The Political Interest: The Vulture Watch, Chapter 2

By Michael Kramer

And now there is a new question: "What did you do in the war, Bill Clinton?" Just when the Arkansas Governor believed he had weathered Gennifer Flowers' unsubstantiated allegations of a 12-year affair between the two, Clinton was rocked by old charges that he dodged the draft during the height of the Vietnam War. The facts are convoluted and hotly contested, and the credibility of Clinton's accusers is in dispute. One, a retired Army colonel, has for over a decade been telling a diametrically opposite tale that exonerates Clinton. The other, a former official of Clinton's draft board and a Republican, recalls conversations with Clinton that the Governor says never took place.

Meanwhile, Clinton's own recollection today is different than it was less than a month ago, and the truly salient point is even more troubling. Clinton insists that the death of four of his friends in Vietnam caused him to question his own avoidance of the conflict he detested. "So I voluntarily submitted myself to the draft," says Clinton. That was in the fall of 1969, when the draft lottery was about to go into effect -- a mechanism that shortly had Clinton drawing No. 311, meaning there was virtually no chance that he would be called. Yet if Clinton had really felt guilty about not serving, an easy remedy was available: he could have enlisted.

The political fallout has been swift and stunning. Two of Clinton's competitors, Tom Harkin and Bob Kerrey, who gingerly avoided all but the mildest comments on the subject of Clinton's troubled marriage and Flowers' charges, have come out swinging. Both "wonder" if Clinton is telling the truth, and with the Feb. 18 New Hampshire primary only a week away, they are pressing the issue forcefully. They are lagging badly in the polls, and attacking Clinton offers their only hope for an upset. The last candidate debate, on Feb. 16, will probably provide the most intense mudslinging in years.

Clinton's overarching problem is "how much crap can he take," says the Governor's New Hampshire campaign director, Mitchell Schwartz. This is especially so in the South, Clinton's area of greatest strength, where draft dodging is a major no-no. In a long political campaign, Schwartz concedes, credibility questions tarnish a candidate geometrically. "It's not just Flowers and the draft -- one and one equaling two," says Schwartz. It's the potential for a snowball effect that causes voters to consider alternative contenders without even bothering to come to grips with their doubts about Clinton. Death by a thousand cuts.

; "If I were at 3% in the polls, none of this stuff would be given any currency," Clinton confided last Thursday. "The focus is always on the front runner." Clinton is right, of course. If Harkin were ahead of the field, his war record would be reviled. In the past, Harkin claimed he flew combat missions in Vietnam; in fact, he merely ferried fighters to the war zone. If Kerrey had the edge, the child-labor-law violations at the restaurant chain he founded would lead the campaign coverage. "This is the big leagues," says Paul Tsongas, whose own big-bucks lobbying for businesses is now getting a working over in the press. It's "the nature of the beast."

If Clinton falls in New Hampshire, the vulture watch will be in full cry. Advisers to Lloyd Bentsen, Al Gore and Richard Gephardt admit they are considering a late entry, but all eyes are on Mario Cuomo. The New York Governor has refused to call off a New Hampshire write-in campaign. Ads in the state's papers and mass mailings to Democrats are explaining how they can write in a vote for a "proven leader" in a field of "second choices." Cuomo's national supporters are steering funds to the New Hampshire effort, so TV spots are just around the corner.

The model for a post-New Hampshire campaign is Robert Kennedy's 1968 race. After Eugene McCarthy wounded Lyndon Johnson by almost beating the President in New Hampshire, Kennedy in effect thanked McCarthy for doing the dirty work and announced that it was time for a heavyweight to finish the job. In theory, Cuomo (or someone else) would say the same to Tsongas if he beats Clinton. The early filing deadlines and the front-loaded primary process complicate matters (by late March approximately 50% of the delegates to the Democratic Convention will have been chosen), but where there's a will, there's a way.

Enter the "mandate scenario," which may be the only option open to a late starter. To go this route, a candidate would contest several primaries in different regions to prove his vote-getting ability. Most frequently mentioned are California (with a March 19 filing deadline), and Alabama, Minnesota and New Jersey, which have April drop-dead dates. Since securing the nomination this late would be mathematically impossible, the mandate scenario counts on the trailing candidates to cave in to the heavyweight for the good of the party under pressure from Democratic leaders, financial big shots and the media. Goofy, perhaps, but possible and even probable if Clinton stumbles in ! New Hampshire. The Democrats, you see, think they can win this time.