The Open And Closeted Lives of a Gay Congressman

He described Foley as "emotionally devastated. He feels he let everyone down -- his constituents, his family, his loved ones, his party and the people he hurt."

Before last week, Foley carved out a reputation as a gung-ho, if slightly unpredictable, mainstream Republican. After dropping out of a South Florida community college, he opened a local restaurant at age 20 and won a seat on the Lake Worth city commission three years later. He was elected to the state House in 1990, the state Senate in 1992 and the U.S. House in 1994.

Foley staked out typical Florida Republican positions on such issues as immigration, agriculture and Cuba. As widely noted in recent days, he took a particular interest in sexual crimes and portrayed himself as a protector of exploited children. Foley snagged a plum seat on the Ways and Means Committee and delved into trade and Medicare arcana. The last bill Foley introduced, on Sept. 26, congratulated the Professional Golfers Association of America on its 90th anniversary.

The congressman worked doggedly to please House GOP leaders by raising funds for key candidates and rounding up votes for critical bills. He rose to be a deputy whip in then-Majority Whip Tom DeLay's (R-Tex.) organization and frequently praised DeLay in public. He compared the Texan to a "country club manager" during an interview at the 2000 GOP presidential convention. "He makes sure every member's needs are met, and that's why we work hard for him," Foley told The Washington Post at the time.

All in all, he was viewed as a reliable Republican House member. "I've always found him to be a smart guy with a very engaging personality," said John Feehery, a former top Hastert aide.

Foley was more socially gregarious than most members, entertaining at his Capitol Hill home and attending parties and gatherings around town. He signed up for lavish recess getaways with lobbyists and donors, and in recent years attended some events with his companion, the Palm Beach doctor.

A gifted mimic, he would regale fundraising audiences and cocktail parties with imitations of former president Clinton, Florida Sen. Bill Nelson and California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger. "The man loved being an elected official," said Dinerstein. "He'd wake up in the morning and look for an event to attend."

Bubbling just below the surface was Foley's private life, which some found hard to reconcile with his public actions.

"You have someone who for all intents and purposes is a gay person, but continues to perpetuate the myth that there's something wrong with it," said Tracy Thorne-Begland, a Foley family friend.

In 1992, as a Navy lieutenant, Thorne-Begland announced that he was gay during a nationally televised interview, helping to lay the groundwork for the military's "don't ask, don't tell" policy. Four years later, after Foley voted for the Defense of Marriage Act, Thorne-Begland called to complain.

"It was clear to me that he was very closeted, very uncomfortable with his sexuality," said Thorne-Begland, now an attorney for the city of Richmond.

Thorne-Begland's father, Lake Worth surgeon and pilot Roscoe Thorne, had flown Foley to campaign events during his first campaign for Congress. Thorne died in a private plane crash during the campaign and Foley spoke at the funeral.