TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=92TT1989> <title> Sep. 07, 1992: So Happy Together </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1992 Sep. 07, 1992 The Agony of Africa </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> U.S. CAMPAIGN, Page 30 So Happy Together </hdr><body> 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. </body></article> </text>