The Gennifer Flowers story had broken just a month before the New Hampshire primary, and we knew we had one chance to clear up the questions. So we were going with the biggest possible audience–“60 Minutes” just after the Washington Redskins vs. Buffalo Bills game. During one break, a light stand fell on Hillary’s head while executive producer Don Hewitt kept pressing the governor to just say yes or no–had he committed adultery? I knew that the Clintons were going to admit difficulties in their marriage–and that people would understand what they were saying. “Anybody who’s listening gets the drift of it,” the governor said on the air. “And let’s go on and get back to the real problems of the country. The problems are about what’s going to happen to families in New Hampshire and the rest of the country in the future, not what happened to mine in the past.”
The governor’s words also carried an implicit, but no less important, promise: whatever was past was past; that he had changed; that he was too smart and too conscientious to do anything that would damage his campaign or a future presidency. In short, that he was no Gary Hart. Now that is open to question–a painful prospect.
I have never known the whole truth about Clinton’s connection to Flowers, but although I did know that many of the details of her story were demonstrably false, I assumed without asking that something had happened between them in the past. The point of the “60 Minutes” declaration was that the governor had outgrown all that, and that Clinton was offering a clear definition of character that the country could judge him by: “I may not be perfect,” he was saying, “but I’ll fight for you. I’ll be a president who puts people first, and I’ll get up every day determined to be a better person than I was the day before.”
If true, the allegations about the president’s relationship with Monica Lewinsky show that he failed to meet the standard of character he set for himself, and shattered the promise he made to the public and the people around him. Right now, I don’t know whether to be angry, sad or both. But if the Lewinsky charges are valid, I know this: I’m livid. It’s a terrible waste of years of work by thousands of people with the support of millions more.
Of course, when you’ve been on the inside you quickly learn that what seems most damaging in one news cycle turns out to be nothing in the next. To keep going you have to suspend judgment and do your job. When charges are this serious, that rule should hold true for everyone–prosecutors, politicians, the press and the public.
Still, the stakes could not be higher–and not just because the allegations are titillating. Clinton’s governing philosophy has been that society’s rewards should go to those who work hard and play by the rules. No one can question how hard the president has worked. But if he’s lied about his relationship with Lewinsky, he didn’t play by the rules–and he will pay the price.
I don’t know much about Lewinsky. I would pass her in the halls or see her getting coffee at Starbucks. I want to believe the president. It’s mystifying to me that someone with so much to offer and so much to lose would risk everything in such a reckless way. I pray he’s telling the truth. But we won’t know until they both speak and the investigations are complete.
His best hope–a scenario that quickens my partisan heart –is that the whole storm turns out to be a right-wing plot abetted by an abusive prosecutor. Clinton-haters have been out to get him for years, and some of the characters in this latest tale have fishy connections. Still, that’s a very long shot.
The worst possibility is that Lewinsky tells Starr the president had sex with her and encouraged her to lie about it, and backs up her claims with convincing evidence. No president could survive that. Clinton would face Nixon’s dilemma: resign or be removed from office.
More likely is a tangle of misunderstandings and mistakes. To survive this, the president must get the facts out and face the country. He should speak from the Oval Office and apologize for any misjudgments. The next day he ought to hold a press conference, answer all questions and promise to cooperate with any legitimate investigation. Then he should challenge Congress to focus on affairs of state. Clinton’s presidency would be diminished, but at least he could stay in office.
The painful irony is that before Monica Lewinsky became an overnight sensation, the president was in command. The nation is doing well; his agenda is popular. The part of Clinton people like best is his ability to slog through the mud–some of his own creation–in pursuit of the people’s business. It’s saved him before, and may again.
