The Exterminator
Expelled. Born again. Tom DeLay's rise—and the risks that could end it.

By Evan Thomas, Holly Bailey and Michael Isikoff Newsweek

Oct. 10, 2005 issue - Tom Delay, the House majority leader until last week, has long been known as a full-service friend. Need a hotel reservation? Theater tickets? A tee time for golf? Call DeLay's staff. Hungry late at night? There's pizza or chicken wings (usually paid for by lobbyists) in DeLay's office. Then there is the endless stream of birthday cards and get-well wishes, flowers and small favors. DeLay flattered some of the more-obscure members of Congress and GOP candidates just by knowing about them—a little disturbingly, perhaps, seeming to know everything about them. "He's like a Republican concierge," joked a House Republican, though only anonymously, for fear of displeasing DeLay. "He'll twist your arm and then book you a massage to work the kinks out."

What many members of Congress really liked about Tom DeLay was his money. Since 1989, his political committees have funneled more than $5 million into the campaigns of GOP congressional candidates. What they didn't like about DeLay is harder to say, although many feared him, and the nicknames are suggestive: "the Hammer," "the Exterminator" and the "Meanest Man in Congress." DeLay has said that he just looks mean because his eyes are "squinty." It has never paid to cross DeLay, as Rep. Joel Hefley found out when he was chairman of the House ethics committee. After Hefley's committee "admonished" DeLay for several minor "appearances of impropriety," Hefley was no longer chairman.

A whale like DeLay is bound to have his Ahab, and DeLay's is the Travis County, Texas, prosecutor, Ronnie Earle. A theatrical figure who spouts Yeats, practices yoga and is known even by his allies as "Ronnie Woo-Woo," Earle, 63, delights in philosophizing about evil and chasing wrongdoers. "I want to be cremated," Earle once declared. "I've made so many people mad in this town; there'd be a line of them wanting to piss on my grave." For three years Earle has been after DeLay, even allowing a film company to follow him around as he investigated the majority leader. Last week Earle persuaded a grand jury to indict DeLay for conspiring to illegally launder corporate campaign contributions to candidates for the Texas State Legislature.

On the face of it, the case appears far from airtight, and DeLay declared his innocence and denounced the charges as a "witch hunt" by a "rogue prosecutor." But Delay's public denials that he knew nothing about the handling of the campaign cash may have some holes in it, NEWSWEEK has learned. Under the rules of the House of Representatives, DeLay had to give up his post of majority leader while under indictment. His powerful political machine, while not wrecked, is broken. Republicans still do not dare to speak about him on the record ("You never know," said one), but they seem a little less willing to take checks from his funds, at least until his legal problems are resolved, which could take many months, if not years.

It would be a mistake to count DeLay out. He has been redeemed before. He is quick to say that all men are sinners, and he has won earlier battles with the Devil. His story is a Texas-size struggle between good and evil, although, in DeLay's case, it is not always easy to figure out which side he is on. "The hardest thing for me," DeLay once told Peter Perl of The Washington Post, "is to love my enemies." Judging from what else DeLay has said, his enemies include his family growing up. His father, who worked in the oilfields, appears to have been a "Great Santini" figure, a "domineering alcoholic," according to DeLay. Catching DeLay smoking as a boy, Charlie DeLay made him smoke most of a carton. "I pretty much raised myself," DeLay told Perl. "I think I've been an adult all my life." Delay is now reportedly estranged from his mother and three siblings.

Kicked out of Baylor's pre-med program for drinking-related offenses, DeLay became an exterminator, mixing large vats of rat poison. He came to hate government regulators, calling the Environmental Protection Agency "the Gestapo of the government." He turned to politics in the late 1970s, winning a seat as a Republican in the then Democratic-controlled state legislature, and became everyone's friend. A great dancer and partier at the local honky-tonk (country bar), DeLay became known as Hot Tub Tom and lived with some rowdy roommates, who liked to sing hymns and watch horror movies, at a condo known as Macho Manor. By his own account, DeLay was drinking "8, 10, 12 martinis a night at receptions and fund-raisers."

But then, in 1984, he was elected to the U.S. Congress and discovered Jesus. Born again, he quit drinking hard liquor and became a fierce moralist. Citing "absolute truth," he railed against "isms"—feminism, relativism, humanism, postmodernism—that he believed were undermining society. He once mockingly summed up the constituency of the Democratic Party as "Greenpeace, Queer Nation, and National Education Association [the teachers union]." He has blamed school shootings like the Columbine massacre not on guns but on day care, birth control for teens and the teaching of evolution.

Republican moderates, in DeLay's book, were moral compromisers. Chief offender was President George H.W. Bush, who showed his alleged lack of strength by raising taxes in 1990 (which set the stage for the decade of prosperity to follow, but ideologues see only what they want to see, and they wanted to see the senior Bush as an un-True Believer). DeLay's open opposition to Bush 41 did not endear him to George W. Bush, who at the time was acting as his father's loyalty enforcer. After W became Bush 43 in 2001, relations remained cool between the president and DeLay, who by then had risen to chief whip, the GOP's No. 3 job in the House. DeLay was no fan of Bush's "compassionate conservatism," which he saw as an invitation to more government handouts. DeLay believes in individual charity and practices it; he and his wife, Christine, have taken in a number of foster children.

Bush and DeLay have a lot in common. Like DeLay, Bush is a born-again former hell-raiser, but the way the two men were saved illustrates the class divide between them. Bush was personally rescued by the Rev. Billy Graham, his father's friend and pastor to presidents, during a conversation at Walker's Point. DeLay saw the light while watching a home video of Dr. James Dobson given to him by another congressman. The White House was somewhat lukewarm in its defense of DeLay last week, describing him as a "good ally" and "effective."

DeLay has been, without question, effective at building one of the most disciplined political machines seen in modern times on Capitol Hill. He has a knack for anticipating the needs of his friends and the weaknesses of his enemies, and vice versa, and he wastes no time to exploit them. Delay has never been subtle about his uses of the power of Love and Fear. In his majority whip's office on the Hill, he kept marble tablets of the Ten Commandments and half-dozen bullwhips. Many politicians are conflict-averse and avoid confrontation at all cost. Not DeLay. During the impeachment proceedings against President Bill Clinton in 1998, he let House members know they were either on the team—or off it, meaning no more money and no more favors.

Not just congressmen but lobbyists were brought under control. During the 1990s, DeLay began something called the "K Street Project," named after the street downtown where the big-time lobbyists keep their offices. The lobbyists were told in no uncertain terms to get rid of their Democrats and hire Republicans— or risk getting shut out of GOP leadership offices on the Hill. DeLay kept a list of campaign contributors in his office. At meetings with lobbyists, he would from time to time pull out the list, just to let visitors know he was keeping score.

A lobbyist who has worked with DeLay described the majority leader's direct approach to news-week. The lobbyist spoke anonymously, explaining, "This is not the best time to be in stories by name." He rehearsed a typical exchange between DeLay and a corporate representative at a fund-raiser:

Favor Seeker: "Mr. Leader, I'm Joe Smith from XYZ corporation ..."

DeLay (cutting him off): "I saw you got involved in Texas 7 [or some other swing district] and you gave a thousand dollars to the Democrats. After all we've done for your industry, I can't believe that's a decision you'd make. Would you rather have [House Democratic Leader] Nancy Pelosi as speaker?"

Some lobbyists resent DeLay's heavy hand. "It's like paying protection money to Tom DeLay, Inc.," groused one, who refused to be named for fear of retribution. But others insist that DeLay's mean side is over-emphasized. They say he is smiling, friendly, a good family man. On the weekends, DeLay goes home to his house on a golf course in the town of Sugar Land, a slice of planned-community suburbia outside Houston. On Sundays he attends a "men's accountability group" at which men face each other and ask questions like "Have you followed the teachings of Christ? Have you looked at women in an improper way?"

DeLay's friends say he is warm and humble before God. According to "The Breach" by Washington Post reporter Peter Baker, DeLay held a prayer meeting for House members before the Clinton impeachment inquiry. Tears streaming down his face, DeLay stated, "Please know that we are not happy doing this. We see this as our responsibility." The book documents a less-forgiving attitude by DeLay's staff, quoting an e-mail exchange in which one DeLay aide wrote, "This whole thing about not kicking someone when they're down is BS—not only do you kick him—you kick him until he passes out—then beat him over the head with a baseball bat—then roll him up in a rug, and throw him off a cliff into the pound[ing] surf below!!!!!"

DeLay has tried to soften his image, trading his slicked down hair for a blow-dry look and then joking about it at a congressional dinner, but his ego has a way of reasserting itself. Leaving another congressional dinner to smoke a cigar in a nearby restaurant, he was told by the manager that smoking was prohibited because the restaurant was on federal property. "I am the federal government," DeLay said, according to the manager (according to his spokesman, DeLay actually said, "I am with the federal government").

DeLay's colleagues forgave him because he fed them, with chicken wings and theater tickets and bundled donations. The lobbyist who declined to be quoted explains: "It was not soothing, therapeutic—it was more if you had any problem on your campaign, he would just fix it—if you were low on money: how much do we need to raise—boom, boom, boom."

Money was the key to DeLay's power base and, in the way of many political machines, it may be his undoing. In his efforts to create and strengthen the Republican majority in the House, Delay created a vast fund-raising empire that reached beyond Congress. Through a political-action committee called Texans for a Republican Majority—TRMPAC—DeLay began funneling campaign contributions to GOP candidates for the Texas State Legislature. In 2002, the Republicans took control of the Texas "Lege." They promptly set about redrawing or "gerrymandering" congressional districts to elect more Republicans. The Democrats were so offended by this power play that some fled the state to avoid voting. DeLay, omnipotent as ever, ordered the Federal Aviation Administration to track their plane number. He was later scolded for this mild abuse of power by the House ethics committee. The redistricting passed—and the Republicans elected four new members of Congress.

DeLay had little difficulty raising money for TRMPAC. E-mails made public after an internal investigation at a Kansas energy company called Westar shed some light on how it was done. The company was trying to get Congress to exempt it from some federal regulations. For a "mere" $25,000 contribution to TRMPAC, a Washington lobbyist advised, the company could get access to an energy-association golf outing with DeLay. A Westar executive shared a golf cart with a DeLay aide, and before long, DeLay's office was helping out with Westar's proposed legislation (the bill was later dropped). The ethics committee rapped DeLay for the "appearance" of providing access for contributions. DeLay denied any quid pro quo.

DeLay's money-raising empire attracted the attention of a more zealous investigator, Travis County Prosecutor Earle. A self-styled scourge of political corruption, Earle does not just chase after Republicans. He has prosecuted leading Democrats and even once indicted himself on a misdemeanor charge for failing to properly file campaign- finance reports (he paid a $200 fine). Earle is the star of the documentary movie being made about his crusade. In an early cut of the movie, called "The Big Buy," Earle declares that demanding corporate donations is "almost like protection money. It's every bit as insidious as terrorism." Texas law bars corporate campaign contributions to state legislators. But according to Earle's indictment, DeLay found a way to launder corporate money as political donations.

As Earle described it, DeLay's Texas organization, TRMPAC, raised money from corporations. According to the indictment, a blank check from TRMPAC was delivered to DeLay's chief political consultant in Washington, Jim Ellis. Ellis filled in the amount—$190,000—and gave the check to a branch of the Republican National Committee that finances state legislative races. The GOP committee then legally sent checks to Republican state legislative candidates in Texas totaling about $190,000.

Ellis has pleaded not guilty to money-laundering charges. Last week Earle indicted DeLay for being in on the conspiracy. DeLay has publicly stated that he knew nothing about the whole business, which his lawyers insist was entirely legal in any case. But in a secret 90-minute "voluntary" interview with Earle last August—scheduled after Earle threatened DeLay with a subpoena—DeLay acknowledged that he was "at some point" told about the corporate money's being routed through the RNC by Ellis, according to Dick DeGuerin, DeLay's lawyer. "It was a throwaway conversation," he told NEWSWEEK. DeGuerin says it's unclear precisely when the conversation took place. The timing is important. According to another lawyer familiar with the evidence, DeLay's records show that he attended a monthly scheduling meeting with Ellis on Oct. 2, 2002. That was two days before the RNC checks were distributed to the seven candidates. There is no evidence that DeLay discussed the matter with Ellis on Oct. 2. DeGuerin insists that DeLay played no role in routing the money. "He [DeLay] had nothing to do with directing that," said DeGuerin.

For the time being at least, Earle is offering no evidence to contradict DeLay. It seems hard to believe that DeLay's mere knowledge would be enough to convict him, but Texas prosecutors are not required to show evidence, and Earle may be holding back some proof.

Earle may not be helping his prosecution by turning it into a movie. In a rough cut seen by the Austin American-Statesman, Earle plays Cowboy Philosopher King: "Like the cowboy said to the rodeo rider: take a deep seat and get a faraway look in your eye. That's what this [investigation] is like." One of DeLay's lawyers, Bill White, says: "I think Ronnie has zinged off somewhere."

But Washington do-gooders are thrilled. "DeLay has been getting away with this stuff for years," says Melanie Sloan, director of Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington. "He's felt free to abuse the campaign-finance system, and there's never been any repercussions." DeLay has always tried to control his destiny. But the Washington scandal machine is gearing up, and not even the Hammer may be strong enough to make it go away.

Obscure - not readily noticed or seen; inconspicuous; of undistinguished or humble reputation.

Concierge - a hotel staff person who provides services for guests.

Admonished - scolded; criticized.

Impropriety - an improper or illegal act or statement.

A whale…[has] his Ahab - reference to "Moby Dick," a novel about the obsessive efforts of a man [Ahab] to exact revenge on a whale.

Indict - to make a formal accusation or indictment against (a party) by the findings of a jury, especially a grand jury.

Launder - to disguise the source or nature of (illegal funds, for example) by channeling through a middle man or fake business.

Denounced - to condemn openly as being evil or reprehensible; criticize; to accuse formally.

Witch hunt - An investigation carried out ostensibly to uncover subversive activities but actually used to harass and undermine those with differing views.

Rogue - an unprincipled, deceitful, and unreliable person; a scoundrel or rascal.

Indictment - written statement charging a party with the commission of a crime or other offense, drawn up by a prosecuting attorney and found and presented by a grand jury.

Great Santini - title character of a Pat Conroy novel about a Marine's troubled relationships with his family.

Domineering - to rule over or control arbitrarily or arrogantly; tyrannize.

Estranged - a disruption of a bond of love, friendship, or loyalty; often used with reference to two persons whose harmonious relationship has been replaced by hostility or indifference.

Gestapo - the German internal security police as organized under the Nazi regime, known for its terrorist methods directed against those suspected of treason or questionable loyalty; a police organization that employs terroristic methods to control a populace.

Moralist - one who follows a system of moral principles.

Feminism - belief in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes; the movement organized around this belief.

Relativism - a theory, especially in ethics, that beliefs in truth and moral values are not absolute but are relative to the persons or groups holding them.

Humanism - concern with the interests, needs, and welfare of humans.

Post-Modernism – type of art and literature and especially architecture in reaction against principles and practices of established modernism

Constituency – a group made up of the residents of a district or member of a group represented by an elected official.

Ideologues - someone given to fanciful ideas or theories.

Endear - make attractive or lovable; to win over.

Compassionate Conservatism - see handout.

Individual Charity - people on their own should make donations and give back to the community, rather than government serving as a provider of relief or charity.

Political Machines - a group that controls the activities of a political party.

Conflict-Adverse – opposed to causing a conflict

Grouse - To complain; grumble.

Retribution - something given or demanded in repayment, especially punishment.

Accountability - responsibility to someone or for some activity.

Humble - low in rank, quality, or station; unpretentious or lowly; modest.

Therapeutic - having or exhibiting healing powers

Gerrymandering - changing political boundaries to make it easier for one party to get its candidates elected.

Omnipotent - having unlimited or universal power, authority, or force; all-powerful.

Exempt - to free from an obligation, a duty, or a liability to which others are subject.

Quid Pro Quo - Latin term meaning something that is given in exchange for something else.

Zealous - an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm, for a cause.

Scourge – bringing vengeance or punishment.

Insidious - intended to entrap; treacherous. Beguiling but harmful; alluring.

Conspiracy - an agreement between two or more persons to commit a crime or accomplish a legal purpose through illegal action.

Subpoena – requires an appearance in court to give testimony.

Routed - to put to disorderly flight or retreat; to defeat overwhelmingly.

Zinged off - moved off track

Repercussions - often indirect effects, influences, or results that are produced by an event or action.