Plus, as one person candidly noted, it's not like a Democratic junior senator would necessarily be
better. When Reid was serving alongside former U.S. Sen. Richard Bryan, their staffs often
competed for media attention and credit on legislation.

NO MAN KNOWS MY HISTORY

Reid is both humble and aggrandizing, and he hides a wicked sense of humor under a taciturn
exterior. (Asked about a liberal move to impeach Bush for constitutional violations related to the
National Security Agency warantless spying program, Reid calmly retorts: "Who would be president
if he were impeached? That's a non-starter for me.") There's no denying, however, that he's not
having an especially good time at work.

"I'm the top Democrat in the country right now," Reid says, noting he's got to take care of his
"constituents" in the Senate as well as his constituents back home. (Get ready for another "D-
Beltway" reference, senator.) "Enjoyment is not part of my response," he says, adding, "I get great
satisfaction from what I do. I'm in on everything that goes on."

For example, he says, the recent nomination of Jack Wellinghoff to the Federal Energy Regulatory
Commission was Reid's doing, since he makes nominations to partisan boards when a Democratic
perspective is required.

"Everybody in the world wants a piece of Harry Reid because he's where the action is," a former
staffer says. "He really is a political boss in the old style. He's just constantly being pulled in every
direction."

Reid says perceived inconsistencies -- his fellow Mormons, for example, think he's pro-choice, a
popular misconception he can't seem to shake, and, in many cases, wouldn't want to because it
benefits him with certain groups -- come from additional scrutiny now that he's become the highest-
ranking Democrat ever from Nevada.

"Everything I do now is more public," he says.

But Reid's selling point for Nevada has always been his ability to bring home pork, something that's
helped him win past elections and something he says will help him avoid the fate of colleagues like
Tom Daschle, the previous minority leader who lost because home-state voters felt he'd strayed
from hometown values.
"I bring so much back to the state of Nevada," he says, citing hundreds of millions in appropriations.
(Federal highway money and homeland security grants are two of the biggest; and using the Nevada
Test Site as a national counter-terror training center was Reid's idea.)

Plus, Reid says, he can collect favors from other lawmakers, given that he makes committee
assignments. It's the kind of statement that shows Reid knows how the game is played, and is an
avid player.

But ask him if he likes it, and Reid doesn't say yes. "The job I have is an extremely lonely job. ...
Sometimes you don't look forward to what you have to do."

Not that he's complaining: "How could I ever not be grateful for having the opportunity that I
have?" Reid says, trotting out his hardscrabble youth in Searchlight. Sometimes, on the ride in to the
Capitol, Reid says he thinks "Damn, I can't believe I have this job."

"I don't think there are a lot of people who understand my job," Reid says. Standing up to Bush, the
thing that's made him a hero to all those lefty bloggers, is all part of a day's work, not a perk. "I felt
that's my duty and my obligation," he says.

"Joy is not part of my life."