Twinkle, twinkle Kenneth Starr: how physicist Rush Holt used the Clinton scandal to oust a Republican congressman - includes related article on Rush Holt Sr

Holt's consultants said that their candidate's open, professorial manner contrasted well with Pappas' more doctrinaire approach, which helped them define the GOP incumbent as an unreasonable ideologue.

Congressional candidate Rush Holt wasn't paying attention last summer. Neither was his media man, Brad Lawrence.

Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich (remember him?) was predicting the 1998 election would expand the GOP side of his chamber by 30 to 40 seats, largely because of the morality scandal dogging the Democratic president. Monicagate was presumed to be every Democratic candidate's nightmare. But Holt and Lawrence had something no other Democratic campaign had: a damaging videotape that linked their Republican opponent, incumbent U.S. Rep. Mike Pappas, to the controversial scandal investigation in a way that even repelled thousands of GOP-leaning voters.

Polling numbers suggested that they not use it, but - fortunately for the Democrats - Holt and Lawrence knew better.

Fusion Candidate

Holt's was hardly a typical candidacy. A physics professor at Swarthmore College during the '80s, he had spent the '90s as the assistant director of Princeton Plasma Physics Lab, the largest fusion research facility in the country.

But Holt was not a stranger to public policy, or even to politics. His father and namesake was the youngest person ever elected to the U.S. Senate (see sidebar, p. 48) and his mother, Helen, served as West Virginia's secretary of state. Holt himself had worked for the New York City Environmental Protection Agency, spent a year's sabbatical in the early '80s as a scientific adviser on the staff of U.S. Rep. Bob Edgar (D-PA), and another year at the end of the decade as a physicist in the State Department, specializing in arms control. Running for public office "wasn't such a big step, as it may seem," Holt insists. "I've never been too far from [politics], though always on the periphery, until recently."

Outraged by the "mean-spiritedness of the Gingrich Congress," the 50-year-old political "scion-tist" took his first crack at public office in 1996, running for the 12th District seat he eventually won in 1998. Raising $120,000, Holt placed a respectable third in the Democratic primary. The winner, Lambertville mayor David Del-Vecchio, went on to face 36-year-old Somerset County- Freeholder Mike Pappas (R) in the general election.

GOP moderates were uneasy with Pappas going into the 1996 congressional primary. An opponent of abortion rights who favored lifting the assault weapons ban, he had won the Republican primary with a 38 percent plurality. The moderate vote split between two state legislators.

DelVecchio ran an issue-oriented campaign in the fall, intent on proving Pappas was too right-wing for the district. It was hardly a stretch: President Clinton wound up carrying the 12th by a comfortable margin. But the presence of U.S. Senate candidate Dick Zimmer (R) on the ballot, who at the time represented the 12th District in the House, slashed the Democratic coattails, and Pappas prevailed by 3 points.

"This is a moderate district, not a Republican district," judges Holt, who found enough encouragement in his '96 primary showing to try again two years later: "If 20 votes had shifted strategically at the county endorsement conventions, I might have won."

In New Jersey, having the nod from county parties usually does not impart much financial or organizational support, but it does put the endorsee on a separate, more visible part of the primary ballot. Traditionally, it has been difficult to win the primary without endorsements in at least part of the district.

The Horses, Handlers, Wagers and Payoffs

                  Rush Holt (D)        Mike Pappas (R)

Manager           Mark Matzen          Patricia Flannery
Media             Message & Media      David Welch Assoc.
Pollster          Lauer, Lalley        Steve Salmore

Expenditures      $917,305             $871,192
Votes               91,573 (51%)       86,448 (48%)

With Democrat DelVecchio now on the sidelines, Holt's only 1998 opponent for the nomination was Carl Mayer, a quirky lawyer who had finished ahead of him in the 1996 primary while serving on the Princeton Township Council. Many party leaders - including those in Washington were inclined to support Mayer, if only because his wealth assured an adequately funded campaign. The multimillionaire had poured half a million dollars into his campaign kitty at the outset.

But Holt retained his core supporters from the '96 county conventions, enjoyed the backing of a few important local politicos (most notably neighboring U.S. Rep. Frank Pallone) and impressed many of the local municipal officials who had formed the backbone of DelVecchio's organization.

"We circulated two endorsement letters among the delegates," recounts Holt manager Mark Matzen. "One was signed by every Democratic mayor in Monmouth County, which proved extremely helpful there. The other was signed by every member of the Princeton Township Council who had served with Carl Mayer. That was devastating."

Holt swept the endorsements, which enabled him to carry the June 1998 primary by a comfortable 63-37 percent, despite being outspent $550,000-$150,000.

After his primary victory, state leaders were impressed when Holt's midyear finance report showed he had raised more than $300,000. Much of it came from nontraditional sources, including a gang of Nobel Prize winners that would eventually number 14. "I was constantly on the phone with everyone I knew," Holt explains, "even people I hadn't seen since high school, scientists I knew only as a name on the cover of a study."

But he still wasn't showing up on the radar screens in Washington. "[Congressional election watcher] Charlie Cook and his crew were always about six weeks behind when it came to our district," chides Holt.

But Holt's chances soon became the subject of political obituaries when Democrat Mayer revealed he was planning a November run as an independent. However, a combination of state law and a desire for revenge soon led Mayer to set his sights on Pallone's 6th District, though he did not live there.

Troubled Troubadour

A big break dropped into the lap of the Holt cause in July, though how big was not immediately apparent.

On the occasion of Clinton special prosecutor Ken Starr's 52nd birthday, Pappas decided to commemorate the event in song, on the House floor. Following the melody of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star," Pappas crooned (or more accurately, croaked):

Twinkle, Twinkle Kenneth Starr, Now we see how brave you are Up above the Pentagon sting Like a fair judge in the ring. . . . We could not see which way to go If you did not lead us so. . . .

Shot in the "morning minutes" segment which precedes regular House business, the C-SPAN serenade clip made some local afternoon and evening newscasts, CNN's Moneyline News Hour and Talk Back Live, CNBC's Hardball, and the next day's CBS Morning News. Geraldo! found Geraldo Rivera singing a parody of Pappas' effort. USA Today, the Los Angeles Times and The Washington Post all published ridiculing accounts.

Back in Jersey, Holt's media consultant Lawrence caught Pappas' act on the tube, and was immediately baffled: "It was so bizarre, it took a while for it to sink in. . . . I still can't understand why someone didn't have the sense to stop him."

From the Democrats' perspective, "Twinkle, Twinkle" was the perfect demonstration of why Pappas should not have been representing the 12th District. Most moderate, Northeastern suburbanites were coming to the conclusion that Starr's probe had been pursued to the extreme, merely to please right-wing partisans. To them, the whole overblown affair was starting to get in the way of important business, and they were sick of it. By reveling in the scandal, Pappas had seemingly revealed a partisanship that surpassed all sense of duty.

The Newark Star-Ledger caught this impression succinctly with yet another parody on its editorial page:

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Mike, What about that guy you like- Kinda kooky, scary too. Not so different, Mike, from you.

While most national pundits were assuming Democrats across the country would flee from mention of the Clinton sex scandal, Holt heard a different drummer:

"I know this district pretty well. Voters here don't like what the president did, but they're fair-minded and don't believe he's gotten a fair shake. They want us to be done with it, and get on with the issues they talk about around the kitchen table."

Inspiration from Above

Holt isn't shy about identifying who revealed those issues to him: "When the president asked me what had won the race for me, I told him, 'your State of the Union speech.' Never had a president so accurately laid out the people's agenda: Save Social Security and Medicare before cutting taxes. Get health care under control with a patients' bill of rights. Invest more in education. Those were the issues we emphasized, though [Pappas'] excesses on guns, abortion - and to some extent, campaign finance reform - put those into play as well."

For his part, incumbent Pappas virtually ignored his underdog challenger. Believing the election would turn on his performance in office, he sponsored proposals that should have pleased swing voters: preserve open space; give doctors the right to tell patients about all treatment options, regardless of whether the HMO covered it; allow women to choose reconstructive surgery after a mastectomy. Fellow GOP lawmakers awarded him the "Theodore Roosevelt Award" for conservation. Pappas also touted his votes to eliminate the "marriage penalty" and the IRS.

This professed blend of social and environmental moderation and fiscal conservatism normally sells well in suburban New Jersey, but there were holes in Pappas' claim to such a mantle, as Holt constantly pointed out:

Holt's IRS abolition had offered no prescribed alternative for the collection of taxes, which struck many well-educated voters as irresponsible. While Holt strongly endorsed the concept of a "patients' bill of rights," Pappas was non-committal. The young conservative had authored an amendment that would have slashed funding for the Endowment for the Arts by half. And while the League of Conservation Voters had rated Pappas the best Republican freshman in the House, it simultaneously gave him the lowest marks of any member of the New Jersey delegation.

The issue-oriented nature of the campaign was driven partly by logistics. The 12th District is served by two enormous media markets - New York and Philadelphia - which makes a broadcast media campaign prohibitively expensive. Local radio and 14 of the 15 local cable TV systems offer efficient and affordable outlets for spots, but the penetration is very limited. Targeted mail has to take up the slack.

Holt spent more than $300,000 on direct mail, a figure likely matched by Pappas. Both directed pieces to high-return targets: likely voters, women, the elderly and swing areas.

"Health care is a big concern in New Jersey, with a big shakeout progressing among the HMOs," notes Holt, whose wife is a clinic physician. Consultant Lawrence points to ideological cleavages of longer standing: "Much of this district used to be represented by Millicent Fenwick [the model for Doonesbury's sensible congressional patrician, Lacey Davenport]. Pappas only won the '96 Republican primary because the moderate vote split. He's just out of sync."

And the Democratic media man had just the videotape for driving that perception home.

Song Sung Blue

Deciding to use Pappas' singing performance about Starr in Holt's campaign advertising wasn't exactly a nobrainer.

In 1982, congressional challenger Doug Stevens had used unflattering C-SPAN footage against U.S. Rep. Bob Michel (R-IL), and nearly upset the then-minority leader. That experience had led the House to outlaw such video piracy, and the use of snippets from the floor became a historical footnote. But Lawrence decided since his copy was taken off-air from a source other than C-SPAN, he could not be prohibited from using it.

Whether it was strategically advisable to use it was another matter: "If we had paid attention to our polling, we would never have used that tape," Lawrence declares. "But it had been a two-day story, and hadn't gotten much play in New Jersey. Rush had told us at the beginning, 'If we run just on issues, we'll get only the 48-49 percent DelVecchio got. To win, we've got to stand apart from the clutter.'"

A $100,000 flight of radio spots (Holt's first of the campaign) began running on Oct. 12, with Pappas' singing in the background. A female voiceover - sounding like a reproving schoolmistress - sadly recounted the congressman's votes against reducing public school class size and the assault weapons ban, and for the interests of insurance companies when it came to health care issues. The tag: "Mike Pappas: Out of tune. Out of touch." A week later, a similar ad began running on cable TV.

The link connecting Pappas and Starr was golden, so far as the Democrats were concerned. U.S. Reps. John Conyers and Barney Frank, both outspoken liberals and critics of Starr, were brought in to campaign for Holt, primarily because they had become familiar to viewers of the House Judiciary Committee hearings. "That would not have worked in most areas of the country, but it worked in New Jersey," says Pappas media man Jason Ercole. "The Democrats knew they could not win a Holt-Pappas race, so they made it a Clinton-Starr race."

In truth, Holt did not run what would normally be considered a strong "grassroots" effort; nor did his high-tech background translate into particularly innovative or extensive use of new technologies. There were, however, unusual qualities to the man which gave him an edge.

Matzen echoes the assessments of many who witnessed the campaign: "I have never seen a candidate work harder, with more persistence or with fewer reservations. When he was not campaigning, Rush was constantly on the phone - cold calls to people he had never met, even confirmed Republicans, raising $1,000 at a time. He understands how important money is to the campaign process, and realizes that a candidate sells ideas and hope, not himself. . . . He talks like a professor, not a politician - straightforward, always looking for the truth. That engages people, and endears him to them."

Holt's consultants agree their candidate's open, professorial manner contrasted well with Pappas' more doctrinaire approach, and helped define the congressman as an unreasonable ideologue. The divide between Pappas and the mainstream of his own party was accentuated two weeks out from election day when popular former Gov. Tom Kean (R) gave him a backhanded endorsement on a New Jersey public affairs TV show. A moderate who has often voiced his exasperation with the two-party system, Kean opined that "Pappas has not had a great first term, and he has been extreme on a number of things."

Lawrence immediately used the audio of Kean's comments in a new version of the "Twinkle" radio ad that ran during the last 10 days. "They had already beaten that song to death," moans Ercole, "but Kean's comments enabled them to bring it back with a new freshness. It allowed Holt to say, 'If you don't believe me about Mike Pappas, listen to one of your own.'"

The Republicans were caught in a bind. They couldn't criticize Kean, lest they completely alienate the GOP moderates to whom he was a hero. In vain, the consultants pleaded with Pappas to unleash an attack blitz on Holt. "Mike thought his record was so strong, he didn't have to do that sort of stuff," Ercole laments.

Taking their cue from Kean, virtually all the important local newspapers weighed in behind Holt, invariably sounding the theme that the incumbent was too reactionary for the district. "If Pappas were any further to the right of this district, he'd be looking for a lighthouse," jeered the Express Times.

The news media had largely been AWOL from the race up to the end. "They regarded me, kindly, as a curiosity," recalls Holt, as had the national campaign committees of both parties. The challenger's campaign crested at the perfect moment.

By election day, Holt had outmaneuvered, out-hustled and even outspent the incumbent, who left nearly $100,000 unspent in his campaign account. Leaning heavily upon a novel network of professional contacts, Holt outraised Pappas among individuals by a 3 to 2 margin.

In the biggest congressional upset of the year, challenger Holt defeated incumbent Pappas 51-48 percent.

30-SECOND TV SPOT

"Unplugged" Holt for Congress Producer/Consultant: Message & Media

MICHAEL PAPPAS: Twinkle, Twinkle, Kenneth Starr. Now we see how brave you are . . .

ANNOUNCER: That's Congressman Michael Pappas.

MICHAEL PAPPAS: We could not see which way to go, if you did not lead us so . . .

ANNOUNCER: Congressman Pappas opposes the assault weapons ban. Voted against smaller class sizes. Voted with insurance companies over patients.

MICHAEL PAPPAS: Twinkle, Twinkle, all brought down. Twinkle Twinkle Kenneth Starr . . .

ANNOUNCER: Partisan investigations of real work. Congressman Michael Pappas: Out of tune. Out of touch.

30-SECOND TV SPORT

"First" Pappas for Congress Producer/Consultant: David Welch Associates

ANNOUNCER: As our congressman, Mike Pappas is keeping his word to fight for New Jersey's families and taxpayers. He helped pass America's first balanced budget plan in 30 years and made sure working families got the tax relief they deserve. Mike Pappas also sponsored a law to preserve open space in farms.

PAPPAS: I'm Mike Pappas. I believe in lower taxes. I believe in smaller government. And I believe hard work is still the best way to get results.

RELATED ARTICLE: First Rush

Learning from Dad how to Think Outside the Box

As one of the first Democrats to seize upon Monicagate as a means of disrupting the GOP coalition, now-U.S. Rep. Rush Holt Jr. displayed an ability to "think outside the box" and go his own way. It may be a family trait.

His father, Rush Holt Sr., was one of the most maverick members the U.S. Senate has ever seen. The eider Holt began his political career in the West Virginia House of Delegates in the early 1930s, where he quickly won recognition as a charismatic populist, an enemy of private utilities and defender of labor. The United Mine Workers and U.S. Sen. Matthew Neeley - the state Democratic boss - immediately tapped Holt as their challenger against U.S. Sen. Henry Hatfield (R) in 1934.

The 29-year-old wunderkind clobbered Hatfield by 11 points, and remains the youngest person ever elected to the upper house. So young, in fact, that he spent his first six months on the Senate floor unable to speak or vote until he passed the legal age of 30, in June of 1935. The novelty of Holt's swearing-in brought him to the nation's attention, and he used the opportunity to make a series of noted speeches on world peace that were virtually pacifistic.

He further asserted his independence by dramatically breaking with Neeley and the unions, becoming a conservative crusader against "big government" and "big labor," though he remained a staunch civil libertarian to the end. Some suggested his sudden political turn resulted from chagrin over Neeley's control of federal patronage in West Virginia.

As U.S. participation in World War II loomed, Holt joined aviator Charles Lindbergh as a poster boy for the isolationist movement, bitterly opposing President Roosevelt's efforts to arm the nation, and attacking the British and French as imperialists. His estrangement from the Democratic Party was now complete.

Standing for renomination in the May 1940 primary, Holt was defeated by an obscure local judge fielded by Neeley and the UMW, finishing an ignominious third. His seven months as a lame duck were spent in an ever more strident crusade against Roosevelt's efforts to aid the Allies and prepare for war. After leaving office, he became a lecturer for the pro-neutrality America First organization and was on the road preaching against American intervention when Pearl Harbor was attacked.

The son of an atheistic Socialist, Holt found religion in 1946 and returned to the West Virginia state legislature as a conservative Republican. By 1952, his political fortunes had improved to the point he was able to poll 49 percent as the Republican nominee for governor, the best showing by a GOP entry in 24 years. Three years later, he was dead of cancer at age 49.

(William Marland - the man who defeated Holt for the governorship - had a remarkably similar fate, without the redemption. Three days after taking office, he unexpectedly proposed a severance tax on coal, earning the industry's undying enmity. Less than a decade later, he was discovered driving a cab in Chicago, an alcoholic soon to die of cancer at age 47.)

Rush Jr. was only 6 when his father died, but has clear recollections of him to this day. Will the senior Holt's dramatic political career have an effect on his son's conduct in office? "I admire his forthrightness, but I'm not as impetuous," the new congressman insists, "though I certainly speak my mind to my staff." Two pieces of advice he recalls his father giving remain dear: "never take anyone for granted" and "listen hard."

By David Beiler

David Beiler is a freelance writer and political analyst. He is also an elected member of the Stafford County, VA, Board of Supervisors.

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