A Fighting Chance (24 page)

Dan and I started with no long-term plan and no obvious path to victory, a two-man platoon picking up the fight wherever we could. Dan was only a year out of Harvard Law School, but he already had a passion for politics and a natural feel for Washington that I’ll never have. We met and shared research with anyone who would talk to us. We visited with nonprofits and labor leaders. I made cold calls, asking reporters if they had heard about the consumer agency, and we followed up with people who had written articles in the past. We called editorial boards and wrote op-eds, joined in conference calls and spoke at events.

We also met with a lot of banking groups—at least the ones who would meet with us. The big banks were funding a huge push to get rid of the consumer agency, but Dan and I tried to meet with the representatives for the small banks and credit unions. The pitch was straightforward: You’re getting hammered by giant banks and unregulated lenders that build their businesses by tricking their customers, and the consumer agency could help level the playing field. Many of the smaller lenders opposed the agency even so, but sometimes we sparked a little interest.

We looked for meetings everywhere, and we often ended up on Capitol Hill, trying to get someone to listen to our pitch. A lot of those meetings were hard. Several members of Congress told me that customers just needed to pay closer attention to the financial agreements they signed. Others said they couldn’t support a bill that they claimed would mean a bigger government. Others met with us but barely seemed to listen and hardly said anything at all.

I remember one meeting particularly well. A congresswoman who seemed really interested in what we had to say told me that she supported consumers and wanted to see them treated fairly. Then she raised a specific objection to the agency. I answered, but instead of talking about the issue, she moved on to another objection, and so on through a list of about half a dozen more problems.

Despite her many objections, I felt a little encouraged. Once Dan and I were out in the hall, I said, “Well, she didn’t agree with much of anything, but at least she was talking. Maybe we have a shot at persuading her.”

For a moment, Dan looked like he was weighing whether to give me the bad news. But Dan never holds back long on bad news. He explained that the congresswoman had just run through every talking point included in a press release issued by the American Bankers Association that morning. In order.

Oh.

The most discouraging meetings were with those members of Congress who seemed to understand the problem but refused to do anything about it. Representatives on both sides of the aisle—Republicans and Democrats—said, in effect, Yeah, people are getting tricked, but the banks aren’t going to let this agency go through, so why should I be a martyr for something that won’t even happen? If everyone else agreed to the bill, they’d go along. But a lot of people we met with were hesitant to stick their neck out.

I wasn’t giving up, but I started to understand why the banks seemed invincible. As summer wore on, the hallways got more and more crowded with lobbyists—and I mean that literally. The halls in Congress are wide and gracious, yet Dan and I would often have to step to the side with our backs against the wall while a herd of bank lobbyists thundered down the corridor. They were easy to spot: a group of a dozen or more men and maybe one or two women in the mix, all wearing custom-tailored suits. They walked with a bounce in their step as they spoke with great assurance about their “counts” and which member of Congress was next on their list. Well dressed. Well coordinated. Well connected.

Financial reform was complicated, and the bank lobbyists used a clever technique: They bombarded the members of Congress with complex arguments filled with obscure terms. Whenever a congressman pushed back on an idea, the lobbyists would explain that although the congressman
seemed
to be making a good point, he didn’t
really
understand the complex financial system. And keep in mind, the lobbyists would tell the congressman, that if you get this wrong, you will bring down the global economy.

It was the ultimate insiders’ play:
Trust us because we understand it and you don’t.

The pressure on elected officials to master the ins and outs of financial reform put them in a tough spot. As one congresswoman put it, “There’s so much going on around here, it’s like they attach your lips to a fire hydrant and turn on the water. No one can keep up.” She was wrong. The lobbyists kept up.

Another meeting from that summer also stands out. Dan and I sat down with a congressman who asked some very specific questions about the current law and the proposed consumer agency. The questions were reasonable, if a little obscure. I thought he might—just might—be someone who would join our side. Offhand, I didn’t know the answers to some of the questions, but I knew they were out there somewhere. It would take the better part of a day to track down the research, write up a memo, and then have a meeting with the congressman’s staffer to go over our answers.

When we left, I asked Dan if he could take care of the follow-up work. Dan said he would do his best. Then he paused, evidently deciding that it was time for me to learn the facts of lobbying life. I could tell I was about to get another more-bad-news-from-Dan speech.

Dan explained that when the lobbyists showed up to talk with someone in Congress, they always brought a group. But the well-dressed men and women who strode up and down the hallways weren’t the whole team. They were just the front line, the smooth talkers and beautiful smilers whose job was to make friends and persuade people. Behind them was a phalanx of support staff that worked for the lobbying groups, law firms, trade associations, PR partnerships, and financial institutions all over town—a whole second squad that we never even saw. It was their job to help make sure that before the lobbyists on the front line walked in the door, they knew everything about the congressman’s background: how he had voted, who was on his staff, and where those staff people had worked before. The back office also helped provide information about the congressman’s home district, including the number of people employed by banks, the names of the local bankers, and a summary of the local newspaper’s editorials about the financial crisis.

Once they sat down with a congressman, the frontline lobbyists generally made a highly individualized presentation. Ideally, the presentation would be handled by someone who had either served in Congress or had worked for a member of Congress. For important meetings, stars would be rolled out. The CEO of a major bank might pay a call. Local bankers might be flown in from the home state. The younger lobbyists were instructed to take notes and build relationships with the staffers in the congressman’s office.

Following the visit, the lobbying team would confer. Questions from the congressman? Have the team do a full research workup, write a memo, hand-deliver it, talk with the congressman’s staff about it, and make follow-up calls. More arm-twisting needed? Write up notes to provide guidance for the next conversation, and start making plans for the next visit.

And up against all that, I had Dan.

I was certain that Dan was as smart and hardworking as anyone at any Washington lobbying firm—probably more so. But Dan was one person.

That was a humbling summer, and it didn’t feel like we were making much headway. Lots of other terrific consumer advocates were out there banging on doors, too; the nonprofits were doing everything they could to stand up for consumers. But the nonprofits were just that—groups with no profits. Their resources were modest and their staffs were stretched tissue thin. And they weren’t focused on only the consumer agency; they were trying to act as watchdogs on behalf of the American people for the entire financial reform bill—and a gazillion other issues to boot.

Meanwhile, the megabanks just kept pouring more money into their campaign. According to one source, the financial industry was spending more than
$1 million a day
on lobbying and campaign contributions during their drive to kill any meaningful financial reform.

I still wonder how such a thing is possible.

In addition to all the lobbying money, the industry was ponying up huge contributions for the reelection campaigns of influential members of Congress. Consider the House Financial Services Committee, the group that would determine the basic shape of the financial reform bill. That committee had
seventy-one members
. Why so many? One congressman explained it in simple terms: “It’s a great place for a congressman to raise money. The banks pay.”

Do they ever.

By July, health care reform was at center stage, and it looked like the financial reform legislation would be delayed until fall. The banks used the time to double down on their lobbying efforts, and they seemed to be concentrating their efforts on eliminating the provision they hated the most: the consumer protection agency. As the campaign continued to heat up, one of the lobbyists gave a blunt assessment of the banks’ intentions toward the agency: “Our goal will be to kill it.”

The rhetoric pitched into high gear. At one point, Congressman Hensarling, my fellow panelist on COP, wrote a furious op-ed in which he declared that the consumer agency was “a great assault on consumer rights” that was “positively Orwellian.” Seriously?
Orwellian?

We knew the banks—and a number of Republicans—were gunning for us, but we didn’t slow down. AFR drove ahead, the consumer groups continued fighting, and Dan and I kept at it. Some days I felt like a door-to-door salesman. “Hi, my name is Lizzie and I’d like to show you a great new agency!”

Dan and I pushed and pitched and pushed some more. And when I’d catch the seven-thirty plane back to Boston, Bruce and Otis would be waiting for me, and Sal would always have fried clams and a light beer ready at the Summer Shack.

Credit Scores, In. Car Loans, Out.

In August, the inevitable finally happened: Senator Ted Kennedy lost his final battle. He was buried in Arlington National Cemetery near his brothers John and Bobby.

I thought about our meeting on the twenty-fourth floor of the JFK Building. I thought about his battered, overstuffed satchel. I thought about how many times he had taken up the fight for working people. No one could ever take his place.

In September, classes resumed at Harvard and I started teaching again. That fall, I kept working at COP, and we kept producing reports every thirty days. I continued to meet with pretty much anyone who wanted to talk about the consumer agency, and Dan kept fighting full-tilt.

In late 2009, I was working in my office at Harvard one day when the phone rang. “Elizabeth. It’s Barney. Come down here tomorrow.”

I asked what was up, but Barney, as always, was in a hurry. “It’s important. Get here.” And he hung up.

When I arrived in Washington the next day, I went straight to Barney’s office, but he wasn’t there. I was directed to a fancy meeting room near the House chamber. In the center of the room were about eight chairs arranged in a horseshoe, and behind each chair was a second chair. At the opening of this double horseshoe sat Barney.

Barney called us to order. All the men—and they were all men—took a seat. I grabbed a chair in the inner horseshoe, but no one sat behind me. I suddenly realized that all the inner chairs except mine were occupied by congressmen. The chairs behind were for their staffers. (Oops, was I supposed to sit in back? Not sure, but it was too late now.)

Barney had spent weeks negotiating dozens of provisions in the financial reform bill. Now, he told the group, we needed to work out three issues regarding the new consumer agency. He began by briefly describing a complex issue that had proved especially divisive, and then he outlined one possibility for how the law could be written. One congressman objected and offered his own proposal. Another didn’t like that approach and suggested something else. I jumped in to offer my own idea, but Barney was six steps ahead of me.

It was an intense conversation. After about ten minutes, Barney cut in. “Here’s what I think we can agree on.” Then he quickly and clearly laid out a compromise that would resolve the problem.

Barney looked at each person in turn and asked, “Are you all right with this?” Each signaled his okay. Barney looked at me. “Can you live with this?” I said yes.

Barney said, “Done.” All the people in the outer row of chairs scribbled on their notepads, and Barney turned to the second issue.

This one went faster, and Barney brought the group to an agreement in a couple of minutes.

Abruptly, I realized that these might be the final negotiations over the financial reform bill, including the consumer agency. Sure, it was always possible that we could push amendments through later on, but this would be the main engine chugging forward. We had to get all the right pieces on
this
train. My heart started pounding. It was all going so fast.

Barney was already on to the third problem. Minutes later, he declared that this issue was resolved as well.

Then Barney looked around. “Good. I think we’re ready to go. Does anyone else have anything?”

My mind was racing. This wasn’t a battleground; everyone in the room was on the same side, and we were all fighting to help working people. What if we missed something?

“Anything?” Barney was getting out of his chair.

And suddenly I remembered a key issue. “Wait!” I shouted it louder than I had intended; I think I startled some congressmen. “What about credit reporting?” I asked.

Barney looked sharply at me and sat back in his chair. “What
about
credit reporting?”

Credit-reporting agencies determine people’s credit scores. These scores become a key factor in what people end up paying for mortgages, credit cards, and the like. In some cases, employers even use credit reports to make hiring decisions, so bad credit can block someone from getting a much-needed job. But studies had shown that credit reports were loaded with errors. Some experts believed that the credit-reporting companies weren’t making the corrections required by law, and this caused a lot of trouble for a lot of families—and no federal agency was keeping a close eye on the credit-reporting companies.