House Rules

Courtney routinely signs in at the front of an office with a bank of 38 phones for use by any Democratic congressman making fundraising calls, everyone from a freshman Frontliner to a seemingly invincible senior member. Walk by nearly anytime on a weekday, and some congressman will be using a phone, with aides sometimes standing over his or her shoulder, feeding contributors' names and numbers in the interest of maximum efficiency.

The morning after he has spent 2 1/2 hours of a late afternoon making calls there, Courtney says, "I walked in, and the room was packed. Every phone was being used; some members had to wait to find seats."

No one likes making fundraising calls, Courtney observes. But he is well past being disillusioned, having done it since his political career began in the late '80s with a state legislative race. Even in 2006, as a highly touted congressional candidate trying to reach acquaintances and longtime Democratic donors, his calls seldom resulted in conversations with live human beings. Usually, he spoke to answering machines, leaving hundreds of messages a day, saying each time that he hoped to talk to the listener about a possible contribution. About one call in 100 was returned. "You could be Abraham Lincoln," he says, "but if you don't have the heart of a telemarketer, you're not going to make it to Congress."

UNTIL LAST NOVEMBER, COURTNEY'S EXISTENCE HAD BEEN LOW-KEY MIDDLE-CLASS for the better part of two decades. Born and raised in Connecticut, an Irish Catholic educated in parochial schools, he has spent most of his adulthood in the modest town of Vernon, population about 28,000, where he worked out of a law office where his daughter could hang out after getting off the bus from her Catholic school.

"It's been a nice pace through most of the years," he says, a rhythm disturbed only by his prodigious appetite for elective politics. Starting in 1987, he served four terms as a Connecticut state representative. He made a reputation in the Connecticut legislature for fine-tuning programs from its health committee. He left the legislature in the mid-'90s, when, he says, his wife was pregnant with their daughter and he wanted to be home more. In 1998, he reentered politics and ran for lieutenant governor on a ticket with the Democrat's gubernatorial candidate: They lost in a rout.

The loss did nothing to deter Courtney. In 2002, he was running again, this time for Congress in the historically competitive 2nd District against Simmons -- a military veteran, CIA case officer and Senate aide to Barry Goldwater and John Chafee -- who, just two years earlier, had knocked off 10-term Democratic congressman Sam Gejdenson. But by then, the modern American congressional campaign was a two-year effort, and Courtney had made the critical mistake of joining the race late. He hadn't announced his candidacy or even raised a dime until late September 2001, by which time Simmons had gathered more than $500,000.

Simmons won handily, with 54 percent of the vote. Courtney considered challenging him again in the 2004 election, traveling to Washington in 2003 to get an early reading of the national Democratic Party's support. He remembers an official at the D Triple-C bluntly asking him, "Why did you lose?" He explained his late start to the official. Later, he realized that his defeat had left him looking like questionable goods to the D Triple-C. He told friends back home that he needed a break. "I wasn't up for a run, I guess," he says of 2004. "The needle didn't show enough gas."

But by the next election cycle, he was ready, determined to run flat-out for two years, or from the moment that Simmons took the oath of office in January 2005. Knowing that the leery D Triple-C would be carefully watching his fundraising, he raised $60,000 by that March. It didn't compare to the nearly $250,000 that Simmons had amassed, or what Courtney himself would later stockpile as an incumbent congressman in early 2007. Still, it was a respectable number for a challenger, and the D Triple-C passed along encouragement. Courtney kept dialing for dollars. At that point, only his wife had the power to stop him.

"I really wasn't sure what Audrey would say again because [campaign] schedules are demanding," he says. "But her only comment was, 'You can run, but you have to win.'"

LIKE MANY CONGRESSIONAL NEWCOMERS, COURTNEY HAS HOPES of one day championing significant reform -- in his case, health care: perhaps extending insurance for uncovered children and making a broader commitment to addressing mental illness. But unlike, say, a prominent White House official, who can often launch a major policy initiative with the release of a ballyhooed position paper, new congressmen must generally bide their time before undertaking anything momentous; they must build seniority, ascend in committees. Some freshmen no sooner arrive than they begin to look toward higher office. But the House tends to reward the patiently dutiful, and that is just fine with a cautious Courtney. He knows that, for now, he can't focus on any political goal larger than getting reelected in his tough district. What he cherishes is quiet office time to read and study, to make calls to policy experts, to think about issues. But quiet time is scarce for a freshman. Lobbyists in particular keep approaching, and the fledgling member seldom has enough experience to distinguish those with genuine clout and intelligence from those who can neither empower nor inform him, those who stroll into his office with nothing but rambling spiels.

Late one afternoon, a lobbyist for an obscure law enforcement group enters without an appointment, but he gets 15 minutes with Courtney, anyway. The man shakes Courtney's hand and sits. "Okay, be patient with me. I haven't done this a lot," the man begins.

It's downhill from there. A polite Courtney never takes his eyes off the man, listening earnestly, nodding solicitously. After the man leaves, Courtney shakes his head. "They come in all the time, these guys who I'm sure are nice people, but they just take so much of your time," he says. "I still haven't learned how to handle all that, the time management thing . . . They don't tell you about that part of the job."