The quote was electric, bound to be repeated and recalled inendless editorials and on the talk show and cocktail party circuit.
The administration's budget cuts, Secretary of Education WilliamJ. Bennett was supposed to have said, might force some students topractice 'stereo divestiture, automobile divestiture,three-weeks-at-the-beach divestiture.' Driving down a road in NewEngland, Chuck Wexler was as startled by the remarks as they blastedfrom his car radio as people who didn't know Bennett.
'I thought, oh, God, it doesn't sound like him,' says Wexler, agood friend of Bennett's for the last 15 years. The next time he wasin Washington, he asked Bennett what he meant. Bennett was annoyed.
'He said, `That is not what I said. You should know.' Then Iread the transcript and I felt awful. Here I am jumping on him-and Irealized as a friend I should have known better.'
Bennett, who contended that his remarks had been taken out ofcontext, thought one person he wouldn't have to explain himself towas Wexler.
What Wexler experienced was an instant baptism in the rules ofWashington friendships: Washington power brokers depend on longtimefriends for loyalty and advice that's not distorted by the Washingtonmicroscope.
Bennett, 44, and Wexler, 37, an executive for the InternationalAssociation of Chiefs of Police in Gaithersburg, met in the early'70s when Bennett was a dean at Boston University and Wexler astudent leader there. They became buddies-not the only friend eitherhas, but friends of distinction. When Bennett got married five yearsago, Wexler and another friend accompanied the newlyweds on themountain-climbing portion of their honeymoon. When Bennett thoughthe was going to be late for his 3-year-old's birthday party, Wexlerwas the one who hid the toy animals and collected the balloons. OnSundays, they play touch football.
Bennett and Wexler have a friendship that could probably thrivein any city, but in Washington it comes under unusual pressuresunique to Washington power circles.
Washington friendships have special origins, rules and rituals.They can be a pleasant melding of the famous and the unknown, or theycan be competitive, caught in the indigenous game of access andclout. The numbers of ambitious, aggressive-personality types strainfriendships. 'For many people, work is their life, their friend,'says psychologist Barbara Urban.
All friendships need to be worked at, but Washington friendshipsoften need to be worked in. Job demands and workaholic naturesresult in Filofax friendships, where time with friends is scheduled.And often a friend is no sooner found than lost-transferred or votedout of town.
All this imposes a superficiality, and adds up to a town thatcan be brutally disastrous on friendships, according topsychologists, psychiatrists, job counselors, social workers andseveral pairs of friends.
'Because it is a high-stakes town,' says Urban, 'it is hard toknow whether a friend is there just for you.'
Pals in Powertown Power, the commodity that most touches the lives of the 3.5 millionpeople in the capital area, is what makes Washington friendshipsslippery. Dr. Rex Buxton, a psychiatrist who has had 46 years ofobserving Washington personal dynamics, puts it absolutely: 'Thebasis of people seeking out each other and getting involved infriendships in Washington is pure unadulterated power.'
The quest for power-whether real or imaginary, direct orfiltering far down the GS scale-has its price of backlash andisolation.
'Some of those things you need in a friendship-the ability totrust, the ability to confide-you may not be able to have so easily.Those power brokers may feel isolated. They, and everyone, wants tobe liked for who they are, not just the aura around them,' says Dr.Susan Blumenthal, a psychiatrist at the National Institute of MentalHealth.
The personality of Washington, and its location-not quite north,not quite south-puts a hazy veil over the power grab and adds asometimes unexpected tension to friendships.
'Washington is an `up-south' town. It is swiftly moving andpart of the federal government ... fast and competitive. {But}Washington is also small and cozy ... The two blend into acollaboration that makes the competition different,' says Linda N.Gunn, a social worker who is director of community relations at thePsychiatric Institute of Washington. 'So people in Washington have atendency to watch out; they differentiate between `associates' and`friends.' '
An 'associate' may be a person who shares similar ideology,works in tandem to make deals happen and knows the relationship mightbe mutually advantageous. It also can be an acquaintance that lastsonly as long as the campaign or conference, and an excuse when apolitician's actions are questioned or investigated and distance isneeded. 'He's only a political friend' thus indicates half a cup offriendship.
In Washington, more than other cities, says Buxton, the bottomline becomes 'a real friend is someone who doesn't need you.' TheBennett-Wexler association has passed this test. Though he onceworked for Bennett and discussed working for him in Washington,Wexler pursues an independent career.
Whatever their individual status, people in the power loop haveto develop a litmus test for friendships. Gail Berendzen, the wifeof the president of American University, says she feels Washington isone of the hardest places to form friendships, and she counts onlythree people as close friends.
'Very often I'm approached by someone who wants a job or aprofessor who is looking for something. I say if there is somethingI can help with, I will. But I tell them very quickly, within fiveminutes, I can't affect policy,' says Berendzen.
But occasionally she gets stung. 'A passing acquaintance' askedto have lunch and after a pleasant chat, they quibbled over the bill.Finally Berendzen let the other woman pay. 'A few days later shecalled and asked for the phone number of a very important person. Isaid no. And she said, `What kind of friend are you? I took you tolunch. You owe me.' ' The Silent Partner The Bennett-Wexler friendship has survived one's ascent into power.After five years at Boston University, Bennett became executivedirector of the National Humanities Center in North Carolina, thencame to Washington in 1981 to be chairman of the National Endowmentfor the Humanities. In 1985 he became secretary of education.Wexler, meanwhile, went to Florida State University for his master'sin criminology, then to MIT for his doctorate in city planning. Heworked for the Boston Police Department, where he earned a reputationas an expert in race relations. But his reputation was inspecialized circles; Bennett's was nationwide.
Diane Sawyer, CBS' '60 Minutes' correspondent, and Susan Flack, aWashington attorney, are another example of the bond between acelebrity and a lesser-known person.
Sawyer and Flack have known one another since their childhoodsin Louisville. Flack moved to Washington in 1968 to work for theFederal Power Commission, Sawyer shortly after to work for the NixonWhite House. Though Sawyer is now based in New York, they continuetheir friendship by shuttle, telephone and mail. Like many pairs offriends, they synchronize in thought but are opposites in appearanceand style. Flack has a jumble of dark hair, bounces even when she issitting still and expresses herself with gestures as well as words.Sawyer, her blond hair pulled back, speaks clearly but softly,carefully reserving her words as well as her expressions.
'The friendship you make early in your life is at the level ofthe kind of person you want to be,' Sawyer says. 'You are alwaysmeasuring yourself implicitly against the innocence you brought toit. You are always gauging the kind of person you have become,rather than what you have accomplished. I think that is why what Ido in my work has no bearing {on my relationship with Susan}.'
Flack knows the Sawyer who is both single-minded andabsent-minded. 'I am the one walking down the street with a book whowalks into the lamppost,' says Sawyer. 'And Susan will be there tohave the ambulance waiting for me at the next corner. It is as ifall the rest of that {celebrity} exists on some other plane.'
Flack takes Sawyer's leap from the journalism pack to star TVinterviewer in stride:
'Does it matter whether she is in Paris and can't have dinner,or in Manila and can't have dinner, or at the Madison at a stakeoutand can't have dinner?' Flack asks. 'She just stays at nicer hotelsnow.'
The status of the visible partner brings specialresponsibilities to the relatively unknown friend: to respect adesire for privacy that can be almost fanatic; to understand thatthe relationship should not be used as currency to enhance one's ownstatus; and, occasionally, to bring the famous friend down to earth.That sometimes takes the form of a jab at the ego. When Bennett, anathlete from his days at Washington's Gonzaga High School, is doingparticularly well in the touch football game, Wexler can call him'Secretary of Everything' and get away with an irreverence the otherplayers can't. The Drop In Washington, a city where a reputation can be made very quickly,stardom often rides on a title: the presidential press secretary.Clerk to a Supreme Court justice. Campaign manager.
But a reputation can be ruined just as quickly, and a 'former'in front of a title immediately diminishes the prestige. And, when aWashington political friendship unravels-sometimes overnight with theswiftness of a tornado-it can be painful and public.
The day after an election loss, the invitations stop.
'That is probably the hardest thing for anybody,' says RhodaGlickman, executive director of the Congressional Arts Caucus and thewife of Rep. Danny Glickman (D-Kan.). 'We all know an invitation to areception is not a friendship invitation. It is a business{invitation}.'
'Yet members of Congress allow themselves to be used. Theyaccept all these invitations knowing what they really are,' saysSusan Torricelli, public relations consultant, the wife of Rep.Robert Torricelli (D-N.J.) and one of Glickman's closest friends.
Glickman finishes: 'It is still hard for people to reallybelieve, `I am not worth that.' '
'One of the hazards of friendships in Washington is that somepeople might blur the job with who they are,' says Blumenthal. 'Whenthe change occurs, there is a severe identity crisis and severe blowsto their self-esteem.'
Another reason friendships end abruptly in Washington is thethreat of scandal. In 1983 Lillian Wiggins, a member of the D.C.Lottery Board, became the target of an investigation by the FBI andthe U.S. attorney's office. It was alleged that Wiggins received afur coat from the wife of a winner of a contract issued by the board,but Wiggins was never charged with any wrongdoing.
Overnight, says Wiggins, her friends disappeared.
'I felt sure people would know me and know my integrity wasbeyond question,' says Wiggins. She had been the women's editor ofthe Washington Afro-American for nearly nine years and had been acommunity activist, someone who had raised tuition for students andgiven an annual party for underprivileged children-a person generallyknown as someone to turn to in the hour of need.
'Before this happened I was riding high. I was invited toeverything. It would appear I had something to offer,' says Wiggins.But when the allegations surfaced, instead of receiving support, shesays, she was ostracized.
'Much of what was done to me was done by my so-called friends.I got letters that said I was worshiping at the altar of corruption,that I had some of my family living in big houses in North Portalestates, that my son had received a recreational vehicle from one ofthe contractors.'
For a year she stayed at home, confused by most of her friends'reactions. 'None of these people looked at me as innocent untilproven guilty. I got unsigned notes that said, `You've been knockedoff your high horse.' '
Eventually Wiggins relieved her stress through prayer andexercise and 'learning how to be by myself,' and adopted the motto,'With faith, God will make your enemies your footstools.' Nowworking part-time at the Washington Informer, Wiggins says she haslearned to distinguish between friends and acquaintances.
'And I have learned to be completely dependent on Lil. Ilearned that the most important aspect of my life was my family,'says Wiggins. 'I will never believe again that you are so powerfuland so much loved by the community because of your commitments thatyou will never stand out there alone.' The Friendship Connection
Of course, some Washington friendships are made and maintainedin traditional settings-on the Metro, at the Eastern Market, inchurches and schools. Take James Sansom, an assistant treasurer atAmerican Security Bank, and Matthew Paschall, a marketingrepresentative with IBM. They met seven years ago as undergraduatesat Howard University. Common interests-music, albums, women, carsand sports-brought them together and provide the nexus for afriendship that grows as they build their careers.
But many friendships here start in the midst of rituals peculiarto Washington. Glickman met Torricelli, for example, at a meeting ofcongressional spouses who wanted to help out in the 1984 Mondalecampaign. 'We were paired to do something and we had to keep callingone another,' remembers Glickman. They began to have lunch, thenfill the weekends when their husbands were back in their districtswith marathon moviegoing and refined the art of conversation throughlong phone calls.
Sometimes it's common views on issues. A caucus of sixwomen-Barbara Blum, Barbara Bode, Patricia Reuss, Anne BroderickZill, Jeanne Clark Preston and LaDonna Harris-met during the Carteradministration, attracted to the same liberal and feminist causes.They call themselves 'The Comanche Amazons,' so dubbed by a malefriend of Harris, who is a member of the Comanche tribe.
And, though Washington is not the only city with a cultural fasttrack, art in combination with politics creates a different kind of asocial swirl. 'This power thing trickles down. The art world can bejust as vitriolic and mean-spirited as any,' says artist Bill Dunlap,who met friend Willie Lewis, a former teacher and arts activisit at aPEN/Faulkner Foundation event. 'But I avoid that and I think I pickedup that in Willie right away.' Eavesdropping 'Friendships are like the topography of the land,' Diane Sawyersays. 'They build up in layers and some of the layers show morestress than other layers. But it is the fact that you have gottenlayers thatreally makes them work.'
When a relationship has built up over the years, there isn't aneed to talk daily or weekly. 'Both of us always know the other onedoes care a lot without the need of touching base at certainintervals,' says Susan Flack.
'So much of friendships that last is shorthand,' says Sawyer.'It is being able to connect the dots between what happened the lasttime you talked and what happened now.'
A sample of the Flack-Sawyer shorthand:
Flack: 'My children wrote and congratulated her when hercontract went through. They had followed all the negotiationscarefully. My 11-year-old ...'
Sawyer: 'There is a certain amount of confusion because herdaughter thought when Princess Di got married, it was me. They mayhave me wrapped up in other ...'
Flack: '... images. But Diane is very special to my kids. Andbecause she is on television it makes her even more special.'
Sawyer: 'You have so many people you can talk about the courseof your career with ... They are very few people with whom you candiscuss a differential experience ... It really doesn't interest meto hear what she has to say about my interview with {Greek PrimeMinister} Andreas Papandreou.'
Flack: 'Of course, I didn't see it.'
Sawyer: 'I know. I knew you all sneak and watch `Our House.''
Flack: 'Sara {Flack's daughter} was watching something else thatwas against Diane on `60 Minutes,' and Diane said, `Well, we got ridof that one.' '
Sawyer: ' `Punky Brewster.' She held me personally responsiblefor the demise of `Punky Brewster.' ' Moving On Fitting friends into the rhythm of Washington life is an art.
Rhoda Glickman has developed, casually but still consciously,several circles of friends. There are her husband's associates fromCongress, the friends from his law school years at George WashingtonUniversity, her associates from her jobs, past and present.
'The friends we have made who are not part of the politicalscene at all, they are the hardest ones to keep social with,' saysGlickman. Political friends are seen during the week at officialfunctions, but others must be fit into a schedule determined by thedemands of two children as well as constituents.
Conversations are as distinct as the circles.
'In Wichita my children were small. Those people knew moreabout me as a family. When something happens to my kids, I tellthose friends,' says Glickman.
The transitory nature of Washington fractures relationships.The disruption can be particularly painful because it's not balancedby the natural support system of family and childhood friends.
'Everybody is affected. As a teacher who is involved intraining I know someone might be here 10 years while they are beingtrained. Only one in five stays here,' says Buxton.
The Bennett-Wexler friendship has survived geographicalseparations: Bennett has lived in North Carolina and Washington;Wexler, Boston and Washington. But such a cycle of 'engaging anddisengaging' can be especially wearing for some.
'People are wary of making an investment of themselves in afriendship that may disappear,' says Blumenthal. 'These kinds ofmultiple disruptions can be traumatic. One way of adapting is youdon't really let yourself get too close. Then it's harder over timeto make solid relationships.' Beyond Politics When four of the Comanche Amazons-Bode, Blum, Reuss and Zill-gatherto talk about their bonds, the pattern of their conversation is likea dance recital. At some times it's smooth; at others they stepover each other's words. Though their introductions were political,after 10 years they interact like family. Last year the youngestdaughter of Harris, the president of Americans for IndianOpportunity, got married. The group all functioned as 'mothers ofthe bride,' sitting together in the family pew.
In 1977 Blum, now president of the Adams National Bank, was theone with the power, the ability to hire people for the Carteradministration, but none of the group took advantage of that.
Blum: 'I was trying to get women in the administration.'
Zill, cochair of the Women's Campaign Fund: 'I remember youbeing extremely glamorous in the basement of Rayburn at a bigmeeting.'
Reuss, legislative director for Womens Equity Action League: 'Iwas still in Montana having babies.'
Bode, president of the Children's Foundation: 'Well, I didn'ttell everybody I wanted to be assistant secretary of agriculture.'
Of the group dynamics, Bode adds, 'We are all very competitivewomen, but we are not directly competitive with each other in ourcareers. We thus avoid one kind of a pitfall.'
Personal crises made them closer. When Zill was feeling blueone day, Bode came over and they just pulled up all the weeds in herback yard. When Harris moved back to Washington after her divorce,Bode arranged for a brunch to 'help me deal with my new life style.'When Preston, an artist, discovered she had ovarian cancer in 1979,the women helped her talk about her illness, made sure she had a rideto social outings. Bode went with her to the National Institutes ofHealth and waited during her treatments. And most important, saysPreston, 'she knew when to leave.'
Friends know when they're needed.
When Sansom needs a break from work or needs to spin a newdream, he calls Paschall. They go to Blues Alley or have a meal atthe Spaghetti Garden. They are still laughing about last Halloweenin Georgetown. 'We went down to J. Paul's and got a window seat, justwindow-watching,' says Sansom. Sansom had to be told the mask hehurriedly picked up was one of Freddy Krueger, menace of 'Nightmareon Elm Street.' Paschall just wore a wig.
Being there is one of the reasons the Bennett-Wexler friendshiphas grown over the years. 'He is the kind of person who willunderstand immediately; you don't have to explain the whole story,'says Wexler.
But one night last year, when Wexler was about to lose his jobbecause a new police commissioner was taking over in Boston, they didgo over the whole story, talking out his future while jogging aroundthe Mall.
'It was someone saying `I understand,' ' Wexler says. 'He knowsme, knows what I had done and knew the people involved, and he said,`That's not right.' '
Wexler felt better right away. But not because the support camefrom the secretary of education. Because it came from an old friendnamed Bill.
