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Tuesday, Nov 10, 2009
After Hyde's committee approved four articles of impeachment against the president, the battle moved to the House floor. Within the White House we set up a boiler-room operation of congressional liaisons to target uncommitted moderate Republicans. We worked mainly through surrogates, Republicans who would work with us. Our lists showed that plenty of Republicans might well vote against impeachment. We drew up lists in two categories -- those who we believed would vote against and those who were likely to vote against. There were more than enough, some said. I remained extremely skeptical. Soon reports came trickling into the White House about the intense pressure being exerted on all Republicans by Republican whip Tom DeLay. The pest exterminator from Sugar Land, Texas, surrounded by his centurions -- a staff and 60 Republican members designated as whips -- was directing what they called "the Campaign." Peter Baker of the Washington Post wrote:
"Besides his public statements advocating impeachment, DeLay had privately been coaching Hyde since the election, advising him on media relations and assisting with logistics. DeLay had sent copies of Starr's November 19 statement before the Judiciary Committee to each member of the Republican conference and was organizing committee members to do what he could not do himself -- whip their fellow congressmen as the vote on the floor approached. The committee staff was provided with whip cards and taught how to divide up the caucus to focus on key congressmen who would move whole blocs of members. DeLay's aides were also enlisting prominent Republican fund-raisers and party officials to help persuade those on the fence."
On Saturday, December 12, immediately after the Judiciary Committee vote, DeLay and his staff had circulated a letter against bringing up censure for a floor vote. They told Hyde that the leadership had already decided, which it hadn't, so Hyde signed. They told Livingston to sign and he agreed, but he wasn't physically available, so his aide was ordered to sign for him while one of DeLay's aides hovered over her. Gingrich, still nominally the Speaker, was in Georgia, and he agreed over the phone. DeLay's name never appeared on any letter, but through coercion and will he had snuffed out any alternative to impeachment.
We heard from Republicans that DeLay's operation was putting pressure on the campaign finance chairmen of certain individual congressmen. In one case, we learned, a congressman's brother had been called and told to influence his brother, who would otherwise face a right-wing opponent in the 2000 primary. Representative Amo Houghton, a moderate Republican from New York who opposed impeachment, had already been declared a betrayer and a conservative primary opponent had announced against him, even though it was two years to the election. This was an obvious demonstration case to encourage the others. Houghton was an heir to the Corning Glass fortune and self-financing, but other Republicans were not in his protected position. Representative Peter King, another New York Republican opposed to impeachment, was threatened with being stripped of a subcommittee chairmanship. An aide to DeLay warned him that the Whip would make "the next two years the longest of his life."
"Coming out of the election, everyone thought impeachment was dead," Congressman King told me later. "I didn't hear anyone discuss impeachment. It was over. Then DeLay assumed control. In most districts in the country, a majority was against impeachment, maybe a majority of Republicans. But a majority who voted in Republican primaries was for impeachment. When you put individual members under the gun, a lot of them could get killed in a primary. That was the way he did it. I heard of Christian radio stations going after Republicans. Right-wing groups were stirring it up in parts of the country outside of the Northeast. Most of the pressure went through the Christian right network. It happened over a ten-day period. The whole world changed. I remember talking to people like Rick Lazio and Mike Forbes [both Republicans of New York] and they were saying this is nuts. Then suddenly they were holding news conferences saying their consciences were torn."
The stress exerted on Representative Jack Quinn, another Republican from New York, who told King he would vote against impeachment and told us that he would hold out, was tremendous, and he crumpled under it, so beaten by DeLay that he didn't tell us of his decision despite promising he would do so. Tom Campbell, Republican from California -- a bellwether of the moderates, a former Stanford Law School professor whom we had counted on -- caved, too. At his press conference declaring his intention to vote for impeachment, he was asked about the substance of the articles and responded, "I couldn't say off the top of my head." Campbell had higher political ambitions to run for the Senate, and so he made his decision. (He lost in 2000.) On December 15, nine previously uncommitted Republican moderates announced for impeachment.
The day of the House impeachment vote arrived on December 19. By Republican lights, it was to be the day of Clinton's disgrace. Since long before he ran for president in 1992 he had been the object of a Republican campaign to remove him from politics. Richard Mellon Scaife had invested millions looking for dirt about him. A flood of books and articles, videotapes, and radio talk shows had spread malicious stories that he had murdered dozens to cover up his crimes. If he was not a murderer, then he must be a rapist. The Republicans had tried to corner him, expose him, and eliminate him for years. Now they believed he was done at last. Hillary Clinton was calm, composed, and defiant. At 8:30 in the morning she appeared before the House Democratic Caucus. "I love and care deeply about my husband," she said. "We have committed our lives to the values of equality of opportunity and a better life for the children of America." She asked the Democrats to support the Constitution and "the commander-in-chief, the president, the man I love." She received a standing ovation.
The House proceedings opened with the reciting of the Pledge of Allegiance: "... with liberty and justice for all." "All! All! All!" chanted the Democrats.
Bob Livingston, who a day earlier had been forced by a forthcoming expose in Hustler magazine to confess his own sexual indiscretions before a stunned meeting of the House Republican Conference, now walked to the podium and addressed his remarks to the president: "Sir, you have done great damage to this nation ... I say that you have the power to terminate that damage and heal the wounds that you have created. You, sir, may resign your post." The Democrats, already outraged, shouted: "You resign! You resign!"
Livingston continued reading: "I can only challenge you in such fashion that I am willing to heed my own words. But I cannot do that job or be the kind of leader that I would like to be under current circumstances. So I must set the example that I hope President Clinton will follow. I will not stand for Speaker of the House on January sixth." For a moment, everyone was still. Then the Republican leaders jumped up and quickly escorted Livingston from the chamber. Some Republicans applauded, others cried. "He understood what this debate was all about," DeLay said on the floor, "... about relativism versus absolute truth." Livingston had spent the days of his "intended" speakership, as he called it, in fear and trembling.
In the White House, Livingston's resignation came as a bolt from the blue. But we instantly saw it as part of Tom DeLay's strategy to drum up pressure for Clinton's resignation. The president was in the White House residence. Lockhart ran over, got his remarks, and immediately briefed the press. We could not allow DeLay's strategy to gain the slightest momentum. Clinton, Lockhart explained, had enjoyed working with Livingston, was dismayed by his resignation, and wished he would reconsider. That response closed off DeLay's effort to use Livingston against the White House.
After Lockhart gave the press the president's comments on Livingston, we held another meeting on the State of the Union address, deciding on various social initiatives to be mentioned in it and communicated to the press beforehand. It was business as usual on the most unusual day.
Back at the House, Democratic leader Dick Gephardt delivered a stem-winder: "We are now rapidly descending into a politics where life imitates farce, fratricide dominates our public debate, and America is held hostage to tactics of fear and smear." The Democrats stomped and cheered and wouldn't stop, as if they could forestall the inevitable. When the roll was called on the first article, the Democrats marched out onto the Capitol steps to protest, returning after 15 minutes to cast their votes. The president of the United States was impeached.
Dozens of Democratic representatives boarded buses to take them to the White House, where they congregated in the East Room. A number of us on the staff joked that there was no protocol for an impeachment party. The Christmas decorations were up, and soon the White House would be filled every night with cheery throngs. We all milled around under the portraits of George Washington and Dolley Madison, a roomful of Democrats, not at all mournful, but political people who knew each other, closing ranks by schmoozing.
When the president came in with Hillary, Gephardt spoke: "We will stay with you and fight with you until this madness is over." Vice President Gore had words for the members who had just rejected impeachment: "History will judge you as heroes." Then Clinton came to the microphone. Subdued but sharp, he drew distinctions between Republicans and Democrats, one party seeking power for its own sake, the other seeking to use government for the common good. "That's what this thing is about. It's about power." He added, "I would give anything if you had not been in the position you were in today, and if I had not acted in such a way as to put you there." Now everyone marched out to the Rose Garden to speak before the media. Gephardt denounced "a partisan vote that was a disgrace to our country and our Constitution." Gore introduced the president: "What happened as a result does a great disservice to a man I believe will be regarded in the history books as one of our greatest presidents." And Clinton spoke: "We must stop the politics of personal destruction. We must get rid of the poisonous venom of excessive partisanship, obsessive animosity, and uncontrolled anger." He called for "one America," took Hillary's hand, and walked into the White House.
I joined them in the outer Oval Office. Clinton's private secretary Betty Currie was taking phone messages. The president started flipping the pages of a newspaper. Hillary and I gave each other a reassuring hug.
Clinton grabbed my arm and asked me to come into the Oval Office. He asked me what I thought. I gave him my views on the Republican strategy, on DeLay and his tactics. The Republicans were ruthless, Clinton agreed. They know what they want: power. They don't have another agenda. Their agenda is a means to an end: power. He was sorry about what everybody had been through because of the scandal. He was apologetic that he had given ammunition to our enemies. He was sorry about Lewinsky and the whole thing, but no apologies would be enough. That's not what they're interested in. They want him out because he's there. They can't accept him as president. They never did and never will. This is about nothing except power. After they won the Congress in 1994 and he didn't roll over and die, they wanted him out even more. The more we do, the more they want him out. Everything that's happened to them -- losing the midterm election and losing Livingston -- they've brought on themselves because they want to destroy him. They don't care if all of them are exposed as hypocrites. They just don't care. They'd sacrifice every Speaker just to try to get rid of him. Because this is just about power.
Two days after he was impeached, Clinton's popularity reached 67 percent in the Washington Post/ABC News poll. The festive Christmas parties at the White House went on as planned. At each one, the president and the first lady stood for hours, as they did every year, to pose for holiday pictures with guests in the Dish Room -- a room located between the Diplomatic Reception Room and a portrait gallery of first ladies that exhibits the representative dishware of the presidents since Washington. At the party held for members of Congress, I observed Republicans who had voted for impeachment standing patiently and excitedly in line with their wives to have their photographs taken. Merry Christmas!
