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C9 ‘In certain circles,’ Inouye says, ‘I’m the godfather.’ inouye from C1


manded national attention, much has changed. His pincushion cheeks have sagged into a stony, even dour, visage that adds to his regal bearing. His once grand, national ambitions to lead his party in the Senate have subsided, and he has shrugged off allegations of corruption and impropriety. He has contented him- self with mostly parochial interests, qui- etly exercising power as chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee to de- liver, above all, for his state. But the clubby, bipartisan, backroom politicking at which Inouye excels has gone out of style. Both President Obama, another son of Hawaii, and his 2008 rival, John McCain, campaigned against ear- marks. As the tea party movement echoes that excoriation, Inouye’s unabashed ad- vocacy for bring-home-the-bacon govern- ance is jarring.


Although his decades in the Senate


have brought him great stature, they have also winnowed his peers: In recent years, he has mourned Ted Stevens, his closest colleague and “brother”; Byrd, his predecessor as president pro tempore; Ted Kennedy; and Henry Giugni, his best friend and a former Senate sergeant at arms turned lobbyist. Inouye is the last of a generation of old Senate lions. And he knows it. As he stepped out onto the balcony of


his Waikiki apartment a few hours after the Pearl Harbor ceremony and surveyed the Diamond Head volcano’s gray crater and the whitewashed skyline built with his earmark dollars, he reflected on his new senior status in the Senate. “The facts of life would tell you,” In- ouye said, “that it is the final stop.” Self-reflection is offered begrudgingly,


as Inouye is not a sentimental man. And he is also not in a relinquishing mood. Next month, he will stand for a ninth


Senate term. He is expected to win in a cakewalk — his likely Republican oppo- nent is calling himself “crazy” in cam- paign ads for taking on Inouye. This year, Inouye cost his party a seat in the House when he undermined the preferred can- didate of the national Democratic Party and White House, because the upstart had dared to challenge Inouye’s author- ity.


The senator’s schedule during his cam- paign sweep in Hawaii was filled with vis- its to schools and entire towns built with federal dollars that he had delivered. In- cluded on his itinerary: a visit to the Asia- Pacific Center for Security Studies, which was founded 15 years ago with $10 mil- lion secured by the senator. The center was celebrating a new wing built with an additional $12 million obtained by In- ouye. The center’s new dean, Lauren Ka- hea Moriarty, a retired U.S. ambassador, is the daughter of a former close aide of Inouye’s. Inouye made no apologies for his sway, boasting of his sizable majorities in elec- tion after election. “In certain circles,” said Inouye, grinning in his apartment as he lifted a water glass off a U.S. Senate coaster, “I’m the godfather.”


Earmarks mark the spot During a visit to the Big Island last


year, Inouye happily called himself “the number one earmarks guy in the U.S. Congress.” According to the Center for Responsive Politics, in fiscal 2010, Inouye secured $392,432,850 in earmark spend- ing, 25.3 percent of which went to cam- paign contributors. That means he sent more money to political supporters than any other senator. The watchdog group makes a distinction for earmarks of which a senator is the sole sponsor. In that category, Inouye brought back $204,953,950 in 2010, the highest amount in the Senate except for Byrd. Inouye makes no excuses for being


what Dave Rae, an official for the Kapolei Chamber of Commerce, called a “Johnny Appleseed, spreading federal funds around.” He sees the money as necessary to ensure that Hawaii, once a remote ter- ritory, matters. He wants the state to be central in the nation’s defense strategy, but he has also sought to economically develop all of the islands (there’s now a federally financed supercomputer on Maui) and bring them out of the shadow of Oahu. He has sought to build a university sys- tem by bulking up community colleges across the islands and is a big believer that military housing projects create jobs and vibrant towns. In fiscal 2010, Inouye sent $30 million, his largest earmark, to the state’s rail project, which many here consider his legacy project. The morning after his address at Pearl


Harbor, Inouye sat in the back of a white Cadillac as his four-car motorcade drove west of Honolulu, with the sparkling Pa- cific to the left and fluted green moun- tains on his right. When the caravan turned north, the cars around Inouye grew progressively older, and the resorts gave way to tents erected by homeless people on the beach. The motorcade pulled into a parking lot in Waianae, where he spoke at an underprivileged school that, with the help of federal fund- ing, had become a fully stocked digital media center. As he slowly toured the fa- cility, going from one Mac flat-screen to another, where students showed off their animation skills, Inouye asked a flustered 16-year-old, Aaron Paakaula, “All of this you learned here?” Paakaula said yes and, as Inouye turned away, bumped fists with a class- mate: “I feel like I met one of the most im- portant people in the world,” he said. At the exit, Inouye encountered a sign


that read “proposed pool renovation” un- der an $8 million estimate and with a complement of students pitching him on the idea. Inouye called over Candy Suiso, the school’s director. “How much is it?”


MARCO GARCIA FOR THE WASHINGTON POST ON DECK: Sen. Daniel Inouye greets Marines on the USS Missouri in Honolulu during a ceremony last month marking the 65th anniversary of the end of World War II.


realized that television was that power- ful.”


Over the next decade, Inouye became a popular colleague. In 1987, Democrats picked him to lead the Iran-contra hear- ings, the highest-profile investigation in the Senate since Watergate, and was talked about as a likely successor to Ma- jority Leader Robert Byrd, who, in ex- change for Inouye’s support in 1987, of- fered to step aside and make room for In- ouye in 1989. “He did say, ‘I was leaving soon,’ ” said


ROBERT A. REEDER/THE WASHINGTON POST


IN 2000: Inouye receives the Medal of Honor from President Bill Clinton.


he asked with the mock exasperation of a father dipping into his pocket. Suiso quickly covered up the $8 million sign with her hand. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Ten mil-


lion?” “You should talk to the new member of Congress,” Inouye joked, pointing his cane at Colleen Hanabusa.


Loyalty vs. party


Hanabusa is Inouye’s chosen candidate in the state’s upcoming U.S. House show- down. Her candidacy also offers a case study in how he wields clout. When Rep. Neil Abercrombie aban- doned his seat to run for governor this year, Democratic leaders in Washington determined that the strongest candidate to replace him was former congressman Ed Case. Even the White House suggest- ed as much. But in 2006, Case had chal- lenged Hawaii’s junior senator, Daniel Akaka, against Inouye’s wishes. The slight wasn’t forgotten, said sources close to Inouye, and motivated the senator’s decision to back Hanabusa. As a result, the Democratic vote split and a Repub- lican, Charles Djou, won the seat. Hanabusa, now the Democratic candi-


date to replace Djou, knows where she’d be without the support of “Senator,” as she calls him. “It would be disastrous,” she said, add-


ing that the party officials tasked with electing Democrats remained furious with Inouye. So too is Case. “He’s compelled for reasons not clear to me to run Hawaii as his own personal fiefdom,” said the former congressman, who is nevertheless supporting Inouye’s reelection. “It was more important that I not be elected than that Djou not be elected.” “Politically he is very influential in the


state,” Djou said. “But does that mean he should be allowed to own the state, does that mean he should be allowed to dictate whatever his whim or fancy may be on the electorate?” Inouye’s power in Hawaii is even more


exceptional, given that he is rarely here. When he does come home, he lives in a condominium across from a laundromat with his wife, Irene Hirano, an elegantly coiffed woman who was president of the Japanese American National Museum in Los Angeles. (Inouye sat on the museum’s board and helped steer $20 million to it from the annual defense bill in 2000.) In- ouye’s only child, Kenny Inouye, from his first marriage to Margaret Awamura, who died in 2006, is a former member of the D.C. hardcore band Marginal Man and is now a 46-year-old lobbyist for en- tertainment companies with business be- fore his father in the Commerce Commit- tee. Inouye’s office said that the senator’s son “only lobbies the House.” The senator’s apartment features a freshly vacuumed white carpet, a grand piano and abstract paintings by Hawai- ian artists on the wall. Inouye keeps no computer, a promise he made to himself after helping pass the telecommunica-


JAMES A. PARCELL/THE WASHINGTON POST


WAR HERO: Inouye finds a photo of himself as a young man in uniform at the National Museum of American History’s exhibit “A More Perfect Union” in 1987.


tions act in 1996, because he considers them too addictive. “I only have a cell- phone,” he said, happily taking a blank- screened phone out of his pocket. “And this cellphone is not on. No one can call me, and I have no idea what the number is.”


In an hour-long conversation, Inouye showed a sharp wit, a tendency to filibus- ter with long stories of yesteryear, and the bearing of a man not usually in- terrupted. He talked fondly about Ted Stevens. In fact, in 2008, the Hawaii Democrat flew over the Pacific and across party lines to campaign for the Alaska Republican. Indictments had come down: The Alaskan had been accused of receiving cut-rate home improvements from an oil contractor who lobbied him for government aid. “‘These are the pieces they are talking


about?’ ” Inouye recalled telling Stevens, as he inspected the fixtures. “I wasn’t kid- ding. I would have used them for fire- wood or given them away if someone had taken them. It was wooden slats!”


“Like the sun is to the solar system, [Inouye] is to our


state.” — Honolulu Mayor Kirk Caldwell, a former legislative assistant for Inouye.


Inouye, who has a net worth, accord- ing to his personal financial disclosure, estimated at $2,144,018 to $4,695,999, has faced plenty of heat himself over questionable earmarks, but he said the largess had stabilized Hawaii’s economy. “I can justify every one of them,” he


said.


And in Washington, Inouye’s military and public service have elevated him to exalted levels. “Danny Inouye has a combination of


courage, integrity and effectiveness that is awe-inspiring,” Vice President Biden said in a statement. “He has been a close, personal friend for over 37 years. With Danny, it is never about him — it’s always about his state, country, and military men and women. There is no man in the United States Senate I admire more than Dan Inouye.” And yet, it can be painful to watch the


Senate’s senior statesman in the Capitol. On the cliquish Senate floor, Inouye enters with great dignity, applauds speeches by tapping his cane on the ground and receives polite greetings from his colleagues. In interviews, sena- tors speak of him with studied reverence. But some of the newest senators are working to reform the seniority rules that


have empowered him. There has been grumbling that the pro tempore position should be bestowed on the majority lead- er, because a potentially incapacitated el- der statesman shouldn’t be third in line to the presidency. More often than not, Inouye is alone on the floor. “A lot of people have moved on, and others have passed away,” said Bob Dole, the former Senate majority leader and Republican presidential nominee. In- ouye and Dole met in a Michigan hospital as fellow young soldiers recovering from battle wounds they suffered in Italy. They talked about their future; Dole shared his plan to get into politics and suggested In- ouye do the same. “He is sort of the last man standing,” Dole said. Inouye promised that he wasn’t through making friends. “Camaraderie is up to you,” he said, ex- plaining life since Stevens left the cham- ber. “I’m happy to say that I’ve been able to meet others, not to the extent of Ted Stevens, but, hopefully with the passage of time, I’ll get close to them.” In his apartment, he talked mostly about the past and peppered his dis- cussion with names like Lyndon John- son, Mike Mansfield and Warren Magnu- son. He offered a tour of the apartment and took a seat at the polished piano. With his wife smiling, Inouye played “Danny Boy” with his left hand. “It was part of the rehab,” Inouye said,


eyes sparkling, after he finished the song. “I had to learn how to play it before I could leave.”


A new career After the war, when Inouye returned to


Hawaii, he took Dole’s advice to heart. At the time, Republicans enjoyed one-party rule, and Inouye supported struggling Democratic leader Jack Burns. Later, in 1954, with Japanese Americans finally granted full voting rights, Inouye suc- cessfully ran to represent the territory in Washington as part of Hawaii’s Demo- cratic revolution. He then joined the House, where he was surprised that Sam Rayburn knew his name (“There aren’t too many one-armed Japs around here,” Rayburn replied) and then rose to the Senate.


“I had already planned it,” Inouye said of his ascent. Twenty years later, with political-celeb-


rity status attained in Hawaii, he came to national prominence by leading the 1973 Senate Watergate Committee investigat- ing President Richard M. Nixon. In the middle of the hearings, Inouye said he was visited by pollster George Gallup with a new national survey in hand. “The best-known person is the president of the United States, and the second is you,” In- ouye recalled Gallup telling him. “I then


Inouye, who declined to discuss the mat- ter further. In exchange for his support of Byrd, though, Inouye received the perk of seeing his administrative assistant Giug- ni appointed as the Senate’s sergeant at arms. Everything seemed to point Inouye toward national leadership. But liberal leaders of the Senate had expected In- ouye to punish and embarrass President Ronald Reagan during the Iran-contra hearings and considered Inouye’s re- spectful posture a bust. Then, in the clos- ing days of the session, Inouye often de- ferred to his friend Stevens on the subject of the contra funding he had investi- gated, and Inouye subsequently worked to include $8 million for the contras in the omnibus appropriations bill. He si- multaneously pushed through another $8 million to fund a school for North Af- rican Jews in Paris, a move that was wide- ly seen as a favor to a campaign contrib- utor and prompted a rare concession from Inouye at the time that he had made “an error in judgment.” The contrition was not enough to save his majority leader aspirations. “After that, I said, ‘I’ll concentrate on


my work,’ ” he said. “My goal was to rep- resent Hawaii well.” In the 20 years after the loss, Inouye


has focused on bringing money back to Hawaii with an intensity that has expo- nentially expanded his local power. In his 1992 reelection campaign, allegations of sexual misconduct received remarkably little traction in the political establish- ment or local media. “In Hawaii, there is what is called a res-


ervoir of aloha, a buildup of goodwill,” said Rick Reed, the 1992 Republican Sen- ate candidate who tried to make the alle- gations an issue and now sells cars and writes nonfiction in Washington state. “And for a lot of people, Inouye had that.” (“I’m happy that most of the people be-


lieved in me,” Inouye said when asked about the lack of a commotion over the allegations.) That goodwill spilled over into a new


generation of Inouye acolytes, and it sometimes seems that the state is run by a diaspora of former Inouye staffers. They sit on the boards of the largest cor- porations. They are mayors and top lob- byists and university officials. “Like the sun is to the solar system,”


said Honolulu Mayor Kirk Caldwell, a former legislative assistant for Inouye, “he is to our state.”


Here’s to the future On Sept. 7, Inouye’s 86th birthday, the


senator and his wife climbed out of the white Cadillac in front of the stately city hall in downtown Honolulu to cast their early votes before heading back to Wash- ington. He emerged from the curtain, and TV reporters wished him a happy birthday and asked him how many times he had voted for himself. “Fifteenth time,” Inouye said in his barely audible voice. Then the mayor presented him with a


chocolate cake, with a single blue candle and red cherry, and all of the local offi- cials, voters and bureaucrats in attend- ance sang happy birthday to him. “Many, many more, Senator,” Caldwell whispered in his ear. horowitzj@washpost.com


ON WASHINGTONPOST.COM To see photos of Inouye at a ceremony marking


the end of World War II, go to washingtonpost. com/style.


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