My Life

for being a Catholic. He can’t give in to them.” The man got back in his cab, returned to Union Station, and took the next train home. I called that man to say thank you. Then my family and I went to Renaissance Weekend and into the new year.

FIFTY-ONE

On January 7, Chief Justice William Rehnquist officially opened the impeachment trial in the Senate, and Ken Starr indicted Julie Hiatt Steele, the Republican woman who wouldn’t lie to back up Kathleen Willey’s story.

A week later, the House impeachment managers made a three-day presentation of their case. They now wanted to call witnesses, something they hadn’t done in their own hearings, with the exception of Kenneth Starr. One of the managers, Asa Hutchinson from Arkansas, who had prosecuted my brother’s drug case as U.S. attorney in the 1980s, said the Senate had to let them call witnesses, because if he were a prosecutor, he couldn’t indict me for obstruction of justice, the issue he was charged with handling, based on the meager record the House had sent to the Senate! On the other hand, another of the House managers argued that the Senate had no right to judge whether my alleged offenses met the constitutional standard of impeachment; he said the House had done that for them and the Senate should be bound by their opinion, despite the fact that the Hyde committee had refused to articulate a standard for judging what conduct was impeachable.

In his closing argument to the Senate, Henry Hyde finally gave his interpretation of the constitutional meaning of impeachment when he said in essence that trying to spare oneself embarrassment over private misconduct was more of a justification for removal from office than misleading the nation about an important matter of state. My mother had raised me to look for the good in everybody. When I watched the vituperative Mr. Hyde, I was sure there must be a Dr. Jekyll in there somewhere, but I was having a hard time finding him.

On the nineteenth, my legal team began its three days of response. Chuck Ruff, the White House counsel and a former U.S. attorney, led off, arguing for two and a half hours that the charges were untrue and that even if the senators thought they were true, the offenses did not come close to meeting the constitutional standard for impeachment, much less removal. Ruff was a mild-mannered man who had been wheelchair-bound for most of his life. He was also a powerful advocate, who was offended by what the House managers had done. He shredded their evidentiary arguments and reminded the Senate that a bipartisan panel of prosecutors had already said that no responsible prosecutor would bring a perjury charge on the facts before them.

I thought Ruff’s best moment was when he caught Asa Hutchinson red-handed in a telling misrepresentation of fact. Hutchinson had told the Senate that Vernon Jordan began helping Monica Lewinsky to get a job only after he learned she would be a witness in the Jones case. The evidence proved that Vernon had done so several weeks before he knew or could have known that, and that at the time Judge Wright made the decision to allow Lewinsky to be called as a witness (a decision that she later reversed), Vernon was on a plane to Europe. I didn’t know whether Asa had misled the Senate because he thought that the senators wouldn’t figure it out or because he thought that they, like the House managers, wouldn’t care whether the presentation was accurate or not. The next day Greg Craig and Cheryl Mills addressed the specific charges. Greg noted that the article charging me with perjury failed to cite a single specific example of it and instead tried to bring my deposition in the Jones case into play, even though the House had voted against the article of impeachment dealing with that. Craig also pointed out that some of the allegations of perjury now being made to the Senate were never made by Starr or any House member during the debates in the Judiciary Committee or on the floor of the House. They were making up their case as they moved along. Cheryl Mills, a young African-American graduate of Stanford Law School, spoke on the sixth anniversary of the day she began her work in the White House. She dealt brilliantly with two of the obstruction of justice charges, presenting facts that the House managers couldn’t dispute but had not told the Senate about and that proved their claims of obstruction of justice to be nonsense. Cheryl’s finest moment was her closing. Responding to suggestions by Republican Lindsey Graham of South Carolina and others that my acquittal would send a message that our civil rights and sexual harassment laws are unimportant, she said, “I can’t let their comments go unchallenged.” Black people all over America knew that the drive to impeach me was being led by right-wing white southerners who had never lifted a finger for civil rights.

Cheryl pointed out that Paula Jones had had her day in court and a female judge had found that she didn’t have a case. She said that we revered men like Jefferson, Kennedy, and King, all of whom were imperfect but “struggled to do humanity good,” and that my record on civil rights and women’s rights was “unimpeachable”: “I stand here before you today because President Bill Clinton believed I could stand here for him…. It would be wrong to convict him on this record.”

On the third and final day of our presentation, David Kendall led off with a cool, logical, and systematic dismantling of the charge that I had obstructed justice, citing Monica Lewinsky’s repeated assertions that I never asked her to lie and once again detailing the House managers’ misstatements or omissions of critical facts.

My defense was closed by Dale Bumpers. I had asked Dale to do it because he was a fine trial lawyer, a careful student of the Constitution, and one of the best orators in America. He had also known me a long time and had just left the Senate after serving twenty-four years. After loosening his former colleagues up with a few jokes, Dale said that he had been reluctant to appear because he and I had been close friends for twenty-five years and had worked together for the same causes. He said that while he knew the Senate might discount his defense as the words of a friend, he had come not to defend me but to defend the Constitution, “the most sacred document to me next to the Holy Bible.”

Bumpers opened his argument by bashing Starr’s investigation: “Javert’s pursuit of Jean Valjean in Les Miserables pales by comparison.” He said, “After all those years… the President was found guilty of nothing, official or personal… we are here today because the President suffered a terrible moral lapse.”

He chided the House managers for having no compassion. Then came the most dramatic moment of Dale’s speech: “Put yourself in his position… we are, none of us, perfect… he should have thought of all that beforehand. And indeed he should have, just as Adam and Eve should have”—now he pointed at the senators—“just as you and you and you and you and millions of other people who have been caught in similar circumstances should have thought of it before. As I say, none of us is perfect.”

Dale then said that I had already been punished severely for my mistake, that the people didn’t want me removed, and that the Senate should listen to the world leaders who had stood up for me, including Havel, Mandela, and King Hussein.

He closed with an erudite and detailed history of the Constitutional Convention’s deliberations on the impeachment provision, saying that our framers took it from English law, which plainly covered offenses “distinctly ‘political’ against the state.” He pleaded with the Senate not to defile the Constitution, but instead to hear the American people “calling on you to rise above politics… and do your solemn duty.”

Bumpers’ speech was magnificent, by turns erudite and emotional, earthy and profound. If the Senate roll had been called at that moment, there wouldn’t have been many votes for removal. Instead, the process would drag out for three more weeks, as the House managers and their allies tried to find a way to persuade more Republican senators to vote with them. After the two sides had made their presentations, it was clear that all the Democratic senators and several Republicans were going to vote no.

While the Senate was sitting in trial, I was doing what I always did at this time of the year—getting ready for the State of the Union speech and promoting around the country the new initiatives that would be in it. The speech was scheduled for the nineteenth, the same day my defense opened in the Senate. Some Republican senators had urged me to delay the speech, but I wasn’t about to do that. The impeachment had already cost the American people lots of their hard-earned tax dollars, diverted the Congress from pressing business, and weakened the fabric of the Constitution. If I had delayed my speech, it would have sent a message to the American people that their business had been put on the back burner.

If possible, the atmosphere at this State of the Union was even more surreal than it had been the previous year. As always, I entered the Capitol and was taken to the Speaker’s quarters, which were now occupied by