SIXTY-FIVE

Around 3 p.m. on March 5, Senator Debbie Stabenow of Michigan spotted Manchin heading quickly to his own hideaway office.

She knocked on his door. Manchin welcomed her to come inside and invited her to sit with him on the couch.

He started into his concerns about the bill—unemployment insurance too long in duration, a $10,200 tax credit.

Stabenow thought Manchin’s complaints seemed minor—little issues, not big problems. Somebody had to speak some truth. Be blunt. She had been in elected office since Jimmy Carter was president. You can’t let one person derail something that has already been decided, when the consensus is 99 percent there.

“You know what, Joe?” Stabenow asked. “Any one of us could do this. We have 50 people here. And do you think everything in this bill is perfect for me?”

Manchin was listening.

“The reality is, you’ve got a whole bunch of colleagues right down the hall who are pretty upset with you,” she said. “Do you realize that?”

“I know, I know, I know, Deb,” Manchin said. “But you don’t understand. I represent West Virginia.”

“Well, I represent Michigan. We’ve got a whole lot of people that kind of feel like, you know what? We’re not a caucus of one. We’re a caucus of 50. And we have to find a way to come together here, even if something is not perfect for our own state. Because you know what? This isn’t a bill just for West Virginia. This is not a bill for Michigan.”

Manchin started to talk about unemployment. With vaccines being rapidly distributed, he said he wanted to see people go back to work rather than choose to take their unemployment benefits and stay home. He was worried about businesses that could not find people to work.

“You know,” she said, “you’ve been governor. Nothing’s perfect. You try to get it to be good.

“You’re being selfish.”

Stabenow knew she had been forceful, maybe even a little much. But she felt it was appropriate. Everyone in the Senate Democratic Caucus was tiptoeing around Joe. Somebody needed to tell him how everybody else felt. The anger about the holdup was real. She also knew—everybody knew—that Manchin liked to be liked. He had people over to his boat. He was not the kind of senator who relished becoming a villain.

Stabenow next went to Virginia senator Tim Kaine’s hideaway. Senator Kyrsten Sinema of Arizona, a moderate Democrat, was also there and looked up.

“Well?” Sinema asked.

“I don’t know,” Stabenow told her. “I don’t know. I told him the truth. I told him what I thought he needed to hear. I don’t know.”

Lance West and Schumer’s chief of staff began an informal shuttle diplomacy. West would walk from the hideaway to Schumer’s office. Then back. Most reporters did not recognize him, so he could make the trip without fanfare, unlike Schumer’s longtime chief of staff, Mike Lynch.

“Oh, shit, you’re going to blow up the bill,” Lynch, known for his calm demeanor, told West early in the day.

“How is that even possible?” West asked.

Lynch sketched out what Pelosi had said to Schumer. If this bill gets watered down any more, the House Progressive Caucus will take off.

“They’ll send it back,” Lynch said, “if it’s not $400 through the end of September.”

Really? West was skeptical. Did the Progressive Caucus have that much power?

“I don’t want to find out,” Lynch said.

West thought that was the best line of the afternoon. He reported back to Manchin, who did not buy it. They’d kill Biden’s bill to spite him? Give me a break. Pelosi was being tough, as always. Democrats wanted to pass the bill ASAP. Unemployment benefits would expire in about a week on March 14. Manchin told him to go back. Find a deal. Keep the $300 but be flexible.

West and Lynch then talked about a $300 deal through early September, keeping the tax credit component with a cap on higher incomes. This kind of change would have a real effect for those who were struggling. Some 18 million Americans relied on the enhanced unemployment insurance.

Lynch perked up. Carper’s original text had the benefit last through October 4, 2021. Manchin was now offering to support it if it went through September 6 instead. That was doable. And adding an income cap to who would be exempt from taxation? Fine.

Schumer was pleased at the development. Manchin seemed to be coming back.

West updated Louisa Terrell, Biden’s legislative director. “Louisa, we have a deal I’ve presented to Mike,” West said. “I just wanted you to know it as well because I think it’s a good offer and I think it’s something we can live with.”

Terrell said she’d get back to him.

Biden had told everybody he only could make one call. That’s what presidents did. One call to lean on a senator. You don’t overdo it.

We need you to make another call, Biden’s aides told him late Friday afternoon. Schumer had Carper’s amendment ready to go, to come right after a vote on Portman’s amendment. But Manchin had not yet formally signed onto Schumer’s arrangement.

It was time to close, they said.

Biden sighed. All right.

He called Manchin, who was outside his hideaway when the phone rang. He slipped inside.

Biden was terse. This had gone on too long. And Manchin was still a wild card, regardless of what Schumer’s and Manchin’s aides were cooking up.

“What the fuck are you doing, Joe?” Biden asked him. “Come on, man.

“Look,” Biden said. “We’ve worked it out so you can vote with Portman. It’s time for this to be over. You’ve won, Joe. You’re going to come out of this looking like you’re the most powerful senator. You’re going to come out of this looking like you’re the dealmaker.

“Take yes for an answer,” Biden said. “You get your vote with Portman. We modify the unemployment to fit what you wanted. But you have to let Carper go second. You have to support Carper. We have to have final say on this.”

Manchin did not quite say yes.

“They act like they’re going to shove it down my throat,” Manchin said. “They can kiss my ass.”

“Joe,” Biden said, “I would never ask you to vote against your convictions.”

Manchin thought that meant a lot coming from a former senator. There was too much pressure based on taking one for the party or the team. He said, “My team is West Virginia’s team. Nobody hired me up here. Nobody can fire me up here. Only my team in West Virginia and I’ve got to answer to them.”

Biden left the call feeling Manchin would get there. So did Klain and others.

Mike Lynch and Lance West spoke by phone. “Is there still a deal?” Lynch asked.

“Yes,” West said. There was a deal.

Schumer called the White House. It was done.

Manchin and West left the hideaway to go see Schumer at his office. Manchin promised he would support the Portman amendment, then support Carper’s. He would keep his word to his Republican friend but he would not sink Biden. They sat down to go over it one last time.

“I still love you, buddy,” Manchin told Schumer, after venting about the talks. He gave Schumer a hug.

When speaking to others later about his meeting with Schumer, Manchin said, “Chuck and I have great shouting matches. You got an Italian and a Jew in a room. New York and West Virginia.” Enough said.

But the vote was still hours away, Schumer told the White House. They would need the evening and early morning hours to write and score the changes with the Congressional Budget Office. Calculations of the costs were required. Since there was no final bill, it was not possible to make those calculations. There were other amendments to vote on, part of what was being called a “vote-a-rama.”

Manchin and Portman met up. “I got them from $400 to $300, which is what you wanted,” he told Portman. “The key thing was not to get $400.”

Portman asked him to stick with his amendment: extend the $300 benefit through mid-July.

“I can’t,” Manchin said. “I’m the one who got these changes and can’t go back on them.”

Lynch held a conference call with Democratic chiefs of staff around 7:45 p.m. He thanked everybody for their patience.

Schumer’s public announcement of the agreement, around 8 p.m. Friday, ended what had become a nine-hour standoff. By the time votes ended that evening, the Senate had broken its record for longest roll-call vote ever—nearly 12 hours. Almost two hours more than the previous record.

Democrats were exhausted and relieved.

Senator Blumenthal noticed Schumer’s approach with Manchin. Yell, but keep him close, on the team. He and others wondered if Harry Reid, in the same position, would have been as patient. Manchin’s chairmanship of the Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee had never been threatened. Biden might have cursed—and the number of “fucks” Biden uttered seemed to multiply as the story went from senator to senator. But Biden or Schumer had never really threatened anything.

Portman was frustrated as he tangled that evening in a floor debate with Senate Finance Committee chairman Ron Wyden of Oregon. He felt like it was the longest eight hours of his life because he had to be on the floor in case his amendment was called up.

“Suddenly, if you’re on unemployment insurance you don’t have to pay taxes, but if you’re working, you do have to pay taxes. How does that work?” Portman asked, speaking on the Senate floor.

Wyden dismissed Portman’s criticism.

“The party that claims to want to help workers on their taxes won’t lift a finger.”

That night, Portman’s amendment passed. Then Carper’s did, too, superseding Portman’s amendment, just as Schumer had orchestrated.

On Saturday, March 6, once it was all pulled together, the full rescue plan passed. 50 to 49. Senator Dan Sullivan of Alaska, a Republican, missed the vote due to a family funeral.