All Too Human: A Political Education by George Stephanopoulos Page A
Authors: George Stephanopoulos
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more focused and disciplined.
I walked across the hall to get the Clintons to agree. Hillary opened the door with a wan look, and as I slipped into the room she rested her hand on my shoulder for an extra second. Clinton's face looked like a soft, pale stone.
“How do you want to handle this morning?” I asked them. “Another big meeting, or would you prefer to do this with just a couple of us?” A loaded question, but I was leading them where I thought we needed to go and giving back what I thought I read in their expressions. They didn't want to hurt their friends or pick and choose among their advisers. But Hillary also knew that another bull session would just heighten the tension. Instead, the two of them crossed the hall to James's room, where we spent a few quiet minutes reviewing the strategy. But there wasn't really much to say. They were on their own.
The rest of the team was down the hall. They were irritated at my going behind their backs, but I told myself I was doing what the Clintons wanted and needed — a conviction strengthened by my desire to inhabit the smallest ring of the inner circle. Any jealousy I created was exacerbated when I followed the Clintons into the interview. The negotiated ground rules allowed one staffer in the room, and James and Mandy agreed it should be me. They trusted me not to freelance if Clinton had a last-second question or qualm, and he had become accustomed to having me around in moments like this. Whatever I felt inside, I could be relied on to stay calm and anticipate his needs. From my seat behind the camera, I would also serve as a human TelePrompTer, a visual reminder of our collective advice. Clinton would see me and remember the talking points I'd handed him.
Twice during the interview, Don Hewitt called a break and emerged from the control room. He told the Clintons how he'd made John Kennedy president by producing the debates in 1960 and said he could do the same for them. Like a director coaxing his leading couple, he crouched down in front of the couch and whispered, “Just say yes or no. Yes or no, and we'll move on to other things.” I shook my head in slow motion. We had to stick to our strategy, not Hewitt's.
Kroft kept pushing, but Clinton denied Gennifer's story and refused to directly acknowledge adultery. He admitted to causing “pain” in his marriage and added that most Americans would “get it.” And most viewers did. People heard that Clinton hadn't always been faithful, but they also saw a talented and idealistic couple who were committed to their marriage and the country's future. The performance was infused with the message of the Sperling breakfast from months before: What's past is past; it's time to move on. On the plane to Little Rock that night, we all thought the interview had gone about as well as we could have hoped. We had given it our best shot, and everything was out in the open now.
The next afternoon, three hundred and fifty reporters showed up at Gennifer's press conference, and CNN was broadcasting live. I pleaded with them to check out Gennifer's story before putting her on the air, but they ignored me — in retaliation, I was then convinced, for our decision to pull the Clintons from
CNN Newsmaker Saturday
and put them on
60 Minutes
. A bunch of us gathered around the television in my office to watch.
It didn't start out so badly. Gennifer's red suit and dark-rooted hair sent exactly the right message. A question about Clinton and condoms from Stuttering John of the Howard Stern show helped make the event seem like more of a circus than a serious political scandal. Gennifer even said she'd been approached by Republicans to tell her story.
There's an opening. Maybe we can turn this into an “anatomy of a smear” story instead of a morality play about Clinton's character
.
Then came the tapes — scratchy but apparently authentic recordings of Clinton and Gennifer talking in intimate tones about their personal
I walked across the hall to get the Clintons to agree. Hillary opened the door with a wan look, and as I slipped into the room she rested her hand on my shoulder for an extra second. Clinton's face looked like a soft, pale stone.
“How do you want to handle this morning?” I asked them. “Another big meeting, or would you prefer to do this with just a couple of us?” A loaded question, but I was leading them where I thought we needed to go and giving back what I thought I read in their expressions. They didn't want to hurt their friends or pick and choose among their advisers. But Hillary also knew that another bull session would just heighten the tension. Instead, the two of them crossed the hall to James's room, where we spent a few quiet minutes reviewing the strategy. But there wasn't really much to say. They were on their own.
The rest of the team was down the hall. They were irritated at my going behind their backs, but I told myself I was doing what the Clintons wanted and needed — a conviction strengthened by my desire to inhabit the smallest ring of the inner circle. Any jealousy I created was exacerbated when I followed the Clintons into the interview. The negotiated ground rules allowed one staffer in the room, and James and Mandy agreed it should be me. They trusted me not to freelance if Clinton had a last-second question or qualm, and he had become accustomed to having me around in moments like this. Whatever I felt inside, I could be relied on to stay calm and anticipate his needs. From my seat behind the camera, I would also serve as a human TelePrompTer, a visual reminder of our collective advice. Clinton would see me and remember the talking points I'd handed him.
Twice during the interview, Don Hewitt called a break and emerged from the control room. He told the Clintons how he'd made John Kennedy president by producing the debates in 1960 and said he could do the same for them. Like a director coaxing his leading couple, he crouched down in front of the couch and whispered, “Just say yes or no. Yes or no, and we'll move on to other things.” I shook my head in slow motion. We had to stick to our strategy, not Hewitt's.
Kroft kept pushing, but Clinton denied Gennifer's story and refused to directly acknowledge adultery. He admitted to causing “pain” in his marriage and added that most Americans would “get it.” And most viewers did. People heard that Clinton hadn't always been faithful, but they also saw a talented and idealistic couple who were committed to their marriage and the country's future. The performance was infused with the message of the Sperling breakfast from months before: What's past is past; it's time to move on. On the plane to Little Rock that night, we all thought the interview had gone about as well as we could have hoped. We had given it our best shot, and everything was out in the open now.
The next afternoon, three hundred and fifty reporters showed up at Gennifer's press conference, and CNN was broadcasting live. I pleaded with them to check out Gennifer's story before putting her on the air, but they ignored me — in retaliation, I was then convinced, for our decision to pull the Clintons from
CNN Newsmaker Saturday
and put them on
60 Minutes
. A bunch of us gathered around the television in my office to watch.
It didn't start out so badly. Gennifer's red suit and dark-rooted hair sent exactly the right message. A question about Clinton and condoms from Stuttering John of the Howard Stern show helped make the event seem like more of a circus than a serious political scandal. Gennifer even said she'd been approached by Republicans to tell her story.
There's an opening. Maybe we can turn this into an “anatomy of a smear” story instead of a morality play about Clinton's character
.
Then came the tapes — scratchy but apparently authentic recordings of Clinton and Gennifer talking in intimate tones about their personal
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