Death of American Virtue - Ken Gormley [437]
In one of the greatest missteps committed by both parties, the Feinstein resolution collapsed just short of the finish line.
On the Republican side of the aisle, some GOP senators viewed it as a CYA (“cover your ass”) maneuver and were loath to hand Democrats the opportunity to “cover themselves by a vote to censure.” Senator Phil Gramm personally announced that he would lie down on the tracks to prevent a vote on censure from reaching its destination, if it came to that. Democrats, for their part, quibbled over whether the Feinstein resolution gave them too much of a victory against Bill Clinton or too little. White House political adviser Doug Sosnik would say that neither side could agree upon the best deal, because neither could figure out “what the deal is that they wanted.”
At 9:30 A.M., Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist entered the Senate chamber to preside over this historic vote. His face devoid of emotion, Rehnquist rapped the nublike gavel against his desk. “The Senate will be in order,” the chief stated in a flat voice. The time had come for a roll call on Article I, relating to perjury in the grand jury.
Senators’ names were announced in alphabetical order. They stood up at their mahogany desks, built by a New York cabinetmaker circa 1819 to replicate the style favored by the Founding Fathers, and registered their votes in loud voices. As the legislative clerk recorded each senator’s vote seriatim, Hyde recalled two emotions hitting him like a truck. “Expectancy and disappointment,” said Hyde. “Repeatedly. Repeatedly as the roll is called.”
First, the clerk called the name of Senator Spencer Abraham, Republican from Michigan.
“Guilty,” he declared.
Next came Senator Daniel K. Akaka of Alaska.
“Not guilty,” Akaka stated.
When the clerk reached the Bs and called out the name of Senator Byrd of West Virginia, the chamber became silent.
“Not guilty,” pronounced the white-haired statesman.
By the conclusion of the votes on Article I, the tally was forty-five guilty as charged, fifty-five not guilty. The article had failed by a wide margin.
On Article II dealing with obstruction of justice, the Republicans held their collective breath; the result was equally devastating. Once Senator Specter’s Scottish “not proven” vote was counted as “not guilty,” the final tally was fifty guilty, fifty not guilty. Not only had President Bill Clinton been acquitted, but the House managers had failed to garner a simple majority on either article.
At 12:43 P.M., Chief Justice Rehnquist formally entered judgment in favor of the defendant “William Jefferson Clinton, President of the United States.” Rehnquist rapped his gavel for the final time and scooped up his papers, lingering long enough to accept a Golden Gavel Award, presented jointly by the Republican and Democratic leadership. His work done, the chief was escorted out of the chamber, the four gold stripes on his black sleeves gleaming as he walked briskly away, senators on both sides of the aisle applauding lustily. This august body of legislators seemed thrilled to reclaim their rightful places, where they could give speeches for the Congressional Record and tussle over proposed bills. It was a sense, said one observer, of “we’re in the Senate again. Let the chief justice go back to wherever he lives.”
A bomb scare, requiring the evacuation of the Capitol, capped off the afternoon. One official groaned, “Oh, this is all we need.” Senator Tom Daschle wandered into the Air and Space Museum in the Smithsonian several blocks away. “It was such an eerie experience,” he remembered. “I