But something different happened. My friends – and key players like George Stephanopoulos – believed my initial fibs. I found this fairly unsettling, and a little frightening: what was I in for now? And then a lot of things began to happen very quickly. The book began to fly out of the stores. It became a VERY BIG DEAL. And attention shifted to many other suspects. Henry Kissinger was mentioned. I felt an awful twinge when former Clinton aide Paul Begala, as loyal a fellow as ever lived, was accused – but that passed in a day or so, and the book was No. 1, and there was a movie deal and the Germans wanted to publish it . . . and none of it was quite real, because I wasn’t really experiencing it. I was out covering the Republican campaign, telling my little white lies all along, speculating with friends about who might have done it, feeling uneasy.
A week before the New Hampshire primary, the roof caved in. New York Magazine hired a Vassar professor with a computer program to analyze the styles of the various suspects. It was a pretty good program. But neither the professor nor the magazine called to ask my reaction until they’d already issued a press release. The things said about me in the release and the accompanying article were insulting, inaccurate and ridiculous. I was pretty angry about it, but ready to fold. Then I began to receive strong signals, via my agent Kathy Robbins, that Random House thought the author should remain anonymous. I had made the deal on that basis. I also, by this time, truly wanted to remain anonymous. The game had changed. If I came forward now, my whole life would be different – the celebrity, the impact on my family, the fact that I’d not just be a NEWSWEEK columnist and CBS consultant anymore, I’d be That Anonymous Guy. As James Carville has said, ““When you become famous, being famous becomes your profession.’’ I didn’t want that. Oh, by the way: all this was taking place in the course of two hours. I felt trapped, stunned. I was caught between two commitments, two different ethical systems – book publishing and journalism. I must have changed my mind a dozen times. But I eventually came out in favor of keeping my commitment to the publisher and my book.
It was a tough call. A lot of colleagues believe it was the wrong one. A lot of friends do. And they have a case. But I made the decision I made – also justifiable, I believe – and will have to live with the consequences. The worst consequences stem from my adamant denials of authorship (I thought nothing less than adamant was going to suffice). Two were especially hard: on camera to my other employer, CBS (and worse, privately, to my friend Dan Rather) – and to David Von Drehle of The Washington Post, who asked if I’d stake my journalistic credibility on it. I should never have said yes. I didn’t think my journalistic credibility was at stake; my commitment as a novelist was. I should have said something clever – diverting. Anything. But I was on the spot and Von Drehle wasn’t about to let go. And we weren’t talking about a cure for AIDS here. Just a novel.
The last few months have been pretty awful, but given the book’s success, it would be fatuous to complain. Still, I was almost relieved when The Washington Post found an early manuscript with my handwriting on it. The relief was fleeting. The ensuing maelstrom was unbelievable. Not just the zoological press conference – that was to be expected. But also the endless chattering and battering and pontificating on the air about what I did. The requests for interviews. The need to spend time with all the responsible journalists doing ““think’’ pieces, to defend myself on ““Larry King,’’ to strategies about what to do next. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I kept drinking water, but felt dehydrated. It was, I realized, probably a pretty typical campaign day for Bill Clinton or Bob Dole.
Could I have handled this mind-boggling situation better? Sure. I’ve said some things I’ll probably always regret. I’m sorry and horrified that my actions have caused pain for people at NEWSWEEK. But the world really didn’t need to know who ““Anonymous’’ was. I’ve also learned this: what it’s like to live as a politician. I did it for a few hours after the New York Magazine story appeared. I did it for a few days last week. And it is impossible. It is impossible to think straight. It is very easy to screw up, and it is unrelenting. But they do it every day, and that is no way for a civilized nation to choose its leaders. Of course, this was one of the themes of ““Primary Colors’’ – but I was just imagining what it was like on the other side of the press conference. Now that I’ve lived it, I hope I’ll show a little more mercy on this page for the brave, frail fools and heroes who live our public lives. I hope you will, too.
