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

from Republican leaders across the country, he presented himself as the anti-Hillary candidate, running a negative campaign for most of the summer. It was not very effective. One of the odd advantages I had was that everyone already thought they knew everything about me, good or bad. Lazio’s attacks were old news. My campaign ignored the personal tone of Lazio’s campaign and lasered in on his voting record, as well as his work in Congress as one of Gingrich’s top lieutenants. People knew little about him, and our information about his positions was all they needed to fill in the blanks.

Our first debate was in Buffalo on September 13 and was moderated by a Buffalo native, Tim Russert of NBC’s Meet the Press. After a series of questions about health care, the upstate economy and education, Russert showed a news clip of my appearance on the Today show when I went out on a limb defending Bill after the Lewinsky story broke.

Then Russert asked if I “regret[ted] misleading the American people” and whether I wanted to apologize for “branding people as part of a vast rightwing conspiracy.”

Although I was taken aback by the question, I had to respond, so I did: “You know, Tim, that was a very painful time for me, for my family and for our country. It is something I regret deeply that anyone had to go through. And I wish we all could look at it from the perspective of history, but we can’t yet. We’re going to have to wait until those books are written…. I’ve tried to be as forthcoming as I could, given the circumstances that I’ve faced. Obviously I didn’t mislead anyone. I didn’t know the truth. And there’s a great deal of pain associated with that, and my husband has certainly acknowledged …

that he did mislead the country as well as his family.”

The questions also covered school vouchers, the environment and other local issues, and that’s when Lazio made a critical mistake: He said that the upstate economy had “turned the corner.” But to anyone who lived upstate or who had spent time there, Lazio sounded out of touch. By then I had visited the region frequently and had held extensive discussions with residents about the problems of job loss and young people leaving the area. I had also developed an economic plan for the region that voters were taking seriously.

When the focus of the debate turned to campaign commercials and the use of socalled soft money―funds spent by outside political committees on behalf of a candidate or an issue―Russert showed clips of a Lazio commercial featuring the Congressman in a photo juxtaposed with Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan, a coupling that had never taken place. The ad distorted the truth and exploited the popularity of a venerable New York public servant. It was paid for with soft money, large contributions that could be used by political parties or outside groups to support a candidate or attack his opponent. In the spring, I had called for a ban on all soft money, but I wasn’t going to commit to it unilaterally.

The Republicans had refused to forswear the use of soft money from outside groups, some of whom were busily raising $32 million in support of Lazio’s Senate bid.

Near the end of the debate, from behind his podium, Lazio began hectoring me about soft money and challenging me to ban large Democratic Party contributions in my campaign.

I could barely get a word in when he marched over to me, waving a piece of papercalled the “New York Freedom from Soft Money Pact”―and demanding my signature. I declined. He pressed in closer, shouting, “Right here, sign it right now!”

I offered to shake hands, but he kept badgering me. I only had time to utter one sentence in response before Russert ended the debate. I don’t know whether Lazio and his advisers thought they could fluster me or provoke me into anger.

Throughout the campaign, I had steeled myself for the possibility of personal attacks and was determined to stay focused on the issues―not on Lazio as a person. Like an internal mantra, I repeated to myself: “the issues, the issues.” Besides being more helpful to voters, it seemed a more civilized way to run a campaign.

The debate was another turning point in the race that helped push some voters into my corner, although I didn’t realize it right away. When I got off the stage, I had no idea how I had done and wasn’t sure how Lazio’s confrontational ploy would be received. His campaign immediately declared victory―and the press was buying it. Many of the first stories highlighted Lazio’s stunt and all but declared him the winner.

Nonetheless, my team was upbeat. Ann Lewis and Mandy Grunwald sensed that Lazio had come across as a bully rather than the nice guy he was trying to project. Public opinion polls and focus groups soon made it clear that a lot of voters, especially women, were offended by Lazio’s tactics. As Gail Collins wrote in The New York Times, Lazio had “invaded” my space. And many voters didn’t like it.

The public reaction didn’t stop Lazio from continuing a campaign that was largely negative―and personal. He sent out a fundraising letter stating that his message could be summed up in six words: “I’m running against Hillary Rodham Clinton.” His campaign was not about the people of New York; it was about me. So I began to tell audiences around the state: “New Yorkers deserve more than that. How about seven words: jobs, education, health, Social Security, environment, choice?”

Lazio also dredged up health care reform in a series of ads designed to touch a nerve with voters. But, as I had learned from months on the road, New Yorkers generally seemed to appreciate my effort to reform health care, even if it had not succeeded in revamping the whole system. In the intervening years, health care costs had soared, and HMOs and insurance companies were more restrictive in their