Peacerunner

by Penn Rhodeen

  For his part, Morrison found Clinton splendidly responsive:

  He related to Northern Ireland because of his own civil rights background in Arkansas, so there was a natural affinity for the issue. But Arkansas politics are racial, not ethnic. So it was new, but “quick study” and “Bill Clinton” are synonymous. All these pieces immediately came together in his head, so it did not take much for him to take all this stuff on board.

  Clinton’s former press secretary Mike McCurry saw Morrison’s analysis as having been tailor-made for Clinton: “The argument that would resonate with Clinton would be the one that worked at all of those levels: You can do the right thing, you can do the historic thing, and it’s good politics.”

  As the race for the nomination unfolded, Morrison focused his efforts on the New York primary in April. That contest wasn’t typically crucial because it came relatively late in the season, when the nomination was largely settled. But 1992 was different: The whole campaign had been a wild roller-coaster ride, and not just among Democrats battling one another. Texas computer tycoon Ross Perot had mounted a third-party campaign that constantly stirred everything up, and more than a few pundits thought he might actually win a three-way race. Clinton’s Gennifer Flowers scandal had threatened to destroy his campaign, but by April he was getting traction for his economic policies. It was becoming increasingly clear that the voters wanted the economy to get better, and if they thought Clinton could do that, they didn’t care about the personal stuff.

  It was essential for Clinton to win New York because his strongest rival, former California governor Jerry Brown, had beaten him in Connecticut just the week before and also looked strong for the Wisconsin primary, scheduled on the same day as New York’s. Although Clinton was already well ahead in delegates, many observers knew there could still be a point at which his personal issues and controversies took hold and derailed his candidacy. Victories by Brown in both New York and Wisconsin could trigger that fatal spiral. Clinton was well aware that he was at a perilous moment:

  It made everybody think, that “We have a chance to derail him in New York.” I think after we won on St. Patrick’s Day in Michigan and Illinois it would have been difficult for them to stop us. But the outcome in New York was by no means assured. If they had a play, New York was it.

  I knew perfectly well that all the people in the Democratic party who didn’t want me to be the nominee thought New York was their last chance to stop me, because it’s big and complicated and they could portray me as some hayseed from Arkansas.

  A Clinton win in New York would put him solidly in the lead for the nomination, and the state’s large Irish American vote could well be the key to that victory. Morrison understood this well:

  The Clinton campaign was already focused on Reagan Democrats, of which the Irish are the largest ethnic group. But the campaign’s emphasis was on social and economic policy positions that applied to all of the ethnic groups making up the Reagan Democrats. The extra thing that we added during this time was the substantive one that mattered to the Irish: Northern Ireland. And in the end, that made all the difference in the way the campaign developed, and even more so in the way the presidency developed afterward.

  Morrison knew exactly what pledges on Northern Ireland would help Clinton get the Irish vote, and he knew that Clinton had to make them at the candidate’s forum sponsored by New York’s leading Irish American politicians and activists at the Sheraton Hotel in Manhattan on the Sunday night before the primary. This was the perfect opportunity for Clinton to show that Irish Americans should support him as the best hope for a new American policy.

  Morrison was developing a comprehensive political strategy to make the most of Clinton’s receptivity on Northern Ireland, a strategy that, if things went well, would play out over a span of years. It was a plan he would have to keep to himself, revealing it piecemeal as circumstances required, since the main vehicle for its execution would be none other than the president of the United States. But the Irish American Forum was a key occasion for him to get going with a critical phase of his strategy. Making sure that he crossed paths with Clinton at a Connecticut fund-raiser a week before the forum was a key tactic.

  Presidential campaigns—and, for that matter, presidencies— invariably involve elaborate choreography. Morrison knew how that worked, and he was able to engineer one last connection with Clinton before the Irish forum:

  I figured out where he would go when he left the stage and just positioned myself there to say hello to him, to give him a letter that would explain what I could do to help him in Irish America. The letter was about how his friendship with me would be very valuable to him in the New York forum because of the respect I had, having done the Morrison Visas. I wrote that it would help him to say that we were friends and that he should stress his commitment to Irish immigration. I told him that the issues important to Irish America very much included Northern Ireland and that it was very important for him, substantively and politically, to focus on that.

  After that encounter, Morrison was confident that Clinton understood what mattered most to those attending the forum. High on the list of changes the Irish Americans wanted was for the United States to get directly involved in helping to resolve the conflict by sending an American peace envoy to Northern Ireland. They also wanted the United States to give Sinn Féin president Gerry Adams an American visa, despite his reputed terrorist involvement, so that he could appear in person in front of Irish Americans to make his case for moving the IRA to a political path, as well as acquiring increased credibility on the international stage. In addition, nearly all wanted more immigration opportunities for the Irish and for the United States to support economic development in Northern Ireland. Many supported the McBride Principles, which tied American investment in Northern Ireland to progress on human rights, just as the Sullivan Principles had done with respect to investment in South Africa. These issues weren’t new to Democratic presidential politics: The idea of a peace envoy had been promised as far back as Jimmy Carter and support for the Adams visa followed in the ’80s. Since neither had yet been delivered, the expectations moved to the 1992 candidates.

  Morrison knew how important it would be for Clinton to make himself heard on this entire group of issues, since each of them was important to a strong constituency within Irish America. As he thought it through, it struck him that this was a lot like putting together the coalition for his 1990 immigration bill: Everybody in Irish America would hear hopeful words about something important to them personally when Clinton spoke about Northern Ireland. Making this happen was a central pillar of Morrison’s overall strategy for moving the United States, through Clinton, into playing a key role in ending the warfare in Northern Ireland.

  Mike McCurry, who became White House press secretary in 1995, stresses how unusual it was for a candidate like Clinton to dive so wholeheartedly into an issue like Northern Ireland:

  If you’re the governor of a small state like Arkansas and you’re running for president, the number one criticism that usually comes at you when it comes to foreign policy is that you have no experience in dealing in global matters. So the tendency is to not say anything that’s going to sound naïve or like you’re not up to speed and not to take risks when it comes to making pronouncements. You pretty much stick to whatever the orthodoxy that reflects, in most cases, the current positions of the US government. You don’t try to rock the boat at all. But that isn’t the story here. I think Morrison was the one who guided Clinton to an understanding that there was a political opportunity there, as well as a substantive one.

  By the Sunday of the forum, with the crucial primary just two days away, Morrison felt confident that Clinton was where he needed to be on Northern Ireland. In addition to Morrison’s input, New York City finance commissioner Carol O’Cleireacain had been dispatched by Clinton’s New York campaign manager Harold Ickes to give him a last-minute briefing for the forum. She and her Irish husband, Seamus, assured Clinton t
hat positive changes really were happening in Northern Ireland and encouraged him to commit to an independent American policy there. Clinton himself felt ready for the forum:

  When they set the meeting up, I thought it was a must-do, and Bruce convinced me it was a must-do. The Irish vote was a factor: New York had notoriously low turnout, so a hardcore group of committed Irish voters could make a difference. So I was interested in the forum—I thought politically it was important, and Morrison had set it up so it looked like it was. He at least convinced me that if those people in that room were for me that I would get a hell of a vote in the Democratic primary.

  Clinton triumphed at the forum. When longtime Noraid stalwart Martin Galvin asked the hottest question—would he give Gerry Adams a visa to come to the United States to make his case?—Clinton without hesitation said he would. He added that he thought it would be “totally harmless to our national security interests” and that “it might be enlightening to the political debate in this country about the issues in Ireland.” In response to other questions, he said he would send an American peace envoy to Northern Ireland and made it clear that he was on board with Irish America’s support of the McBride Principles and economic initiatives in the north. He wasn’t asked about immigration, but because Morrison had primed him so well, he brought it up himself at the end and got warm applause when he said he was a friend of Bruce Morrison’s. When Jerry Brown arrived after midnight and said many of the same things—but didn’t mention immigration or Bruce Morrison—it was too late: Bill Clinton had already won the hearts of New York’s Irish Americans.

  In the aftermath of that long night, Clinton recognized that not everyone in his campaign was going to be happy with the pledges he’d made. “I’m sure there were people who didn’t want me to go [to the forum] because they were afraid I’d do what I did.” Clinton has no doubts about doing exactly what he did: “I just know that when I look back on the ‘92 campaign, I think one of the most consequential things that happened was that Irish meeting.” He has never forgotten Morrison’s role: “I depended on him to basically prep me for the meeting.”

  For his part, Morrison didn’t feel the need to go into New York on Sunday night for the forum itself, which he knew was likely to run very late. He felt confident that Clinton was prepared and would handle it well, and, besides, his wife was eight and a half months pregnant with their son. Very soon Morrison, adopted at birth, was going to meet a blood relative for the first time. He wanted to do all he could for Clinton, but this was the time to be at home.

  Clinton won New York by huge margin and Wisconsin by a narrow one. He was well on his way to the nomination. So far, so good for Morison and O’Dowd’s plan.

  Morrison and Clinton next met in June at a major Manhattan fund-raiser for ethnic constituencies. Morrison had been heavily involved in the creation and promotion of the event, and Clinton greeted him warmly. As they spoke, Morrison was startled to notice that the candidate was wearing a bulletproof vest under his shirt. Things were really changing—Morrison remembers that that was probably the last time he called him Bill.

  There was every reason to feel hopeful that a major shift in American policy toward Northern Ireland was coming—provided, of course, that Clinton could get past one remaining hurdle: He had to beat a sitting president, something that had been done only three times in the twentieth century. That was the rub, and many influential and wealthy Irish Americans were holding back their financial support because, as much as they appreciated Clinton’s promises, they didn’t see any way he could beat Bush.

  So the challenges Morrison and O’Dowd faced in getting Irish American support for Clinton continued. There was a real danger that if Clinton did win but the Irish vote came in short, he would feel less bound by his promises. Morrison was determined to do everything he could to build the kind of support that would make it undeniably clear to Clinton that his promises on Northern Ireland had paid off at the polls.

  As the summer progressed, the Clinton campaign got itself a top foreign-policy advisor: Nancy Soderberg, a member of Ted Kennedy’s Senate staff and his chief advisor on Northern Ireland. Soderberg had heard about the pledges Clinton made just before the New York primary, and they didn’t make her happy. She, like Kennedy, was highly skeptical of Gerry Adams and his party’s links to the IRA. She hated IRA violence and was convinced that the best path to peace was the one espoused by John Hume, with his abhorrence of violence and emphasis on economic opportunity. For years, Hume had had a lock on influencing the Irish American political establishment on Northern Ireland policy. Although, to his great credit, Hume had pursued his dialogue with Adams, his Irish American followers tended to steer clear, many doubting that the Sinn Féin leader’s purported efforts to get the IRA on a political path were genuine.

  Despite their differences on the best approach in Northern Ireland, Soderberg and Morrison trusted and respected each other enough to speak bluntly, like two old pols. Soderberg ruefully told Morrison that if she had been on board earlier, Clinton never would have made those promises, but it was clear to Morrison that she accepted what her new boss had done and that she was willing to consider what Morrison had to say with an open mind. Her consistent availability to him, and her increasing willingness to consider that Adams might be the key to a breakthrough, made her an extraordinarily valuable ally in the efforts to get to a new American policy.

  Clinton won the Democratic nomination in mid-July. His prospects for beating Bush got a huge boost on the very day he was to give his acceptance speech, when Ross Perot, who had promised to look under the hood and fix what ails America, dropped out of the race. By the time the convention was over, Clinton, who had often been running third in the polls, now had a strong lead over Bush. “It’s the economy, stupid!” had really taken hold, and more and more voters were deciding they would be better off with Bush out and Clinton in.

  As the fall campaign flashed by in a mere two months—just a fraction of the nearly two years since Clinton’s fight for the Democratic nomination had begun—Morrison and O’Dowd redoubled their efforts to get Irish America politically and financially behind the best hope ever for a radical new American approach to Northern Ireland.

  Bush continued to enjoy the support of people who wanted the United States to keep to the British line on Northern Ireland, but those were votes he already had. The government and the party of conservative British prime minister John Major were ready and willing to do everything possible to make sure Clinton’s Northern Ireland promises never became official American policy. The Tories sent two operatives to the Bush campaign bearing absurd dirty trick ideas, including a proposal to distribute fake photographs of Bill Clinton with hippie hair waving a Vietcong flag, which the Bush campaign wisely rejected. One thing the British did do for Bush was to rummage through their passport records in hopes of confirming a rumor that Clinton had traveled to the Soviet Union while at Oxford. They came up empty on that one, and the British paid a price when Clinton got elected and made it clear, sometimes through razor-edged humor, that he was not happy about the Tory meddling. The rift complicated the early stages of developing a working relationship between the two heads of government, though years later, Clinton would take a more benign view and even find a silver lining:

  There was this rumor that when I was involved in the antiwar movement I tried to give up my American citizenship to become British or Russian or something or other. So there was all this outrage, including in my own camp at the end of the campaign, but it just didn’t bother me: I was delighted to have them barking up that tree instead of figuring out how to position President Bush in a more positive way, which was what they should have done.

  Toward the end of October, with Clinton’s prospects looking increasingly positive, Morrison wanted his promises on Northern Ireland reaffirmed in writing so he could reassure Irish American activists that it was more than just campaign chatter. Clinton agreed and had Nancy Soderberg, who was still not entirely sure it was
the right way to go, draft the letter. She made one last appeal to Morrison, arguing that the election was virtually won and there was no need to put it in writing—that both of them wanted Clinton to win and neither of them wanted him to stumble. From a professional point of view, Morrison understood her concern that it was important not to risk anything by courting controversy or picking a fight with America’s best friend, but he held his ground. He knew that Clinton had directed her to prepare the letter, and he wanted it in his hands. In the end, Soderberg did what her boss told her to do, in spirit and with full force.

  The letter reiterated most of Clinton’s controversial pledges, including the appointment of a peace envoy. The visa for Gerry Adams was not mentioned: Morrison asked that it be included, and Soderberg asked Clinton, but Clinton said no. But the letter’s blunt criticism of the British on controversial points—including collusion between British-backed security forces and Ulster paramilitaries and inadequate British opposition to job discrimination in Northern Ireland—tempered any disappointment Morrison and the Irish American activists might have felt over that omission. The greatest testament to the power of the letter came in the form of the intense British denunciation of it. “That letter made London crazy,” Morrison told Irish journalist Conor O’Clery. And certainly anything so upsetting to the British was more than good enough for the Irish Americans backing Clinton.

  For Morrison, the letter was a carefully considered building block of his overall strategy. Because it came at a time when Clinton was solidly in the lead and widely expected to win, it reassured Irish Americans that his pledges were more than the campaign promises of a candidate struggling—desperate, even—to get every vote he could. By insisting on the letter when he did, Morrison got Clinton to persuasively show Irish American activists that he was standing his ground on Northern Ireland even when there was no immediate political gain to be had, since his promises about changing American policy weren’t at that point going to have much bearing on the outcome of the election.