House Rules

Uncertainties hovered. How hard would his separation from his wife and two children prove to be? Could he find the time to raise the necessary $2 million to $3 million needed for the 2008 campaign without compromising the job he had just won? The questions turned on a central quandary: How do you survive here?

COURTNEY DOES NOT LOOK LIKE A POLITICAL NATURAL. At 54, he is balding, slight and 5-foot-9. He speaks in a soft tenor, as opposed to the mellifluous bass of the archetypal pol. Even his most fervent supporters agree he does not radiate charisma. But he wears well on people, which is perhaps his biggest strength. Even his 2006 Republican rival, the former congressman Rob Simmons, says, "He's a very nice guy, very easy to be around." Courtney can perform that daunting feat of all skilled politicians: listening several minutes straight to a constituent without ever interrupting or looking bored. He developed a reputation as a mild-mannered, congenial conciliator during his state legislative days, when a Connecticut magazine cited him as the Democrat most admired by Republican legislators. Nonetheless, his future is at risk in a swing district that, while it almost always votes Democratic in presidential contests, has shown a streak of independence in turning legislative races into nail-biting contests.

Courtney's narrow win guarantees that he will be a target of Republicans in the 2008 elections. In turn, Courtney and the Democratic leadership have quietly launched a fundraising drive for his 2008 campaign that began even before he took the oath of office -- yet another reminder that, in modern American politics, some campaigns never end, and many politicians never get off the fundraising treadmill.

His party has a special interest in protecting Courtney; he is among 41 freshmen House Democrats whose arrival on the Hill has given the party its first House majority in 12 years. These days, Courtney receives regular campaign advice, contributions and monitoring from the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee, which has placed Courtney on its so-called Frontline team, the 29 Democratic House incumbents thought to be highly vulnerable in the 2008 elections, a number that includes 25 freshmen.

The House Democratic leadership has begun bolstering the stature of Courtney and other new Democratic members: showing them off at events with Speaker Nancy Pelosi, including them as co-sponsors of major pieces of legislation and praising their performance at news conferences. Politics is about nothing if not self-interest and the maintenance of power, and in the past, the self-interest of senior members dictated that House freshmen subserviently wait in line behind them for everything -- particularly powerful committee assignments and prime speaking time on the House floor. Not now. During the opening weeks, Courtney and other Democratic freshmen received speaking assignments on the floor during the Democrats' much-touted "100 Hour Agenda" -- a mix of bills addressing high-profile domestic issues such as the minimum wage, Medicare prescription drugs and loan rates on college tuition.

Some older Democratic bulls complained privately that they were being overlooked in favor of the freshmen. Pelosi reminded them that they wouldn't have their new power in the House but for the many newcomers, whom she calls "Majority Makers." In a favor seldom bestowed on freshmen in other eras, Courtney and many other new members have received their choice of key committees. Courtney won spots on the Education and Labor Committee and, potentially even more important for him, the influential Armed Services Committee. That body annually examines an important budgetary issue for Courtney: the building of nuclear-powered, attack submarines, which accounts for the jobs of more than 6,000 of his constituents.

A major district employer, General Dynamics' Electric Boat Corp., has seen its government contracts for subs steadily decline over the last two decades with the end of the Cold War and new demands on the defense budget, including the war in Iraq. At the peak of production, in 1973, the company received contracts to build six subs. Nowadays, the Navy contracts for only one sub each year, at a cost of more than $2 billion, with the work split between Electric Boat and Northrop Grumman's Newport News, Va., facility. The inability to get a contract for a second Virginia-class sub annually is much of the reason why Electric Boat has eliminated about 1,400 jobs at its Groton, Conn., plant over the last three years, and why it has plans to eliminate as many as 2,000 more jobs if it doesn't receive a contract to build an additional sub this year.

The only matter as important as the submarine to Courtney's fortunes has been his fundraising. The Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee, which helped guide Courtney's 2006 victory, wanted him to raise between $200,000 and $300,000 by the end of March, Courtney says, a hefty goal made more urgent by the growing belief that the 2008 reelection will be formidable. During the early weeks of his term, Courtney heard talk from the 2nd District that the defeated Simmons was seriously pondering a rematch. It was thought that Simmons could pose the same problems for Courtney in '08 as he had in 2006: the presence of a moderate Republican with a history of winning endorsements from environmental groups, abortion-rights organizations and other traditionally Democratic-leaning activists. Both Simmons and Courtney agree that the Iraq war -- which Simmons opposed at its start -- became the Republican's albatross during the '06 campaign. Despite his misgivings about the conflict, Simmons had voted to authorize the war and didn't call for a timetable to pull out, having decided, as he puts it, "to remain loyal to the president during a time of war." And, as Courtney's term began, neither politician could be sure where the voters would be on Iraq in another year, which had Courtney wondering about Simmons's political plans.

In his little apartment, Courtney realizes that, even if Simmons takes a pass, other potentially tough Republican challengers will line up to take him on. And though Courtney's swift campaign start means he'll doubtless enjoy a large fundraising advantage in the early months over any challenger, he points out that Simmons raised more than $200,000 to his own modest $60,000 at a similar stage in the first days of the 2006 race. An advantage in stockpiled money is nice; but the funds guarantee nothing.

And so, his 2006 victory already feels tenuous to him. "A couple of votes the other way," Courtney says the next day, "and I'm back home doing deeds and divorces."

ONCE A CONGRESSMAN COULD CONDUCT FUNDRAISING IN HIS OFFICE. But those days are long gone, and any fundraising nowadays must be done off the House grounds, in what inhabitants of Capitol Hill commonly call a "safe house." Roughly twice a week, generally during mid-mornings or late afternoons, Courtney leaves the Hill and walks three blocks to the office of the Democratic National Committee on South Capitol Street SE. From there, he takes the elevator to the second-floor offices of the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee, known on the Hill as the "D Triple-C," a name that sounds like that of a dude ranch and that the members appreciate for the way it evokes a rugged efficiency.

Courtney and other vulnerable House Democratic members of the Frontline group maintain regular contact with the D Triple-C's chairman, Maryland congressman Chris Van Hollen, and its former head, Illinois representative Rahm Emanuel, now the chairman of the House Democratic Caucus. Emanuel, in particular, built much of his reputation on the successes of the D Triple-C in raising and disbursing money, winning new seats and protecting veteran Democrats in the 2006 election. It was the D Triple-C that arranged for a touch of Hollywood in Connecticut's 2nd District during the closing days of the 2006 campaign, dispatching actor Ben Affleck to visit the University of Connecticut with Courtney. The candidate suddenly benefited from hundreds of new student supporters willing to help with Democratic get-out-the-vote drives on Election Day. These days, the Frontline program solicits contributions from donors across the country, in some cases from benefactors who don't even know the particular congressman to whom they're giving but "who want to maintain our [House Democrats'] momentum across the country," Van Hollen says.