Clinton Must Say, ‘We Lost Our Way’

Giving away rides on Air Force One. Renting out the Lincoln bedroom. Selling access to the Oval Office. It wasn’t always that way. Not under previous presidents. Not even under President Clinton. Not for the first three years. Not until Dick Morris came along. I know. I was there.

As chairman of the California Democratic Party, one of my major tasks was raising campaign funds, first, for statewide and legislative races in 1994; then for the Clinton reelection effort in 1996.

In doing my job, I was constantly badgering the White House and the Democratic National Committee for more help for the effort in California. And we received a great deal of cooperation from them. But I was also constantly frustrated (and secretly impressed) by how strict they were when it came to the president or vice president. I even remember complaining once to my staff, “It’s like dealing with a bunch of Boy Scouts!” Three examples:

Early in my term, one of our principal supporters called to request a ride on Air Force One. Reasonable request, I thought, and relayed it to the White House. Their refusal was immediate and indignant. When I protested that other presidents had rewarded key supporters with flights on Air Force One--I remembered seeing Jimmy Carter get off the plane in Sacramento in 1978, flanked by California fat cats--I was told: “We don’t care what other presidents did. We don’t think it’s right. We have a policy against it. We won’t do it. Period.”

Second test: In the spring of 1995, bored with long, speech-and-smoke-filled political dinners, my staff came up with the novel idea of raising funds by inviting a small group of high rollers for a roundtable discussion with the president. After repeated entreaties, the White House finally agreed to try one. And so we met late one evening at the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco, the president and 15 people who had made major contributions to the California party. No fund-raising, just a lively, open-ended conversation that covered a wide-range of issues. There was only one awkward moment, when one guest complained to the president about problems his firm was having with the Environmental Protection Agency. There was no quid pro quo. He didn’t ask the president to do anything. And the president just listened politely, didn’t even respond. But it was uncomfortable, because it so clearly crossed the line from policy to personal.

After the last guest had left the room, the president, who clearly relishes a free exchange of ideas, told me how much he enjoyed the unusual session. Ever ready, I quickly responded: “That’s great, Mr. President. How about doing another one just like it next week in Los Angeles?” Before he could say “anything for California,” senior advisor Bruce Lindsey jumped in to say that he’d have to check: “We may have some legal problems.”

The problem, of course, as Lindsey explained, was giving a party contributor an opportunity to lobby the president personally. The White House would not put the president in that position again and rightly so. So we compromised. We held one more such session with the president in California. But that time, participants were instructed that under no circumstances could they raise an issue with the president in which they had a direct financial interest. Good policy. Was then, is now.

One more example: Later in 1995, we arranged a lunch with the president in Washington. Technically, it was not a fund-raising lunch. There was no solicitation at the event. There were no checks received at the luncheon. These were people who had already made a substantial contribution to the state party. But we were advised, because it was fund-raising-related, it would be improper for the president to greet those contributors inside the White House. Our lunch was held across the street, at the Hay-Adams Hotel.

There are other examples, too numerous to list. The point is, from my personal experience, the Clinton administration began its first term by adhering to a strict set of self-imposed legal and ethical guidelines in all matters relating to the president and vice president and political fund-raising. They were extremely careful to avoid not just impropriety, but the appearance of impropriety.

Somewhere along the line, those strict guidelines were relaxed, if not abandoned, to meet Morris’ demands for more dollars for early TV commercials. They should now be reinstated with a vengeance and cited as evidence of Clinton’s sincere commitment to clean things up.

Instead of trying to explain clear abuses by the DNC or the White House, instead of complaining that Republicans are as bad as or even worse than the Democrats, the president would be totally justified to stand up and say: “We started out on the right track. But somehow, in the zeal to get reelected, we lost our way. Some of the things we did were inappropriate, were tacky, were wrong. We regret it. We apologize. And now we’re going to fix it. We’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen again. We’re going to adopt and abide by the toughest ethical standards of any White House, just like we did the first three years.”