When the Clintons come to town

National Review, Nov 2, 1992 by Charlotte Hays

HILLARY stands by her man. In a Donna Karan pantsuit.

A stricken Chief Justice Rehnquist swears Bill in, while Hillary holds the inclusive-language edition of the Bible. But just as Bill takes the oath as the 42nd President of the United States, a pop is heard. Not to worry: it's just the button on Bill's suit. "Darn it, Hillary," says Bill into the live mike. "I told you I'm a 48 now."

In an early effort to woo the Hill, Clinton has asked wordsmith Joe Biden to write his speech. "Ask not what your country can do for you," says the President, "but what you can do for your country." Tom Oliphant of the Boston Globe, Joe Klein of Newsweek, and Sid Blumenthal of The New Republic coincidentally all file the same lead: "The torch was passed to a new generation . .. as President Bill Clinton delivered a moving, original, and poignant speech with echoes from the past . . ."

After the swearing in, Bill and Hillary set out to walk down Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House, as a tribute to the new ambassador-atlarge, Jimmy Carter. But just as they approach Bice, that monument to wretched excess of the Bush era, Bill gets winded and has to take a cab instead. But first, he stops in the restaurant for a cannoli.

Scandal of the day: Miz Virginia's first faux pas. In the indecision over Hillary's hairdo (to headband or not to headband?) and concern that Gennifer Flowers will try to gate-crash, the aide who is assigned to drive First Mother, Miz Virginia, to her morning appointment at Elizabeth Arden forgets. Miz Virginia shows up at the Inaugural Ball wearing more Maybelline than Tammy Faye Bakker, and a dress from the Gone with the Wind collection of Arkansas's classiest boutique.

Conspicuously absent: Roger Clinton. In an effort to ensure that Bad Brother Roger doesn't become Bill's Billy, the campaign team disappears him for the day.

The short goodbye: Few reporters bother to show up for the Bushes' goodbye wave on the White House lawn. An event marked by Bar's having finally dyed her hair.

Hillary's first official act as First

Lady: To declare that, henceforth, she shall be known as the Presidential Partner.

Hillary's first official act as Presidential Partner: She reveals, in a Donnie Radcliffe exclusive, that she's reverting to her old name, Hillary Rodham. "You voted for him, you got me," Hillary says.

The First Dinner Party

Bill and Hillary throw an impromptu buffet. Occasion: Leftovers from a state dinner are going to waste in the fridge. Just the gang, but James Carville is so in, he gets to bring the poor has-been Mary Matalin. Jimmy and Rosalyn get teary at first, but the mood is upbeat.

Menu: Leftover chicken enchiladas from the state dinner for Francois Mitterrand. Beans and rice. Chocolate-chip cookies and three other dessert selections, each labeled "Bill's favorite." Jugs of wine and fruit-flavored mineral waters, RC colas, and a bottle of Jack Daniels for James Carville.

Topic of conversation: Greed! "Can you believe they were right here in this very room a few short months ago?"

Highlights: Bill sings a medley of Elvis songs, climaxing in "Ain't Nothin' but a Hound Dog." Then he sits down at the piano and starts belting out some of those Baptist tunes, which, frankly, are beginning to get on the intellectuals' nerves.

Brooke Shearer Talbott, wearing one of those skimpy little silver lame numbers she's so fond of, launches into a wild lambada. Brooke can keep this up all night. Brooke's hubby nods off because it's past his 9:30 bedtime.

Things deteriorate. Hillary looks out the window and sees Bill and Mary Matalin debating in the Rose Garden. Hillary says it's time to go home.

Paybacks and Pundits

* Ultimate Insider Sidney Blumenthal, the scourge of Republicans, replaces fellow New Republic scribe Fred Barnes as Mr. Access when, in another echo from the past, Bill and Hillary pay an impromptu visit to Sid and Jackie in Tacoma Park after the Inaugural Ball. An invitation to dine with the Blumenthals becomes well worth the ride out on the red line. Meanwhile, his New Republic columns continue to help us look beyond whatever bimbo story the Republicans have dredged up this week.

* Michael Kinsley turns down Clinton's offer of the USIA directorship, opting to continue Crossfire, but finds a way to parlay the much-publicized flirtation into a huge pay raise.

* Tom Oliphant, almost rhymes with sycophant, is invited to dinner at the White House not once, but twice.

* The Newsweek fan club--Jonathan Alter, Eleanor Clift, Mark Miller, and sometimes-straying-from-the-pack-to-demonstrate-his-independence Joe Klein--all turn down top Administration jobs; they feel they can be more effective at Newsweek.

* In from the cold: Dan Rather is suddenly chic again.

* Into the cold: Ted Koppel, who can't get anyone to go on Nightline any more, thanks to those put-him-onthe-spot interviews with candidate Clinton. Nightline plummets in the ratings, and, by the end of the Clinton Administration, is booking transvestire priests.