Romney.
These two sides of Bill Clinton would continue to war with each other throughout the election campaign—and well beyond.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE PLUM ROLE
W ith the approach of the Democratic National Convention in the late summer of 2012, it looked as though Bill Clinton’s secret wish to see Obama lose might indeed come true.
The economic news had turned sour again. The jobless rate was stuck at over 8 percent, and had been for the past forty-two months. The Federal Reserve released data showing that median family net worth shrank to levels not seen in twenty years. Romney was surging in the polls, and it began to look as though he could beat Barack Obama in the November election.
Panic spread throughout the Democratic Party establishment.
“We will face an impossible head wind in November if we do not move to a new narrative, one that . . . focuses on what we will do to make a better future for the middle class,” former Clintonadviser James Carville and Democratic pollster Stan Greenberg wrote in a widely circulated memo.
“The Obama campaign should make it clear whose fundamental fault the economic problems are, and they’ve chosen not to do that,” said former Democratic Party chairman Don Fowler.
“Democrats have to know that the president is up against a well-financed opponent in a tough political environment,” said campaign strategist Bill Burton, a former White House aide. “If everyone doesn’t join the fight, [Obama] could be defeated.”
Faced with these prophecies of doom, Obama’s advisers looked for a Hail Mary play, some dramatic deed or event that would turn things around and save them from defeat. Gradually a consensus developed that the upcoming Democratic convention in Charlotte, North Carolina, was the answer to their predicament. If they played their cards right, the convention would give them the bounce they needed to reignite the Obama campaign. Three days in Charlotte would be their salvation.
As they began to put together the show in Charlotte and draw up a list of speakers, the drumbeat inside the campaign grew louder and louder for one man, Bill Clinton, who was viewed as an iconic figure by the party faithful.
The most outspoken advocate for giving Bill Clinton a major role in the convention was, once again, David Plouffe, Obama’s campaign strategist. Plouffe had long been aware that, despite themainstream media’s upbeat Obama coverage, things were not going well for Obama. On the eve of the party’s presidential convention, Democrats had outspent Republicans four to one and had poured more than $200 million into negative commercials against Mitt Romney, and yet Plouffe’s internal polls showed the race to be a dead heat, with Romney beginning to pull ahead in some critical swing states.
What was more, Plouffe had reason to worry about the trend lines in the remaining months of the contest. The Romney campaign had been far more effective in raising money than the Obama campaign, and from now until November it would be Romney, not Obama, who would have the financial advantage.
Finally, Plouffe had to admit that the Obama campaign’s strategy of talking about everything but the economy wasn’t working, especially after Representative Paul Ryan of Wisconsin joined the Republican ticket as the vice presidential nominee and turned Medicare and budget deficits into GOP talking points. With the consumer confidence index tumbling to its lowest level in almost a year and household income continuing to fall as well, Obamanomics was widely perceived to be a failure. A whopping 56 percent of registered voters disapproved of the job Obama was doing on the economy.
Someone had to make the case at the Democratic National Convention that Obama could fix the economy—and it couldn’t be Barack Obama.
Enter Bill Clinton, who had presided over boom times and balanced budgets in the 1990s and was the most admired Democrat in the country. David Plouffe argued that Clinton
These two sides of Bill Clinton would continue to war with each other throughout the election campaign—and well beyond.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE PLUM ROLE
W ith the approach of the Democratic National Convention in the late summer of 2012, it looked as though Bill Clinton’s secret wish to see Obama lose might indeed come true.
The economic news had turned sour again. The jobless rate was stuck at over 8 percent, and had been for the past forty-two months. The Federal Reserve released data showing that median family net worth shrank to levels not seen in twenty years. Romney was surging in the polls, and it began to look as though he could beat Barack Obama in the November election.
Panic spread throughout the Democratic Party establishment.
“We will face an impossible head wind in November if we do not move to a new narrative, one that . . . focuses on what we will do to make a better future for the middle class,” former Clintonadviser James Carville and Democratic pollster Stan Greenberg wrote in a widely circulated memo.
“The Obama campaign should make it clear whose fundamental fault the economic problems are, and they’ve chosen not to do that,” said former Democratic Party chairman Don Fowler.
“Democrats have to know that the president is up against a well-financed opponent in a tough political environment,” said campaign strategist Bill Burton, a former White House aide. “If everyone doesn’t join the fight, [Obama] could be defeated.”
Faced with these prophecies of doom, Obama’s advisers looked for a Hail Mary play, some dramatic deed or event that would turn things around and save them from defeat. Gradually a consensus developed that the upcoming Democratic convention in Charlotte, North Carolina, was the answer to their predicament. If they played their cards right, the convention would give them the bounce they needed to reignite the Obama campaign. Three days in Charlotte would be their salvation.
As they began to put together the show in Charlotte and draw up a list of speakers, the drumbeat inside the campaign grew louder and louder for one man, Bill Clinton, who was viewed as an iconic figure by the party faithful.
The most outspoken advocate for giving Bill Clinton a major role in the convention was, once again, David Plouffe, Obama’s campaign strategist. Plouffe had long been aware that, despite themainstream media’s upbeat Obama coverage, things were not going well for Obama. On the eve of the party’s presidential convention, Democrats had outspent Republicans four to one and had poured more than $200 million into negative commercials against Mitt Romney, and yet Plouffe’s internal polls showed the race to be a dead heat, with Romney beginning to pull ahead in some critical swing states.
What was more, Plouffe had reason to worry about the trend lines in the remaining months of the contest. The Romney campaign had been far more effective in raising money than the Obama campaign, and from now until November it would be Romney, not Obama, who would have the financial advantage.
Finally, Plouffe had to admit that the Obama campaign’s strategy of talking about everything but the economy wasn’t working, especially after Representative Paul Ryan of Wisconsin joined the Republican ticket as the vice presidential nominee and turned Medicare and budget deficits into GOP talking points. With the consumer confidence index tumbling to its lowest level in almost a year and household income continuing to fall as well, Obamanomics was widely perceived to be a failure. A whopping 56 percent of registered voters disapproved of the job Obama was doing on the economy.
Someone had to make the case at the Democratic National Convention that Obama could fix the economy—and it couldn’t be Barack Obama.
Enter Bill Clinton, who had presided over boom times and balanced budgets in the 1990s and was the most admired Democrat in the country. David Plouffe argued that Clinton
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