Norwood's press secretary, meanwhile, the normally aggressive John Stone, had bragged to reporters Friday that the bill had reached a filibuster-proof majority in the Senate: "We really feel comfortable we're there at the 60 [vote] mark," he said. Tuesday, Stone was uncharacteristically not returning reporters' phone calls.
Norwood had said in June, "Anything less than full protection for all patients cannot be taken seriously." Apparently he's now a bit more interested in protecting something else.
Norwood was not taking appointments Tuesday, even though his lobbying for the bill was one of the main reasons several Republican senators, including McCain, signed on to the bill last year.
Here is the diplomatic Ganske's take on the meeting, as he described it in a press conference on Tuesday: "The meeting was cordial. We are friends. I look forward to further discussions with them." More than that he will not say.
Ganske even defends the Bush White House. In an interview Tuesday afternoon, Ganske alluded to "very powerful, influential and wealthy organizations" -- the HMOs and big businesses that run their own health insurance plans -- that oppose the bill, ones that had already started moving against this bill.
When Salon asked, "So you're not just facing opposition from the White House, you're also being challenged by big special interests?" Ganske carefully replied, "I never said we were facing opposition from the White House."
In an aside, the Iowa surgeon, whose medical career was spent fixing up more than a few farmers' hand injuries, expresses amazement at how Gore mishandled this issue against Bush in the election. During the third "town meeting" debate, when a member of the audience lobbed Gore a softball -- "Why are the HMOs and insurance companies not held accountable for their decisions?" -- Gore whiffed, yapping annoyingly about the "Dingell-Norwood bill" (getting the names backward; the congressman from the majority party is the one who gets top billing). "Gore could have said, 'Governor Bush, two Republicans, Greg Ganske and Charlie Norwood, wrote that bill!'" Ganske said. "'Why don't you support your fellow Republicans?' But there he was, Mr. Partisan, Al Gore."
Despite Norwood's capitulation, there are some Republicans, like Ganske, who will not give in on this no matter how much they admire and support Bush. And politically, it's never a bad idea to be anti-HMOs, which have matured into full-fledged American black hats. (John Grisham's thriller "The Rainmaker," one of the first demonizations of HMOs, celebrates its fifth anniversary this month.)
On March 16, 1999, Ganske spoke on the House floor about an HMO claims reviewer named Linda Peeno who admitted that by denying a client a heart operation she "caused the death of a man" and "was rewarded for this" by her former employer. "It brought me an improved reputation in my job and contributed to my advancement afterwards."
Ganske also told the tale of 6-month-old James Adams, whose HMO sent him to an emergency room more than 70 miles away after he suffered a cardiac arrest in the middle of the night. "Due to a delay in treatment," Ganske said, "the doctors had to amputate both of his hands and both his feet because of the gangrene that resulted."
"Under federal law, that HMO which made that medical decision is liable for nothing," Ganske said.
Bush is a charming man with cute and funny nicknames for members of Congress. But surely he's concerned about his ability to counteract stories from Linda Penno and about James Adams. Which is why it was Rove's job to squash the bill. The only question is: Aside from Norwood, how many other members of Congress can Rove persuade to turn their heads and cough out their consciences?