by Peter Baker
Bauer provided the link. Since he was advising both men, he coordinated the drafting. The next day, Monday, September 14, the statements were released. Daschle, who put his out shortly after appearing with Clinton at a New York fund-raiser, said, I certainly agree with those who have grown impatient with hairsplitting over legal technicalities. . . . The president and his advisers must accept that continued legal jousting serves no constructive purpose. It simply stands in the way of what we need to do: move forward and let common sense guide us in doing what is best for the country. Gephardt echoed the point: The considered judgment of the American people is not going to rise or fall on the fine distinctions of a legal argument but on straight talk and the truth.
CHAPTER FOUR
I dont want them to win
They sat in the locked, windowless room in the Ford Building and watched the worst day of President Clintons life captured on the television set in front of them. Virtually no one in the country had yet seen the videotape of the presidents encounter with the grand jury, and freshman congressman Asa Hutchinson had joined Henry Hyde to review it on Sunday, September 13, at the same time Abbe Lowell was briefing Dick Gephardt on the secret evidence. David Schippers, the chief Republican investigator, had already pronounced the tape dynamite. It would blow Clinton out of the water, he predicted. But as Hutchinson sat through the four hours of sometimes monotonous questioning, he was not so sure. A former federal prosecutor, Hutchinson agreed that portions of the tape were indeed damaging to Clinton. He lied through his teeth, Hutchinson told Hyde. And yet the totality of watching the whole session was not so dramatic. Clinton was nothing if not nimble and came across sympathetically to an audience. Maybe releasing the tape in its entirety was not such a good idea, Hutchinson said.
No one else on the House Judiciary Committee had seen Bill Clinton up close for as long as Asa Hutchinson. A fellow native of Arkansas, Hutchinson had repeatedly crossed paths over the years with the president he was now charged with investigatingfirst at law school, later in the courtroom, and eventually in the states political circles. A tall, slender man with an engaging smile and relentlessly polite Southern manners, Hutchinson stood out from many of his committee colleagues for favoring low-key, sober professionalism over high-pitched political hyperbolics. His youthful face was betrayed by graying hair, and yet he still seemed younger than his forty-seven years.
William Asa Hutchinson II was a late arrival for his parents, who gave up a grocery store in Oklahoma to take up farming in the Ozarks of Arkansas. After the unexpected birth of a fifth child, Tim, they decided to have one more close in age for him to play with, or so went the family lore, and a year later Asa arrived. Asa eventually followed Tim to Bob Jones University, an all-white, conservative, Christian college in South Carolina where they lived under a strict religious code of conduct that banned drinking, smoking, playing cards, dancing, kissing, and even holding hands. Dating was permitted only with a chaperon. While Tim went on to become a minister, Asa chose a more secular route, enrolling in the University of Arkansas law school in 1973, the same year Bill Clinton was taking a faculty job there. After his first year, Hutchinson married Susan Burrell and found himself working in the campaign of Republican congressman John Paul Hammerschmidt, who was fending off a challenge from Professor Clinton.
In 1976, Asa ran unsuccessfully for county justice of the peace, beginning what would turn into a frustrating, twenty-year electoral losing streak, but with Hammerschmidts help he would secure a presidential appointment in 1982 to become the youngest U.S. attorney in America, at age thirty-one. When a heavily armed terrorist organization called the Covenant, Sword and Arm of the Lord provoked a standoff with two hundred law enforcement agents, Hutchinson put on a flak jacket to help negotiate an end to the crisis, then prosecuted members of the group on racketeering charges. Clinton, then governor, called him at home one day during the impasse to confer about the terrorist group. The two ambitious young politicians later met about a marijuana eradication program. Hutchinson left the meeting with the impression that the governor was enthusiastic about the idea but grew aggravated when he did not see the follow-through he expected.
Their most traumatic encounter, though, came in 1984 when it fell to Hutchinson to prosecute the governors half brother, Roger Clinton, who had been arrested in a drug sting. After the grand jury indictment, Hutchinson called Bill Clinton to give him a heads-up and allow the governor to make the announcement himself. Roger pleaded guilty to distribution of cocaine and conspiracy to distribute cocaine, and his testimony was used in other cases. Bill and Hillary Clinton sat in the front row during the sentencing, but no ill will toward the prosecutor developed. More than a decade later, after Hutchinson finally won his seat in Congress, he found himself on Air Force One with Clinton heading down to Arkansas in April 1997 to examine tornado damage. When Hutchinson asked after Roger, the president answered, Ive said it a lot of times and Ill say it again: I think the way you handled that prosecution probably saved his life.
In a strange twist of fate, Clintons own legal problems ended up providing the break Hutchinson needed to finally win an election. In 1996, Jim Guy Tucker, then governor of Arkansas, was convicted of bank fraud in a case that stemmed from Ken Starrs investigation of Whitewater. Tuckers resignation opened up the states top job to the Republican lieutenant governor, who then dropped his plans to run for the Senate. Tim Hutchinson, having succeeded Hammerschmidt in the House, jumped into the Senate race instead, clearing the way for Asa to run for his brothers seat against Ann Henry, a friend of the Clintons who had hosted their wedding reception at her house. Both Hutchinsons won and they rented a house together in Washington. So now here was the first-term congressman, fresh to the nations capital and its peculiar ways, assigned to judge the conduct of a man he had worked with and against for a quarter century.
After his initial hesitation to join Clintons defense team, Greg Craig spent the next several days poking around the White House. On Sunday, September 13, the day after his Truman Balcony chat with Clinton, Craig consulted with Chuck Ruff, who was cordial even though the recruitment of Craig in some ways threatened his position within the White House political structure. On Monday and Tuesday, Craig worked things out with John Podesta. What finally tipped the decision for Craig was the allure of playing a part in history. It was a selfish reason, he admitted to himself, but he also truly thought he could help Hillary Clinton. That made it seem more noble.
Before he would agree to come on board, though, Craig wanted to ensure he was given the authority to do the job right. He did not want to be simply another cog in the vaunted White House spin machine; to be effective, he believed he had to be in charge. As he negotiated with Podesta, Craig insisted on having the ability to call or meet with the president one-on-one whenever he needed towalk-in privileges that precious few in the White House were granted since the early chaotic days of the first term. Craig also wanted an office in the West Wing near the Oval Office just as Podesta and Ruff had, not over in the Old Executive Office Building next door, where most of the lawyers and aides worked. In the byzantine world of the White House, access and real estate were the coins of the realm. For a couple of days, Craig sparred with Ruff over who would be in charge; Ruff did not particularly want Craig to report to the president without him. But Podesta, who had no love lost for Ruff and his secretive ways, ultimately gave Craig what he wanted. Hillary Clinton even surrendered part of her office suite on the second floor of the West Wing to provide space for Craig. While he would come aboard with the title of special counsel, they devised another, less formal term to reflect what he hoped would be his mandateCraig would be the quarter-back of the defense team, a description that was later written into the announcement of his appointment. Also joining the team would be two former White House congressional lobbyists recruited to return in this hour of need, Steven Ricchetti and Susan Brophy.
Craigs demands showed that he was smart enough to insist on assurances of authority and n
ave enough to believe them when offered. By this point, the White House was a den of backbiting and recriminations. The atmosphere Craig found when he arrived was almost poisonous. The legal team he joined was isolated and defensive, the political team suspicious and sometimes even hostile. Rahm Emanuel, the presidents tough-minded, foul-mouthed senior adviser, ignored Craig from the start. Paul Begala, the White House counselor who felt so betrayed by Clinton, was virtually absent, nursing his wounds. Erskine Bowles continued to resist entreaties to get involved in the mission to rescue the president. Ruff and David Kendall were professional and polite, but wary of their turf, a little peeved at the implication that Craig was needed to finish the battle they had been waging so tirelessly for so long. Resentment against Craig bloomed quickly, to the point where White House aides referred to him derisively behind his back as QB, mocking his football-inspired job description.
While Craig tried to get up to speed, the rest of the White House was trying to reassure nervous Democrats. Ricchetti helped set up a daily 11 A.M. conference call of well-connected Democratic lobbyists and political operatives around town, both to gather information and to keep erstwhile allies from bad-mouthing Clinton to the press. Other senior officials traveled up to Capitol Hill to absorb some of the fury aimed at the president. On the same Tuesday, September 15, that Craig officially started at the White House, Podesta, Bowles, and Doug Sosnik appeared at a luncheon meeting of Senate Democrats for the first time since the release of the Starr report. The three aides listened as one senator after another vented.
Senator Joseph R. Biden Jr., the Delaware Democrat who ran for president himself in 1988, only to be forced out in a plagiarism scandal, expressed the sentiments of many in the room when he told the visiting aides that the caucus would be better off if Clinton resigned. If it were up to them on a secret ballot, Biden said, there was no question how it would come out. But, he acknowledged, it was not up to them, and he recognized that Clinton would not resign.
Dispirited themselves, the aides gamely tried to defend their boss. Look, he didnt tell the truth, Bowles told the senators. He didnt tell the truth to me. He didnt tell the truth to you. He didnt tell the truth to the American people. But, Bowles added, it had to be put in perspectivewhile Clinton was clearly wrong, the will of the people should not be overturned through impeachment. Bowles might have been trying to convince himself as much as his audience.
Bidens statement was not the only dire warning sign the White House was receiving from the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue. Installed in his West Wing office, Craig was conducting his own canvass. He talked with Congressman Tim Roemer of Indiana, identified by Bill Richardsons survey as one of the Democrats to worry about most. You guys are going to have to focus on the facts of this, Roemer admonished. The facts are serious. Craig also called an old acquaintance from the Ed Muskie presidential campaign in Iowa in 1972, Kent Conrad, now a senator from North Dakota.
How are we doing up there? Craig asked.
Youre about three days away from a delegation of senior Democrats coming up there to ask the president to resign, Conrad replied ominously.
Conrad knew of no specific organized effort; what he was conveying was the sour mood of the place, his sense of where things were heading. For all of his public apologies, Clinton had yet to truly demonstrate remorse for what he had put the country through, particularly in private conversations with senators in which he continued to rail against Starr and the unfairness of it all. Conrad offered Craig a proposal: Tell the president to throw himself on the mercy of the voters. He should go on national television, say he had to decide whether to continue in office or leave, and then ask the public to weigh in. He should say, I cant continue to govern without your consent. That would be a way of reestablishing his support from the public, a measure of affirmation for his leadershipor, possibly, the other way around. Either way, Conrad said, Clinton could not remain without the American people on his side.
When the Republican members of the Judiciary Committee met privately in Room 2138 of the Rayburn Building on Wednesday, September 16, Asa Hutchinson went in ready for battle. After the collateral damage from releasing the Starr report on the Internet sight unseen, he was convinced that it would be an even bigger mistake to put out the videotape of the presidents grand jury testimony. Having seen it with Hyde over the weekend, Hutchinson thought parts of Clintons testimony would be useful in building a case, but concluded that showing it unedited would dull the impact of the moments that were damaging for Clinton. What they should do, Hutchinson told his colleagues, was release the tape only as part of presentations during hearings, where it could be placed in context. It would have much more impact that way. Releasing the tape now, so early, would draw too much attention to it.
The videotape should be released, but the issue is timing, Hutchinson argued with his fellow Republicans. A party-line vote is not going to be helpful, and thats what were gearing up to do.
Hutchinson argued as passionately as he could, but won few converts. When it came time to decide, he got only four votesChris Cannon of Utah, George W. Gekas of Pennsylvania, Ed Pease of Indiana, and himself. Yet party discipline was a powerful force, and once the Republican caucus determined its position, the members felt compelled to go along with the collective decision. In the full committee, when it counted, Hutchinson and the others would vote to release the tape, despite their misgivings.
At 1:30 P.M. that day, aides to Hyde returned a call from Salon, a liberal Internet magazine that had made its mark with a staunch defense of the president and relentless attacks on his enemies. The magazines editor, David Talbott, told Hydes spokesman, Sam Stratman, that they were preparing to go with a story about a five-year extramarital affair the Judiciary chairman had in the 1960s. Stratman and Paul J. McNulty, a committee lawyer who was helping out with media chores, rushed to Hydes office to break the news to him. Salon planned to report that Hyde had an adulterous relationship with a hairdresser named Cherie Snodgrass starting in 1965 when he was forty-one years old and a year away from first winning a seat in the Illinois legislature. Hyde nodded. It was true. Snodgrasss husband had found out that they were fooling around and had confronted Hydes wife, putting an end to the affair. But Hyde had managed to patch things up with his wife, and they had remained together until she died years later.
Word that his affair would be publicized crushed Hyde. He turned and stared off into the distance for a moment. It was so long ago, a lifetime. Now he would have to call his four grown children and confess to them before they heard the news elsewhere. He would have to tell them that he was not the paragon of virtue he hoped they saw him as. Nothing he had been through in all his years in politics had hurt like this.
First, though, Stratman and McNulty needed to know what to say to Salon. Hyde dictated a statement: The statute of limitations has long since passed on my youthful indiscretions. Suffice it to say Cherie Snodgrass and I were good friends a long, long time ago. After Mr. Snodgrass confronted my wife, the friendship ended and my marriage remained intact. The only purpose for this being dredged up now is an obvious attempt to intimidate me and it wont work. I intend to fulfill my constitutional duty and deal judiciously with the serious felony allegations presented to Congress in the Starr report.
McNulty thought that it would be hard to describe an affair in Hydes forties as a youthful indiscretion and worried that the press or the Democrats would jump all over that, but he saw pain on Hydes face and decided not to press the point. Hyde had been around long enough that he must know the right thing to say, McNulty told himselfa nave assumption, as he would later conclude after the late-night talk-show hosts had a field day with the phrase. Fortunately for Hyde, Newt Gingrich was not parsing the statement. Hyde called Gingrich to offer to resign because of the controversy, but the Speaker told him to forget it. Gingrich could hardly afford to let adultery by itself become an offense meriting resignation; at that moment, rumors were running around the Speakers office suggesting that
Gingrich himself was engaging in an illicit affair with a young House clerk. Gingrichs own chief of staff, Arne Christenson, had heard the gossip but could not bring himself to ask the boss.
Hyde was the third prominent House Republican to have his personal failings aired in recent weeks, following disclosures about Helen Chenoweth of Idaho and Dan Burton of Indiana, and the first instinct among Republicans was to point the finger at the White House. This must all be part of a scorched-earth strategy by the presidents defenders to take down his adversaries. Salon was seen as a house organ for the White House, particularly Sidney Blumenthal, the journalist-turned-aide who helped spread negative information about Clinton enemies.
In this case, though, there was no hard evidence of White House complicity. A friend of Fred Snodgrass, the betrayed husband of Hydes paramour, had called dozens of reporters pitching the story of the hypocritical Judiciary chairman about to sit in judgment of a president. At the White House, most of Clintons top aides recognized immediately that a hit piece on Hyde would only backfire, whether they were responsible or not, and so John Podesta immediately called Hydes office to deny any known involvement in the story and to vow that he would fire anyone discovered to have played a role. Abner J. Mikva, a former White House counsel for Clinton who had served with Hyde in the Illinois congressional delegation, stepped in to reassure his old friend as well. After checking with Erskine Bowles, Mikva called Hyde to reinforce that the White House was not behind the story.
