4 Republicans Share More Than Politics

ARLINGTON, Va. — “We call it the cereal caucus,” says John Ensign, a congressman from Nevada who shares a two-story house in this Washington suburb with three members of Congress.

Busy all day, the only time these Republican roomies get together is late at night, when they sometimes talk politics over cereal.

“Usually it’s Corn Chex, sometimes Raisin Bran or Shredded Wheat,” Ensign says. “Every once in a while I have to break down and get a box of Froot Loops.”

Living arrangements are always a problem for members of Congress. Rather than uproot their families, many become weekday workaholics and weekend commuters to their home districts.

Ensign and his roommates--Sen. Sam Brownback of Kansas and Reps. Ed Bryant of Tennessee and Jon Christensen of Nebraska--decided in mid-March to turn a modest house in Arlington into a weekday crash pad.

It might sound like John Belushi’s “Animal House,” but appearances suggest otherwise. The kitchen looks unused; furnishings are sparse. It appears as if nobody has even walked on the white rug in the living room.

On one particular morning, Brownback and Bryant hurry out the door at 7:10 a.m. for the 15-minute drive to work. “I have to get up to feed the chickens out back,” jokes early-riser Bryant, who serves on the House Agriculture Committee.

Ensign, though, did have that fraternity-boy look when he rolled out of bed and walked into the kitchen. Sleepy-eyed and wearing a rumpled blue T-shirt and shorts, he ran a hand through his hair and grumbled: “How are ya?”

Ensign handles the finances. That makes sense. Before being elected to Congress in 1994, he was general manager of two hotel and casino operations in Nevada. Still, the roommates were slow to pool their money and the April rent was late.

Each pays about $650 a month to cover everything, including a housekeeper, who goes to the dry cleaners and washes dirty clothes each lawmaker stuffs into a different colored laundry bag.

She also keeps the pantry stocked with breakfast food, about all they eat there.

They did dine on spaghetti together one recent night, but it was their first evening meal in the house. Christensen cooked. Well, he heated up the sauce and boiled the pasta.

Before, Christensen and Ensign shared a townhouse in nearby McLean, Va. Brownback slept in a dank basement apartment. Bryant had an apartment too, but sometimes lived in his office.

“This is our small accountability group,” Brownback explains.

Their what?

“Washington is a tough place. We’ve been meeting together once a week for a year and a half, just to keep each other accountable,” he explains. “Do you have a good friend in college that you could really talk to and who could tell you, ‘I don’t think you’re quite doing this right’? That’s what this is.”

Brownback is soon behind the wheel of his car, motoring to work.

Power is seductive in Washington, he says. Temptation is great.

“You’re away from your families . . . in a virtual candy store of opportunities to do the wrong thing. We’re just trying to keep each other from falling for it,” Brownback says philosophically.

He says living together enables them to strengthen their relationships and “bind together as men.”

Oh, it’s about male bonding.

It’s partly about that, Ensign says. He says living together helps the four lawmakers, three of whom are married, to walk the straight and narrow.

“The wives love this,” he says.

So far, there haven’t been any serious tiffs.

Brownback has started to worry, though, that his housemates might be irritated by the four or five overnight guests--male--that he’s been host to since moving day. He’s decided to start asking first, especially since Bryant has to share his bathroom when there are house guests.

“It’s our house’s version of the Lincoln bedroom,” Bryant says.