By Stuart Rothenberg 

August 14, 1997. That's the date on which, after evaluating all of the possible scenarios and factoring in conversations with Republican insiders, I wrote a column in this newspaper predicting that House Speaker Newt Gingrich (R-Ga), in spite of his denials, would run for his party's nomination for President in 2000. 

Everything that has happened between then and now has only reinforced that conviction. Taking a page out of Bill Clinton's book, Gingrich receded from the limelight for a while, re-emerging with a more svelte profile and sounding more statesmanlike and less confrontational. 

The recent jousting among GOP leaders and would-be leaders in the House also suggests that something is in the works. The only question is, what?

Gingrich insists that he will run for re-election and for another term as Speaker, but knowledgeable Republican insiders are more insistent than ever that he will also run for the GOP presidential nomination in 2000. That means Gingrich will either resign as Speaker to make his run or try to keep the Speakership but have House Majority Leader Dick Armey (Texas) run the show in Washington while he spends time in Iowa and New Hampshire.

It's not at all clear that a majority of the members of the GOP conference would allow a de facto Armey Speakership without a vote, so a Gingrich White House bid could cause another upheaval on Capitol Hill. Rep. Bob Livingston (La) has already backed away from potential retirement and indicated that he is planning a run for Speaker. 

All of which brings me to Rep. Bill Paxon, the Republican Congressman from New York who abruptly decided to end his quest to become part of his party's House leadership and announced on Feb. 24 that he would not seek re-election this year. 

Like everyone else, I was stunned by Paxon's announcement. And, like many, I initially accepted his explanation that he wanted to spend more time with his family, and especially with his young daughter, Susan Ruby. Politics is time consuming and often nasty, so I could see why someone would choose to opt out of the grind for the relative serenity (and financial advantages) of the consulting life. 

But after reconsidering Paxon's explanation as well as my conversations with Republican insiders close to Armey, Paxon, and House GOP Whip Tom DeLay (Texas), I can't help but find Paxon's explanation less than compelling. And after talking with others, I'm convinced I'm not alone.

Mere hours before Paxon started to pass the word about his decision, he was talking with supporters about his planned effort to overthrow Armey as House Majority Leader. Does it make sense that someone like Paxon, who has devoted his life to politics and has been filled with political ambition, would simply abruptly change his path? I think not. This, after all, is the one Republican who has been as consumed as Gingrich with politics, political positioning, and political strategy. 

Supporters of Armey argue that Paxon didn't have the backing to oust the Majority Leader, and that that realization jarred him into leaving Congress. But I find it hard to believe that Paxon, at 43, would end his Congressional career just because he couldn't win a leadership fight now. (That assumes, of course, that Armey's supporters are right about the ultimate outcome of a confrontation with the New York Congressman.) 

Paxon's comment to his staff that his choice was "to run for Majority Leader--or leave" is simply silly. That wasn't his only choice. He explained his career decision by reflecting on the difficulty of caring for his daughter, particularly when he is on the road, and I think that everyone with young children can identify with him. 

But even is Paxon (and his wife) rejected the many child care alternatives open to someone of his position, he could have given up his extensive travel for his party, thereby solving most of his immediate problems. 

If Paxon is so concerned about the effect on his family, why wouldn't he leave office immediately rather than at the end of the year? Is he going to get a job after leaving Congress or will he just stay home with his family? 

Finally, if Paxon is being totally honest about his decision, then he is awfully naive about parenthood. He is leaving Congress because his daughter has had ear infections? Sorry, Congressman, but ear infections go along with childhood. 

And exactly what does it say about the country's child care system if the House child care center isn't doing a good enough job? Sort of makes you worry about your own child care arrangements, doesn't it? 

Leaving Congress--and promising never to again run for anything, even dog catcher--is a response that is so extreme as to be unbelievable. Why swear off elective office forever? Paxon's children will grow up, and who knows what the future holds for his wife, ex-Rep. Susan Molinari (R-NY)?

The Congressman's comment that "20 years from now, my daughter won't give a hoot if I was Speaker or Majority Leader or on a highway crew" suggests that this guy doesn't have a clue what is important to teenage girls. 

But regardless of the reasons for Paxon's announcement, his exit, combined with a probable Gingrich presidential bid, portends a fight among House Republicans for political leadership that could get nasty. Any battle would take the party's focus away from the democrats and expose their own contradictions, and that wouldn't be good for the GOP. 

Roll Call, 5 March 1998, reprinted with permission. © 1998 Roll Call. 

It's been said that those close to power in Washington often lose perspective and become jaded into thinking that gaining and keeping power are all that's important in life. 

Stuart Rothenberg's recent column is a case in point ("Paxon's Peculiar Parting Positions Players for Post-Gingrich House," March 5). 

Rothenberg has spent so long prognosticating about who is running for Congress, who is serving in Congress, and how important everything is that happens under the Capitol Dome that he has forgotten that there is anything in the world except for Congress. 

Make no mistake, after 21 years, I love legislative office and, particularly, the House of Representatives. I'll miss the institution, my colleagues, the issues, and the challenges. 

However, service here is about two-year terms, not lifetime sentences. Every 24 months, many Members carefully evaluate the balance between this job and their personal lives. And every two years, many Members make the difficult decision to leave. 

For example, last year, my wife, former Rep. Susan Molinari (R-N.Y.), left Congress for the private sector, a more predictable schedule, and more time with our young daughter, Susan Ruby. Some pundits, who had invested greatly in speculating on my wife's political future, couldn't understand.

While they searched for "the real reasons," our friends, family, and folks back home understood perfectly. And she's never been happier.

By the summer of 1996, as a new husband and father and in my final term as chairman of the National Republican Congressional Committee, I told friends and family that the 105^th might be my last Congress.

As a believer in term limits, I also felt that the high point of my Congressional service would always be helping deliver a Republican House as NRCC chairman. 

Therefore, confident that my party will remain in control for the foreseeable future, I wanted new challenges that also meshed with family. 

Following the well-reported events of last summer, I was encouraged to contemplate another leadership run, a decision which I always based on my staying here no more than a few more terms. 

Having done "due diligence" on the leadership options, I concluded two weeks ago that my decision of two years ago to move on from Congress was correct and announced it. 

I've never felt more confident about an important decision, particularly after observing the extensive time and travel commitments required to serve in a top leadership post as well as the resulting impact of that on family life. 

As to questioning my "never run for office again" pledge, as a well-regarded electoral observer, Rothenberg should know better. 

I am a very conservative, rural-upstate legislator in a much more moderate, urban-oriented state. Moreover, the demands of raising $20 million or more for such a statewide campaign, plus covering a 16 million-person megastate like New York, never crossed my mind. 

I'm sorry that Rothenberg, whom I've long respected, failed to give me or my press secretary, John Czwartacki, the courtesy of a call before running his column. 

While he's entitled to his opinion, he's wrong to question my "honesty". Most of all, his sarcastic and unsolicited advice on child rearing is unbecoming.

Rothenberg has never raised a child as an elected official. Susan and I have. And, as children of elected officials, we know all too well what it's like to live under the reflected glare of public life. 

We've also watched with pain as scores of friends in Congress have lost their families in this demanding and supercharged atmosphere. 

Most folks in congress, the Washington press corps, and the DC political community, as well as those back home, have been incredibly understanding and supportive of my recent decision, as they were last year regarding Susan's. To all of them, my deepest thanks. 

I'm sorry that Rothenberg and a few others choose not to "get it." I'm certain that a few years from now, my daughter will. 

Roll Call, 9 March 1998, reprinted with permission. ©Roll Call 1998.