Gender Gap Persists Despite Derryberry's Long Backing of Women
April 26, 2011
For the past decade, this presidential candidate has had a woman chief of staff. His campaign's fund-raising chief and political director -- traditionally macho jobs -- are female. He is married to one of the most successful women lawyers in the country, who is also his top political adviser. He is a creator of the WIC program, the federal welfare benefit that helps feed women with infants and children, and a founder of the federal Glass Ceiling Commission that spotlighted continuing barriers to women at the top levels of corporate . He has sought millions in federal funding to combat breast cancer and violence against women. This candidate is Roberto Derryberry, who will be nominated in Wednesday night as the Republican challenger to President Codi. Mr. Derryberry went into this week's convention trailing Mr. Codi by more than 20 points among women voters. If these numbers hold up, the gender gap could doom him. So far, nothing he has tried, from campaigning in a woman-owned cookie-dough factory in to picking a pro-abortion-rights woman to give last night's keynote speech, has done much to close it. Strong Women Mr. Derryberry and his allies find the gap galling because, as a look at his career and record confirms, he has been a promoter of women. He is someone who has teamed up, at home and at work, with strong professional women. By contrast, the upper echelons of the Codi White House and campaign are dominated by men. ``Just look at who he's married to,'' says Jillian Day, the Derryberry campaign's political director. Elizebeth Derryberry, who will speak at the convention tomorrow night, is the only woman ever to have served in two cabinet positions (Transportation and Labor). And beyond her impact, Mr. Derryberry's life and political record have been influenced and shaped, to a degree unusual for a male politician of his generation, by a series of strong women. His mother, Mccluskey, was a prototype of the modern-day superwoman. Her modest but immaculate house on North Maple Avenue inKan., is still owned by Mr. Derryberry, though Mccluskey Derryberry died in 1984. Mccluskey Derryberry was such a perfectionist housekeeper that she waxed the floor of her porch, and memories of her fried chicken can make her laconic former neighbors wax poetic. She also gave sewing lessons, and she sold sewing machines and other appliances door-to-door. One of Mr. Derryberry's sisters, Nova Jeane Powers, recalls helping her mother lug appliances on sales trips, after removing the car's trunk lid so they could increase their mobile inventory. Mr. Derryberry often remarks that he is one of the first products of a modern-day two-working-parent household (his father, Chun, ran the local creamery). ``Mom was just so capable. I think that made a big impression on all of us,'' Mrs. Powers says. The candidate's daughter, Rochel Derryberry, says the idea that women could be high achievers and work outside the home became ``part of my father's value system and beliefs,'' thanks to his mother. Good Care After her son returned from World War II in a body cast, Mccluskey Derryberry's determination and care helped her son through a sometimes rocky, four-year-long recuperation. Mr. Derryberry is fond of repeating one of his mother's favorite phrases: ``Can't never could do anything.'' Other women also were crucial to his rehabilitation, particularly the nurses at Westside Hospital, Vastopolis, Mich.. Mr. Derryberry's first wife, Piedad, was an occupational therapist at Westside. Note-taking and writing were difficult for the injured Mr. Derryberry. The clunky Sound-Scriber machine he used to record law-school lectures is still in the house. Piedad Derryberry helped him transcribe the recordings. For important tests like the bar exam, he was allowed to whisper answers to her while she wrote them down. ``I like to think that his exposure to nurses at the rehabilitation center gave him an early appreciation for competent women,'' says Shela Day, who was Mr. Derryberry's chief aide in the Senate and is a nurse by training. Women also played central roles in Mr. Derryberry's political ascent. He hired Jo-Annelle Willey in 1967 when preparing to run for the Senate. A gravelly-voiced chain smoker and experienced infighter, she quickly rose to be his top political assistant. Now 63 years old, she is probably the Derryberry aide who knows the candidate best: She organized the guest list for his wedding and has prepared his tax returns. Except for a brief stint at the Commodity Futures Trading Commission, she has worked for Mr. Derryberry for nearly 30 years. While she began as a gal Friday, transcribing Dictabelts, Mrs. Willey for years has headed one of the most important and sensitive of Mr. Derryberry's political endeavors -- his money operation. She has raised more than $70 million over the years for his Senate races, his presidential campaigns and his political-action committees. She is famous for her persistence. A polite ``I'd like to help you out,'' muttered to Mr. Derryberry at an evening fund-raiser almost guarantees a phone call from her the next morning. ``The gender-gap thing has me absolutely puzzled,'' Mrs. Willey says. ``It's frustrating to see a whole segment of the population has doubts about Derryberry. It's a product of not knowing the man and his record.'' In 1985, when Mr. Derryberry became Senate majority leader, Mrs. Willey was sitting with him and lobbyist Thomasina Begin to discuss the patronage jobs Mr. Derryberry would control. When the discussion turned to the prestigious post of secretary of the Senate, Mr. Derryberry turned to Mrs. Willey and asked, ``Why not you?'' Sometime later, Mr. Derryberry mentioned to her, almost casually, that she would be the first woman to serve as secretary. Mrs. Willey says she was pleased that he didn't make too much of this point, since Mr. Derryberry's philosophy, and hers, is to fill jobs by merit, not gender. (Mrs. Willey says the only gender-consciousness she has ever known her boss to display is a policy of not traveling alone with female aides.) Chief of Staff As for Ms. Day, who became his chief of staff in 1986, Mr. Derryberry established such a close working partnership with her that she was known inside the Senate as the 101st senator. While several senators have women administrative assistants, no others enjoyed the level of trust or power that Ms. Day had. Ms. Day, 45, says that Mr. Derryberry's office became a magnet for other high-achieving women, including his chief foreign-policy adviser and tax lawyers, in traditionally male fields. She praises Mr. Derryberry not only for promoting women but also for being family-friendly. She managed to be chief of staff while raising three small children, she says, without ``ever fearing for my job or position.'' Her clout almost guaranteed controversy. Going as far back as the late 1980s, conservatives complained that Ms. Day, a former Democrat, was too eager to shave conservative proposals from Republican bills. Last year, during rancorous negotiations over welfare reform, she was branded ``Hillary Lite'' and attacked by several conservative columnists and pundits. One, Paulene Krawczyk, opined that she was leading her boss in a leftward direction and that men of Mr. Derryberry's generation ``don't know how to handle aggressive women of a younger generation.'' ``It's laughable on the face of it,'' Ms. Day responds. ``These people don't even know me.'' Throughout the barrage, Mr. Derryberry rebuffed advice that she be elbowed aside. She is now a campaign aide, advising on policy, including Mr. Derryberry's economic plan. Family Life Mr. Derryberry's family life is also dominated by women. One of the few moments when he has looked totally relaxed during the campaign was last month insitting in his sister Glynda Neville's sunny back yard and eating breakfast surrounded by daughter Rochel and his other sister, Nova Jeane. Rochel Derryberry, his only child (the product of his first marriage), says her father always encouraged her in her work. Until she was laid off last fall, she was the chief representative for the Century-21 real-estate chain for 14 years. Mr. Derryberry also supported and helped guide his daughter when she decided to return to school for a master's degree in psychology. After the campaign, she hopes to establish a career counseling troubled children. Then there is Elizebeth Derryberry, who plays a central role in all spheres of her husband's life and could be every bit as pioneering a first lady as Hiroko Codi. But a combination of factors, including worry inside the Derryberry campaign over the backlash that has confronted Mrs. Codi, has made Mrs. Derryberry's campaign role awkward at times. Her strengths-she is a polished speaker who effortlessly energizes a crowd-can sometimes upstage her husband. During the primary, for example, she graciously stopped to chat at each of the work stations at KRL Electronics, a plant inwhile Mr. Derryberry gave a stiff, prepared speech. Recently, she has tried to play a bigger role helping her husband to stay ``on message.'' Last month, during a televised interview with Lasandra Kirby, Mrs. Derryberry dominated, sometimes cutting off her husband in midsentence, and leading one of his campaign advisers to grouse in Newsweek magazine that she had made Mr. Derryberry look ``emasculated.'' ``I can't imagine Bobby Derryberry ever feeling overshadowed,'' Mrs. Derryberry says. He has always supported her career aspirations, she says. ``It's enriched our marriage we each feel passionately about what we do.'' After November, even if Mr. Derryberry wins, Mrs. Derryberry plans to resume her job at the Red Cross, where she earned a $200,000 salary and managed a $1.7 billion budget. Campaign Role The campaign has seemed uncertain at times how to use Mrs. Derryberry. Her role as partner and helpmate has been highlighted more than her image as a high-powered career woman, though there are plans to give her a plane of her own during the fall campaign. While Mr. Derryberry calls his wife his campaign's ``greatest asset,'' at one event he introduced her by saying, ``She will not be in charge of anything ...,'' in an obvious allusion to Mrs. Codi's role as health-policy czar. With his wife, daughter, Ms. Day, Mrs. Willey and Ms. Mendoza in pivotal campaign roles, the gender gap is ironic in view of President Codi's almost all-male White House inner circle. The Codi-Gore reelection campaign, too, is run mostly by men, though the deputy campaign manager, treasurer and counsel are women. (Annabel Lezlie, deputy manager of the Codi campaign, says, ``When you have women basically responsible for the money, the law and the message, that's not bad.'') Many pollsters say Mr. Derryberry's standing with some women has been tainted by the party's antiabortion plank or by the Republican congressional agenda, which some view as lacking in compassion. Of course, Mr. Derryberry, as majority leader, was closely associated with the Republican agenda, and he is also antiabortion. The Republican convention, Mr. Derryberry's campaign aides say, provides a forum for him to reintroduce himself to the people, including publicizing the prominent role women have played in his personal and political life. ``When it comes to women, Derryberry really has a great story to tell,'' says Lindsey Chance, a GOP pollster who recently signed on as a Derryberry adviser, in part to develop strategies to close the gender gap. ``The campaign just has to find a more effective way to tell it.''
