There weren’t many options. Clinton was vulnerable on drugs. He’d slashed funding for the drug czar’s office and had once foolishly remarked on MTV that he would inhale marijuana ““if I could.’’ The president’s drug chief, former New York City police commissioner Lee Brown, was ridiculed inside the administration as an ineffective leader. After Mrs. Reagan’s jolting testimony, the course was clear. Brown was on his way out. Domestic-policy aide Rahm Emanuel gave the president a checklist of four generic types who could fill the slot: another big-city crime-buster, a tough-minded school principal, a big-time prosecutor and a soldier. Clinton chose the military route.
The president interviewed only one candidate: Barry McCaffrey, the four-star general who’d led the ““left hook’’ assault up the banks of the Euphrates River during the gulf war. Later, as commander in chief of the army’s Southern Command, he took over the fight to stop drugs in the ““source’’ countries. To Clinton and his political handlers, the general seemed the dream pick for a president who was clearly weak on the drug issue early on. And things only got worse for Clinton: first there were reports of rising use among teens, then came right-wing allegations of drug use by some White House staffers–charges that reinforced a permissive, anything-goes Clintonite image. Now, says one aide, whenever Clinton is criticized, they figure they can just ““roll out the general.’’ What they don’t quite understand is that McCaffrey is no hack and won’t be manipulated in the service of the president’s re-election.
Elections are usually about sweeping promises, not details, but McCaffrey is interested in long-term solutions–and that makes him a reluctant campaigner. The general refuses to pledge to slash marijuana and cocaine use in a year or two. Instead, he believes drug use can be ““dramatically reduced’’–but not in two years, or even five. More like 10, long after Clinton could reap the political benefits. And while Clinton brags about building prisons and enacting ““60 new death penalties,’’ his drug czar warns that prevention and treatment are far more effective–and cheaper–than incarceration and interdiction. ““The election is going to come and go,’’ the general told NEWSWEEK, ““and we’re still going to have a drug problem.''
McCaffrey has had to adjust to the Clinton culture. As SOUTHCOM commander, he briefed the president about drug-running operations in Panama. In January 1993, McCaffrey, dressed in uniform, wished a young woman good morning as he was leaving the southwest gate of the White House. ““I don’t talk to the military,’’ she sniffed. The press picked up on the story and reported that the woman was a White House staffer (McCaffrey says he doesn’t know if she was or not). Clinton tried to make nice by inviting the general to go jogging.
The president could barely keep up. McCaffrey is 53, and his only known forms of recreation are running, reading military history and spending time with his wife and three kids. Before he left the army in February for the drug czar’s office, he worked daily until midnight, then was up to hector aides at home by 6 a.m. (now he leaves them be until 7:30). One officer under his command in Panama resorted to installing two phones by his bed, one just for McCaffrey, who’d fume if the line was busy.
Even though he has exchanged his uniform for a dark suit and red tie, McCaffrey retains his military manner. Riding last week to deliver a speech to kids at a Dallas high school, he had his aides keep his tight schedule in military time, and no sentence began or ended without the word ““sir.''
In front of the microphone, though, McCaffrey’s clipped tone softens. He is an adept public speaker, and by now he’s wise to the world-weary cynicism of the average high-schooler. ““There’s a very high smirk quotient,’’ he says. In Dallas, the first question proved the point. ““Why are crack penalties harsher than that of other drugs?’’ a young woman asked. McCaffrey surprised the audience with his response: ““The simple answer to that one is it doesn’t make much sense.''
McCaffrey clearly enjoys being provocative. He has strongly hinted that after the election, he’ll take on the prickly issue of mandatory minimum sentences. If he does, he won’t win many friends inside the administration: the sentences, which tie judges’ hands by requiring automatic prison terms regardless of the circumstances of a particular case, are popular with politicians. And Clinton, ever wary of being tagged as soft on crime, is for them.
McCaffrey, however, is used to irritating West Wingers. Just last month, he admitted to a Senate panel that the administration’s anti-drug efforts had been lax. ““We took our eye off the ball,’’ he said. NEWSWEEK has learned that the comment infuriated the president’s crime advisers, who told McCaffrey he had a ““duty’’ to defend Clinton.
In fact, it’s McCaffrey who may have the upper hand. ““The president needs him more than he needs the president,’’ says Mark Kleiman, a UCLA professor who advises the drug czar’s office. Clinton knows McCaffrey can go where others in the administration can’t. In the final wrangling over the welfare bill this summer, the general persuaded Republicans to drop a provision abolishing benefits for recipients who get busted for drugs. Health and Human Services Secretary Donna Shalala might have made that case. But the White House knew that McCaffrey had biparti- san credibility the liberal Shalala lacked. ““We owe him big,’’ says a White House aide, who muses that McCaffrey could take his pick of assignments in a second term. But he may already have the one he plans to keep.
