Dear President Clinton,

I'm sorry I wrote that thing about you on the bulletin board at Bob Kerrey's campaign headquarters during the New Hampshire primary in 1992.

Truth is, I had no business being in anyone's campaign headquarters at that point in my life. I was not at all politically active, or even politically interested in those days. My friend Matt, who was, had been volunteering for Kerrey that winter, and dragged a carload of us up from our college in Connecticut to pitch in the final weekend before the vote. Poor judgment on his part.

While Matt was assigned to more important jobs, or perhaps just ones that required a more presentable demeanor, Will, Todd, Carter and I made cold calls from the phone bank in the dreary Manchester office, hiding warm cans of Milwaukee's Best between our legs and sneaking outside every few minutes to smoke bowls by a dumpster. (Jesus-those cold calls. "Hi! Do you have a minute? I'd like to talk to you about why I'm supporting Bob Kerry for president." That's like a hundred more people I should be apologizing to.)

I'm afraid we were not very productive. Rather, we found our fun in trying to crack each other up, or do something to sabotage Matt's political future in his absence, or shock and embarrass any of the earnest young Democrats unfortunate enough to be trapped inside a building with us.

One of the walls in the phone bank room had been covered in paper and turned into a bulletin board where staffers and volunteers hung banners and pinned pictures and wrote messages to rally the troops. "Keep up the fight!" "Latest poll has Kerrey gaining among undecideds!" Stuff like that. I decided to get in on the rah-rah spirit and add something of my own.

That was poor judgment on my part. What I wrote was very silly. I believe I used the phrase "compromising positions." I know I used the phrase "underage girls." And it was not true. (Not to the best of my knowledge, anyway). You were the front-runner at the time (or maybe it was Paul Tsongas?) and the Gennifer Flowers story was the talk of the town. I didn't know what was true or not. I didn't care. I just thought the folks at Kerry H.Q. might enjoy a little topical humor at the competition's expense.

They didn't, if it makes you feel any better. A while after I returned to my seat next to Carter, someone in charge came in, having been alerted to the presence of my note, and angrily asked who'd done it. It must have been fairly obvious from our giggling. "There's press around," she said, crossing out the words with a heavy black marker. "Don't be stupid."

Turned out, of course, you were a really good president. And seeing as how you wound up in such hot water for certain transgressions that hewed uncomfortably close to those I fabricated that day in 1992, and how Kenneth Starr put your personal business out there in that report for everyone to in the world to read, well: I don't much like the thought of my sharing tactics with Kenneth Starr. That guy's a jerk.

Sincerely,

Dave

Dave Bry is an editor at a music magazine. He lives in New York City with his wife and his kid. Here is a link to the Starr report! Here is commentary on the Starr report that you should read!

Previously:
· Dear Girl From California
· Dear Robert Sean Leonard