Team Clinton
Massachusetts's congressional Democrats emerge as the philanderer-in-chief's
most reliable defenders
Two types of politicians stalk the corridors on Capitol Hill these days:
Republicans, gleefully stretching Ken Starr's thin but humiliating impeachment
gruel as far as they can; and Democrats, wanly supporting the president in
public, but in private looking nervously at the election calendar and just
wishing the reprobate-in-chief would slither away.
Then there is the Massachusetts delegation -- 12 liberal Democrats from the
state that gave Bill Clinton his widest margin of victory in 1996. The state
where Representative Jim McGovern, a Worcester freshman who's facing a credible
Republican opponent in November, greeted Clinton just days after his atrocious
August 17 apology speech with a rousing -- and very public -- message of
friendship. Where Senator Ted Kennedy, not long after the release of Starr's
damaging report, boisterously proclaimed at a Boston fundraiser, "This was
Clinton country in '92, it was Clinton country in 1996, it is Clinton country
tonight!"
It's been nearly a generation since 1972, when Massachusetts earned a
reputation for being the Great Liberal Exception by supporting Democratic
presidential candidate George McGovern over Richard Nixon. Now, even after
eight years of having tax-averse Republican governors on Beacon Hill, it
doesn't seem that much has changed. At the hour of Clinton's greatest peril,
with the House Judiciary Committee voting on Monday to open a full impeachment
inquiry, the president has only two groups of legislators he can reliably count
on: the Congressional Black Caucus and the Massachusetts congressional
delegation.
"Massachusetts is Clinton's base," says CNN political analyst William
Schneider. "It's that delegation that's trying to act as brokers on his behalf.
They can present themselves as Clinton's core supporters and try to influence
the process on his behalf." By contrast, consider the delegation from Clinton's
home state of Arkansas -- three Democrats and three Republicans, nearly all of
them wary of the Christian right. "The Arkansas delegation is basically all on
the fence," says Gene Lyons, a columnist for the Arkansas
Democrat-Gazette and a Clinton defender. "This state is full of Shiite
Baptists."
In the poisonous atmosphere of Washington, it's interesting that observers
such as Schneider label Massachusetts's legislators as being pro-Clinton. In
fact, the two most visible have been Senator John Kerry, who's pushing a widely
praised initiative for a compromise settlement, and Representative Barney
Frank, of Newton, Clinton's chief defender on the Judiciary Committee. Both men
have made it clear that they are appalled by Clinton's behavior and that he
deserves some form of punishment. The state's other two Judiciary Committee
members, Representatives Marty Meehan, of Lowell, and Bill Delahunt, of Quincy,
have, if anything, been even less willing to cut Clinton any slack.
(Nevertheless, Meehan's publicly expressed doubts as to whether Clinton
deserves to be impeached for perjuring himself over blowjobs have been enough
to earn him the nickname "Maxine" -- as in Representative Maxine Waters, head
of the Congressional Black Caucus -- from Boston Herald columnist Howie
Carr.)
The difference, then, isn't that Massachusetts Democrats condone immoral and
illegal behavior, but rather that they understand the distinction between lying
about personal failings and committing the "high crimes and misdemeanors"
specified by the Constitution as grounds for impeachment. If Massachusetts's
senators and representatives can keep their colleagues focused on that
distinction, they may yet salvage Clinton's presidency. Here's how the state's
delegation shapes up.
Leading men. Clinton's point people on the Hill thus far have been
John Kerry and Barney Frank. Kerry's call for an expedited inquiry in return
for Clinton's full cooperation may serve to further Kerry's own political
ambitions -- not only because such a deal would enhance his national stature,
but also because Al Gore's presidential campaign would presumably be damaged by
having a wounded but still-standing Clinton hovering over him. Frank's role as
Clinton's lawyer on the Judiciary Committee may ultimately contribute to a more
cosmically significant development: reviving the congressman's once-famed but
flagging sense of humor.
Indeed, though Frank's defense of Clinton is both substantive and serious, his
witty sound bites are what have brought him the most attention. "Newt Gingrich
issuing rules of decorum is like Mike Tyson reissuing the Marquis of Queensbury
rules," he said at one news conference. "If this was bipartisanship," he said
on another occasion, "the Taliban wins a medal for religious tolerance." And a
New Yorker piece that described Frank as setting his shirt on fire while
attempting to light a cigar brought this letter to the editor from Frank: "The
implication that I was unsuccessful in lighting my cigar while lighting my
shirt is inaccurate. In fact, I not only succeeded in lighting both but was
further able to quickly extinguish the latter while keeping the former
burning." This is vintage Frank, reminiscent of the 1970s, when he kept his
colleagues in the Massachusetts legislature in stitches. "Barney Frank clearly
spends time thinking about what he's going to say," says Tucker Carlson, who
writes for the pro-impeachment Weekly Standard. "He's glib. That's a
shallow criterion, but journalism is a shallow business."
Behind the quips, though, is a take-no-prisoners position:
not only that Clinton's behavior is not impeachable, but
that it was brought to light by means of serious misconduct by Ken Starr. "They
got the goods on Clinton and Lewinsky illegally," Frank told the
Phoenix, referring to Linda Tripp's undercover tapes. He further
describes the "broad powers of discovery" that Starr used to detail Clinton and
Lewinsky's sexual affair as a "very dangerous tool that would dissolve
everybody's privacy." What Clinton deserves, he adds, is "the constitutional
equivalent of a good kick in the ass."
From a public-relations point of view, Frank may not be the best person to
serve as the Democrats' point man: he survived a sex scandal of his own about a
decade ago. "That was a youthful indiscretion on my part," Frank quips, slyly
referring to a comment made by Judiciary chairman Henry Hyde
(R-Illinois) after Salon magazine revealed that Hyde had an affair when
he was in his 40s. But Frank, Congress's only openly gay member, sees it as a
sign of increased public sophistication that his personal life has not been an
issue. Besides, what Clinton needs on the Judiciary Committee isn't a moral
defender but a lawyer -- and that's a role in which Frank excels.
If Frank's function is that of the lawyer, Kerry aims to be the conciliator.
It hasn't been easy: his proposal has been widely misinterpreted as both a plea
bargain under which Clinton would accept a congressional censure (in fact,
Kerry says he still sees impeachment as an option, though an unlikely one) and
a feeler put out by the White House (Kerry says it's not, but it probably
hasn't helped that his idea is being promoted by Boston Globe columnist
Tom Oliphant, a notorious Clinton sycophant).
Kerry, though, thinks the time for his proposal simply hasn't come yet. If the
Republicans fail to win the massive gains they're counting on in November, he
believes they'll come looking for a way to get the Clinton matter over with as
quickly as possible. "I personally believe the time will come when people will
be looking for that way or some way like it. Regrettably, the Republicans are
intent on politicizing this," Kerry told the Phoenix.
Among pundits, there is near-unanimity that Kerry's nascent presidential
campaign would get an enormous boost if he could broker a resolution to the
crisis. "Those who take the high road in this swamp of madness are going to be
remembered. I don't see how John can lose," says Cambridge-based political
consultant Janis Pryor, who helped shore up Kerry's support in the
African-American community during his difficult 1996 reelection campaign.
Responds Kerry: "I'm going to leave all of the political speculating up to
other people. It's kind of silly to spend much time worrying about that."
Supporting actors. Judiciary Committee members Marty Meehan and Bill
Delahunt, both former state prosecutors, have taken a back seat to their senior
colleague Barney Frank, but neither has been shy about grabbing the spotlight
now and then. Meehan has been outspoken in both his revulsion toward Clinton's
behavior and his skepticism as to whether he should be removed from office,
which has served to establish him as an important -- and articulate -- swing
vote. Time magazine recently labeled him as one of two Democrats who
"could have real influence if they begin to drift into the anti-Clinton
camp."
Delahunt, meanwhile, has emerged as one of four committee members (two
Democrats, two Republicans) who've taken the lead in crafting a credible,
bipartisan approach to the impeachment probe. In a front-page piece in the
New York Times, Delahunt was glowingly described as "a skilled
interrogator" who "had won praise from Republicans for his thorough and
even-handed approach on thorny committee issues from music copyrights to
Medicare fraud."
Off-camera. Aside from brief cameos by Ted Kennedy, Jim McGovern, and
Representative Joe Moakley, of Boston, the remainder of the state's delegation
has been notably quiet, though all are considered certain pro-Clinton votes
should things come down to that.
Take the case of Representative John Tierney, of Salem, who's trying to fend
off a tough reelection challenge from former Republican congressman Peter
Torkildsen. Tierney let a reporter from National Public Radio follow him around
on a few campaign stops recently -- but he refused to talk about the Clinton
scandal, preferring to let constituents simply express their views.
If Tierney is waiting for the will of the people to clarify, then Clinton
probably has little to worry about. Even as the House moved toward impeachment
this week, the sense in Washington, and nationally, was that the public wanted
the inquiry wrapped up quickly, and with a punishment for Clinton that would
fall well short of removal from office.
Indeed, Barney Frank, whose sister is Clinton flack Ann Lewis (he says they
talk more about family than politics), says the White House has already
concluded that Clinton won't be impeached. "They figured it out early, and we
had to restrain them," he says. The challenge at this point, Frank adds, is
simply to hang on until after the election, after which House Republicans --
including Newt Gingrich, who wants to run for president -- will presumably have
to figure out a way to shut down the inquiry without enraging hard-core
anti-Clintonites.
That's when Gingrich, Hyde, and company will be looking to cut a deal. Their
best bet for a negotiating partner: the all-Democratic Massachusetts
delegation, scorned when it comes time to dole out pork, sneered at by
University of Virginia government professor Larry Sabato as "the Bill Clinton
defense team," wielding a bare shadow of the influence it had when Democrats
were in the majority and Tip O'Neill was Speaker. But holding more cards than
anyone might have supposed.
Articles from July 24, 1997 & before can be accessed here
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