By Robert Parry
September 1992 was a grim time for the Republican Party. George Bush's re-election, which
only a year earlier seemed assured by his Persian Gulf victory, was in grave danger. Over
the summer, Bill Clinton and his bus tours had built a double-digit lead. President Bush
was struggling to explain why he wanted a second term.
As the election clock ticked down, Bush's operatives saw little hope unless they could
find a "silver bullet," a Clinton scandal so vile that it would take out the
Comeback Kid once and for all. In mid-September, that possibility arose with rumors of a
nearly treasonous act by Clinton, that as a young anti-Vietnam War activist and Rhodes
scholar, the Democratic nominee had tried to renounce his American citizenship. Senior
Republicans seemed untroubled by the fact that there was no evidence to support this ugly
smear.
This "renunciation" story began to take shape on July 30, 1992, when Michael
Hedges, a reporter for the right-wing Washington Times, submitted a Freedom of Information
Act request to the FBI. The FOIA sought FBI records on Clinton's anti-war activities in
the 1960s and 1970s. The FOIA fit with the vague rumors that had circulated for months
that Clinton had tried to gain citizenship from another country to avoid the draft.
In early September 1992, Hedges approached his friend, David Tell, to request help from
the Bush administration for an expedited search of Clinton's files. Tell, a young
Republican activist, was director of Opposition Research at the Bush re-election campaign.
In that position, Tell headed the division that dug up dirt on opponents, a dark art known
in political circles as "oppo." Already, Tell had investigated a number of
rumors about Clinton and even probed the work record of Clinton's mother when she was a
nurse in Louisiana.
On Sept. 16, 1992, Tell typed a memo about Hedges's FOIA request and took it to Bush's
campaign manager Fred Malek. With Malek's blessing, Tell sent the memo to Robert Teeter,
chairman of the Bush re-election campaign. Teeter, in turn, passed on the gist of Tell's
memo to the so-called "core group" of top White House officials and campaign
insiders who jointly were coordinating President Bush's re-election strategy.
The political potential of the renunciation rumor didn't escape James Baker, then-White
House chief of staff. Baker, a smooth-talking Texas lawyer and a Bush confidante, knew the
story would revive doubts about Clinton's fitness for office.
Though highly regarded in Washington for his political acumen, Baker had left
footprints through some of the nastier electoral games of the era. He was a chief suspect
in the theft of President Carter's debate briefing book in 1980. Baker had run the
mean-spirited Bush campaign in 1988, when false rumors were spread about Michael Dukakis's
mental health and the Willie Horton race card was played. Baker personified the
winning-is-everything school of politics.
So, after the "core group" meeting on Sept. 16, 1992, Baker discussed the
Washington Times's FOIA request with his top aides, Janet Mullins and Margaret Tutwiler.
Baker then personally took the issue to White House legal counsel C. Boyden Gray, another
Bush loyalist. Gray recalled that Baker wanted to know if the White House could speed up
the FBI response to the FOIA on "this alleged renunciation or proposed renunciation
of citizenship."
The excitement over this possible "silver bullet" was energizing others, too, in
the senior echelon of the Bush administration. Gray contacted Timothy Flanigan, assistant
attorney general for the Office of Legal Counsel at the Justice Department. The two
officials hashed over the possibilities.
Flanigan advised Gray that the FBI likely would rebuff any pressure to speed up the FOIA
request -- and that release of such personal material would violate the Privacy Act. Gray
then mused that perhaps someone could examine Clinton's passport files on national
security grounds. That would be hard, Flanigan explained, because Clinton already had
national security clearances.
On Sept. 25, 1992, little more than a month before the Nov. 3 election, Baker was back on
the phone to one of Gray's deputies, John Schmitz. Baker was pressing for an answer on the
FOIA question. At 6:08 that evening, according to Baker's notes, Gray called Baker back.
Gray passed on the bad news that expedited handling of the FOIA wouldn't fly. Baker then
gave Gray more details about the suspicion that Clinton had written a letter while at
Oxford asking how he could renounce his country and become a British citizen.
"Holy Cow, maybe I'd better take another look at it," Gray responded, according
to Baker's memo to the file. In the same memo, Baker wrote to himself that he was asking
Gray to do nothing that was not "completely legal." For his part, Gray said he
recalled using a word other than "cow."
While Gray re-examined the prospects of pushing the FBI, Baker turned his attention to
similar FOIAs submitted by journalists at the State Department. Baker instructed his aide,
Janet Mullins, to ask Steven Berry, assistant secretary of state for legislative affairs,
about progress on those inquiries. Mullins talked to Berry before Sept. 30, according to
their recollections.
Then, on Sept. 30, amid the frenzied search for the "silver bullet," Elizabeth
Tamposi, another assistant secretary of state, sent three of her subordinates to the
federal records center in Suitland, Maryland, to search Clinton's passport files. In a
later press interview, Tamposi would assert that she ordered the search after Berry had
pressured her to "dig up dirt on Clinton" for the Bush White House.
The search, however, found no letter renouncing citizenship. All the State Department
officials discovered was a passport application with staple holes and a slight tear in the
corner. Though the tear was easily explained by the routine practice of stapling a photo,
money order or routing slip to the application, the Bush administration sleuths were not
easily discouraged.
Tamposi seized on the ripped page to justify a new suspicion, that a Clinton ally at the
State Department had removed the renunciation letter. Tamposi shaped that bizarre
possibility into a criminal referral which was forwarded to the Justice Department. Thin
as the case might be, the Bush re-election effort now had its official action that meant
they could elevate the renunciation rumor into a public issue.
Within hours of the criminal referral, someone from the Bush camp leaked word about the
confidential FBI investigation to reporters at Newsweek magazine. The Newsweek reporters
involved, especially Margaret Warner, had very close ties to Baker's inner circle, dating
back to Baker's years as secretary of state.
The Newsweek story about the tampering investigation hit the newsstands on Oct. 4, 1992.
The article suggested that a Clinton backer might have removed incriminating material from
Clinton's passport file, precisely the spin that the Bush people wanted. Immediately, Bush
took the offensive, using the frenzy over the tampering story to attack Clinton's
patriotism on a variety of fronts, including his student trip to Moscow in 1970.
With his patriotism challenged, Clinton saw his once-formidable lead shrink. Quickly, a
panicked Clinton campaign sought help from a seasoned political hand, R. Spencer Oliver,
who was then chief counsel on the House Foreign Affairs Committee. (Oliver was a veteran
of GOP electoral shenanigans. In 1972, his phone at Democratic national headquarters was
one of those bugged by Richard Nixon's Watergate burglars.)
Oliver dispatched his own team to the State Department to examine what was behind the
mysterious passport criminal referral. When Oliver learned that the evidence consisted
only of staple holes, he blew the whistle on what looked like another GOP dirty trick.
Within days, the FBI, too, rejected the tampering suspicion. The passport gambit backfired
on the Bush campaign.
Though little noted by political reporters who covered the 1992 campaign, the outcome of
the passport case was a key factor in ending the 12-year Reagan-Bush reign. The fiasco
hobbled Bush during his planned sprint to the election finish line and blocked the Bush
campaign's hopes to exploit another conveniently timed criminal referral -- over Clinton's
Whitewater real estate investment. Clinton hung on to win the election.
After Bush's defeat, Baker grew depressed, blaming himself for the passport disaster and
the re-election loss. On Nov. 20, 1992, at 10:30 a.m., a despondent Baker visited Bush.
"Jim Baker came in here ... deeply disturbed and read to me a long letter of
resignation all because of this stupid passport situation," Bush wrote in his diary.
But Bush rejected Baker's offer to resign.
At the urging of the State Department's inspector general, the passport case also prompted
the appointment of a special prosecutor. But the conservative-dominated three-judge panel
that picks special prosecutors named a trusted Republican, Joseph diGenova, to head the
probe.
Also luckily for the Bush legacy, diGenova was hiring staff in early 1993 just as the
House October Surprise task force was disbanding. Despite strong evidence to the contrary,
that task force had cleared William Casey, George Bush and other Republicans of
long-standing allegations that they had interfered with President Carter's negotiations to
free 52 American hostages in Iran.
As reported in the first eight issues of The Consortium, the task force reached its
conclusion by constructing bogus alibis for Casey, applying irrational arguments and
hiding evidence pointing to Republican guilt. DiGenova snapped up six veterans of the
October Surprise staff, including deputy independent counsel Michael Zeldin, who had
served in the Reagan-Bush Justice Department, and associate independent counsel David
Laufman, who had worked for the CIA.
DiGenova's team went to work explaining away the obviously criminal acts involved in the
passport case. Though Clinton's privacy rights had been violated and the leaking of a
confidential criminal referral was a felony, diGenova said he could not figure out who had
committed the misdeeds. So he constructed elaborate rationales to clear all the
Republicans of any wrongdoing.
Indeed, the government official who came under diGenova's sharpest criticism was the State
Department's Inspector General Sherman Funk -- for demanding the investigation in the
first place. The diGenova team castigated Funk for "a woefully inadequate
understanding of the facts and a blithely naive view of the job responsibilities at the
State Department."
Later, one senior Clinton administration official reviewed the whitewashing of the October
Surprise issue and similar handling of the passport case. The official shook his head in
disgust. "They're the cleaners," he said about the investigative team, a
reference to ruthless intelligence experts who are brought onto the scene of a botched
operation to clean up the incriminating evidence.
Return to Consortium Main Menu.