In Need of a Cover-Up

In attempting to hide a sex scandal, a Congressman nearly lost his shirt

Written by: Jeff Rodriguez, Historian

It’s not always easy to recognize quality public relations work. But it’s usually pretty easy to identify a bad PR move.

Such was the case on December 10, 1974, when Congressman Wilbur Mills resigned from his position as chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee. There’s a lot of power in that position, and Mills, an Arkansas Democrat, had held it for a long time, since 1958.

It was a wise move, but prompted by a series of bad moves. A couple of months earlier, at around 2 a.m. on October 7, a U.S. Park police officer had pulled over the 65-year-old Congressman.

This was a problem because, one, Mills had been driving without his headlights on; two, he was visibly intoxicated; and three, none of the people in his car was his wife.

Instead, one of his passengers was a lady named Annabelle Battistella. She was a stripper whose stage name was Fanne Fox. She also was 38 years old, meaning that Mills had been serving in Congress longer than she had been alive.

Oh, yes: Mills was bleeding from his nose, and Battistella had bruises on her face. And when the officer had approached them, Battistella tried to escape by leaving the car and jumping into the nearby Tidal Basin; perhaps she was hoping to swim outside of U.S. jurisdiction.

How Wills handled the situation is an interesting lesson in crisis management—or perhaps, non-management. Rather than comment directly, he assigned the job to an associate named Oscar Goss, who denied that Mills had been involved. But then the cops publicly confirmed that Mills was their man, and further confirmed that he had been intoxicated and bleeding at the time.

In response, Mills had Goss issue the time-honored statement of “No comment.” But the media queries and gossip were not about to stop. I mean, it was a drunk Congressman and a stripper; at the National Enquirer, they probably suspended all vacation requests.

So three days later, Mills issued another statement, confirming the allegations. But he didn’t quite come clean; as reported in the Washington Post:

“In a statement issued by his Capitol Hill office, Mills said his face was cut from his eyeglasses, which broke as he tried to stop an ill woman neighbor, Mrs. Eduardo Battistella, from leaving the vehicle.”

The statement explained that he had been at a party, and that he had left his wife at home at because she had a broken foot. The Post added, “Mills’ statement said nothing about drinking, and left unclear many other things about the incident and the other occupants of the car.”

Then Mills went into reverse-damage control, which is to say, he made the situation worse. He said Goss’ original denials occurred because he had misunderstood Mills.

When Goss had told him about the media coverage, he explained, “because of the manner in which it was phrased, I told him that it was an inaccurate report. He (Goss) mistook this to mean that I was not involved, resulting in the previous statement issued in my name.”

To buttress the strategy, Goss released his own statement, claiming it was “obvious” that he had misunderstood Mills, and adding that he deeply regretted “any embarrassment that it may have caused him and his family, and any inconvenience it has caused others.”

You would think that a scandal of this proportion, compounded by a ham-handed PR response, would end a politician’s career. You would be wrong. The next month, Mills was easily re-elected; exact numbers were not available, but some claimed his percentage of the vote was 36-26-36.

But Mills had one more faux pas up his sleeve. Just a couple of weeks after the election, he was reported to have gone to a club where Battistella was performing and jumped up on the stage. Remarkably, Fanne’s husband was with him, and he jumped on stage, too. Perhaps there was a special going that night, and everyone was getting half off (including Fanne).

Behind the mischief was a serious problem. After the stage incident, Mills resigned his chairmanship and checked himself into a rehab facility. And in 1976, he declined to seek re-election.

Mills ultimately redeemed himself, beating his addiction. He spent his remaining years helping raise funds for alcohol recovery services, and a treatment center in Arkansas was built in his honor. It’s also worth noting he was a driving force behind several important pieces of legislation, and he stayed married to his wife.

Sex dramas are nothing new to PR. But at the time, Mills’ scandal was pretty, well, scandalous. And it serves as another reminder of the important role we play. If you don’t have a good PR team helping you map your course, it’s all too easy to take a wrong turn—and find yourself driving in the dark.