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TIME: Almanac 1995
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TIME Almanac 1995.iso
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03019931.000
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<text id=93TT1054>
<title>
Mar. 01, 1993: . . . And Then Came Carrot Cake
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
Mar. 01, 1993 You Say You Want a Revolution...
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
COVER STORIES, Page 20...And Then Came Carrot Cake
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By MARGARET CARLSON/WASHINGTON--With reporting by Michael Duffy/Washington
</p>
<p> Forty-eight hours after he gave one of the worst speeches of
his life, one that precipitated the biggest one-day drop in
the stock market in 16 months, President Clinton delivered one
of his best. Unlike the quickly put together 10-minute effort
from the Oval Office, the address to Congress would be worked
on in marathon sessions for two solid days.
</p>
<p> Two weeks earlier, the President had called Paul Begala, the
aide who greeted him as he emerged from the shower every morning
from New Hampshire on, and asked him to duplicate the campaign
war room at the White House, this time to sell his economic
plan to the country. One of Begala's worst moments came when
he, communications director George Stephanopoulos and Gene Sper
ling, deputy assistant for economic policy, met with the President
in the Oval Office on Tuesday evening with less than 24 hours
to go to review the latest version of the speech. Sperling,
who had barely slept since the Bush Administration, was looking
so sick that Begala moved to another couch to avoid catching
something. How, he wondered, could they meet the President's
truth-in-budgeting requirement if the key link between the wordsmiths
and the propeller heads hammering out the numbers in the Roosevelt
Room was having a near death experience?
</p>
<p> After furiously scribbling down every change Clinton wanted,
Begala and company returned to the Old Executive Office Building,
where they propped Sperling up in a soft chair and covered him
with all the jackets and scarves in sight. Throughout the night,
the slumbering economist, who had begun to resemble Franklin
Roosevelt at Yalta, would be consulted. "Hey, Gene," communications
deputy David Dreyer would shout, "how much does a surcharge
on millionaires pick up?" Sperling would mumble some number,
and they would let him go back to sleep.
</p>
<p> Meanwhile, Clinton would take his only break, grabbing his friend
from Arkansas, Harry Thomason, and heading for the residence
bowling alley. The President squeezed his size-13 feet into
the size-10 shoes left by the Bush Administration and shared
the one ball for three games until the blisters began to form.
Upstairs, amid a growing mound of coffee cups, pizza boxes from
Listrani's and burn bags filled with discarded drafts, the team
was trying to compress Clinton's huge vision for America into
a size-10 Treasury. By dawn Wednesday, there was a crisp stack
of pages on Clinton's desk to be torn apart.
</p>
<p> Begala and the team got together with the President after he
wrapped up his lunch in which he prespun the network news anchors
who would be giving instant analysis on a speech that at that
point consisted of pieces of paper scattered the length of the
table. At 2 p.m. there was little economics in the first 11
pages. The President talked through a passage about having to
play the hand you're dealt after 20 years of exploding debt.
"A big part of the job," says Begala, "is being able to take
dictation. I always remember I'm the monkey and he's the organ-grinder."
</p>
<p> By 6:30, the President came to the screening room in the residence
with time for only one run-through. The tough passages about
taxes and spending had been moved up four pages, but the President
laughed at the new ending. "I had written about `these precious
moments,'" Begala recalls, "and he says, `Paul, do you want
me to start dancing up there?'" Begala had inadvertently written
in a line from a popular song in the '70s, When Will I See You
Again. Clinton told Begala to play with the notion of CARPE
DIEM, written across a sweatshirt Begala's mother had given
him. As Clinton headed to the family quarters to shower and
change, Begala rushed to the word processor outside scheduler
Nancy Hernreich's office to fiddle with language about seizing
the day, decipher Clinton's marginal notes and find a numbers
person. So many people were crowded into this cubicle--speechwriter
David Kusnet, Stephanopoulos, the crew from the war room who
had not left the compound since Sunday--that it looked like
the Marx Brothers' stateroom in A Night at the Opera. Hillary
Clinton was reworking some of the jargon in the middle of the
speech with economic adviser Robert Rubin. The motorcade was
forming on the South Lawn.
</p>
<p> By the time the computer disk was ready to be hand-carried to
Capitol Hill, where it would be fed into the TelePrompTer, Clinton
had already climbed into the limo with Hillary. They reconciled
the penultimate draft with Begala's last attempt at a conclusion
as they rode to the Capitol. Begala got into the van with Stephanopoulos,
grateful that Clinton is always his own best speechwriter.
</p>
<p> About a quarter of Clinton's address was improvised, including
the ad-libbed aside to snickering Republicans who doubted his
estimated deficit numbers. The meal with the anchors paid off,
as to a man, they praised the performance in the postgame analysis.
Afterward, in the cloakroom, the President allowed himself a
quiet, "Pretty good, wasn't it?"
</p>
<p> Back at the White House, the President hollered for Begala to
gather "the kids," as Clinton refers to his thirtysomething
gaggle of aides, and come up to the solarium for a party. By
11:30 p.m. Mrs. Clinton had said goodnight to Chelsea and joined
the group. The carrot cake with cream-cheese frosting was all
gone, and cherry pie had magically taken its place, like so
much that happens in the White House. The President invited
Begala to join him in the screening room for a movie, but in
the interest of sleeping and getting packed for the road show
that was to start in the morning, he declined. Not so Hillary.
Well after midnight, the President grabbed her, and they headed
off to watch a rerun on C-Span of the hours-old hit everyone
in the country was talking about.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>