Citizen Clinton Up Close

After ending all talk of being overshadowed, Bush is the alpha male now. But the incumbent can't possibly match his predecessor as a figure of fascination. While he labors intermittently on his memoirs, Clinton remains his own first edition of talent and disgrace. At 55, he's the youngest, most kinetic and intellectually alive ex-president since Teddy Roosevelt. Bitter and hopeful; the spleen and the heart. For Clinton there must always be a sequel, some testament to his boundless resiliency, some proof that even when his book is done, the story remains unfinished.

He landed hard in early 2001 after a seamy exit from office, alone in the suburbs with his dog, Buddy, and valet, Oscar, angry as hell. Words like "shocking," "tacky" and "inexcusable" were used, and those were his friends talking. Even now, Clinton cannot admit the obvious point that the Marc Rich pardon was simply wrong, insisting heatedly in his first sit-down interview about life after the presidency (following story) that he "got mugged on the way out the door."

But in recent months the rage and loneliness seem to be ebbing, his mood lifted by his fawning reception, especially abroad, and by a sense that he can still leverage his fame to do some good. Even when he's heckled, he turns it around with a transparently Clintonesque gesture, telling an Australian technology conference to "give [the heckler] a hand for speaking his mind," as the miscreant is hustled from the room.

"I've got to let a lot of it go," he exhales with a shrug. But of course he can't. What's different about him is a new willingness to give outsiders a glimpse of that tussle inside him. During his presidency, his on-the-record interviews were rehearsed beforehand with aides, and he was usually disciplined about staying on message. Now he's less defensive about being defensive. Willfully chipper, perhaps, barely hiding his hurt; but looser and less bottled up.

Clinton's not tormented, but he does seem conflicted. A torrent of rationalizations--some legit, some lame--spill out of him in monologues, especially on pardons and terrorism. Then, just when he's getting redder in the face, he counts his blessings, finds his inner optimism and pulls back. "I think being angry or resentful is totally destructive," he says, shortly after showing flashes of anger and resentment.

Of course the news last month that the eight-year, $73 million Whitewater investigation--which eventually led to impeachment--turned up no evidence of criminal wrongdoing by the Clintons confirmed all over again his contempt for prosecutors and the press (which, typically, buried the exonerating story after hyping the charges for years). Clinton hasn't the slightest doubt that he's the victim of a GOP attack machine that announced on Capitol Hill its intention to impeach him long before he gave them the Monica Lewinsky story to exploit.