Living History, Unknown [books to read in your 20s female TXT] 📗

the Senate was due to vote on impeachment. I was confident that a majority of the Senate would be guided by the Constitution and vote to acquit. As we awaited the outcome, I listened intently as Harold assessed the New York political landscape and explained the vicissitudes of a New York Senate campaign. He spread out a large map of the state, and we pored over it for hours as he offered a running commentary about the obstacles I would face. He pointed to towns from Montauk to Plattsburgh to Niagara Falls, and it became clear that to take a campaign to New York’s 19 million citizens, I would have to physically cover a state of 54,000 square miles. On top of that I would have to master the intricacies of local politics, of dramatic differences in the personalities, cultures and economies of upstate New York and the suburbs. New York City was its own universe: a cauldron of competing politicians and interest groups. The five boroughs were like individual mini-states, each presenting needs and challenges different from counties and cities upstate and also from the suburbs of neighboring Long Island and Westchester.

As our meeting stretched over hours, Harold zeroed in on all of the negatives of entering the race. I was not a New York native, had never run for office and would face Giuliani, an intimidating opponent. No woman had ever won statewide in New York on her own. The national Republican Party would do everything in its power to demonize me and my politics. A campaign would be nasty and emotionally draining. And how would I campaign in New York while I was First Lady? The list went on.

“I don’t even know if you’d be a good candidate, Hillary,” he said. I didn’t know either.

That afternoon, the U.S. Senate voted to acquit Bill of the impeachment charges by a wide margin. Neither charge against him received a majority of votes, let alone the required two-thirds. The outcome itself was anticlimactic, causing no elation, only relief.

Most important, the Constitution and the Presidency remained intact.

I still hadn’t decided whether to run, but, thanks to Harold, I now had a more realistic view of what a campaign would require. With the impeachment trial behind us, it was time to address the issue. On February 16, my office released a statement acknowledging that I would give careful thought to a potential candidacy and would decide later in the year.

Harold gave me a list of too New Yorkers to contact, and, in late February, I began calling and meeting with each of them-beginning with Senator Moynihan and his wife, Liz, who had run her husband’s campaigns and was extraordinarily knowledgeable about New York politics. Senator Moynihan offered generous public support, telling NBC’s Tim Russert, who had once worked for him, that my “magnificent, young, bright, able Illinois-Arkansas enthusiasm” would suit New York and New Yorkers. “She’d be welcome and she’d win,” he said. That took my breath away-especially the adjective “young.” I also consulted with former New York City Mayors Ed Koch and David Dinkins, who were supportive and encouraging. Senator Schumer was helpful and practical, having just survived his own brutal statewide campaign. Democratic Speaker Sheldon Silver, party Chair Judith Hope and members of Congress, mayors, state legislators, county chairmen, labor leaders, activists and friends all weighed in with their views. So did Robert E Kennedy, Jr., an environmental activist whose father had held the seat before Senator Moynihan. He, too, was enthusiastic and promised to tutor me on pressing environmental issues in the state.

Yet, as encouraging as many people were, plenty of others worked feverishly to discourage me. Close friends, in particular, couldn’t fathom why I would consider a grueling Senate campaign after the emotional upheaval of the past few years. Life on the campaign trail would be a far cry from the comfort and security of the White House. Each day would begin at dawn and seldom be finished before the wee hours of the morning.

This peripatetic existence would mean eating meals on the fly, living out of a suitcase for months on end and relying on friends around the state to let me stay in their homes when 1 was on the road. Worst of all, it would mean little time during our last year in the White House with my family and even less time with friends.

There were also doubts about whether Congress was where I could be most effective.

For months, I had been mulling over my options for life after the White House. Some friends argued that I would have more influence promoting change in the international arena than in the 100-member Senate. After nearly three decades as an advocate and eight years as First Lady, I had accumulated broad experience working on behalf of women, children and families. Even if I managed to win, I wasn’t sure it was worth giving up a visible platform for an intense political campaign and the daily demands of life as a politician.

And there were more opportunities to consider: I had been approached about running foundations, hosting a television show, assuming a college presidency or becoming a corporate CEO. These were appealing choices and far more comfortable than the prospect of a tough Senate race.

Mandy Grunwald, a skilled media consultant who grew up in New York and was a veteran of Senator Moynihan’s recent campaigns, echoed Harold’s warnings. She cautioned that I would have to learn to deal with an aggressive New York press corps (not one of my specialties). Mandy bluntly explained that I would not receive any free passes just because I was the new kid on the block: Mistakes were not overlooked by the New York press. They are often blown up in the tabloids, broadcast on the local news at 6, 7, 12, 4, 5, 6, 10 and 11 o’clock, and dissected by newspaper columnists. Then the radio talk show hosts get their turn. And that wouldn’t be all. Given the historic nature of a