Young Guns : A New Generation of Conservative Leaders (17 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN
The Politics of Re-Earning Trust
 
 

Washington is full of inspiring monuments, beautiful views, and interesting historical markers. Everyone has their favorite and, as a native Californian who spends time each week in Washington, I’m no exception. But my favorite spot in the capital is a little less obvious than those typically featured on postcards or captured by photographers. When I bring visitors to Washington I like to take them to the stairs on the east side of the Capitol Building that lead up to the House Chamber.

When I walk these marble stairs—visibly worn down by countless footsteps over the years—I can’t help but think of all the people who have climbed them before me. It may sound corny, but I am reminded of the responsibility I have to the people I represent.

I don’t care which party you come from, if you have ever
walked these stairs, you walk into the United States Capitol as an American.

Candidates frequently ask me how long they should serve. My response is always, “When you walk into this building and you don’t get goose bumps, you should leave.”

Just like Eric and Paul, politics for me has always been about fighting for something bigger than myself; about making a difference, not just serving time. When I came to Washington in January 2007, my freshman Republican colleagues and I were the only House Republicans to have never served during the twelve-year House Republican majority. But we had watched and learned from how they lost their majority. I was determined not to become a part of the entrenched incumbent mindset but to change it. I still feel that way, which is why I am working so hard to help as many likeminded candidates as I can serve in Congress.

Some people come to their political beliefs through the beliefs of their parents. But for me, there was nothing automatic about becoming a Republican. Growing up in Bakersfield, my family were Democrats. My dad was a firefighter and moved furniture on his days off. Still, like lots of Americans we used to be called “Reagan Democrats,” and from an early age I believed that fiscal conservatism and
limited government were the keys to growth and opportunity for all Americans. I have always felt it was important for people to put their talents to work for the ideas and causes they believe in. Work hard and do the best you can at the job in front of you, and the rewards will follow.

I also learned early that you have to have the good sense to recognize opportunity when it comes knocking. I had been working as a seasonal firefighter, using some of the money I earned to buy used cars in Los Angeles, fix them up, and sell them for a modest profit in Bakersfield. Soon after I graduated from high school, the second day after the California State Lottery started offering scratch-off tickets, I casually bought one, thinking nothing would come of it. So no one was more surprised than I was when I won. The payout was small by today’s standards, just $5,000. But it was enough to get me started as a small businessman.

I invested my lottery winnings in the stock market and when I was nineteen, I opened my first real business, a deli in Bakersfield. Running my sandwich shop taught me what all small businesspeople learn: that the work is hard, the margins are thin, and the government is too often an obstacle, not an aid, to success. Still, I tried to be innovative and stay ahead of the competition. For instance, we offered a superior sandwich by ordering and using freshly baked bread every day—a practice that would later be trumpeted by a familiar nationwide sandwich company.

With a lot of hard work and dedication I built my sandwich shop into a successful business and sold it to
pay for my college education, including a master’s in business administration from California State University, Bakersfield. Translating my business success into a higher education, I think, made me more sensitive to other smallbusiness owners who are relying on their success to send themselves and their kids to school. This lesson has stayed with me. Helping the small businesses and entrepreneurs who create jobs in our communities has always been a central focus of my work whether in Sacramento or in Washington.

Then, at the ripe old age of twenty-two, I noticed an ad in the local paper saying that my congressman, Bill Thomas, was looking for students interested in his paid summer internship program in DC. Congressman Thomas was someone whose career in Congress I had long followed and admired. So I immediately applied—and was rejected. Those who know me will not be surprised to learn that I did not take this rejection as final. I went back to Representative Thomas’s office and said, “Okay, if you won’t pay me to work for you, is there anything I can do for you for free?” My tenacity—not to mention my price—must have won over the congressman because he put me to work in the district office cutting clips from the local newspapers and doing office scut work.

My first experience in public service was a modest one, but it was a turning point for me. It was an opportunity to learn about the legislative and political process, as well as the issues and concerns that mattered to voters in the
district. I ended up spending fifteen years working for Representative Thomas, ending my time as district director.

Looking back, I now know that my unpaid internship with Representative Thomas literally set the course for my future in public service. It’s a shame that President Obama earlier in 2010 pandered to his union boss supporters and targeted unpaid internships for elimination. Now that I’m in Congress I offer as many summer internships in my office as space will allow. I know firsthand the opportunity that can grow out of getting a chance to work and learn. Especially in Washington, a summer internship can lead to a career serving a cause you believe in.

Helping Representative Thomas represent the 22nd District was much more than a job for me. It was—and is—that motivation I mentioned earlier; the cause greater than myself for which I have devoted my career.

As a fourth-generation Kern County resident I have deep roots in the district. My great-grandfather, Jeremiah McCarthy, became a Kern County cattle rancher in 1883. I have lived in Bakersfield my whole life and continue to return home from Washington every week.

It was this passion for our county, the Central California region, and state that led me to run for the California
State Assembly in 2002. I was proud to represent my home county in Sacramento. And I was proud to be unanimously selected as the Republican leader of the State Assembly (the first freshman ever to be so selected).

My work in the Assembly focused on the major issues facing the state: the budget, workers compensation, taxes, and economic competitiveness. Serving in the minority, I learned the importance of engaging and working across the aisle whenever possible while still fighting for the principles I believe in.

As Republican leader, I also began a process that would serve me well as a candidate, as a party leader, and which I continue to use today. I traveled the state learning about my colleagues, their districts, and their concerns. I have found that when you travel to someone’s district, you understand them better; understand their issues and why they fight for what they fight for. There is no substitute for getting to know the people and issues firsthand.

When my mentor and friend Bill Thomas decided to retire in 2006, I felt strongly this was an opportunity to further serve my neighbors and my state—this time in Washington. I quickly went to work building the support I knew would be needed. I was fortunate to be able to attract significant support and went on to win the Republican primary.

Just as I had as Republican leader in the California Assembly, as a candidate for the U.S. House of Representatives I set out to travel the country visiting other Republican
candidates and learning about the issues affecting their districts. They would, I hoped, be my future colleagues. I wanted to start building relationships and help bring more allies to Congress for the hard work that I knew lay ahead.

But it was while traveling the country in 2006 that I came to the shocking realization that my party was going to lose its majority in the House. I knew going in that it was going to be a tough election for Republicans, but I didn’t grasp just how bad it would be until I began visiting districts across the country. There was a deep disconnect between what Republican leaders in Washington were saying and what I, as a first-time congressional candidate, was hearing in my district and on the ground elsewhere.

Ironically, back then it was the Republican Party that was accusing the Democrats of being the “Party of No.” Democrats were attempting to nationalize the election and focus on the complacency and corruption of Republicans. Republicans were firing back that Democrats were only interested in obstructing their majority. The Republican Party leadership back in Washington was convinced that the old truism about how “all politics is local” would save them from the Democrats’ attempt to nationalize the election. They clung to the belief that there was no broad discontent in the country. They had introduced the right bills and had the right talking points. Things might be tough, they thought, but the voters were still with them.

But as I traveled around the country, I began to know better. I was on the ground meeting with the candidates;
walking their districts, eating with them at the local Bob Evans and sitting in on their town halls. Voters were deeply unhappy with Republicans. They weren’t focused on the issues the leadership assumed the election would be about. They were talking about the party’s failures—our failures—from high-profile ethical lapses to the inability to rein in spending or even slow the growth of government.

The Republican base was angry about the way the party had betrayed its principles with earmarks that lacked the transparency and accountability that the public expected when taxpayer dollars were spent. At the same time, the party had lost the trust of many independents. The result was that no one was motivated to go out and do the work necessary for congressional Republicans to win. Incumbents in safe seats were fighting for their lives. The party brand was so damaged that Republican candidates didn’t want the party leadership in Washington coming to their districts to campaign. And yet that same leadership still believed that the majority was safe.

They were wrong. Democrats gained thirty-one seats and a majority in the House, ending twelve years of Republican control.

But even in that disastrous year, we had some successes. The thirteen Republican freshmen who were elected to the House of Representatives in 2006 constituted the smallest freshman class since 1914. But despite its small size, our class included many bright and talented people whom I still serve with today—Doug Lamborn of Colorado, Gus
Bilirakis and Vern Buchanan of Florida, Peter Roskam of Illinois, Michele Bachmann of Minnesota, Adrian Smith of Nebraska, Dean Heller of Nevada, Jim Jordan of Ohio, Mary Fallin of Oklahoma (and then later, through special elections, Paul Broun of Georgia, Bob Latta of Ohio, Rob Wittman of Virginia, and Steve Scalise of Louisiana). These are the men and women who are in many ways the future of the party.