The Pardons' Tale
by Sam Handlin

Early in the pardon controversy, before the wildfires had spread much beyond the Marc Rich case, Bill Clinton wrapped up an interview outside his new Chappaqua, N.Y. digs with a remarkable moment of candor.

Shrugging his shoulders and giving a familiar grin, the former president said "that's politics" and headed for shelter.

That kind of honesty, and its attendant ambiguity, was nowhere to be seen on Thursday when the House Government Reform Committee opened hearings in earnest with a salvo of questions for former Clinton aides Beth Nolan, Bruce Lindsey, Mark Quinn and John Podesta. With the committee focused on finding a smoking gun and the witnesses intent on denying any wrongdoing, the whole affair, though often contentious, was conducted with a tacit premise: that the avenue of inquiry implied by Clinton's two-word synopsis would be avoided.

At this stage in the game, that both sides should see — or portray — the situation in black and white terms is neither surprising nor all that interesting. But what the investigation seems bound to turn up, that the dirt of politics is widespread and tinted in shades of gray, has intriguing ramifications for George Bush and his oft-repeated resolve to change how politics are conducted inside the Beltway.

The current media consensus holds that Bush would rather see the affair disappear so that he and his plans for the country can take center stage. But though the distraction of Pardongate may prove a short-term annoyance, the larger problem is that Bush's odes to bipartisan goodwill are contingent on an obfuscation of how other things really work in the capital. And as the pardon investigation continues and voices become more shrill, Clinton's supporters may be tempted to rely on one tact that he took in his New York Times editorial — exoneration by comparison.

Naturally, the obvious target for defensive fingerpointing is Bush, Sr. and his own pardon activities. Though such talk will likely turn into a game of "who's worse," the truly interesting aspect of the last two presidents' respective pardon records is their remarkable similarity.

Start with an easy one — take the case of Carlos Vignali, the drug dealer Clinton set free who happened to have a father well connected in California and national politics. Bush gave his own get-out-of-jail-free card to Aslam Adam, a Pakistani drug runner serving 55 years in North Carolina for possession of over a million dollars in heroin.

Investigations in the early '90s by The Charlotte Observer and Rolling Stone found that Adam's pardon was opposed by state law enforcement authorities but heavily backed by Jessie Helms. The staunch drug warrior naturally denied any wrongdoing, and maintained that his close contact with Pakistani leaders while on the Senate Foreign Affairs Committee played no role in his support.

That Clinton helped others to whom he was indebted, either personally or financially, seems without question. But Bush gave some deference to good old boys himself. His last flurry of pardons included five Texas businessmen convicted of various white collar crimes. The most notable was Edwin Cox, Jr., busted for securing an $80 million dollar loan with fake collateral.

On the board of the bank from which Cox borrowed sat his father Edwin Cox Sr., a powerful Texas agribusinessman for whom Southern Methodist University's business school is named. The Coxes have opened their wallets for numerous business-friendly Texas politicians over the years — Phil Gramm, Kay Bailey Hutchison, Lloyd Bentsen — and both contributed to the younger Bush's presidential campaign.

The central pardonee in the current controversy, though, has not one but two analogues. Much of the righteousness that colors the condemnations of the Rich pardon centers upon his circumvention of an embargo with Iran. Selling oil to the Ayatollah for personal profit might be wrong, but supplying the Iranians with weapons in order to fund a guerilla war is a much greater offense. But such moral compunctions didn't stop Bush from putting a Christmas Eve pardon under Caspar Weinberger's tree. The pardon nixed Weinberger's upcoming trial, during which it was widely speculated evidence might come to light tying Ronald Reagan and Bush to the scandal. If Clinton compromised principle to free Rich, then Bush did the same to save a friend — and perhaps himself.

Rich's case is complicated by his ex-wife's enormous political contributions, which, on a rather depressing note, didn't even earn her a place on Mother Jones' list of the top 50 individual donors in the 2000 election cycle. Admittedly, nothing the Coxes have given approaches the vast largess of the nation's most controversial songwriter. But Bush had his big donors as well, and one of them — Occidental Petroleum magnate Armand Hammer — was also rewarded with a pardon. Hammer's large and illegal contributions to Richard Nixon's Committee to Re-Elect the President were forgiven.

Hammer was actively seeking a pardon — Reagan rejected his application less than a year before Bush consented. But had the oilman not succeeded on his second try, and not passed away soon afterwards, it seems rather unlikely he would not have tried again. Hammer had a long-time close relationship with the Gore family, reportedly put Al Gore, Sr. on his payroll after the senator's retirement from public service, and has been accused of previously using the elder Gore to further his business interests in Washington.

So we come full-circle; back to "that's politics," and to a conclusion that neither Dan Burton and his congressional committee nor anybody in the outgoing administration really wants to publicize. The president's straight-talking style has attracted a newfound luster in the last month, a development that has made him seem less of a corporate emmissary. To boost his approval rating, and make do on his promise to restore popular faith in politics, Bush needs to complete this makeover. But rather than merely tarring Clinton, a long pardon investigation threatens to further undermine confidence in the ways of Washington. With John McCain waiting in the wings to re-introduce campaign finance legislation, and a host of enemies eager to show that the oil doesn't fall far from the well, the new president has a lot more at stake in the pardon battle than his silence might indicate.

E-mail Sam Handlin at shandlin at earthlink dot com.