All Too Human: A Political Education by George Stephanopoulos Read Free Book Online Page B

— not just to save time at rush hour, but also so that Kevin O'Keefe, a local pol and high school friend of Hillary's, could call the
Tribune
's political gossip columnist with a little nugget about the governor of Arkansas who was running for president. Riding the El was a nice tip of the hat to the city's working-class spirit, and all the little messages add up. We also made local news by announcing that David Wilhelm, a veteran of Mayor Daley's operation, would now be Clinton's campaign manager. He would give us an edge if, as Clinton expected, the March 17 Illinois primary really turned out to be the decisive contest.
    The trick to speaking at party fund-raisers is to treat them like dinner theater. People are there to have fun and feel good. No heavy lifting. The postmeal speech has to be easy and light, with just enough inspiration to make people feel that being there is a kind of civic duty.
    Clinton began his speech by working his way down the dais with a special word or inside joke for every politician there.
Nice stroke. People remember being remembered.
Then he made a couple of quips about how much Arkansas had given Chicago, including Scottie Pippen of the Bulls, and launched into his stump speech — a condensed version of his announcement speech on how we needed a president who would fight for the middle class and fix our problems here at home. When he tested a line we had worked on about how America needs a president who cares as much about the “Middle West as the Middle East,” the crowd rewarded him with laughter and applause. I made a note to remind him to use the line again — as if he needed reminding.
    Kerrey arrived moments before the dinner and didn't work the crowd, just stood off to the side cracking jokes with his traveling aide. When he spoke about Vietnam, it was still moving, but there was an edge of bitterness beneath his words that he couldn't hide. And he made no real attempt to tailor his message to this particular crowd on this particular night. Over the course of a campaign, despite all of the artifice, the public usually picks up a reasonably true picture of a candidate, for better or worse. The Chicago crowd saw an engaged and optimistic Bill Clinton, a man who loved his work. He wooed his audience, forged a connection, and paid them the compliment of delivering a speech that didn't seem canned. Kerrey didn't work hard enough to win the room, giving people the impression that he expected them to support him because of who he was rather than what he would do for them.
    After the speeches, Kerrey left right away. Clinton stayed for another reception with the local VIPs and greeted each one with a personal word while I stood off his left shoulder and collected their business cards for our field and fund-raising efforts. Pumped up by the people and the speech, Clinton fished for compliments as we hustled through the back hallways to our suite: “How'd I do? … You think it was OK? … Find out what Joe thinks.” Joe was Joe Klein, a short, bearded writer for
New York
magazine who had his eye on Clinton. I found him outside by the curb waiting for a cab, and we schmoozed for a few minutes. He was as high on the speech as I was, confirming that Clinton had cleaned Kerrey's clock. Good news to report.
    Our campaign grew fast through the fall. We traded up headquarters, and Wilhelm built up our field organization, working back from Illinois to Florida, where the first symbolic votes would be cast at a straw poll in December. His buddy Rahm Emanuel came down from Chicago to run the money. All I knew about Emanuel at first was that he had once mailed a dead fish to a rival political consultant. But when the former ballet dancer arrived in Little Rock and leaped onto a table to scream his staff into shape, I knew the money side would be OK.
    I divided my time between setting up shop in Little Rock and accompanying Clinton on the road. Bruce took care of the “body”; I concentrated on press