All Too Human: A Political Education by George Stephanopoulos Page A

dustup also planted seeds of indignation and resentment in my psyche against Clinton's accusers and their potential accomplices in the press. I was mirroring the Clintons' mood, absorbing their anger and fear and turning it into my motivation. We weren't about to let “them” steal the campaign. I didn't know where the next charge would come from, but I was ready to fight.
    Over the next month, my combativeness was calmed by rising poll numbers and the absence of dropping shoes. But that artificial sense of security disappeared on January 16 — our first “garbage day.” The
Star
tabloid was faxing around a story alleging that Clinton had had affairs with five Arkansas women, including Gennifer Flowers, a former lounge singer, and Elizabeth Ward, a former Miss America. The allegations had first been raised in Clinton's 1990 gubernatorial race, when a state employee named Larry Nichols filed a libel suit against Clinton. But the women denied them, the story evaporated, and Clinton won reelection.
    After we landed in Boston that afternoon, I read the just-received
Star
story to Clinton. Although he said it was false, his manner was less breezy than with Hamzy, more agitated and insistent. But any doubts I had were assuaged when Clinton went on to explain that Nichols and his right-wing allies were out for revenge because Clinton had fired Nichols for using official state phone lines to raise money for the Nicaraguan contras, and when he added that all five women had filed sworn affidavits in 1990 denying the charges. That was all the ammunition I needed: The facts still seemed to be on our side, and Clinton's accuser had a motive. This was a smear campaign.
    The narrative we developed that day was a variation of the Hamzy defense. We wanted to avoid an on-the-record denial if possible, not only because it could create a story but also because if Clinton denied some allegations, his silence about others could be construed as confirmation. Since Clinton had admitted to “problems” in his marriage, we knew there had to be at least one woman out there whose charges he couldn't deny. More likely, many more. So we tried to avoid the trap by attacking the tabloid messenger. Paul cooked up some lines about other
Star
scoops like the discovery of “alien babies,” and I came up with a no-comment denial: “I'm not going to comment on that tabloid trash.”
    When we arrived at the fund-raiser, a reporter from Fox TV was waiting in the lobby. To me that constituted proof of a conspiracy. The
Star
and Fox were both owned by ultraconservative Rupert Murdoch.
It's a setup. Clinton
is
a victim. It couldn't be any more clear
. Now my initial doubts, which I had partially pushed aside earlier on the plane, were swept away by righteous anger. I seethed as Clinton answered the Fox reporter and blew up when CeCe Connelly of the Associated Press asked Clinton if the
Star
story was true.
    “You can't do that,” I barked at CeCe. “You're trying to create a story with our response.” Fox TV we could handle, but the prospect of a credible news organization like the AP broadcasting this garbage around the globe was trouble — and it drove me crazy. I went straight to a phone to call John King, the AP's chief political reporter in Washington. “You can't put this crap on the wire,” I said. “Just because it's published in a tabloid doesn't make it news. Before you run with the charges you have a responsibility to check them out yourself.” While I was talking to King, I noticed that Clinton had pulled away with Bruce Lindsey for a hushed conversation on another pay phone across the lobby.
    The AP held off, but Friday's
New York Post
ran a full account of the
Star
story under the headline WILD BILL . Another Murdoch paper, more evidence of the right-wing conspiracy at work. The mainstream press still resisted, but it was certainly following the story. Our candidate was the front-runner now, and he was throwing off the scent of scandal.