MADAM SPEAKER: Nancy Pelosi and the Lessons of Power by Susan Page (Twelve, 448 pp., $33)
It’s difficult to write a fresh-sounding biography of a woman who has been in Washington longer than some members of Congress have been alive.
But even longtime watchers of House Speaker Nancy Nancy Pelosi will learn something new about the most powerful woman in the country — and how she got that way — from USA Today Washington Bureau Chief Susan Page’s new biography, "Madam Speaker: Nancy Pelosi and the Lessons of Power."
Page uncovered details from Pelosi’s life that even surprised the speaker, such as the patent her mother applied for in the 1940s after inventing a machine to give steam facials and handwritten notes toward a memoir by Pelosi’s beloved late friend, Rep. John Murtha (D-Pennsylvania).
There are juicy tidbits of more topical interest, especially in chapters toward the end of the book: how Pelosi canceled plans to retire because Donald Trump defeated Hillary Clinton in the 2016 election, as well as the real reason she tore up her copy of Trump’s 2020 State of the Union speech. (Pelosi claims it started with a missing pen.)
Then there are Pelosi’s frank comments about colleagues, unusual even for a powerful veteran already well-known for her candor. Pressed by Page on how she felt about the "Squad" of four newly elected progressives, including New York Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, in a 2019 interview, Pelosi appeared to swipe at their social-media savvy.
"Some people come here, as [former House Appropriations Chair] Dave Obey would have said, to pose for holy pictures," Pelosi said. Then, she raised her pitch to mimic a child, "See how perfect I am and how pure?"
"OK, there’s the group that’s going to go pose for holy pictures," continued Pelosi. "Now let’s legislate over here."
Page spends the majority of her book on earlier days, providing fresh details of Pelosi’s childhood in the public eye as the only daughter of Baltimore mayor Thomas D’Alesandro, including a lengthy section on how the family survived a potentially career-ending scandal — the trial and acquittal of Pelosi’s brother Roosie D’Alesandro on charges of raping a 13-year-old girl.
And she dives deep into the transformative moments in Pelosi’s early political career that are so well known a biographer might be tempted to skim over them.
That includes Pelosi mocking herself years later for trying to explain to a staffer with an idea for a quilt eulogizing AIDS victims that "nobody sews." The AIDS Memorial Quilt became the largest community art project in the world, with 50,000 panels commemorating 105,000 people. Page recounts how a chastened Pelosi, in one of her first major battles in Washington, then maneuvered the National Park Service into permitting the massive quilt to be displayed on the National Mall during the 1987 National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights — promising to have volunteers "fluff" the quilt every 20 minutes so the grass underneath wouldn’t die. (It did.)
Page also discovered handwritten pages dictated in 2008 by Murth, archived at the University of Pittsburgh, explaining why he provided pivotal support during Pelosi’s first leadership bid. Murtha was crucial in convincing "some of the old guys" who were hesitant to pick a woman as speaker and supported her over Rep. Steny Hoyer, still her No. 2 today. His notes, intended for a never-written memoir, go all the way back to his first meeting with Pelosi.
"More liberal than I but she has ability to get things done and she’s given a tremendous service to our Cong. & country," Murtha wrote. She has as "good a political mind as I have ever seen," he noted elsewhere. "Able to come to a practical solution. I appreciate that more than anything else. Get something that can be passed."
Pelosi was so pleased upon learning of the notes, Page recalls, that she asked to keep a copy.
In many places in the book, it’s the smallest, best-chosen details that tell the biggest stories about Pelosi as a master legislator. For but one example, while whipping votes for the Affordable Care Act, President Obama invited undecided Indiana Democrat Joe Donnelly to the Oval Office to try to sway his vote. Donnelly left still undecided.
Pelosi, meanwhile, turned to Donnelly’s religious mentor, the Reverend Theodore Hesburgh, president emeritus of Notre Dame — a man Donnelly referred to as a second father — and asked Hesburgh to help her pass the bill by calling the congressman.
By the end of their phone call, Donnelly agreed to support the legislation.