The former president is now perhaps the most admired political figure in the country. The two of us had the good fortune to be witnesses, a quarter of a century ago, at the creation of the Clinton era. As chairman of the National Governors Association, Clinton was first among equals at a conference of local and state officials, American and Italian, who gathered in Florence in the early autumn of to compare notes on shared problems.
The conference stretched over several days in the shadow of the Medici Palace and other matchless landmarks of art and architecture. In that comfortable setting we first witnessed the capacities of Governor Clinton and his wife, Hillary, two very different people who yet seemed to us knit in an extraordinary, and unbreakable, partnership. It may now be time to share a few intimate memories that afford an unusual vantage into what the Clintons were like, close up, in private settings.
Bill Clinton came bounding up to me in the airport in New York like an overeager puppy dog, as politicians sometimes did while my husband was writing a nationally syndicated column.
Since I identified myself as a moderate Republicanβa Howard BakerβLincoln Republican from east TennesseeβI was not likely to be swept off my feet by the attractive Democratic governor from Arkansas.
As I soon discovered, Bill Clinton has a preternatural ability to sense mood and read body language. To protect themselves, they learn early to read the environment. Seeing my stone face, he quickly adjusted. With that brief mention, Clinton vanished from my radar until the day Jane and I were waiting in the departure lounge at JFK to board our flight to Rome. I had been invited to Florence by Ed Grace, the organizer of the conference, whose business it was to arrange useful encounters between Americans and Italians.
