Never Out of Gas

by Jack Lessenberry
February 26, 2010

When John Dingell was first sworn in as a member of Congress, he was a tall and lanky 29-year-old who towered far above the man who swore him in, the legendary “Mr. Sam,” Speaker of the House Sam Rayburn.

That was in December 1955. President Dwight D. Eisenhower was still in his first term. At the other end of the Capitol, Lyndon Johnson was becoming the most powerful Senate majority leader anyone could remember, presiding over a caucus whose freshmen included one John F. Kennedy of Massachusetts.

General Motors was the biggest and richest corporation in the world. Michigan was still growing faster than most states, led by Gov. G. Mennen Williams, with his green polka-dot bow ties.

What Americans worried most about was Communism. Nobody worried about the auto industry. America’s newest congressman took his seat in a body where nobody had ever heard of laptops, the Internet, cell phones, Toyotas, or George W. Bush, who was nine. Barack Obama’s future mother was 13 years old.

Fifty-four years later, a year after he became the longest-serving member of the House — ever —Dingell came to Ypsilanti to address college Democrats. And he had a little announcement to make. He would, indeed, be a candidate for re-election.

“Now is not the time to walk away. It’s time for all hands on deck.” Some had whispered for months that this might be it. That maybe Dingell would step aside in favor of his politically savvy and much younger wife, Debbie.

He had been humiliated more than a year ago, when the Democratic majority in the House of Representatives — his party and his House — voted to take the chairmanship of the powerful Energy and Commerce Committee away from him.

This summer, he will turn 84. He’s had heart operations, knee surgery, a hip replacement. He no longer hunts wildlife in Africa, or adds to the magnificent collection of stuffed heads on his walls.

But he wants the world to know that the man they used to call “the truck” is by no means out of gas. After he met with the college kids, Dingell went back to Washington and started lobbying U.S. senators. Food safety is a cause of his. The House passed a bill months ago. When would the Senate act?

Then, on Tuesday, Congressman Dingell ate the president of Toyota Motor Sales U.S.A. for lunch. The dean of the House sat down at a committee hearing, wiped his glasses, then started questioning the hapless James Lentz.

“Please tell me the date that Toyota first heard of incidents of sudden acceleration in its vehicles,” Big John asked. Toyota’s main man didn’t know. When they started recalling cars? Didn’t know that either. How many complaints had they gotten? Didn’t know, didn’t know.

Dingell, everyone said, had been the domestic auto industry’s fiercest defender for decades. His enemies said he fought, all too successfully, tougher emissions control and environmental standards. There was some truth in that, too, though he was forced to change near the end.

The balance of power had shifted. Autos no longer had the clout they used to. Two years ago he told the automakers, “work with me and I may be able to get you a (fuel economy standards) deal you’ll hate. Otherwise, they’ll put you out of business.”

Now, he no longer sets the committee agenda. But his questioning of Toyota’s man gave Detroit automakers a potential powerful public relations coup — if they know how to use it.

Dingell has really been in Congress far longer than he has been in Congress. He was six when Detroit first sent his daddy, also named John Dingell, to Washington. The nation was then locked in the grip of the worst depression in its history.

There was no Social Security, no Medicare, no Medicaid, no protections for anybody. John Dingell Sr. was a main sponsor of Social Security. There is a picture of him standing behind FDR, grinning as the Social Security Act was signed into law. Every year after that, he would introduce a bill calling for national health insurance. His son still introduces the same bill every session, as a tribute to his father.

In September 1955, the elder Dingell died in office. Two months later, his son, who had worked his way through school as a congressional page and elevator operator, succeeded him.

He’s never had a tough November election since. This fall, Republicans are making noises about a serious challenge.

Don’t bet on it. More than two decades ago, I asked John Dingell how long he planned to stay in the House.

He asked if I knew anything about John Quincy Adams.

Yes sir, I did. I knew that he had returned to Congress after being president and served ’till he died, on a couch right there in the Capitol.

He smiled, and nodded. Got it, I said.

Veteran journalist and national Emmy Award winner Jack Lessenberry teaches at Wayne State University, serves as Michigan Radio’s senior political analyst and writes regularly for several publications. He also serves as The Toledo Blade’s writing coach and ombudsman and is host of the weekly television show Deadline Now on WGTE-TV in Toledo.