Living History by Unknown (best non fiction books of all time .txt) 📕

Evidently someone on Bill’s staff decided that it was more politically expedient to drop “Rodham,” as if it were no longer part of my identity. I returned the stationery and ordered another batch.

After Bill won the California, Ohio and New Jersey primaries on June 2, his nomination was assured, but his election was not. After all the negative publicity in the campaign, he was running third in the polls behind Ross Perot and President Bush. He decided to reintroduce himself to America and began appearing on popular television shows. Thanks to a suggestion from Mandy Grunwald, a consultant who had joined the campaign, he played the saxophone on The Arsenio Hall Show. His staff also persuaded me to give more interviews and to agree to a People magazine story, complete with a cover photo that included Chelsea. I was not enthusiastic but finally was persuaded by the argument that most Americans didn’t even know we had a child. On the one hand, I was pleased that we had sheltered Chelsea from the media and protected her during the brutal primary season. On the other hand, I believed that being a mother was the most important job I had ever had. If people didn’t know that, they certainly couldn’t understand us. The article was fine, but it prompted me to restate my position that Chelsea deserved her privacy, which, I believe, is essential for any child to develop and explore her own choices in life. So Bill and I established guidelines: When Chelsea was with us as part of our family―

attending an event with Bill or me―the press would naturally cover her. But I would not agree to more articles or interviews that included her. This was one of the best decisions Bill and I made, and we stuck with it through the next eight years. I’m also grateful that, with few exceptions, the press respected her privacy and her right to be left alone. As long as Chelsea did not seek out their attention or do something that was of public interest, she would be off-limits.

In July 1992, the Democratic Party held its convention in New York City to formally nominate Bill and his running mate, Senator Al Gore from Tennessee. New York was a great choice. Although we had nothing to do with its selection as the host city, New York was one of Bill’s and my favorite cities in the world, and we were delighted that it would be the place where Bill was nominated for President. Bill had chosen Al after an exhaustive process led by Warren Christopher, a former Deputy Secretary of State and distinguished lawyer from California. I had met Al and his wife, Tipper, at political events during the 1980s, but neither Bill nor I knew them well. Some political observers were surprised that Bill would select a running mate who seemed so like him. Southerners from neighboring states, they were close in age, of the same religion and considered to be serious students of public policy. But Bill respected Al’s record of public service and believed he would add strengths to Bill’s own background.

Many people have told me that the picture of Al, Tipper, their children, Bill, Chelsea and me―all standing on the porch of the Governor’s Mansion on the day Bill publicly announced his selection―perfectly captured the energy of the campaign and its potential for change. I think what I felt that day reflected the emotions of many Americans. It was a new generation’s turn to lead, and people conveyed an optimism about the prospects for a new direction for our country. On the final night of the convention we were giddy and elated as we all hugged and danced on the stage.

The next morning, July 17, we started on our magical bus tours or, as I called them, “Bill, Al, Hillary and Tipper’s Excellent Adventures.”

The bus trips were the joint brainchild of David Wilhelm, the campaign manager, and Susan Thomases, whom Bill and I had known for more than twenty years. She was a warmhearted friend and a hard driving lawyer, and she understood that good campaign scheduling had to tell a story about a candidate, had to illustrate his concerns and plans so that voters understood what made him tick and what positions he’d champion. Susan moved with her husband and son to Little Rock to supervise campaign scheduling for the general election. She and David wanted to build on the convention’s excitement and drama and thought that a bus trip through battleground states would visually convey the partnership and generational change Bill and Al represented, as well as their message: “Putting People First.”

Traveling on the buses gave us all a chance to get to know one another better. Bill, Al, Tipper and I spent hours talking, eating, waving out the window and stopping the bus convoy to conduct impromptu rallies. Loose and relaxed, Al was quick with one-liners and deadpan comments. He quickly learned that a small crowd up ahead on the side of the road, no matter where we were or what time it was, would tempt Bill to yell, “Stop the bus.” Al would peer out the window ahead, see one lone soul waving or watching, and shout out, “I feel a sojourn coming on.” When we were met by hundreds of patient supporters as we pulled into Erie, Pennsylvania, at 2 A.M., Al delivered a rousing version of his standard appeal stump speech: “What’s up―health care costs and interest rates―should be down, and what’s down―employment and hope―should be up. We have to change direction.” Then he announced to the three of us―who were barely keeping our eyes open―“I think there are two people drinking coffee in the allnight diner around the corner. Let’s go see them.” Even Bill passed on that offer.

Tipper and I talked for hours about our experiences as political spouses, our children and what we hoped Bill and Al could do to