INTRODUCTION

       The television cameras focused upon a long, narrow corridor, the colors muted into a grayish sense of isolation. From the back, President Bill Clinton, a shock of gray-white hair belying the youthful exuberance he publicly portrayed his entire life, had begun his walk to the center stage of the 2000 Democratic National Convention. Alone, he walked that corridor, giving us a dramatic insight into his life and the lives he touched during a two-term presidency that brought America some of its greatest promise, that gave us its second presidential impeachment.
       As Bill Clinton walked towards the cameras, he grew larger, more commanding. This was a man who told us in his first presidential campaign that he still believed in a place called Hope, and in his second campaign that he wanted to build a bridge to the twenty-first century. Both campaign promises were kept.
       This would be his last major political speech. Vice-President Al Gore, about to be nominated three days later, was trying his best to distance himself from the charismatic leader who had given America a renewed energy, and a mournful frustration.
       As the special prosecutor, aided by a vengeful Congress propped by a salivating media that saw headlines on their resumes, pushed a vendetta they hoped would yield even the tiniest shreds of evidence to bind the President into either resignation or, hopefully, conviction, the nation became part of an historic struggle for power.
       At the height of the impeachment crisis, when it appeared the Republican majorities in both the House and Senate would bring about a conviction and, thus, entry to the White House itself, almost every major poll showed as many as two-thirds of Americans approved the President's job performance. Even if they didn't approve of a part of his lifestyle, they recognized he gave the nation not just what they wanted, but what they needed in a president. Like two of his role models, Thomas Jefferson and John F. Kennedy, Bill Clinton was one of this nation's most dynamic presidents; and, like his mentors, he was one of this nation's most vilified men. The people either appreciated what he was trying to do, or they despised him for what they mistakenly believed was his "liberal"views and even more liberal personal lifestyle. He would affect Americans like few people ever could, and no one could be neutral.
       Controversy would continue to envelope Bill Clinton even after he left office. On the last day of his Presidency, Clinton, who had issued fewer pardons than most presidents, granted 140 full and unconditional pardons and 36 commutations. The Republicans charged that almost one-third of the pardons had not been vetted by the Department of Justice which normally reviews and recommends candidates for Presidential pardons. Although presidents routinely ask for advice from the Department of Justice, there is no Constitutional requirement, and the President's power to issue pardons is absolute. The most controversial of the pardons was one for billionaire Marc Rich who fled to Switzerland in 1983 while under indictment for tax evasion, racketeering, and violations of the Iranian oil embargo. As Clinton's opponents gleefully pointed out, it was bad enough to pardon a fugitive, but did Rich funnel more than $1 million through his ex-wife, Denise Rich, in donations to the Democratic party, and expected the pay-off to buy his freedom? Even loyal Democrats questioned some of the pardons. The establishment media, having long ago turned their front pages into tabloid journalism when it came to the Clinton era, even reported rumors, based upon "leaks"with no evidence, that Denise Rich and Bill Clinton had an affair.
       The Senate Judiciary Committee and the House Committee on Government Reform wanted answers, and were planning to push subpoenas and an investigation. Scattered throughout the country, Republicans and conservative Democrats were suggesting not only a Constitutional amendment to restrict the President's right to issue pardons, but possibly impeaching the former President, a move that was probably unconstitutional. However, President George W. Bush, trying to avoid a national distraction to his own administration, simply said, "It is time to move on."
       But America wasn't ready to leave the President alone. Charges began leaking that Clinton staffers stole hundreds of items from Air Force One, and that in a fit of pique at the Democrats losing the electoral vote for the Presidency also vandalized the White House. The media gleefully reported every unsubstantiated claim, then were slow to report that the Air Force, which maintains meticulous records of every item on the presidential fleet, said there was no theft, and the only damage was some glasses which broke during air turbulence. No one could substantiate any wide-spread damage in the White House, as President Bush's press secretary later acknowledged, although some merry pranksters did remove the "W"keys from several computer keyboards.
       The Republicans also charged President Clinton and newly-elected Sen. Hillary Clinton with stealing about $190,000 in furniture from the White House to put into their newly-purchased residence in Chappaqua, New York. The Clintons responded the furniture had been personal gifts to them, not to the United States, but they would return whatever the Bush administration determined was official furniture, as opposed to gifts. Among the items they voluntarily returned was about $7,000 worth of furniture donated by Denise Rich.
       Even where President Clinton planned to put his post-Presidential offices drew his opponent's enmity. He had planned to move into a suite of offices in the Carnegie Towers on Manhattan's 57th Street. As Clinton's opponents, aided by widespread media "investigations,"pointed out, the $800,000 annual rent was slightly higher than the combined costs of rents paid on behalf of former presidents Ford, Carter, Reagan, and Bush.
       What the media were slow to report was that in response to the controversy about $300,000 of the rent would come from private sources and that Clinton, a resident of New York, was renting space in the most expensive city in the country. Nevertheless, under a barrage of charges, Clinton moved his offices about 70 blocks north—into the lower-rent Harlem, where he would be surrounded by Blacks who had come to trust and respect the President's push for minority rights and inclusion into all parts of American society.
       The vapors of history have muted the viciousness, and occasional accuracy, of the attacks against both Jefferson and Kennedy, leaving us with a view of heroic dimension; perhaps it will also mute the malevolence Bill Clinton had endured during his eight years in office.
       Several more former White House staffers, political opponents, commentators, and persons best described only as "temporary friends,"will get large advances to write "tell-all"books. Hundreds of biographers, their personal views subtly underscoring their words, will write thousands of pages about the man and his presidency. They will praise; they will condemn; they will look into specific parts of the Clinton era; they will try to explain the "big picture."
       They will try to understand the events that shaped the President and the Presidency. And they will fail. Not because they are incompetent or vindictive or sycophantic, but because Bill Clinton is a uniquely complex person; because as open as he seems, as joyful as he appears, he hides a larger part of his soul than even the most careful journalist or biographer will ever be able to view, then to try to understand. A part of the President's life will be revealed by Hillary Rodham Clinton's book, tentatively scheduled for publication in 2003; a part of the life will be revealed if Bill Clinton chooses to use the media to discuss his presidency. They may come closer than all of the journalists and biographers, but even if they want to tell the story, honestly and objectively, they will be unable to do so, not because they will distort or hide the truth, but because even they may not understand the truth of the man, his life, and how he affected the lives not only of 280 million Americans, but a world as well.