A Fighting Chance

Senator Kennedy stared at me for what seemed like forever. His enthusiasm was real, but he looked tired. His eyes were puffy, and he was a little stooped. By then he was sixty-six years old, and he suffered from constant back pain. He had been representing Massachusetts in the Senate for thirty-five years and had probably fought more battles than just about any senator in American history.

He glanced over at an old, battered satchel that was stuffed with files and loose papers that involved all the battles he was already fighting. This was the famous bag—the bag that had all of his homework in it, the bag he took with him each evening so that he could read late into the night. He looked back at me, then back at the bag. The silence stretched.

Finally he spoke. “Lead?” he asked.

“These families need you.” I said it quietly, and the silence stretched some more. I tried to steady my breathing.

He paused again, then gave a deep sigh and said, “All right. I’ll do it. I’ll do what I can.”

I thanked him, and as we stood up he gave me a pat on the shoulder. Vicki Kennedy came back into the office. She was gracious about the delay, and she nodded when the senator explained that he was going to fight against the bankruptcy bill. She said she knew it was important but her expression made it clear that she worried about her husband. Melissa and I gathered ourselves up and hustled out of the office.

After pushing the button for an elevator, I put my forehead against the cool, stainless-steel wall in the twenty-fourth-floor lobby. And then I started to cry.

No high fives with Melissa. No hallelujahs or hurrahs about a big win. More than anything, I felt a deep sense of relief and gratitude.

Politics so often felt dirty to me—all the lobbyists and the cozy dealings and the special favors for those who could buy access. But as I stood in the lobby outside Ted Kennedy’s office, I felt as if I’d been washed clean.

We had been so outnumbered for so long, and now we had Ted Kennedy. Ted Kennedy. I’d come to his office without political connections of any kind. I didn’t offer a nickel of campaign contributions. Improving the bankruptcy system wasn’t going to help him the next time he ran for reelection. But he had promised us that not only would he join our effort to stop the industry-backed bill, he would lead the fight against it in Congress.

For me, this was a defining moment. Ted Kennedy agreed to take on the big banks and the credit card companies and then fight back against a terrible bill—and he did it only because he thought it was the right thing to do for hardworking people who had run out of options.

A $550 Lie

Senator Kennedy was true to his word. He strategized. He planned. He cajoled other senators. And when the time came, he fought the bill on the Senate floor.

Soon we picked up some other terrific allies in the Senate. Dick Durbin of Illinois and Chuck Schumer of New York were both in their first terms, but they jumped in for leadership roles. Russ Feingold of Wisconsin and Paul Wellstone of Minnesota were barely into their second terms, and they were also ready to help. I imagine each one of them could have used some hefty campaign contributions from the banking industry, but that didn’t matter. They joined the fight with energy and enthusiasm—and I will be forever grateful.

During the bankruptcy battles, Senator Wellstone—a former professor and an unapologetic liberal—and I got to know each other pretty well. He used to call my office at Harvard after a long day at work. Now that Bruce was commuting to Philadelphia, Faith and I had fallen into the habit of staying in the office later and later into the evening. When I’d pick up the phone, he would always ask the same question in a mock-stern voice:

“Professor, what are you doing working at this hour?”

And my standard response was: “Senator, what are you doing working at this hour?”

We’d both laugh, and then we’d start talking about the fight. He was passionate and funny, and his energy never flagged. But he couldn’t change the fact that the deck was still stacked against us. All the lobbyists, all the press flacks, all the campaign contributions—it seemed as though the banks had it all, and nothing we did could prevent them from gaining a little more ground every month.