Copyright 2000 Newsday, Inc.
Newsday (New York, NY)
September 27, 2000, Wednesday NASSAU AND
SUFFOLK EDITION
SECTION: VIEWPOINTS; Page A37
LENGTH: 1324 words
SERIES:
SUBURBAN SHOWNDOWN. Third in a series
HEADLINE:
SURBURBAN SHOWDOWN / WHERE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD IS THE WAY TO GO
BYLINE: Lawrence C. Levy
BODY:
NORRISTOWN, Pa.-This is a poor town the
suburbs forgot, in a rich county that is also forgetting the Republican Party.
Once the hub of Montgomery County, Norristown has suffered while other
Philadelphia bedroom 'burbs have soared on malls and office centers and a stream
of politically independent young families who, ironically, want less of all.
That has come to include a little less of what many see as the GOP's overly
pro-growth and antiprivacy agenda, from the party's perceived weakness on
protecting the environment to its zealousness against abortion rights.
Like Hempstead Village on Long Island and other ragged camps on the
Crabgrass Frontier, Norristown is an exception to the rule of suburban
prosperity. The fabled Main Line crashes here. Gone are the mills on the
Schuylkill River that kept Main Street shops and bars filled after the pay
envelopes were opened. A generation later, welfare doesn't go as far as a good
union job. Now, many stores remain boarded, while the nearby Plymouth Meeting
mall is bustling.
The only thing trickling down is the rain that runs
off the hills past ramshackle houses and rotting factories, as it did Saturday
when ministers and politicians marched for "community renewal." Among those
gathered for an opening prayer outside Holy Saviour Church was Joe Hoeffel, an
exception to what is still a rule of suburban politics: GOP control of local,
state and federal elections.
Hoeffel, 50, is a Democratic congressman in
a district that is 3-2 Republican and where the GOP holds most offices, even in
Norristown. This is a seat the Democrats must retain as part of their plan to
retake control of Congress.
But he can't win unless he gets Republican
and independent voters. And in trying to satisfy more fiscally conservative
suburban constituents and more socially liberal Democratic powerbrokers, Hoeffel
has put himself potentially at risk. (For instance, he opposed the
marriage-penalty tax and permanent normal trade status for
China, sticking with unions and Democratic leaders and, on the trade issue,
going against his local Chamber of Commerce and his party's own popular
president.) And considering he is a freshman and faces an accomplished moderate,
he should be vulnerable.
But Hoeffel doesn't seem to be. Judging by the
relatively slow pace of the race, the unexpected weakness of George W. Bush at
the top of the ticket and the paucity of spending by special interests,
including the parties' national committees, it is shaping up as surprisingly
uncompetitive.
And even polite: Dressed for the march in a weekend
boomer uniform of khakis, sneakers, a brightly colored sport shirt and baseball
cap, Hoeffel was holding an umbrella for a silver-haired man in a tailored suit
who looked like he could be a corporate contributor. They were talking not about
money, but about a pie-eating contest they were scheduled to judge at a town
fair.
"Have you met Senator Greenleaf?" Hoeffel asked me. That's
Greenleaf, as in Republican State Sen. Stewart Greenleaf-Hoeffel's opponent.
If it is more civil than most campaigns, at least so far, it is no
casual affair. And it is no cinch, either. Greenleaf's 22 years in the state
house, where he is known as a tough-on-crime fiscal conservative but also a
supporter of abortion rights, gun control and environmental protection, makes
him a credible threat. Ten years ago, no doubt, Greenleaf would have been as
certain a winner as a post-Christmas sale at King of Prussia mall.
Hoeffel also knows that if Bush were doing better or if the popular Gov.
Tom Ridge had been chosen as his running mate, this race might be scaring the
Democratic leaders in Washington.
Now, save for something dramatic,
Republicans here also could lose enough suburban state seats to give control of
a now-deadlocked lower legislative house to the Democrats. That, in turn, would
give the party the power to redraw congressional and legislative district lines
that could secure Democratic power for a decade.
One of the great
political sea changes of the past decade is that Montgomery, like other suburban
counties, is now competitive. The biggest reasons are shifts in demographics
(they're more ethnically and racially diverse, thus more Democratic) and changes
in the images of the two major parties (the GOP has been seen as tilting toward
extremism and a good economic run under Bill Clinton has made Democrats seem
more responsible). Like many of its sister districts, Pennsylvania's 13th has
not made up its mind between the parties. None, in fact, has changed its mind
more.
In 1992, Clinton's moderate mantra and Pat Buchanan's conservative
rhetoric made the Democratic Party safe for this and other cautious suburbs. And
after the retirement of a long-time incumbent, voters here elected a Democrat to
Congress for the first time in 25 years, TV reporter Marjorie
Margolies-Mezvinsky. But, in 1994, after breaking a very public pledge against
raising taxes, she was defeated by Jon Fox in the Republican Revolution.
By 1996, after the Newt Gingrich-led shutdown of government and other
tactics to promote a conservative agenda, suburbia was reminded of why it had
been shying away from Republicans. Baby boomers, with growing children and aging
parents, did not want to see government dismantled. They moved from cities for
the sort of services government provides-schools, cops, parks and nursing
care-and didn't mind paying for them. What they wanted was value for their
money. So they went big for Clinton in Montgomery and other suburbs. And they
re-elected Fox, who voted with the conservative leadership to slash funds for
popular programs, by only 84 votes.
"The leaders never understood
suburban voters," said Fox, who is now practicing and teaching law. "They didn't
seem to realize that seats like mine were what kept them in power."
The
Democrat whom Fox beat in 1996 was Hoeffel, then a county commissioner. Two
years later, as voters continued to reject Republican policies and the party's
pursuit of Clinton for lying about Monica Lewinsky, Hoeffel beat Fox by almost
10,000 votes, and he hasn't stopped running.
Whether it is his
"Saturdays with Joe" gripe sessions or popping up at every parade, prayer
meeting or town fair, Hoeffel has been ubiquitous. "Independent voters want to
see energy and commitment," Hoeffel said. Even if they don't agree with you on
every position, "they want to see that you understand and care what they care
about."
For Hoeffel and other Democrats, such as Long Island Rep.
Carolyn McCarthy, staying an incumbent in Republican-friendly suburbs means a
balancing act between competing forces that risks alienating everybody. Voting
against Permanent Normal Trade Relations with China-which could
benefit a district rich with exporters- makes him vulnerable to the charge that
he is a typical "pro-union, antibusiness liberal." Nixing the repeal of the
marriage penalty raises the spectre of a "tax-and-spender," a label that has
killed Democrats for decades.
Surviving in a suburb also means knowing
when to stay close to the president and when to run away. Hoeffel has done both.
During his 1998 bid, he refused to attend a Clinton fund-raiser in Philly,
saying he didn't want the president's troubles to "distract" from his own
campaign. This year, Clinton raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for
him-even after Hoeffel dissed him again by voting against the China trade bill.
But as much as Hoeffel needs the president, he understands that the
president needs him for his own legacy. So do congressional Democrats, if they
want to control Congress. The question is whether the Democrats have learned
from the mistakes of the Republicans who pushed their suburban members to a less
centrist agenda.
Ask Jon Fox. Watch Joe Hoeffel.
LOAD-DATE: September 27, 2000
