Death of American Virtue - Ken Gormley [424]
Hyde himself later insisted that most of his managers were not “salivating” to boot President Clinton out of office. Only one manager—Bob Barr of Georgia—was “ideologically committed to [Clinton’s] impeachment,” because of “a particularly strong animosity towards Clinton.” Just months earlier, Barr had written the foreword to a wildly anti-Clinton book depicting a hypothetical impeachment trial of Bill Clinton based on flimsy Whitewater allegations—the only grist available at the time. Now, it was as if Barr’s wildest dreams were being fulfilled; the Monica Lewinsky charges were Whitewater times a thousand. Although Hyde viewed it as a fair-minded group, to many Americans watching the trial at home on their television sets, the House managers looked like a baker’s dozen of bitter, conservative, partisan Clinton haters.
An even more serious misstep by the House Republicans was that they had succeeded in passing only two articles of impeachment: those relating to Clinton’s purported obstruction of justice and perjury in his grand jury appearance. In a moment of weakness, they had dropped perjury charges stemming from the Paula Jones deposition—by far their strongest basis for a conviction, as a legal matter. Representative Lindsey Graham and other wavering Republicans had explained their logic by saying that Clinton “didn’t have any warning before his deposition and therefore this amounted to a surprise attack.” Privately, they were also concerned that the Jones lawyers had “bollixed things up,” asking imprecise questions and using a definition of “sexual relations” that was so ambiguous that the managers would be knocked out of the ring if they pursued this count.
In the grand jury, Clinton had artfully dotted his i’s and crossed his t’s—even the best prosecutor in America would have trouble proving criminal conduct on the basis of that testimony. With the Jones count tossed out the window, this gave the Senate nothing but straws to grasp between its fingers.
On the second day of trial, as the senators fought off the urge to take a late-afternoon snooze, Chief Justice Rehnquist was snapped to attention by a voice that declared: “Mr. Chief Justice, I object.” Senator Tom Harkin, Democrat from Iowa, had risen to his feet and interrupted the presentation of Representative Bob Barr. Forty years old with gray hair and a dark little mustache, Barr had just finished lecturing the senators: “We urge you, the distinguished jurors in this case, not to be fooled.”
Harkin now lodged his protest: “Mr. Chief Justice, I object to the use and the continued use of the word ‘jurors’ when referring to the Senate.”
Senator Harkin, a distinguished-looking statesman from America’s breadbasket, held in his hand a pocket copy of the Constitution. He invoked Federalist Paper No. 65, authored by Alexander Hamilton, in explaining why senators in an impeachment trial were far different from regular jurors: “Regular jurors, of course, are chosen, to the maximum extent possible, with no knowledge of the case,” said Harkin. “Not so here. Regular jurors do not decide what evidence should be heard … nor do they decide what witnesses shall be called. Not so here.”
The Republican side of the chamber appeared stunned. Representative Barr was not in the best position, at the moment, to beat back this Democratic assault. Just days earlier, Larry Flynt had accused him of hypocrisy, releasing transcripts of a 1985