No surprise, then, that pundits have dismissed Denny Hastert as the Invisible Speaker–a kindly puppet controlled by the party’s more combative leaders. “People have defined me because I haven’t defined myself,” the former wrestling coach says. But that may be changing. As Congress wraps up its session this week, there are signs that Hastert is growing into the job. By pulling together enough of his party’s warring House factions to pass a $792 billion tax cut, he gave new life to what Bill Clinton had hoped would be a “do-nothing” Congress. “Coach! Coach! Coach!” Republican members chanted appreciatively after the vote. Next he’ll try to piece together a fragile agreement on gun control and a patients’ bill of rights before the year is out. “He’s walking on eggshells,” says Connecticut Rep. Chris Shays, a leading moderate. “But for a big guy, he does it quite well.”
Hastert never asked for the top job before Newt Gingrich and Bob Livingston resigned in quick succession last winter. Party ideologues trusted Hastert’s strongly conservative voting record; moderates liked his inclusive style. A tireless listener, the speaker is less likely to bully opponents than to draw them near and cajole them. He retains a fondness for coaches’ metaphors. “You keep your eye on the ball and you do your coaching before the day of the big tournament,” he says, summing up his legislative philosophy.
Some Republicans think him too reluctant to wield power Gingrich style. But he pushed through the tax bill decisively, asking doubters to “do this for me.” Hastert and Senate leaders are now squared off against Clinton, who’s threatened to veto the tax cuts as excessive. And even if they win, Hastert will be hard pressed to pass more controversial bills with his slim, five-seat majority.
But at least he’s getting used to banging the big gavel. Mobbed by TV cameras on his first trip back to Yorkville after being tapped last December, Hastert thought they must be waiting for someone else. His routine hasn’t changed much–aside from the government jet and the secure phone to the president. Returning home to his wife every month, he still has coffee with buddies at the auto-body shop and slurps strawberry shakes after dinner. He unwinds by mowing his three acres and cleaning his antique Lincolns. Anonymity is fine with him. “History will record whether we did our job or not,” Hastert says. If he does it well, history may even remember his name.
