Virginia's few female senators rise to the occasion

RICHMOND

The ghosts who haunt Virginia's Capitol must be men - the statues certainly are.

August busts of the Founding Fathers encircle the Capitol Rotunda.

Eight Virginians, all U.S. presidents, stare out: Washington. Jefferson. Madison. Monroe. Harrison. Tyler. Taylor. Wilson.

A few steps away, a marble statue of Robert E. Lee stands on the spot where he took command of the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia.

In the Capitol's halls hang portraits of governors and slabs of marble inscribed with the names of speakers of the House and presidents of the Senate. Every single one of them, dating back to the House of Burgesses in the 1600s, is male.

The most visible image of a woman in the building belongs to Queen Elizabeth II, descendant of the English king who inspired Virginia's patriots to demand democracy. Photos of the queen, clad in pink and purple while visiting Williamsburg and Jamestown last year, adorn the new Capitol annex.

But on the floor of the Senate, women have arrived in force, and these ladies aren't figureheads. They stand (and sit, and vote) in contrast to Virginia's paternalistic past: Yvonne. Janet. Louise. Patricia. Mary Margaret. Linda. Mamie.

Since Democrats regained control of the Senate this year, female senators have reaped most of the rewards. These s even of the eight women in the 40-seat chamber are Democrats; they comprise a third of the Democratic delegation.

Sen. Yvonne Miller of Norfolk, the first black woman elected to the House and the Senate, is the elder stateswoman of the group. Only three men outrank her in the Senate.

Miller is not alone at the top.

Sen. Louise Lucas of Portsmouth runs the Local Government Committee. There's a contingent of women from Northern Virginia, Sen. Mary Margaret Whipple of Arlington, is leader of the Democratic Caucus and chairs the Rules Committee. Sen. Janet Howell of Fairfax County heads the Privileges and Elections Committee and is the first woman to serve as a budget conferee. Sen. Patricia Ticer, the former mayor of Alexandria, leads the Agriculture, Conservation and Natural Resources Committee.

Between them, the five women have 76 years of experience in the Senate.

Three younger senators round out the bench: Linda "Toddy" Puller from Fairfax County and Mamie Locke from Hampton. The solo Republican in the group is also the most junior: Jill Holtzman Vogel, of Fauquier County, was elected in November.

"It's incredibly remarkable, given the status and history of women in Virginia politics in general," said Deirdre Condit, an associate professor of political science at Virginia Commonwealth University. "I think it is a huge deal."

Historically, Virginia, like most of the South, has had few women serving in the legislature. Condit said the state still ranks 40th in the nation, with female lawmakers accounting for 16 percent of the 140 delegates and senators. (There are eight female senators and 15 female delegates.) Still, that's a big improvement: In 1988, women held just 10 percent of Virginia's seats.

Virginia still falls shy of the national average of 24 percent female representation in the Statehouse, but its rank doesn't take into account the seniority and leadership women have established in the Senate.

Condit is eager to see how the power shift plays out.

"What happens when the bulkhead gets breached? What is the impact on motivating other women to seek office?" Condit asked. "You can argue that if more women run for the Senate next election, then at least the visibility has some impact. Any time you break those kinds of barriers, it gives a kind of strength and power to the women doing it."

Condit said Americans tend to be hesitant or ambivalent about women in powerful political positions, but the first step to embracing it is seeing women in top jobs.

That's already happening nationally. Just last week, Condit said, Americans who tuned in to the president's State of the Union address saw Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, D-Calif., sitting prominently behind President Bush. And Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, D-N.Y., is in the running to win the Democratic nomination for president.

In Virginia, Vivian Watts was one of the first female faces on the floor of the House of Delegates. She was elected in 1982, but left to serve as Gov. Gerald Baliles' secretary of transportation and public safety in 1986. She returned to the House in 1996, where she has served ever since.

Watts remembers that female politicians seemed to scatter after dark, while male members hung out at the downtown Holiday Inn, where many stayed during the session.

So Watts, a Democrat from Fairfax, vowed to make herself visible after hours.

"You can't do business on that narrow a time frame," she said of the daily rituals of committee meetings and formal sessions. "I made it a point to be there."

Her colleagues accepted her without question, she said.

Still, being so outnumbered, Watts took pleasure in demonstrating her equality in another realm, behind the wheel.

After a snowstorm blanketed Richmond one winter, Watts, who grew up in snowy Michigan, knew she needed more weight to keep her compact car from sliding all over the road. She had three male delegates climb in for the drive to the Capitol.

"I handled it smooth as silk," she said, smiling at the memory.

As much as Watts worked to be accepted, she refused to tolerate offensive remarks in what could sometimes be an "old- boys club" atmosphere.

One of them learned that the hard way.

Vince Callahan, a Republican who also represented Fairfax, had been in office for 30 years and had been giving an annual lampoon on the House floor for more than a dozen years. Callahan, who retired last year after 40 years in office, had started a tradition of haranguing politicians once a year with off-color, sexually suggestive remarks.

Some of Callahan's previous "speeches" had unsettled Watts, but one he gave in 1998 outright offended her.

Watts decided she'd had enough.

"Sexual harassment needs to end," she declared from the floor after Callahan finished. "We've got to step back from the line of improper insults, from crudeness."

Callahan accused Watts of being thin-skinned, but the next day, he offered a tearful apology, for which he received a standing ovation. Watts accepted the apology, and the matter was finished.

So were Callahan's ribald speeches.

Sen. Janet Howell, D-Fairfax County, said that environment doesn't exist anymore.

"I think there's been a whole cultural change," she said. "Many of those old-boy types have retired, or left."

When Howell was elected in 1992, she was one of four women in the chamber. It makes a difference being one of eight now: "People have to listen to us, " she said with a laugh.

Female legislators, Howell said, have steered attention to issues such as domestic violence and women's health. She mentioned that women from outside her district occasionally contact her to discuss issues they wouldn't talk about with a male politician. One example: changing laws so that women who breast-feed in public can't be charged with indecent exposure.

If there's any doubt about women's influence in the Senate, the amount of red in the chamber on Friday dispelled it. Friday was National Wear Red Day, an effort to publicize the threat of heart disease in women.

The previous day, one of the women reminded the senators to don red for the day.

Howell appeared Friday in a bright red dress and red suede open-toed pumps, and almost all of her female colleagues displayed ruby hues, too. So did almost every male senator, with many sporting red ties and the occasional burgundy shirt. Clearly, these men had taken the hint to heart.

Aside from splashes of color in the formal Senate chamber, the women say they bring something else: a style of leadership that is gentler - though no less serious - than the men's.

"I think the tones are softer," Miller said. "Some of the issues, especially in the rehab and Social Services Committee, are getting a better hearing than they would have gotten under different leadership."

Miller isn't shy about letting her committee members know who is boss. Occasionally, she scolds them like the first-grade teacher she used to be. If one of them cuts her off, she'll say, slowly and with precise enunciation, "Excuse me, gentlemen, I was not finished speaking."

Miller doesn't shy away from the occasional verbal barb, either, like one she made about women entering politics later than men - usually after their young children are grown:

"Women tend to enter the process later, and that's because they don't have wives."

Miller acknowledges she can overpower people sometimes with her candor. But as chairwoman, she doesn't think it's necessary to talk too much.

"I don't have an overwhelming need to say something about every bill," she said, "unlike some previous chairs. My push is for efficiency, and to make sure members are able to express themselves, and that questions and answers are exchanged in a very humane way."

Miller is also happy to share the spotlight with Lucas and Locke, two other black, female senators from Hampton Roads.

"The three African-American women in the Senate, each in her own way, is a pioneer," Miller said. "All of us are very strong women, and we came with excellent credentials. There are people in the Senate who think we got there by accident."

She is working to encourage more women to get into politics. One way she plants the seed is by asking young women who visit her office to take a seat - her seat - behind her massive desk.

"I ask them to try out my chair," Miller said. "And I ask them to think about public service.

"Women bring something special to public service," she said. "I think we're accustomed to listening to people. We tend to find solutions to problems, under the resources available, and match the resources to the needs."

Not all female politicians are comfortable talking about gender or how it affects their policy-making.

Del. Terrie Suit, R-Virginia Beach, said she doesn't give much thought to being one of just 15 women in the House. "I want to be respected for my knowledge, for the way I manage my bills."

But she acknowledges that U.S. Rep. Thelma Drake's mentoring was important when she first arrived in Richmond in 2000. At that time, both delegates were Republicans from Hampton Roads who worked in real estate - Suit is a mortgage broker, and Drake, now a member of Congress representing the 2nd District, was a Realtor. Suit now occupies Drake's old office on the seventh floor of the General Assembly building, four floors above Yvonne Miller.

Suit wonders, however, whether she's too concerned about public perception. "Sometimes, maybe I worry a little too much about what people think of me," she said. "Guys are not so worried."

In Condit's view, the politicians ought to worry less about what colleagues think and more about how history will judge them.

"Yvonne Miller is a force to be reckoned with in many circumstances," Condit said. "She has incredible power in her hands. What is she going to do with that power?"

Kate Wiltrout, (757) 446-2629, kate.wiltrout@pilotonline.com