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R E C E N T L Y By Harry Jaffe Bah, humbug to deer. They're eating the shrubbery, bullying other animals and breeding like rabbits. (12/22/97) Holy alliance!
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The Pied Piper of the Clinton conspiracists - - - - - - - - page 2 of 2
When necessary, Evans-Pritchard resorts to even more questionable methods. He quotes a Little Rock funeral director named Tom Wittenberg asking, "What if there was no exit wound at all? ... I'm telling you it's possible there wasn't." By way of support, in yet another of the book's roughly 500 footnotes, Evans-Pritchard claims to have a tape recording to that effect, surreptitiously made by an unidentified Arkansas private eye. Puzzled, I phoned Wittenberg, an old friend and neighbor for more than 20 years. To my knowledge, the Tommy Wittenberg I know has never spoken to any reporter about a body entrusted to his care. Sure enough, Wittenberg insisted vehemently to me that Evans-Pritchard made the whole thing up. He not only refused to be interviewed, but told the reporter that out of personal feelings for the deceased, he'd never looked at Vince Foster's body at all. Rookie reporters and probationary cops quickly learn that anybody can say absolutely anything about anybody else. If Evans-Pritchard ever absorbed this cautionary lesson, it's one he has strived successfully to overcome. He wanders the remote and fabulous land of Arkansas like some credulous Gulliver at large among the Houyhnmhnms. (On Swift's island of philosophical talking horses, it will be recalled, no word existed for the concept of falsehood.) Evans-Pritchard treats the wild inventions of Arkansas penitentiary inmates like Holy Writ. The concluding chapter linking Foster's "murder" to Iran-contra drug dealing, to the president's alleged cocaine use, to his sexual abuse of teenage girls and to three unsolved Arkansas homicides, consists almost entirely of double and triple hearsay from two dead men. One of those men is apparently Foster himself, with whom Evans-Pritchard's source claims once to have shaken hands. "At times the moral imperatives of reportage," the author proudly announces, "require one to violate the Columbia School codex." Speaking of moral imperatives, it's time to unmask. Evans-Pritchard has designated this reviewer a "collaborator" in the Evil Clinton Empire, claiming to discern the dread hand of the White House in my Arkansas Democrat-Gazette columns. (For the record, I had no knowledge of this when I agreed to write about his book.) Oddly, he cites no particulars, not even in a footnote. He does, however, expound at modest length about articles I've written elsewhere. It turns out that our conscientious friend not only misrepresents others' work as it suits him, but, as need be, even his own. Central to Evans-Pritchard's scenario about Foster's death is an unlikely tale he first broke in the Sunday Telegraph on April 9, 1995. His sources were a pair of Arkansas state troopers named Roger Perry and Larry Patterson. I summarized Evans-Pritchard's account in what he calls the "ultraserious" New York Review of Books as follows: "Perry and Patterson ... [said] that a White House aide named Helen Dickey phoned the Arkansas Governor's Mansion hours before Foster's body was discovered in a Washington park. Supposedly Dickey told them Foster had shot himself that afternoon in a White House parking lot, which could only mean -- so deduced the Telegraph reporter, Ambrose Evans-Pritchard -- that the body had been moved and a White House cover-up begun." Based upon a U.S. Senate hearing transcript, I went on to add that "when Perry and Patterson were subpoenaed to appear before Sen. Alphonse D'Amato's Whitewater committee on February 16, 1996, they suddenly decided they didn't want to repeat that story under oath. D'Amato even apologized to Ms. Dickey for the pain and embarrassment his own credulousness ... had caused her." I continued: "It's the timing that's significant here. Because if such a phone call had, indeed, come from the White House on July 20, 1993 -- the day Foster died -- then you'd think the troopers would have mentioned it to [the American Spectator's David] Brock and the others who reported the 'Troopergate' stories five months later. But either they kept it to themselves, or the reporters did. Either way, it gives the troopers something of a credibility problem." My summary of his story incensed Evans-Pritchard. In a scathing letter in the Nov. 28, 1996, issue of the NYRB, he contended that I'd "traduce[d]" his original article, which he claimed concerned itself only with the timing of Helen Dickey's alleged call. "The article," he huffed, "did not examine the question of where Foster died ... It should have been clear to anybody reading the Telegraph that the focus of our investigation was the timeline." Evans-Pritchard also (correctly) pointed out that the troopers hadn't refused to testify before D'Amato's committee. Minority counsel Richard Ben Veniste had misspoken. What actually happened, I acknowledged in a response to his letter, was that the troopers' lawyers kept postponing their deposition until the absurdity of their story became sufficiently evident that even Republicans on the Whitewater committee no longer wished to hear it. Possibly to imply that I am indifferent to facts, Evans-Pritchard now contends that far from correcting the error, I repeated it in Harper's magazine. He cites the alleged incident as "an interesting insight into the way that consensus is manufactured in the Washington media culture." Problem is, no Harper's article of mine exists regarding the Dickey episode. As for traducing Evans-Pritchard's meaning, all that was necessary by way of response was to quote his original text. What made Dickey's alleged call significant, he'd written, was its close similarity to an erroneous Secret Service memo that night that reported that "the 'U.S. Park Police discovered the body of Vincent Foster in his car.'" Then, Evans-Pritchard asks ominously: "The memorandum was wrong, of course, or was it? When rescue workers and park police found the body ... Foster's corpse was deep inside a Washington park."
In reality, the actual Secret Service memo and the troopers' apocryphal tale aren't very similar at all. But why quibble? The point is that Evans-Pritchard's insinuation that Foster's body had been moved could hardly have been clearer. What puzzled me then was why he denied it. What amazes me now is that he's turned the tale inside-out all over again. In "The Secret Life of Bill Clinton," Evans-Pritchard couldn't be more explicit. "The hard evidence," he writes, "indicates that the crime scene was staged, period." Whether or not Foster suffered from depression, he argues, "somebody still inflicted a perforating wound on his neck, his body still levitated 700 feet into Fort Marcy Park without leaving soil residue on his shoes, and he still managed to drive to Fort Marcy Park without any car keys" (Page 226). Almost needless to say, every one of these allegations has been conclusively proved false in independent counsel Kenneth Starr's final report on the Foster suicide, reaching precisely the same conclusions as Robert Fiske did in his 1994 investigation. The Starr report disposes of the troopers' allegations about the timing of the Dickey call in a footnote, citing telephone records and the testimony of other witnesses. Oddly, Starr's sleuths neglected to interview the ultimate recipients of Dickey's message, former Gov. Jim Guy Tucker and his wife, Betty, who remember the call coming at roughly 9 p.m. in Little Rock. This accords with all the available evidence that Dickey telephoned the Governor's Mansion with the terrible news some time after 10 p.m. Washington time, more than three hours later than the two troopers claimed.
Since then, of course, the Whitewater independent counsel has
convicted Jim Guy Tucker of making a false statement on a 1986 loan
application, making him a convicted felon. Maybe that's why Starr's
investigators neglected to interview the couple -- although Betty Tucker
hasn't been charged with any crimes. Or just maybe Kenneth Starr has reasons of his own for not wishing to state plainly that so pliable a witness as Trooper Patterson, who has testified before Starr's Whitewater grand jury, lied
about so grave a matter. That's merely a suspicion, not a fact.
Nevertheless, I offer it free of charge to Evans-Pritchard. He will
know exactly what to do with it.
Gene Lyons is a columnist for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette and author of "Fools for Scandal: How the Media Invented Whitewater" (Franklin Square Press, 1996). |
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