Norm Dicks just paying his dues

So Congressman Norm Dicks is in the news for getting questionable campaign checks from two guys in Florida, a golf-club marketer and a wine sommelier.

The details are murky. The Floridians may have posed as lobbyists. Or they may have been conduits for too much campaign cash. The FBI's on the case.

But did Dicks do anything illegal?

I seriously doubt it. The reason I doubt it is because this is exactly the way Congress is set up to work.

It's a fundraising machine. The heads of influential committees are expected — all but required — to Hoover up as much money as possible from people they scarcely know.

Forget for now whether anyone broke any laws here. We don't know the answer to that yet.

My question is: What compelled Norm Dicks, who represents the Olympic Peninsula, to troll for donations from people who work at Florida's Amelia Island Golf Club in the first place?

The answer: He's got to pay his dues. Literally.

As the chairman of a congressional subcommittee, Dicks is supposed to pay at least $250,000 in biennial dues to the group charged with electing Democrats to the U.S. House, the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee (DCCC).

Last election Dicks paid $300,000 — as much as he spent on his own re-election campaign.

Higher-ranking leaders, such as House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, owe dues up to $800,000. The fee for backbenchers starts at $125,000.

Dues like this did not exist when I covered Congress in the 1990s, at least not in any formal way. There was no shortage of fundraising going on. But members who were not political stars mostly raised cash for their own campaigns, then spread anything left over to fellow politicians in their own states.

Not anymore. Now both parties rely heavily on member dues. Last election cycle, Dicks sent the DCCC installment-plan checks of $11,905 per month, as if paying a mortgage.

"We don't call them dues, only the press calls them dues," said George Behan, Dicks' spokesman. "We see it as a team thing, of helping get the Democratic team elected. So Norm contributes to that."

Yes, but — there's now a price tag on congressional committee chairmanships?

Behan says the chairmanships are not for sale to the highest bidder. If you don't pay, the worst that happens is you get shamed when they send around a list of who owes what.

The last time one of these memos went out — in October 2008 — it read: "Enclosed, please find a list of our colleagues who have only fulfilled 50% or less of their dues obligations. Please encourage them to be a part of the team."

Maybe it's like a church tithing, I suggested. Exactly, Behan said: "The people sitting near you in the pews may not pay the same as you. But everyone is welcome."

Of course, everyone's welcome in a protection racket, too. A wire story last October quoted "a senior Democratic aide" as saying leaders were keeping track of who didn't pay their dues and weighing "repercussions."

I get that politics costs money that has to be raised somehow. But linking a fundraising quota directly to a policy position? That seems like a recipe for corruption. Or lawmaking that serves narrow interests. Or at least for congressmen to waste time and energy hitting up Florida sommeliers for cash.

Ironically, this is the system we're left with after Congress passed the McCain-Feingold campaign-finance reform in 2002, banning all "soft money" to the parties. The dues system filled the gap.

I called up a few of those congressional-watch organizations, and they all wearily said the same thing. It may seem sketchy, but it's lawful. It's the way things are done now.

As they say, the real scandal in Congress isn't what's illegal. It's what's legal.

Danny Westneat's column appears Wednesday and Sunday. Reach him at 206-464-2086 or dwestneat@seattletimes.com.