From a D.C. insider, advice for our new congressperson-to-be

An open letter:

Some thoughts for Bill (Owens), Dede (Scozzafava) and Doug (Hoffman),

Candidates for Congress

Dear Bill, Dede and Doug (in alphabetical order):

Having spent 30-plus years as a press secretary, executive assistant, special assistant and chief of staff on Capitol Hill with Reps. Bob McEwen (now deceased), Dave Martin (now a lobbyist) and John McHugh (now secretary of the Army), three successive and highly popular congressmen, I have more than a passing interest in your current campaigns to succeed them. I was at the side of the three congressmen 24/7 for practically my entire working career. It should not be surprising, then, that I have somewhat of a paternal feeling toward the office of “Representative in Congress” — that is how it appears on the ballot — from our congressional district.

When I retired in 2000 at the age of 55 to come back home to the north country, the leadership of the House told me my tenure there was exceeded by only two of the then-serving members of the House and that 1,000-plus House members had come and gone during my three decades as a staffer. OK, so much for my longevity credentials. This is about you, not me.

The three of you are now seeking that seat in a special election — the only Congressional race in the country in this off-year Congressional cycle. One of you will wake up on the morning of Nov. 4 as representative-elect and you will be sworn in within hours of that moment. Today the eyes of the nation are upon you, as the election is described by some in the national media as a referendum on the Obama presidency.

Permit me to share the following unsolicited advice with you:

■ If you wake up as representative-elect, expect to receive hundreds and maybe even thousands of congratulatory messages within hours. You'll be surprised at the number of friends you have in Washington and throughout the country. “I've been following your campaign and career for years and look forward to working with you,” many of them will boast, attesting to their longtime admiration.

My advice: Don't lose sight of the fact that most of them also prepared identical messages to send to your opponents. Those congratulations were tossed into the basket just hours ago. Never forget that winners hear from everyone. Losers hear from only their friends.

■ Capitol Hill is a privately run city within Washington. Its population of employees is larger than any city and some counties in your Congressional district. It includes numerous full-time legislative staffers, those who are hired by and work for you.

My advice: Choose them with care based on their credentials, as they will assume total control of your time, well-being and immediate future as soon as your name goes on the door. Remember, too, they should partner with your family and each other, not compete with them.

■ Thousands of support employees run the city itself — carpenters, painters, electricians, locksmiths, cleaners, drapery and picture hangers, window washers, railing polishers, computer techs, photographers, furniture movers, tuxedo-clad caterers and white-uniformed cooks and food servers in the cafeterias and fast-food counters scattered throughout the complex, marble masons, mail handlers, printers, parking attendants and car washers, barber/stylists, shoe shiners and the list goes on and on and on.

You'll even have professionals in private media studios to produce your television “stand ups.” An expansive (and expensive!) work force will be available to serve your every need, desire and whim. They will trip all over themselves to serve and please you.

My advice: Don't let it go to your head! Remember, back home you're still just the next person in line at Price Chopper, and the Walmart greeter may not even recognize you.

■ As soon as you are sworn in, you will receive a lapel pin identifying you as a “Member.” It will identify you as one of the most important people in the world. House employees will be expected to acknowledge your presence and status, and many of them — such as the men and women of the Capitol police force, itself larger than any local department in your Congressional district — are required to memorize your name and face.

My advice: Remember they're not really in awe, they're doing their jobs. Prior to your arrival, they never even heard of you. Most of them think they will outlast you. If they do, they'll soon forget your name and face.

■ Your spouse will be provided a similar pin.

My advice: Ask her, or him, not to abuse it. Many spouses do. Oh, the horror stories that could be told. But won't be.

■ You will be issued a specially coded tag to display on your car — not easily recognizable by the general public, or even by law enforcement personnel outside Washington for that matter — identifying you as a member of Congress. Most members place it on their dashboard. Some members allow (against guidelines, I might add) staff to utilize the tag, as well. The tag permits ticket-free parking anywhere in Washington (except against fire hydrants), immediate priority access through all security checkpoints on the Capitol complex, free parking at special lots designated for Congress and members of the Supreme Court at Washington-area airports and (if you're willing to risk the dangers) exemption from D.C. traffic lights if you are on “official business.”

My advice: You will have wide-ranging Congressional immunity — don't abuse it.

■ “Members only” self-service (yet fully staffed!) elevators will be available to you. They are in place so you can move quickly throughout the Capitol complex without being delayed by the throngs of staff, lobbyists and tourists. You are allowed to have guests join you.

My advice: Do so. Except for lobbyists. Good way to make and keep friends. Lobbyists will always be friendly. You don't have to solicit their favor.

For a nominal membership fee, you can access the well-staffed House gym and pool complex (it doesn't show up on the Rayburn House Office Building diagram for tourists, nor is its entrance marked, yet it is on one of the busiest corridors on the Hill!). Presidents have been known to visit the gym from time to time. Business is sometime conducted there, unofficially.

My advice: Use it, if you are so moved, but don't wake any of your colleagues who use it as a snooze room. Nothing leaves the gym. Nothing. Ever.

For another nominal fee, you will have access to the Capitol physician and private pharmacy near the House chamber. Its doctors can arrange for specialized services, tests and VIP treatment at the Walter Reed or Bethesda military medical centers.

My advice: Worth the token fee, but expect to be criticized for it.

P.S. A military ambulance is based at the Capitol for your needs. I hope you will never ride in it.

■ There are some interesting traditions in place, if you choose to exercise them: As a member, you can upon demand displace staffers or visitors in the cafeteria or fast food carryout lines. I know of one senior member/wannabe presidential candidate who does so regularly. You can also displace sitting customers in the barbershops (not sure about the beauty parlor, I've never asked!)

My advice: Not a good way to earn respect.

■ Bill, Dede and Doug, the Founding Fathers envisioned the Congress being made up of citizen-Congressmen, individuals who would briefly interrupt their careers to go to Congress for a few weeks or months a year to conduct the nation's business. They did not foresee career politicians or a 12-month Congress. They envisioned Congress to be somewhat transient.

My advice: Remember their intentions and look for opportunities to remind your colleagues.

■ Lastly, the Founding Fathers never envisioned the system creating the monster of Congressional arrogance; listen carefully and you will hear them spinning in their graves. Seniority breeds arrogance. And in Congress, arrogance is the devil. Just look at Charlie Rangel, the senior member (“dean”) of the New York delegation. He's in deep doo-doo. Remember where you fit in the line at Price Chopper back home and forgive the Walmart greeter for not recognizing you.

Respectfully,

Cary