As administration officials start clearing one another, the prosecutor sifts the evidence
by Matthew Cooper, David Bowermaster, Gloria Borger, Greg Ferguson
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Robert Fiske, the special counsel investigating the Whitewater affair, has always been liked wherever he worked. In fact, lawyers who served under him when he ran the U.S. attorney's office in New York in the 1970s still gather for reunions at which they pay tribute to their former boss. At one, they jokingly compared the mild-mannered Fiske with his flamboyant successor, Rudolph Giuliani, now mayor of New York. Whereas Giuliani made it a point to arrest Wall Street criminals on the trading floor, Fiske's staffers joked that Fiske would be the type to send them engraved invitations.
There's no way to know whether Fiske will leave behind such good feelings when he finally finishes his work on Whitewater. But last week, the heat diminished for some top White House aides under the special counsel's scrutiny. Roger Altman, the deputy secretary of the Treasury Department, broke his silence on just what happened when White House officials called over to the Treasury Department about the Whitewater affair. Altman told U.S. News columnist Gloria Borger that none of his White House colleagues ever tried to impede the Resolution Trust Corp.'s investigation into Madison Guaranty Savings & Loan -- the Arkansas thrift that is at the heart of the Whitewater scandal ("On Politics," Page 26).
Clearing the air. Altman clarified questions surrounding two controversial phone calls from the White House to the Treasury Department. In the first call, placed on February 25, top Clinton aides George Stephanopoulos and Harold Ickes chided Altman -- who doubled as acting head of the RTC -- for recusing himself from oversight of the RTC probe of Madison without first informing the White House. There is nothing illegal or untoward about that. But some officials have been quoted anonymously as saying that Stephanopoulos and Ickes, in that same conversation, then asked Altman whether Jay Stephens, a prominent Republican hired by the RTC to shepherd civil claims against Madison Guaranty, could be dismissed. Stephens also was bitterly critical of Clinton when the president fired all the U.S. attorneys, including Stephens, in the early days after he came into office. Stephanopoulos and Ickes have denied making such an inquiry of Altman. Altman says Stephanopoulos and Ickes never "did anything wrong."
Altman also sheds light on a second phone call. This one occurred the same day and took place between Stephanopoulos and Treasury Department Chief of Staff Joshua Steiner. Altman has knowledge of the conversation between Steiner and Stephanopoulos, even though he was not a direct party to it. The question about that call is whether Stephanopoulos merely, in his words, "blew off steam" about Stephens's hiring or whether he pressured Steiner to dismiss Stephens, a former GOP U.S. attorney and ongoing Clinton critic. In this conversation, too, Altman says "nothing improper occurred." Sources confirm a New York Times report that Steiner himself told Fiske's grand jury that he felt no pressure from Stephanopoulos to stymie Stephens's work.
Clearly, Altman's comments were designed to reduce the unhappiness with him inside the White House. In recent days, White House staffers have been furious at Altman, accusing him of being the source behind damaging stories about Stephanopolous and Ickes in an effort to save his own hide. "I don't want to believe that he'd do that," says a Clinton insider who had touted Altman to be White House chief of staff one day -- or the next Treasury secretary. Altman has steadfastly denied those whisperings. With his comments to U.S. News, Altman may have hoped to begin his own rehabilitation.
Altman's words not only help Ickes and Stephanopoulos but also boost the fortunes of Bernard Nussbaum, whose tenure as White House counsel ends this week. Some attorneys now involved in the Whitewater affair have been pointing fingers at Nussbaum, intimating that he tried to persuade Altman -- a longtime friend of President Clinton's who is greatly admired for his political skills not to recuse himself as head of the RTC. If Nussbaum had tried to keep a political crony of the president in charge of the RTC investigation in order to guide its outcome, it might conceivably be deemed "obstruction of justice." But Altman specifically denies that Nussbaum tried to prevent him from recusing himself. "Nobody ever asked me not to recuse myself, including Bernie Nussbaum," he says.
"Probably OK." Even without Altman's defense, it is hard to see how Fiske would be able to bring an obstruction of justice charge against Stephanopoulos or anyone else in the White House based on the evidence that has surfaced so far. The relevant statute in determining an obstruction of justice charge is the now famous Title 18, Section 1505 of the U.S. Code, which targets someone who "corruptly, or by threats or force ... endeavors to influence, obstruct or impede the due and proper administration of the law." Section 1505 doesn't mention the word "intent," but legal experts say that it is essential to prove that someone intended to obstruct justice to secure a conviction. "From what I can tell of [Stephanopoulos's calls] -- and I don't know more about it than I've read -- it's probably OK," says one former White House counsel.
U.S. News has also learned that the hiring of Stephens was not the work of GOP holdovers in the RTC as the president has implied. Sources familiar with the hiring say it was based largely on the work that Stephens's firm -- San Francisco based Pillsbury Madison & Sutro -- had done for the RTC in the past. It is also true, however, that the RTC reached out to Pillsbury because of Stephens himself, whose name was submitted on the law firm's bid for RTC business.
While upper-echelon administration figures seem to be digging their way out from under suspicions that they might have obstructed the RTC probe of Whitewater, other questions remain. Republican Rep. Jim Leach, for instance, has raised unresolved questions about whether investigators in the Kansas City office of the RTC were pressured by superiors to skew their inquiries. Beyond that, there are still many questions about the side of the story that relates to the Clintons' finances during their days as investors in Whitewater (box, Page 24). New allegations surfaced late last week when the Wall Street Journal reported that a 1992 audit of the Clintons' Whitewater dealings suggested that they might have overclaimed deductions on their income taxes for some interest payments.
In coming weeks, one of the key questions regarding Whitewater will be whether Fiske is the right man to sort through these questions or whether the White House -- and the country -- now finds much of its political life being driven by someone who isn't up to the job. So far, Fiske has been criticized for everything from interviewing witnesses too quickly -- and without taking enough time to prepare -- to being too vocal in insisting that Congress abandon or at least delay Whitewater hearings. (Lawmakers will probably start thumping the gavel at Whitewater hearings sometime next month.) Still, an examination of Fiske's legal career and style suggest that he's likely to do a commendable job, albeit one that could go on for some time because of his penchant for thoroughness and running cases himself.
Fiske harks back to a more genteel age in American law. At 63, he has -- with time off for stints in the Justice Department -- been associated with just one law firm: New York's Davis, Polk & Wardwell. It is among the most blue-blooded of the city's firms, and Fiske's expertise is in one of the firm's specialties white- collar crime. Fiske himself has a decidedly preppy pedigree -- the private Pomfret School, Yale, a penchant for sailing. Lawyers who have worked with him, though, are quick to note that he's a "regular guy" who is very approachable.
