Squawking Points

Face time with Sidney Blumenthal

It was with only the best intentions that I attended Sidney Blumenthal's reading Tuesday from his memoir The Clinton Wars, at Stacey's bookstore in San Francisco. Having boned up on the juicy conspiracy guesswork a young Blumenthal presented in his 1976 book Government By Gunplay: Assassination Conspiracy Theories from Dallas to Today, I had prepared a set of question-period talking points tying the Monica Lewinsky scandal into forensic skylarking about Sirhan Sirhan's accomplices, James Earl Ray's innocence, even the new fad for Mohammed al-Dura revisionism. The feisty Clinton Administration communications strategist would eat this stuff up, I calculated.

Alas, I underestimated Blumenthal's ability to turn out a crowd. I counted 75 people standing, and close to that number seated, in a small section devoted to tech manuals and job-search primers. That left me lingering like Travis Bickle at the margin of a vigorously applauding crowd. Nevertheless, the reading proved instructive for anybody looking into the Democratic Party's dark night of the soul.

Among other things, it was impressive how charismatic and affable the combative lion of the Clinton years can be when he's got his suave demeanor on. I have no idea what Christopher Hitchens could have meant when he described Blumenthal looking "as if he'd suddenly gone to work for John Gotti," unless maybe he was referring to Blumenthal's impeccable suits. Hail fellow, well met! In his book, Blumenthal repeatedly paints himself as a Jewish outsider at (stylistic if not political) odds with the WASP establishment. In person, however, he projects not nebbishy overachievement but clubby good cheer.

I'm doubtful that the crowd of Bay Area liberals caught the message: Blumenthal was in town to represent the winners, the confident, indefatigable champions of the Clinton era. If there's one talent the contemporary left has perfected, it's to make even winning seem like a drag. One audience member began promisingly enough, asking how to "get the Democratic leadership to fight." Sensing that both the speaker and the audience were rallying behind him, however, this same questioner followed up with a call for Howard Dean, vowing, "If you're gonna lose, at least get some shots in." This endorsement (not seconded by Blumenthal) got the day's biggest round of applause. (Presumably, the audience was not won over by the former Vermont governor's fiscal restraint or support for gun ownership.)

An even more telling insight came in the day's most intelligent question. Bill Clinton was admired and successful as a centrist president, one young man noted, so why are latter day centrists like Joe Lieberman and John Kerry considered appeasers?

Blumenthal's reply—something about the party splintering, with some Democrats learning their lessons while others didn't—was perfectly presentable. But whose eyelids don't get heavy whenever terms like "Joe Lieberman" or "John Kerry" get mentioned? What Democrat's heart would not sink to reflect that these are the party's best hopes?

Blumenthal nixed a suggestion that he might go to work for one of the 2004 Democratic hopefuls, and the rest of the question period centered on that most irrelevant of topics—the issues. The Democrats' ailment is that their candidates remind voters of Fritz Mondale and Michael Dukakis, not that their health care plans need tweaking. (For the record, Blumenthal believes the party should hit the economy harder and take on foreign policy. "If the President offered a bogus reason for war, that's a lot more serious than a lie about sex," he asserted, to general applause.) Whether Blumenthal or his fans recognized it, he and we were all there for a reminder that Bill Clinton was once the President.

The subject of Christopher Hitchens came up not all, which is one good reason to hope more Republicans, or just troublemakers, turn out for Blumenthal appearances in the future. Hitchens has a tendency to bury his leads (You had to read through an endless assessment of Winston Churchill's legacy, for example, to reach the part where Hitchens stands up for the scholarship of David Irving). Now that the Hitchens-Blumenthal feud is once again dragging its slow length along, we've finally uncovered the meat of the story: In his review of personal grievances, Hitchens, with protests of reluctance, details how Blumenthal not only relocated a book party slated to be held at Hitchens' home, but then disinvited Hitchens to the relocated party. This is so clearly the secret to the two men's enmity that we have a right to ask why all those affidavits and lawyerly counterstrokes were necessary.

Perhaps the book-signing line would be the right terrain for me to ambush Blumenthal. The old political hand smiled and charmed his way through a reception line of wonkish idea men, old chums of Wes Clark, and pundit-aspirants pitching their own web sites. "Wh-wh-what do you think was Clinton's greatest achievement," asked a kid with an endearing Chris Farley tentativeness.

"It's all in the book," came the smooth reply.

"I h-heard like a month ago that you were gonna be here," Farley continued.

"Great!"

"Help us," implored a woman with a German accent. "Help us."

"Thanks for coming down," Blumenthal replied.

The last of the signees, a stout fellow who identified himself as "Stan," leveraged his position for maximum face time, handing Blumenthal a sheet of loose leaf paper on which calculations were drawn. These equations, Stan promised, came from the best government sources, and if Blumenthal would take the time to review, he would see that an 8 percent excise tax on the top line would easily replace all income taxes and still support Social Security and Medicare.

Blumenthal skimmed happily through the paper. Stan continued, backing up his claims with numbers. Blumenthal's flack came to the rescue with a stack of display copies for the author to sign. "Do you mind if I sign these?" Blumenthal asked Stan.

"Not at all," said Stan, "But there's more. How are they going to continue collecting an income tax when it's up to 49 percent?" A side conversation began over Blumenthal's schedule, which, it turned out, was quite tightly planned. Stan waited patiently. "There's more," he continued after a pause. "This plan would allow everybody to put aside 15 percent for retirement, if they so choose."

"I think there will be a lot of plans, like yours, as Social Security comes under pressure," Blumenthal offered.

"But what I'm saying is, take this document, look it up," said Stan.

"I will."

"But there's more. You know, the 16th Amendment was never ratified, and I have the documents to prove it. So this excise tax could prevent an upheaval that could be the death of the country."

"Well thanks for coming by."

"But it's disturbing that corporations destroy millions of jobs—"

The flack cut in: "He's gonna be skootin' out now," she told Stan.

"Well there's more," said Stan. "I've shown this to other people in Washington, and they didn't know what to do with it. So I'm throwing it out to you…."

I realized that the quick-moving Stan had fulfilled my own ambition of waylaying Blumenthal with irritating questions. But I was not bitter. While the rest of us wallowed in Democratic Party nostalgia, Stan was out there proposing real solutions. And besides, the last thing Sidney Blumenthal needs is for me to harsh the vibe of a successful book tour.