On the campaign trail and in the halls of Congress, Sen. Byron Dorgan has been known to tell a tale or two about his upbringing in Regent, N.D.

He sprinkles his speeches with references to shooting prairie dogs, showing 4-H steers and trying to get his 1924 Model T Ford running at least as far as Mott, "because Regent only had two girls."

Perhaps it's his way of reminding North Dakotans that he's still one of them, even though they first sent him to Congress 24 years ago.

He grew up on the outskirts of Regent, where his father ran the Farmers Union Oil Co. for 25 years. Dorgan's younger brother, Darrell Dorgan, of Bismarck, said they were raised in a political, populist environment. They learned the history of the state mill and elevator and state-owned bank.

"We were brought up as Farmers Union Democrats," Darrell Dorgan said.

They raced horses, raised cattle, hauled hay for 3 cents a bale and pumped gas at their dad's gas station. They washed windows, filled tanks, swept out cars and checked tires - all for 32 cents a gallon. In Byron Dorgan's Senate office, he has photos of himself showing 4-H steers in Mott.

Most days, Byron Dorgan works from 7 a.m. until around 7 p.m., or until all the Senate votes are cast, which can stretch late into the night.

He lives about 20 miles away in McLean, Va., with his wife, Kim, son Brendon, 17, and daughter Haley, who is "15 going on 25." He met Kim in an elevator in 1981. She is a senior vice president of government relations for the American Council for Life Insurers - a position that has led to complaints about conflicts of interest when it comes to lobbying senators.

Dorgan also has a son from his first marriage, Scott, and two grandchildren in Minneapolis. His oldest child, Shelly, died unexpectedly at age 23 in 1993 after a routine surgery to correct an irregular heartbeat.

"He was pretty quiet for a long time after that," said Dorgan's longtime friend, Bismarck lawyer Tim Durick. "They were pretty close."

Darrell Dorgan said it was a "very deep shock" for his brother, because Shelly had no history of heart problems until she "keeled over" one day. The surgery was supposed to be "safer than a tonsilectomy."

"It was just an absolutely freakish thing," Darrell said. Haley has had some cardiac problems but he said "it is our continuing hope that she will not need surgery in the future."

Byron Dorgan admits the life of a senator is not easy on a family.

"The Senate is not a very friendly place in terms of hours," he said.

His brother says that sometimes he tries to do too much.

"I think if he has a weakness he probably spreads himself a little thin," Darrell said. "If I had to keep his schedule, I'd keel over, but apparently he thrives on it. Our dad was that way, too."

While many candidates trot their families out and put them on billboards during campaigns, Dorgan seems to shield his family from the limelight. They're rarely seen publicly in North Dakota or on the campaign trail - even though Kim is a stunning blonde and his teenage children are picture-perfect.

Byron Dorgan does not go into great detail when asked about his family, and seems to prefer to talk about other things. He says his family has been in campaign ads and often travels with him to North Dakota.

"We don't make a big show of it when they are here," he said. "I just prefer to retain some privacy when it comes to family and religion."

Darrell Drogan said his brother's children are "out here all the time in the summer" and Brendon loves horses, cattle and cowboy hats.

A few years ago, Brendon went on a cattle drive in North Dakota, and Byron Dorgan gave him a cell phone to call home. Dorgan was in the middle of a meeting with senators in his Capitol Hill office when Brendon called. He put him on speaker phone, and with cows mooing in the background, Brendon said, "I just found what I want to do in life."

'Driven' by what?

"Driven" is a word often used to describe Dorgan. If the Senate has a week off, he's off to North Dakota for a week.

So what motivates him to put in long hours and sacrifice time with his family?

"To try to win victories on issues that you think are really important," Dorgan said. "To find the battles that you want to fight and try to fight them."

He said he truly enjoys the work and feels he's accomplishing a lot for the state and country. He also gets a lot of satisfaction from helping people who run into problems with the government.

What makes it all worthwhile, he says, is to be on the road to Oakes and thinking about how you helped a couple from India get jobs at the Oakes clinic and become an integral part of the community.

That's an example of what he calls "casework" - work his office does when a constituent calls with a problem. Several staffers are devoted to handling such cases, and his goal is for his office to be the best in the nation at responding to calls for help for constituents, often by cutting through bureaucratic red tape. He'll go directly to the heads of federal agencies, when necessary.

"He'll absolutely go to the wall for anybody he thinks is having an injustice done to him," Darrell Dorgan said.

Indeed, his office is legendary at this, which certainly doesn't hurt his public relations.

"That's the most direct contact that we have with people," he says. "Those are the kinds of things that give me satisfaction."

Whether it's embarrassing a giant candy company into getting off the back of a tiny Mandan candy bar maker or helping a Walhalla ski resort get permission for Canadian ski instructors to frequently cross the border with ease.

He even helps dead polar bears get across the Canadian border. He worked for seven years to help a Beulah man, Helmuth Pfennig, get his stuffed polar bear - which he shot in Canada - across the border to his Beulah wildlife museum. A treaty prevents the import of polar bears, but Dorgan went so far as to lobby former Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt for help. The polar bear made it to Beulah.

"I've not seen it, but I'm told it's named Byron," Dorgan said with a laugh.

'The wonder of it all'

Dorgan admits he "gave some thought to not seeking re-election this time," but doesn't want to see North Dakota lose the benefits of his seniority. He says he's still having fun and is still passionate, and if he is re-elected, he said "we'll see" about whether it would be his last term.

"I have a lot of energy and I enjoy what I do," he says. He said he doesn't see himself playing a role in any Democratic administration, and when he retires, he expects he'll retire in North Dakota.

He said it's a privilege to grow up in a town of a few hundred people, graduate in a class of nine, and find yourself driving to the U.S. Capitol every morning.

"You never quite get over the wonder of it all," he said.

Darrell Dorgan said his brother is friendly and easygoing, but also "very intense."

"We're both type A personalities," he said. "Our dad was, too."

Darrell Dorgan said that most people in other states never meet their U.S. senator, but as Byron Dorgan travels through North Dakota, half the people who approach him call him "Byron" rather than the more formal "senator."

"People really will come up to him and tell him what their problems are," Darrell Dorgan said. "There's a degree of familiarity there."

Durick said Dorgan's life has gotten more hectic since he moved from the U.S. House to the Senate, and Dorgan is the type of guy who doesn't waste time. Whether they're golfing or socializing, he's constantly interrupted by work or the cell phone.

"It seems like he - that's his main interest: work," Durick said.

When they're out in public, Byron Dorgan is often approached by people.

"It's hard to go out in a restaurant without being interrupted four or five times," Durick said. "And he's quite tolerant of that; more than I would be. People stop by constantly with some agenda. … He's got high visibility no matter where you go."

Durick said he doesn't believe Dorgan has changed over the years, even though his Senate office is a constant parade of dignitaries and important people.

"You would think that your head would get swelled up a little bit," he said. "It must be almost hard to keep your humble hat. I think he does a good job of it."

(Reach Deena Winter at 250-8251 or deena.winter@bismarcktribune.com.)