Rumors of Her Demise
A whispering campaign, hotly denied, has Hillary dropping her
Senate bid Maybe she should.
By Eric Pooley
November 22, 1999
Web posted at: 1:25 p.m. EST (1825 GMT)
New York politicians like to think of themselves as gimlet-eyed
operators who can handle the most treacherous terrain. Racial
flare-ups, ethnic rivalries, battles between cop and civilian,
upstate and downstate, Mayor Rudy Giuliani and just about
everyone else--that's what makes New York politics a special
kind of fun. Which is why, all over the state last week, one
could hear the pols snorting over Hillary Rodham Clinton's West
Bank fiasco. They couldn't believe that the First Lady would
flunk such an easy test--sitting in silence while Suha Arafat,
the wife of the Palestinian leader, accused Israel of using
cancer-causing poison gas on Palestinian women and children.
Suddenly the Democrats who had cheered her "exploratory" bid for
a New York Senate seat were groaning about how badly she had
screwed up--and wondering if she could cut it as a candidate.
Here comes the fun part. Some of those Democrats got so spooked
that they spent the week spreading the rumor that Clinton was
going to quit the race before she formally entered it. By
trafficking in that gossip, they were inadvertently helping their
archenemy, Giuliani--the Republican who is Clinton's likely rival
for the seat. For months, the idea that Clinton would drop out
had been the subject of a Republican whispering campaign spread
by miscellaneous kibitzers and Giuliani operatives. They hoped it
would be a self-fulfilling prophecy; maybe it will. Clinton's
poll numbers have dropped, and Giuliani is spending some $600,000
on an upstate ad campaign designed to damage her further. (If she
doesn't run, he won't feel pressured to--there's no glory for him
in beating, say, Representative Nita Lowey--so he could shoot for
a job like Governor, one more suited to his headbanging style.)
The Democrats should have known better than to repeat the rumor.
Maybe Clinton wasn't the perfect candidate they had imagined, but
she was the best they had. And maybe they weren't as smart as
they thought, either. After all, they just got used by Rudy
again.
Some Clinton aides concede that Hillary was depressed by the
Arafat incident. But they say she is in the race to stay. "If
people think a few bad days are going to make her pout and go
home, they don't know who they're dealing with," says one. The
advisers insist that internal polls taken since the incident
suggest it hasn't hurt her, even though Jews make up about 12% of
the state's electorate. She remains where she has been, about 5
points behind Giuliani. Her advisers were against her making the
state visit to Israel--avoid uncontrollable situations is the
first rule of campaigning--but she went anyway. Once there, she
felt she had to go to the West Bank to avoid playing favorites in
the peace process. And when she got sandbagged by Arafat, Clinton
couldn't denounce her on the spot without precipitating a bigger
crisis. "Most people don't blame her," says an aide. "Those that
do were Giuliani voters already. And hey--at least Yasser didn't
show up."
That's looking on the bright side. But the fiasco is important
for more than what it does to the Jewish vote; it's important for
what it says about Clinton's instincts. A nimble candidate would
have found a way to respond quickly. And a strong campaign
manager might have talked her out of the visit. But Clinton has
no manager and is her own strategist. Faced with howling
tabloids, she retreated behind the haughty protective screen of
her First Ladyhood. "It is unfortunate," she sniffed, "that there
are any questions about what was a very straightforward
occasion." A First Lady can get away with that kind of arrogance;
a candidate can't. As she told a friend not long before her West
Bank visit, she has been in the wheelhouse for all 10 of her
husband's campaigns, but "it's different when you're the
candidate."
A New Yorker close to Clinton describes the problem this way:
"She can't stay way up in the clouds. She's got to come down."
But she remains distant, shielded by her old, fierce band of
loyalists (former chief of staff Maggie Williams has come back
from Paris to help). Remaking herself won't be easy, especially
in a year when the press is busy gauging each candidate's
authenticity. So far, her attempts to turn herself into a New
Yorker have been amateurish. When the Chicago native proclaimed
herself a closet Yankees fan, when the Methodist disclosed her
Jewish roots, when the advocate for poor children came out in
favor of milk price supports--these moves made her seem craven,
ham-fisted. When the progressive copied her husband's tactic of
using party soft money to finance early TV spots, she looked no
better than he. And when Bill Clinton granted clemency to a group
of Puerto Rican terrorists--a move that some of Hillary's key
Latino backers had lobbied for--she was silent at first, then
condemned the move, angering the very interest group she was
pandering to. Smooth.
Like him or not, Giuliani is who he is. Which may be part of the
reason the mayor, despite growing Rudy fatigue, now leads
Clinton among such crucial voter blocs as suburbanites and women.
The numbers will change, her advisers promise, after she declares
her candidacy and moves to the state early next year. But
sometimes you wonder whether Clinton should start believing those
rumors.
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Cover Date: November 29, 1999
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