Time - Man of the Year/Time_Man_of_the_Year_Compact_Publishing_3YX-Disc-1_Compact_Publishing_1993.iso/moy/090792/09079923.000

Text File | 1993-04-08 | 8KB | 156 lines

                                                                                U.S. CAMPAIGN, Page 30

So Happy Together


Defying the tradition that running mates go their own ways,
Clinton and Gore seem inseparable on the hustings. What is the
secret of Bill and Al's excellent synergy?

By WALTER SHAPIRO/WACO -- With reporting by Elizabeth Taylor/
with Gore


    Male friendship, to judge from television commercials, is
both natural and automatic -- just get a bunch of guys
together, down a six-pack and cement lifelong bonds by being
there when the Swedish Bikini Team arrives. Reality, of course,
is a bit more complicated. Think of the extremes modern men
actually go to in their quest for fellowship: bonding by beating
on drums in pseudo-Indian rituals, forming Rotisserie baseball
leagues to talk trades on the telephone like seven-year-old boys
and, yes, campaigning for national office on the same ticket.

    Nothing more clearly identifies the shared baby-boomer
heritage of Bill Clinton and Al Gore than their public
insistence that the race for the White House has transformed
these onetime political rivals into the closest of friends.
Theirs is a comradeship of the road, an intimacy forged by joint
bus trips, early-morning jogging excursions and suddenly shared
political self-interest. Last week, for the fourth time since
the Democratic Convention, the 10-bus Democratic caravan hit the
asphalt on a two-day tour through Texas. Politically, the
message was that the Democrats believe the nation's third most
populous state remains a competitive battleground and that they
intend to force George Bush to defend his home turf. But the
subtext was lifted from a buddy movie: Gore aide Marla Romash
likens Bill and Al's excellent adventure to a "male version of
Thelma & Louise."

    Listen to them rag and brag on one another in public. In
Austin, Clinton said this about his running mate: "I love to
hear him speak, even though when he finishes there's nothing
left for me to say. But I do resent the fact that he doesn't
have any gray hair -- and I'm trying to get him to use some
dye." For his part, the Tennessee Senator confided to a
home-folks crowd in Memphis: "Tipper and I have had the
wonderful experience of getting to know Hillary and Bill Clinton
. . . If there is a subject under the sun that we haven't
discussed, I don't know what it might be."

    There are no precedents whatsoever for the Clinton-Gore
experiment in political togetherness. Traditionally, ticket
mates are lone warriors, always campaigning separately, with the
vice-presidential candidate usually consigned to media markets
so small that the only competing entertainment is the tractor
pull down at the fairgrounds. This year the Republicans are
pushing that tradition to new limits by turning Dan Quayle into
a virtual Stealth Vice President. There are not even any
pictures of him on the Bush-Quayle re-election poster,
presumably out of fear that the Vice President's vapid visage
will repel swing voters. Says a senior G.O.P. adviser: "You
won't see Bush even with a cutout of Quayle." This strategist
admits the image of Clinton and Gore working so closely in
tandem "points up the weaknesses Quayle brings."

    The key to the Clinton-Gore appeal is that corporate buzz
word, synergy: when the images of the two are fused in the
public mind, the sum appears greater than the parts. "There's
a lot of discussion in our focus groups where people are excited
about the two of them together," says Clinton pollster Stan
Greenberg. "It translates into an anticipation of energy and
activism in the White House." Maybe so, but this Double mint
campaign could be reaching its natural limits -- too often the
artful tactics of late summer turn into tired cliches by
Election Day. Still, there is a chemistry between Clinton and
Gore that defies easy explanation. A few theories:


    SEPARATED AT BIRTH. As the two most telegenic Southern
moderates in the Democratic Party, just 19 months apart in age,
both Clinton and Gore had ambitions that seemed on a collision
course. In 1987 Gore journeyed to Little Rock, Arkansas, to
plead in vain for Clinton's support for the Tennessee Senator's
own 1988 presidential bid. But now that the hierarchy between
the two men is firmly established, they are at last free to
enjoy their Ivy League similarities. "For Clinton it's like
having your twin brother run for Vice President on the same
ticket," says a campaign insider. Both authentic policy wonks,
the pair spent a happy hour on the first bus trip discussing the
intricacies of government-mandated fuel-efficiency standards for
cars.

    "We were on the bus for four or five hours, and I kept
wondering what made this whole thing click," recalls Roy Neel,
Gore's longtime staff director. "Then I got it -- it reminded
me of one of my college reunions. Clinton and Gore were like two
guys at their 20th reunion, who didn't really know each other
in school, but just discovered that they have a lot in common.
So much so that they decided to take their wives and go away on
a road trip."


    TWO ROADS, SAME DESTINATION. After Clinton last week
expressed support for Bush's no-fly zone in Iraq, his running
mate grabbed the microphone to make a politically adroit
addendum. Gore pointed out that Bush helped create the problem
by allowing Saddam Hussein to continue his internal air war
against the Shi`ites and Kurds after the liberation of Kuwait.
This was a small but telling illustration of how Gore buttresses
Clinton on two issues where the Arkansas Governor is weak:
foreign policy and the environment.

    The differences are perhaps even more significant on a
personal level. Clinton's father died three months before he was
born. Gore's father, Albert Sr., 84, a liberal three-term former
Senator from Tennessee who once harbored his own presidential
ambitions, is still eagerly appearing onstage with his son,
basking in the limelight. So too was Gore born into privilege,
while Clinton had to achieve it through the sterling academic
record that led to his Rhodes scholarship. These divergent life
experiences are important because they are the source of so much
talk between the two couples.


    FEMALE BONDING. To a great extent, it was the warm rapport
between Tipper and Hillary that allowed the two men to relax
with each other. "Bill and Al had to work out issues and their
political relationship," said a well-placed campaign insider.
"Tipper and Hillary immediately hit it off on a personal level,
talking about themselves and their families." It is a public
friendship that takes some of the edge off the spiky image
Republicans have tried to paint of Hillary as an ambitious
careerist. Tipper is particularly effusive about her bond with
Hillary: "I feel like I have found somebody I have known
forever. She is like a long-lost sister."


    Through their inseparable campaigning, the Clintons and
the Gores are treating America to a view of politics as an
extended double date. Part of this is undeniably damage control:
the joint appearances are a way to erase memories that the
Clinton marriage was not always the stuff of Harlequin romances.
But there are moments, with each of the four speaking in turn,
when their words and and gestures truly seem to harmonize. It
is a tricky act to keep up until November. But if it works --
to rephrase a controversial line of Hillary's -- it may be a
case of electing a duo and getting a quartet at no extra charge.