Jess And Les

So sacrosanct is the congressional seniority system that the late Carl Hayden, an Arizona Democrat, ruled the powerful Senate Appropriations Committee into his 90s. The current chairman, Mississippi's John Stennis, is 85. The oldest House member, Claude Pepper of Florida, 86, chairs the Rules Committee. "There's something wrong with a system that keeps you from the top job until you're in your 70s," muses Florida Democrat Charles Bennett, 76. "But nobody can come up with anything better."

In choosing North Carolina's fire-breathing conservative Jesse Helms as ranking Republican on the Foreign Relations Committee last week, G.O.P. Senators seemed to agree. At 65, Helms is hardly in his dotage. But were it not for his seniority, his colleagues almost certainly would have chosen Indiana's Richard Lugar, 54, a moderate in foreign affairs. Lugar ably chaired the committee when Republicans controlled the Senate (Helms then headed the Agriculture Committee). But this session Helms sought to reclaim the ranking spot on Foreign Relations, from which he could wage a crusade against any signs of State Department moderation.

Republican committee members voted 7 to 0 for Lugar, who assumed the full caucus would simply "affirm" that decision. But Helms remained uncharacteristically serene. "We don't want to do away with the seniority system, do we?" he slyly asked colleagues. The not-so-subtle message got through, particularly to such out-of-step Republicans as Connecticut's Lowell Weicker, a liberal whose only chance to become a chairman lies with seniority. By a 24-to-17 vote, Republicans opted for Helms -- and the system.

Senators needed only to look across the Capitol for an example of the chaos that can erupt when seniority is ignored. In a rare coup, Wisconsin Democrat Les Aspin two years ago seized the chair of the House Armed Services Committee from Illinois' Melvin Price, then 80. Without the seniority shield, Aspin was himself toppled this year by his party's caucus. He had alienated liberals by supporting the MX missile and the contras, and offended many by his general tactlessness (he likened former Speaker Tip O'Neill to a "beached whale"). After two weeks of frenzied campaigning and a period of "contrition," Aspin fended off three challengers to regain his post. Said he: "There are a lot of things I need to do differently in dealing with people." If Aspin, 48, were 84, that might not be necessary.