Death of American Virtue - Ken Gormley [405]
Hyde, who rapped his gavel to conclude the proceedings, marked his own scorecard in favor of Ken Starr. “His [Starr’s] testimony gave Democrats plenty of time to take shots at him. They missed on every one. Ken was our ‘star witness,’ if you don’t mind the pun.”
Ken Starr gathered up his papers, wearily kissing Alice and patting his pocket where the good-luck messages from his children were safely tucked. The long day had gone well, he felt. He had not lost his temper, except for those few flashes of pique in response to Kendall’s grilling. The independent counsel had been calm and statesmanlike in explaining the need for his issuance of the unpleasant Starr Report. He had allowed the American public to see him in a proper light—not taking his garbage out or sipping Starbucks coffee—but in the arena of law and government, where he performed best.
In the adjoining anteroom, with Bittman at his side, the special prosecutor looked toward the ceiling and exhaled with evident relief: “To God be the glory.”
The euphoria of that night, however, soon gave way to a bittersweet morning, when Starr was informed that his ethics adviser, Sam Dash, had resigned in protest.
Starr’s deputies had known the letter was coming. Dash had huffed and puffed about Ken’s draft testimony for days, complaining that it had crossed the line from summarizing OIC’s report to advocating in favor of impeachment. According to Dash, who would explain the decision prior to his death, he simply couldn’t continue to defend the company line. But he agreed to hold his letter until after Starr’s testimony. Dash later explained: “Because if I released it right away, it would take precedence over his statement. And I felt that as a courtesy to him … I wouldn’t issue the letter until the day after, which was Saturday morning.”
Starr’s prosecutors were livid. Hadn’t Dash initially agreed with their decision to file the Starr Report? This resignation based on “conscience” seemed to be calculated to sabotage their operation, just like Janet Reno’s stab in the back days earlier.
Journalists, too, questioned Dash’s motives. It was no secret that he admired the Clintons; it was also clear that he worried that his badge of Democratic heroism earned during Watergate might be tarnished if he continued to associate with a band of prosecutors dedicated to slaying Bill Clinton. The Washington Post issued an editorial calling Dash’s resignation “peculiar.”
Yet Dash’s explanation was not far-fetched, in his own mind. Cautious special prosecutors like Archibald Cox and Robert Fiske, in the past, had stayed far away from Congress to avoid the political sea creatures snapping in the waters surrounding Capitol Hill. The Starr operation, Dash had concluded, was beginning to resemble a lap pool for the House impeachment sharks. “And so I told Ken that the statute didn’t authorize him to do this,” Dash later commented in his Georgetown law school office. “I thought the Constitution prevented him from doing it.”
As Starr put out the trash at home that Saturday morning, with pestering reporters demanding an explanation for the abrupt resignation of his ethics adviser, Starr replied tersely that “reasonable minds can differ.” He quickly added, with a whimsical sigh, “I love Sam Dash.”
Despite the flurry of bad press caused by Dash’s resignation, Starr tried to remain hopeful. After all, there were some signs that his public appearance had touched a positive chord among a certain segment of Americans. The Journal, a small paper in Martinsburg, West Virginia, told its readers: “The country got a glimpse Thursday at something rarely seen anymore, particularly from those in the national political and media spotlight. Truthfulness.” Bonnie Shea, a senior citizen from Seminole, Florida, wrote to Starr that she had watched every minute of his appearance on television. “You appeared as a knight in shining armor inspite [sic] of negative remarks.