Salon Newsreal | Impeachment diary III

A L S O+T O D A Y

American gerontocracy
By Christopher Shea
Is the mental capacity of the aged leaders judging President Clinton a fit subject for commentary?
(01/15/99)

T A B L E+T A L K
Abortion: Where do you stand, and why? Explain your position in the Social Issues area of Table Talk
___________________
Brush up on impeachment at barnesandoble.com
___________________

Portrait of a political "pit bull"
By Russ Baker
Rep. Dan Burton, who called President Clinton a "scumbag," has a few questions to answer about his own behavior
(12/22/98)

R E C E N T L Y
Counting the dead children
By Jeff Stein
Critics blast U.S. sanctions that kill Iraqi babies, but leave Saddam fat and happy
(01/15/99)
Cracks in the bipartisan façade
By Joshua Micah Marshall
As House Republicans tried to depict their impeachment vendetta as a brave civil rights struggle, the important action was all taking place off-camera
(01/15/99)
Letter from occupied New York
By John Leonard
With City Hall behind barricades, Mayor Rudy Giuliani is getting ready to take his show on the road
(01/14/99)
Michael Jordan's final act
By Dan Brekke
The legend is leaving at the top. That's why we need him to stay.
(01/14/99)
Starr's lowest blow
By Bruce Shapiro
In indicting Julie Hiatt Steele, the independent counsel continues a pattern of bullying women
(01/13/99)
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Impeachment diary III
In the absence of real action, Senate insiders give the House Boyz low grades, rue the end of bipartisan cooperation and spread a whole lotta rumors about Trent Lott.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
During the impeachment trial, Salon is publishing occasional entries in this impeachment diary by a senior aide to a U.S. senator who must remain anonymous.
BY ANONYMOUS
Thursday, Jan. 14
8:30 a.m. Let's get ready to rumble!
I arrive at work. You can feel the excitement, the nervousness, the electricity. Even the janitorial staff, busy clearing ice from the walkways, talks of nothing else. There is a sense of relief that the start is finally here. We all just want this thing over.
The phones are already ringing off the hook. I smile at the front desk folks, all freshly minted college grads who came to Washington to change the world and were promptly handed a headset and a message pad. It beats working at McDonald's. Barely.
By 9 a.m. they've had over 80 calls. I ask for a percentage for and against impeachment. "One hundred percent angry," is their response. Yeah, me too.
11 a.m. My boss meets with the third consecutive group of people from our state, who can talk about nothing else but the trial. He smiles and tries to ask them about their concerns; they ask if he has met Monica Lewinsky. Suddenly Monica's much cooler than a United States senator. From pariah to pop star in just a few weeks.
11:30 a.m. Get a call from the head of a major constituency group who hates my boss. His group has spent tens of thousands of dollars against him in the past, calling him a liar, a zealot and other nasty shots. He lectures me about his feelings on impeachment, as if I cared. I resist the temptation to tell him where to stick his opinion. Why do groups who spend their time and money screwing you believe that you care one iota what they think or do? Here's the insider advice to those backing political candidates: Don't guess wrong. And if you do, don't bother calling us.
1 p.m. Trial time. The atmosphere in the Capitol is electric as my boss and I get off the internal subway. Reporters are camped out downstairs screaming questions at him as we walk past. Photographers jump out to snap photos of any senator in sight. We are the Beatles. Staff wait with briefing memos to hand to their bosses as they whiz buy. Security is everywhere and only they are the same as ever: their usual cold, professional selves.
It's prom night in the Senate chambers. They've gussied it up for the trial and it looks unusually beautiful. As they walked through the door, I noticed that none of the senators were smiling. Even those who support impeachment walked in, saw the pandemonium and realized that this game was for real: They were trapped inside this musty room until one side blinks. My boss asks me to ask his secretary for a better seat cushion.
Each senator is given three tickets to hand out to constituents. The requests are numerous, and an informal "who's done what for us lately" merit system is used to distribute them. The kid we asked to handle the system quits after the first day, saying he was sick of getting yelled at. An aggressive, smart intern is next given this chore. She's a trouper; she hasn't even cried yet.
3 p.m. Senate staff phone one another with bipartisan gossip. Republicans and Democrats all agree: The House members look small, bitterly partisan and lost on the Senate stage, like high school boys playing "mock Congress" as part of an honors program.
The House Boyz just don't understand the Senate. They came on too strong and too partisan. The Senate likes to mask its sharp-as-nails jabs with good-natured colloquialisms and smiles. The House Boyz were raised on "one-minute" House speech limits. Now, instead of using their skill of brevity, they wallowed in their freedom, realizing that the entire political world was watching them and they had 24 glorious hours in which to share their wisdom.
Watching the trial, we quickly nickname it MNTV, for Mind-Numbing Television. Even Dan Rather went away early. Rep. James Sensenbrenner was so dull he put constitutional experts to sleep, drooling onto their tweedy jackets. And who was the unimaginative graphic artist who put together the graphs and charts that the House managers used? I've seen dental records that looked more appealing.
6 p.m. The Democrats are going nuts over the revelation that the House managers have begun contacting potential witnesses, despite the Gramm-Kennedy deal that left that question for another day. Surprise rang up from the press corps at this "violation" of last Friday's agreement. How could anyone be surprised? Despite the fact that they'd made no real agreement on witnesses, the Democrats trucked Tom Daschle out to do his "sermon on the mount" bit, noting that he hoped it wasn't a harbinger of things to come. I'm sure that's what the Japanese thought after Hiroshima.

N E X T+P A G E+| Why are Republicans passing on dirt about Trent Lott?

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A L S O+T O D A Y American gerontocracy By Christopher Shea Is the mental capacity of the aged leaders judging President Clinton a fit subject for commentary? (01/15/99) T A B L E+T A L K Abortion: Where do you stand, and why? Explain your position in the Social Issues area of Table Talk ___________________ Brush up on impeachment at barnesandoble.com ___________________ Portrait of a political "pit bull" By Russ Baker Rep. Dan Burton, who called President Clinton a "scumbag," has a few questions to answer about his own behavior (12/22/98) R E C E N T L Y Counting the dead children By Jeff Stein Critics blast U.S. sanctions that kill Iraqi babies, but leave Saddam fat and happy (01/15/99) Cracks in the bipartisan façade By Joshua Micah Marshall As House Republicans tried to depict their impeachment vendetta as a brave civil rights struggle, the important action was all taking place off-camera (01/15/99) Letter from occupied New York By John Leonard With City Hall behind barricades, Mayor Rudy Giuliani is getting ready to take his show on the road (01/14/99) Michael Jordan's final act By Dan Brekke The legend is leaving at the top. That's why we need him to stay. (01/14/99) Starr's lowest blow By Bruce Shapiro In indicting Julie Hiatt Steele, the independent counsel continues a pattern of bullying women (01/13/99) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Browse the Newsreal Archives - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
		Impeachment diary III In the absence of real action, Senate insiders give the House Boyz low grades, rue the end of bipartisan cooperation and spread a whole lotta rumors about Trent Lott. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - During the impeachment trial, Salon is publishing occasional entries in this impeachment diary by a senior aide to a U.S. senator who must remain anonymous. BY ANONYMOUS Thursday, Jan. 14 8:30 a.m. Let's get ready to rumble! I arrive at work. You can feel the excitement, the nervousness, the electricity. Even the janitorial staff, busy clearing ice from the walkways, talks of nothing else. There is a sense of relief that the start is finally here. We all just want this thing over. The phones are already ringing off the hook. I smile at the front desk folks, all freshly minted college grads who came to Washington to change the world and were promptly handed a headset and a message pad. It beats working at McDonald's. Barely. By 9 a.m. they've had over 80 calls. I ask for a percentage for and against impeachment. "One hundred percent angry," is their response. Yeah, me too. 11 a.m. My boss meets with the third consecutive group of people from our state, who can talk about nothing else but the trial. He smiles and tries to ask them about their concerns; they ask if he has met Monica Lewinsky. Suddenly Monica's much cooler than a United States senator. From pariah to pop star in just a few weeks. 11:30 a.m. Get a call from the head of a major constituency group who hates my boss. His group has spent tens of thousands of dollars against him in the past, calling him a liar, a zealot and other nasty shots. He lectures me about his feelings on impeachment, as if I cared. I resist the temptation to tell him where to stick his opinion. Why do groups who spend their time and money screwing you believe that you care one iota what they think or do? Here's the insider advice to those backing political candidates: Don't guess wrong. And if you do, don't bother calling us. 1 p.m. Trial time. The atmosphere in the Capitol is electric as my boss and I get off the internal subway. Reporters are camped out downstairs screaming questions at him as we walk past. Photographers jump out to snap photos of any senator in sight. We are the Beatles. Staff wait with briefing memos to hand to their bosses as they whiz buy. Security is everywhere and only they are the same as ever: their usual cold, professional selves. It's prom night in the Senate chambers. They've gussied it up for the trial and it looks unusually beautiful. As they walked through the door, I noticed that none of the senators were smiling. Even those who support impeachment walked in, saw the pandemonium and realized that this game was for real: They were trapped inside this musty room until one side blinks. My boss asks me to ask his secretary for a better seat cushion. Each senator is given three tickets to hand out to constituents. The requests are numerous, and an informal "who's done what for us lately" merit system is used to distribute them. The kid we asked to handle the system quits after the first day, saying he was sick of getting yelled at. An aggressive, smart intern is next given this chore. She's a trouper; she hasn't even cried yet. 3 p.m. Senate staff phone one another with bipartisan gossip. Republicans and Democrats all agree: The House members look small, bitterly partisan and lost on the Senate stage, like high school boys playing "mock Congress" as part of an honors program. The House Boyz just don't understand the Senate. They came on too strong and too partisan. The Senate likes to mask its sharp-as-nails jabs with good-natured colloquialisms and smiles. The House Boyz were raised on "one-minute" House speech limits. Now, instead of using their skill of brevity, they wallowed in their freedom, realizing that the entire political world was watching them and they had 24 glorious hours in which to share their wisdom. Watching the trial, we quickly nickname it MNTV, for Mind-Numbing Television. Even Dan Rather went away early. Rep. James Sensenbrenner was so dull he put constitutional experts to sleep, drooling onto their tweedy jackets. And who was the unimaginative graphic artist who put together the graphs and charts that the House managers used? I've seen dental records that looked more appealing. 6 p.m. The Democrats are going nuts over the revelation that the House managers have begun contacting potential witnesses, despite the Gramm-Kennedy deal that left that question for another day. Surprise rang up from the press corps at this "violation" of last Friday's agreement. How could anyone be surprised? Despite the fact that they'd made no real agreement on witnesses, the Democrats trucked Tom Daschle out to do his "sermon on the mount" bit, noting that he hoped it wasn't a harbinger of things to come. I'm sure that's what the Japanese thought after Hiroshima. N E X T+P A G E+\| Why are Republicans passing on dirt about Trent Lott? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Become a Salon member. Click here.