ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: WEDNESDAY, January 26, 1994                   TAG: 9401260054
SECTION: VIRGINIA                    PAGE: C1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BONNIE V. WINSTON STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: RICHMOND                                LENGTH: Long


WARM FUZZY OR `SECULAR LIBERAL'S WORST NIGHTMARE'?

EVERYONE AGREES Gov. George Allen's choice for secretary of health and human resources is disarmingly pleasant and personable. It's her ties to conservative Christian, pro-family forces that have her critics a bit uneasy about what she might do.

She is the hope of conservatives and the bane of liberals.

Like most black Republicans, Kay Coles James remains an enigma.

Carrying credentials that put her squarely in the camp of Christian, pro-family forces, James, 44, figures to play a critical role in shaping Virginia's coming welfare-reform, abortion-rights and family-planning policies as a member of Gov. George Allen's Cabinet.

Despite threats of opposition that never materialized, her nomination as Virginia's secretary of Health and Human Resources is expected to win final confirmation today in the House of Delegates.

James insists her function for the next four years is to implement Allen's vision for Virginia. But critics fear she has been tapped to lead a slash-and-burn mission on Virginia's safety net for the poor, to deny birth control to teens and to generally spread fear and loathing among abortion-rights supporters.

On abortion at least, James' resume bolsters critics' concern: former public affairs director for the National Right to Life Committee; senior vice president of the Family Research Council, a Washington-based organization dedicated to anti-abortion and conservative moral issues.

Her appointment was viewed early on as Allen's payoff to anti-abortion groups that helped him secure the Republican nomination and win November's gubernatorial election.

But James skated through what became for others an icy confirmation process without losing her balance or characteristic charm. Several opponents said afterward that her personal magnetism and warm-fuzzy answers to several hard questions were disarming.

"My greatest fear is that I will come to like her, and I won't be as vigilant," said Karen Raschke, government relations counsel for Planned Parenthood Advocates of Virginia.

"She gets rave reviews for her sparkling personality, but we remain very concerned about her anti-abortion, anti-family-planning, anti-contraception for teens views," Raschke said. "Her nomination is insidious, and I believe she will make slow, small changes that won't seem so bad, but really are."

In a glowing send-off published in the Family Research Council's Jan. 6 newsletter, Gary Bauer, council president, called James an "articulate, conservative, pro-life wife and mother" who is the "secular liberal's worst nightmare."

"Throughout 1993, she fought the radical agenda of the anti-family crowd with a wonderful blend of faith and conviction," Bauer wrote. "She will bring common sense to the debate [in Virginia] over drug policy, condom distribution in the schools, abortion and a host of other values-laden issues. She will have a unique opportunity to translate FRC's research into public policy. I can't tell you how excited I am about that prospect. From her new post, the nation will have a chance to see the impact of the pro-family alternative to [President Clinton's] agenda."

James, who will oversee 16 state human-service agencies with combined budgets of $3.84 billion, calls recent "misinformation" about her views ridiculous.

"It was trafficking in fear for political and ideological reasons," she said.

"I don't want to disrupt services to programs and people," she said. But at the same time, James calls human-services problems in the state so "severe, we can't keep any good ideas off the table."

She said rather than cutting funds for family planning, she is apt to initiate pilot programs for "alternatives," which she didn't name. She said merely dispensing contraceptives to teens does not meet the need for extensive counseling and education about AIDS and sexually transmitted diseases.

"I think we do young people a disservice by sending them the message, `Just don't reproduce,' " she said.

As head of an Allen-appointed "empowerment commission," James said she will bring welfare recipients, former recipients and "policy wonks" together to forge reforms. During confirmation hearings, James was questioned about a proposal to drop from welfare rolls women who have more children while receiving aid.

"I think in principle we all agree that we don't want any incentives in the system that encourage people to have children they're not prepared to take care of," James said. "Once we agree on the principle, then we ask the people, how do we do that."

She insists she understands she is in a unique position, as a black woman and a Republican, to influence policy. And she said she can appeal to Allen when a proposed government policy tends to make victims of segments of the public.

She said she understands the worlds of poverty and privilege. Born in Portsmouth, she lived in a Richmond public housing complex until age 5. Her family was split up, and she was raised by a solidly middle-class aunt and uncle in the city's Northside. Her uncle was president of an insurance company, and her aunt taught school.

She graduated from Hampton University and went on to work with a nonprofit agency in Richmond battling housing discrimination. In 1985, she began her work with conservative policies and politics with the National Right to Life Committee.

In discussions around the Statehouse, James is portrayed much as she is on the jacket of her autobiography, "Never Forget," published last year: as a woman who struggled against the forces of an alcoholic father and welfare mother to rise to the corridors of power in Washington.

James acknowledges that life in the projects then was quite different from conditions that typify housing projects today. And she admits that she has angered many in Richmond's established black community by writing in the book that her aunt was an abusive alcoholic.

But she insists she told Allen well before her appointment, and reiterated during confirmation hearings last week, that she has "no interest in reforming this state's welfare system on the backs of poor people."

"People want simple and easy answers to very complex and difficult problems. And it requires much more thought than coming up with something that can fit on a bumper sticker."

Keywords:
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