Wright’s business is damage control. As Clinton’s former chief of staff when he was governor of Arkansas, she is part of the ongoing effort to deflect recent charges by two state troopers that Clinton used his security detail to aid and abet his alleged womanizing. The troopers, Larry Patterson and Roger Perry, had expected the White House to dismiss them as right-wing provocateurs. But they were unprepared for the vehemence of the counterattack. Since the story broke, their own checkered private lives have been held up for scorn. Last week they heard that state officials are exploring the possibility of prosecuting them for disclosing information acquired while on duty.
Wright’s efforts are hardly the first time she’s stamped out brush fires. Ever since Gennifer Flowers surfaced almost two years ago, Wright has taken it upon herself to contain what she calls the “bimbo eruptions” that have threatened Clinton’s career. During the campaign, she worked closely with a private detective hired to uncover negative information about Clinton’s potential accusers. She kept tabs on a number of women who had been approached by his political enemies. “She’s the real secretary of defense,” says a White House aide.
Wright hasn’t held an official post since Clinton was elected president. She has not always been in good standing with what she calls “the white boys” around him, and she was periodically banished from strategy sessions during the campaign. But she came to Washington anyway, where her Clinton contacts landed her a job with a major lobbying firm. She was back on the case two weeks ago when The American Spectator printed allegations that Clinton tried to trade government jobs for the troopers’ silence. Without checking with anyone, she insists, Wright flew to Little Rock and met with trooper Danny Ferguson and his wife. Wright persuaded Ferguson to have his lawyer issue an affidavit that cleared Clinton of suggesting any quid pro quo in discussing jobs, which would have carried criminal implications. Shortly after the Spectator article appeared, a source with high-level connections to the 1992 Clinton campaign offered NEWSWEEK detailed derogatory information about Patterson. The troopers’ lawyers believe the effort to discredit them is being orchestrated by Clinton’s inner circle. But Jeff Eller, a White House spokesman, said, “We’ve not done anything different than White Houses in the past. It’s no secret that we’ve tried to put our side on the story. You don’t stand back and take a shot to the head.”
The troopers are silenced for now, but Clinton’s political enemies may be just regrouping. Arkansas attorney Cliff Jackson, who represents Perry and Patterson, circulated an “open letter” to the president last week that, while couched as an apology for inflicting “public pain,” had menacing undertones. Referring to Clinton’s “casual willingness to deceive,” Jackson warned darkly that the presidency is at stake if Clinton doesn’t change his “fundamental nature.” Despite assertions from Jackson that he is not mounting a vendetta against his old Oxford classmate, Jackson has become Clinton’s nemesis, his Lex Luthor. “I regard him as a pest that needs to be gotten rid of,” says Wright.
Also haunting Clinton is Whitewater, a failed real-estate venture in which he and his wife became partners in 1978. Clinton finally agreed to turn over his personal files to the Justice Department, which is investigating whether money from a shaky Arkansas savings and loan was diverted to the venture. Wright is helping to track down some of the missing paperwork from her days on Clinton’s staff. “It was a nightmare the whole time I was there, how to get out of Whitewater,” she told NEWSWEEK.
The best way to get out of any sticky situation is to change the subject, which Clinton did last week. In a brand-new camouflage outfit and with a borrowed shotgun, he spent two predawn hours in 16-degree cold crouched in a duck blind on Maryland’s Eastern Shore with two congressmen who are on the board of the National Rifle Association. Animal-rights activists were furious. But Clinton had a different constituency in mind. Male bonding with hunters, his aides figured, should help to neutralize some NRA members.
While Clinton was shooting mallards, Wright did her best to shoot down rumors. “If they come up with another batch of this stuff, I’ll be there,” she vowed. “When I read lies, I can’t stand it.” Asked if the president thanked her for her efforts when they exchanged Merry Christmases by phone, she paused and laughed. “He doesn’t know whether he should or shouldn’t.” That’s how it is with damage control.
