Subject: [NEXTEL-1] Jonathan Adelstein makes a name for himself on the FCC

From: Marcel <[email-masked]>
Date: Sat, 04 Jan 2003 16:57:02 -0500

Jonathan Adelstein makes a name for himself on the FCC

By Eric John Abrahamson,
Special to the Rapid City Journal

When Jonathan Adelstein was 10 years old, his father invited him
to pick a destination. Every year, Stan Adelstein took a trip with
each of his three boys. It was a way to compensate for the long
hours that Adelstein spent traveling to build his engineering
business.

That year, 1972, Jonathan picked Miami. He wanted to see the
Republicans nominate Richard Nixon for president.

Father and son remember different things from the trip. Stan
recalls taking Jonathan to buy his first suit. Jonathan remembers
chasing wild chameleons among the rocks in a parking lot. Both say
that Jonathan got to stand among the stomping, cheering South
Dakota delegation on the convention floor.

And Stan recalls that Jonathan bought two souvenir elephants, one
large and one small. "That one is you, Dad," Jonathan said,
pointing to the larger elephant, "and this one is me, following in
your footsteps."

Thirty years later, Jonathan Adelstein is making his own mark in
government, but not necessarily in his father's footsteps. Whereas
Stan has been elected twice to the South Dakota House of
Representatives as a Republican, Jonathan has spent the past 15
years working for Democrats in Washington. In November, he stepped
out of the political shadows of Capitol Hill to become one of the
five members of the Federal Communications Commission. At the FCC,
Adelstein will exert a powerful influence on national issues
ranging from the deployment of broadband wireless services to the
control of indecency on the airwaves.

Although it has been years since he lived in South Dakota,
Jonathan is expected to be a voice for rural America. His roots in
western South Dakota and the legacies of his family, including his
relationship with his father, have helped shape his politics.

Stan Adelstein believes that his son lost faith in the Republican
party in the summer of 1974. "I came home one day during the
Watergate hearings, and Jon was in front of the television with
tears in his eyes. He asked me if I thought Nixon was guilty. I
said, 'I am afraid so.'"

But his son's loss of faith in the president did not turn him off
to government or public service. Jonathan says his family's
history played a big role in shaping his philosophy.

Ita Adelstein, Jonathan's mother, escaped from Nazi-occupied
Poland during World War II. As a young girl, she and her family
traveled through Italy to the Middle East and then on to India,
spending the money that once had been part of her father's fortune
to keep from being captured and deported back to Poland, where
they would have faced certain death in the Jewish concentration
camps.

Eventually, they made it to the United States, where they found
sanctuary. "Because the United States took my mother's family in
and destroyed the source of evil in Europe, I feel an obligation
and a desire to dedicate my life to public service," Jonathan
said.

Education and family have taught Adelstein to take the long view
on public policy. At Stanford University, he earned a bachelor's
degree in political science and a master's degree in history. His
politics also shifted further to the left as he became a leader in
student government and the anti-nuclear movement on campus.

After leaving Stanford, he enrolled in a dual degree program at
the John F. Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University
intending to get a law degree. But he was disappointed with the
academic approach to policymaking. "It was too short-sighted," he
said.

Packing his belongings into his car, Jonathan headed south from
Boston determined to find a job on Capitol Hill, thinking he would
spend a year in Washington before going to law school at Stanford
or Harvard, both of which had accepted him. He landed a job with
Sen. Donald W. Riegle Jr., a Democrat from Michigan, and went to
work on health-care and Social Security

issues. A year later, when his deferments were up, he told his
parents he had decided not to go back to school.

"I'm more interested in making laws at this point," he said, "than
studying them."

Over the next eight years, he worked for several Democratic
senators. When Tom Daschle became minority leader of the Senate in
1995, Jonathan joined his staff with responsibility for
telecommunications, financial services, transportation and other
key issues. Co-workers in Daschle's office appreciated his
intensity, as well as his love of music. In his free time,
Jonathan, having taught himself to play the harmonica and the
accordion, sometimes played in a local band.

In Washington, Jonathan also met Karen Brenner, an Illinois native
and health-care policy analyst - and a Republican. The two began
dating. In an odd, serendipitous twist of events, Karen's brother,
Glenn, recently had moved to Rapid City to become the assistant
states attorney. He and Stan had met at services of the local
synagogue and Republican party events.

When Karen and Jonathan were married in Washington in 1998, the
event strengthened political bonds even as it forged those of
matrimony. Stan was a major supporter of Glenn Brenner's bid for
state attorney general this year.

After Stan was elected to the South Dakota House of
Representatives in 2000, Jonathan and his father used to talk on
the phone, trading war stories and comparing notes on the
challenges of trying to move legislation through the political
process.

There were areas of disagreement about tax policy. Jonathan
believes in an inheritance tax. Stan does not. Stan asserts, "I'm
intolerant of organized labor." Jonathan believes unions have an
important role to play in the economy. Despite their political
differences, however, father and son also found arenas for
agreement on social welfare, women's rights issues and the general
importance of competition in the economy.

"We raised all of our children to be independent thinkers," Ita
Adelstein said. So she is not surprised that Jonathan sees some
things differently. "But all of our children have developed a
strong desire to serve."

For example, Jonathan's brother, Dan, graduated from West Point
and is a Special Forces lieutenant colonel at the Pentagon.
Meanwhile, his other brother, Jim, who lives in Los Angeles, is
actively involved in the family's for-profit and philanthropic
activities. "They got their passion for service from their
father," Ita said of her ex-husband Stan. "And from both of us,
they got an enormous love for this country."

At the FCC, Jonathan is so new to the agency that the walls in his
office are stark and white. Fortunately, the Washington Monument
rises over the roof of the Bureau of Engraving to the west to
catch the eye.

Greeting a visitor, Jonathan is slightly awkward and boyish, as if
he still has not gotten adjusted to his new position. With
thinning hair and brown eyes, his face is serious, curious and
maybe even a little suspicious all at the same time. After all,
the political process left him to dangle in the wind for months in
2002 as Republicans and Democrats battled over Senate
confirmations.

The FCC consists of five presidentially appointed commissioners.
By law, at least two of the commissioners must be from the party
that does not control the White House.

Traditionally, the President turns to the opposition party's
leader for these nominations - in this case Tom Daschle. Daschle
submitted Jonathan's name in November 2001, and President Bush
nominated him for the position last February. Most observers
thought the Senate would approve the appointment quickly, but they
were wrong.

After the Senate Judiciary Committee rejected one of President
Bush's judicial nominees on a party-line vote, Sen. Trent Lott,
R-Miss., announced that he would oppose Jonathan's nomination.
Publicly, Lott said that Jonathan, then 39 years old, was too
young and inexperienced.

Jonathan's supporters pointed out that the FCC's chairman, Michael
Powell, the son of Secretary of State Colin Powell, had been
appointed to his position at the age of 37. No one doubted that
Lott's real opposition stemmed from his desire to hit back at the
Democrats and Daschle.

Lott successfully blocked Jonathan's confirmation for months,
despite the bipartisan efforts of South Dakota's congressional
delegation and Gov. Bill Janklow's support. That stonewalling
ended, however, after the Republican victory in the elections in
November.

Quickly confirmed by the Senate, Jonathan took the oath of office
on Dec. 3 in a private ceremony attended by family and friends,
including his wife, Karen, and his 1-year old son, Adam.

"As a Jew in Poland," Stan Adelstein said, "Jon's grandfather
could not even testify in a lawsuit. So Jon's swearing-in had
great significance for us all."

As the only commissioner who hails from a rural state, Jonathan is
expected to be a champion for rural interests at the FCC. His
belief in competition, however, may be put to the test. As the
deregulation of telecommunications continues, the taxes that were
built into long-distance service to subsidize high-cost rural
areas face increasing pressure. Without these subsidies, rural
areas could become economic backwaters in the Information Age.
"Getting broadband to smaller communities is particularly
important," Jonathan said. "How we do that is still up in the air.
We need to find a sustainable source of revenue to maintain the
subsidies for service."

One plan to maintain the so-called Universal Service Fund calls
for increasing the contributions of wireless carriers. But the
wireless industry opposes such a move, saying it will raise costs
for their customers. This kind of opposition between industry
groups frequently leads to gridlock in Washington. Jonathan has
been critical of the "$300 an hour" lobbyists who keep policy
makers from resolving the nation's most important communications
issues.

Social conservatives also are concerned about how Jonathan will
handle the issues of sex and violence on television and the
Internet. Congress delegated the responsibility for policing the
airwaves to the FCC years ago. In its effort to balance
free-speech rights with community standards, however, the FCC has
often been criticized.

"Our job is to prevent indecency on the airwaves," Jonathan said,
but he takes a very legalistic approach to the issue, deferring to
the courts and Congress. That stance may not make social
conservatives, such as some of his father's supporters in Rapid
City, happy.

Stan Adelstein shrugs off the criticism. "I'm sometimes asked if
Jon's politics are a disappointment to me," he said. "I tell
people no. If one of my sons came to me and said the system is
rotten and I'm not ever going to vote, that would be a
disappointment. But Jon is engaged."

In Washington, sitting quietly for a moment to carefully choose
his words, Jonathan echoed his father's sentiments. "Usually, we
agree on the goals," he said. "If we disagree over how to achieve
those ends, we share a commitment to public service and to the
future of our state and nation."

__________________________________________________________________

Eric John Abrahamson, a business and economic historian with the
Prologue Group in Rapid City, is the author of "Anytime,
Anywhere," a history of the wireless industry.
__________________________________________________________________

http://www.rapidcityjournal.com/articles/2002/12/29/news/local/top/news01.txt

Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/