Master of the House

By Richard Lacayo

The day had an odd familiarity about it. It began with a worship service for the newly elected leader. The formal swearing-in ceremony, after a night of festivities, began at high noon. After the oath, he gave an inaugural address designed to reach out to all Americans, to rally the nation to work together for a great common future. The network anchors broadcast live from Washington, and the new leader was photographed gazing at the Washington Monument and embracing his mother.

If it wasn't a presidential inauguration in fact, it was certainly so in spirit -- an investiture of power in the new Speaker of the House of Representatives that is unprecedented in the nation's history. Officially the ceremony marked the opening of the 104th Congress, but more important, it marked the beginning of an extraordinary period in American history in which the President of the United States will in effect share power with the Speaker of the House.

An obscure figure to most Americans only a few months ago, Newt Gingrich of Georgia, sworn in as the 58th Speaker of the House on Wednesday, thus completed an extraordinarily rapid rise to power. His inaugural speech moved well beyond the harsh partisan message that brought him to power, and his first meeting with the newly circumscribed President was an elaborate exercise in conciliation and cooperation. But the House reforms that began, as he had promised, on Day One came swift and bold, and the orderly procession of the votes demonstrated the security of his hold on both the House and the nation's agenda.

With a history professor's sense of occasion, a futurist's grasp of possibilities and a politician's dexterity with symbols, Gingrich brought two gavels with him that day. The first -- a link to the past and a token of how long the G.O.P. had waited to regain power -- had belonged to Joseph Martin of Massachusetts, the last Republican Speaker, who relinquished it to the Democrats 40 years ago. The other, a jumbo mallet suggestive of Gingrich's power and willingness to use it, was donated by a fan. On opening day he favored the big one.

In a House that voters have refashioned with dynamite, Gingrich's gavel represents to his followers the instrument by which the rubble could be bounced into a new political arrangement, one that Republicans could dominate for years to come. It was that prospect, the blood-tingling thought that they might be witnessing the start of a G.O.P. millennium, that brought a real fervor to the Republican side of the House on their marathon opening day. "Newt, Newt, Newt!" they chanted. "It's a whole Newt world!"

The contrast with the members of the ancien regime was startling. The Republicans of the 104th Congress are largely white, male and strikingly young. The white males among the devastated Democratic ranks are older and tired looking. As Gingrich prepared to give his surprisingly conciliatory opening address, several vanquished Democratic committee chairmen -- among them former Foreign Affairs chairman Lee Hamilton of Indiana -- paced the back aisles, pale ghosts of caucuses past. One chose to look at the bright side. As chairman, he said, "you're dealing with a bunch of little rug rats whining about what they want and what they didn't get." Ceding power is "like getting out of the day-care business. All of a sudden, it looks like a good deal." So is Newt Gingrich nanny to the nation? He will certainly get to conciliate and cajole, to deal and dole out, to demand and deliver -- with all the clout of a victorious revolutionary, with all the prestige of a virtual President.

The actual and virtual Presidents prepared for the week with different evocations of political power. Clinton spent the first few days in Arkansas on vacation. He did not seem like a man with many worries as he went duck hunting with four old friends in the east Arkansas lowlands. At a local restaurant he chatted up patrons and posed for pictures. Still, he was winsome and a little wistful, enthusiastic about his home state, reluctant about returning to Washington. Referring to birds he had seen earlier, sitting by the hundreds in fields along the road, he said, "I identify with those little ducks out there." Unlike in Washington, he noted, it is illegal in Arkansas to shoot sitting ducks from the roadway.

Clinton had no sooner returned to Little Rock from his hunting trip than he changed clothes and headed off again for the two-hour drive to Hope. For 15 minutes he stood alone at his mother's grave. Then he headed to a nearby hospital, where his 90-year-old great uncle, Oren ("Buddy") Grisham, was ailing and near death. The next day he flew back to Washington, his "batteries recharged" and his "roots watered."

For Gingrich, the New Year brought a barrage of activity as aides fluttered around making preparations for the triumphant entry into the capital. The two days before the swearing in would be packed with meetings and dinners, culminating on Tuesday with a farewell breakfast sponsored by supporters at a school gym in Roswell, Georgia. And then he was off on a chartered Delta flight to the capital, landing at Dulles International Airport at about 1 p.m., en route to more parties, more meetings. But there was a difference. Gingrich was on his way to becoming second in the line of succession -- after Al Gore -- to the presidency. Immediately upon his arrival, Capitol security surrounded him with a constant cordon. The populist, however, kept an eye on symbolism. Instead of traveling in a line of sedans, Gingrich packed himself, his aides and his security into a Plymouth Suburban -- the limo of the new American order.

Two family incidents contributed a certain spontaneity to the new Speaker's week. He blew up over the TV interview in which Connie Chung elicited from his mother the whispered confession that Gingrich had called the First Lady "a bitch." "Connie Chung should apologize," Newt said. And then, at Newt's moment of triumph, Bob Gingrich, his father, chose not to join in a standing ovation. Newt has admitted that his relationship with his adoptive father has always been distant. Newt had called Bob a few weeks earlier to break the ice. "I want to thank you for being an influence in my life," said the Speaker-to-be. "You had a great deal to do with me being where I am today." Bob Gingrich could only listen in silence. Last week he was almost as taciturn, explaining his decision to sit simply: "After the third standing ovation, it gets a little old." Said the Speaker of his father: "He is a good infantryman who is highly disciplined and deeply trained to avoid emotion." As for himself, Newt admitted the excitement was getting to him, but he was holding his emotions in check. "I don't want to break down."

Some Democrats did not mask their unhappiness. As Gingrich gave his speech, Representative Maxine Waters of California decided she wasn't going to bother to fake it. As her colleagues clapped at the nicer sentiments of Gingrich's speech -- and even rose to applaud him several times -- Waters sat fixed in her seat, glowering. For part of the speech, she even left the chamber. But others in her party were willing to marvel.

Indeed, Clinton was more than conciliatory when he met with Gingrich on Thursday -- and the new Speaker was affable in return. "God knows what they could have gotten my mother to say," Clinton joked, joining Gingrich in his mockery of the press. To complete the reconciliations, Gingrich and his mother later accepted a handwritten invitation to the White House from Mrs. Clinton -- hereafter to be known as the gracious First Lady. When Gingrich emerged from the White House, he said he sensed "a very real willingness to try to find a way to try to work together." The White House liked much of what Gingrich said. For example, on who could offer the bigger tax cuts: "We cannot have a bidding war. We made that mistake in the '80s. We ought to set a parameter with regards to the tax cut." To Treasury Secretary-designate Bob Rubin, Gingrich said, "We don't want to do anything that hurts us in terms of the markets." The White House took that as a sign the Speaker may be willing to scale back some of his plans.

The amity masked huge differences that will produce tough fights in the next months. But the congeniality was in some ways an expression of a mutual political anxiety. Gingrich and Clinton understand that politics has become tremendously volatile, with voters willing to punish failure without regard to party or personality.

With that in mind, Gingrich quickly attended to his power base and putting his House in order. One of the most popular new reforms made House members subject to the same employment laws imposed on all other Americans. But other changes in rules, though more arcane, are just as crucial and welcome: among them, eliminating three committees and 25 subcommittees, cutting the size of committee staffs by a third, limiting chairmen to six years on the job and the Speaker to eight. The Democrats were skeptical. "Eliminating the Merchant Marine Committee? Big deal!" scoffed Charles Schumer of New York.

For Gingrich, however, the most significant effect of the new measures is that they have restored to the Speaker much of the power that had made its way into the hands of willful and independent committee chairmen. Under the old system those chairmen seemed destined to rule their baronies for life. Torn between the demands of the Speaker and those of his chairman, a lowly Congressman had no choice but to side with the one who could make his life more miserable -- and that was rarely the Speaker. As Speaker, Gingrich appoints all chairmen, and from the outset he demonstrated that he won't hesitate to discard once sacred rules of seniority if they keep him from appointing those who will more closely follow his vision and authority. With the term limits for chairmen the House approved last week, Gingrich ensures a whole crop of would-be successors all anxious to stay in his good graces for, the electorate willing, the next eight years.

By cutting out committees entirely or reducing them in size, Gingrich eliminates some of the opportunity for PAC money to flow to lawmakers from the | industries they oversee -- money that can make lawmakers loyal to outside masters. If fewer Republicans are getting PAC money from agribusiness, for example, the Speaker may have less trouble commanding party loyalty in any vote to cut, say, farm subsidies. To achieve a similar end, some of the most powerful committees have had their authority reduced. Still, Gingrich didn't pare back all of the sprawl. Ways and Means, for instance, is a magnet for campaign contributions because it controls the tax code. Chairman Bill Archer was willing to make do with 29 members, but demand for seats was so high that Gingrich made it 35.

Before Gingrich's ascendance, Robert Dole was the G.O.P.'s equivalent of a shadow President. At Newt's inaugural last week, the Senator from Kansas watched from the sidelines. He quickly exited after the festivities were over. Asked by TIME for his view of the events, he simply said, "I'd better get back to work." In the Senate the newly installed majority leader gave a speech more characteristic of Gingrich than the one the Speaker actually delivered, promising "to cut federal programs from A to Z, from Amtrak to zoological studies."

And the real President? His strategists say the new tactic with Gingrich and the Republicans is to compromise where possible -- but to keep the option to fight on principle where necessary. In fact, Clinton aides actually look forward to the first presidential veto -- perhaps to counter G.O.P. moves against Head Start, the Goals 2000 education bill, the Brady bill or attempts to strip the crime bill of the assault-weapons ban. The White House has seen polls and focus-group studies that show voters do not believe Clinton will stand by any principles. Where Clinton draws the line and has fights, says a top White House official, is going to be crucial to the "President's image with the American people." The veto is key. Says Representative George Miller, a California Democrat: "It's the nuclear weapon of American politics. You don't threaten it lightly, and you don't use it lightly." Miller doubts Clinton will have the resolve to use it effectively.

For now, the President talks amiably with the virtual President, even as his lieutenants prepare for war. Last week Democratic whip David Bonior threatened that if the Republicans try to railroad bills through, "we'll blow up the tracks." Perhaps they will try. But pure obstructionism won't help Clinton or the Democrats, and there are now two engineers driving the train.

CHART: NOT AVAILABLE

CREDIT: From a telephone poll of 600 Adult Americans taken for TIME/CNN on Jan. 5 by Yankelovich Partners Inc. Sampling error is plus or minus 4%. "Not sures" omitted.

CAPTION: Will the proposals acted on this week by Congress bring significant reform to Congress?

Have these proposals gone too far?

% having a favorable impression of:

Bill Clinton

Bob Dole

Newt Gingrich

With reporting by James Carney and Karen Tumulty/Washington