saying why their man had won. I had three good ones in Mario Cuomo, James Carville, and Senator Bill Bradley. One of President Bush’s boosters, Charlie Black, invited the press to watch a new TV ad attacking me on the draft. The spinners could have some effect on the news stories about the debate, but those who had watched it had already formed their opinions.
I thought that, on balance, I gave the best answers in terms of specifics and arguments, but that Perot did better in presenting himself as folksy and relaxed. When Bush said Perot didn’t have government experience, Perot said the President “had a point. I don’t have any experience in running up a $4 trillion debt.” Perot had big jug ears, which were accentuated by his short crew cut. On the deficit he said,
“We’ve got to collect taxes” to eliminate it, but if anyone had a better idea, “I’m all ears.” By contrast, I was a bit tight and at times seemed almost overprepared.
The good news was that the President gained no ground. The bad news was that Perot looked credible again. In the beginning, if he rose in the polls, his support would come from genuinely undecided voters or from those leaning toward both the President and me. But I well knew that if Ross rose much above 10 percent, most of his new voters would be those who wanted change but still weren’t quite comfortable with me. The post-debate polls showed that among those who watched, a significant number now had more confidence in my ability to be President. They also showed that more than 60
percent of those who watched viewed Perot more favorably than they had before the debate. With three weeks to go, he was keeping the race unpredictable.
Two nights later, on October 13, in the vice-presidential debate in Atlanta, Al Gore clearly got the better of Dan Quayle. Perot’s running mate, retired admiral James Stockdale, was likable but a non-factor, and his performance took a little steam out of the momentum Perot had gained after the St. Louis debate. Quayle was effective in staying on message: Clinton wanted to raise taxes and Bush wouldn’t; Clinton had no character and Bush did. He repeated what, in retrospect, was one of my worst public statements. In early 1991, after the Congress authorized President Bush to attack Iraq, I was asked how I would have voted. I was for the resolution, but I answered, “I guess I would have voted with the majority if it was a close vote. But I agree with the arguments the minority made.” At the time, I hadn’t thought I would be running for President in 1992. Both Arkansas senators had voted against authorizing the war. They were my friends, and I just didn’t want to embarrass them publicly. When I entered the race, the comment looked wishy-washy and slick. Al’s strategy was to hit back briefly on Quayle’s attacks and keep talking about our positive plans for America. His best line was in response to Quayle’s support for congressional term limits, a pet cause for conservatives: “We’re fixin’ to limit one.”
Two nights later, on October 15, we had the second debate, in Richmond, Virginia. This was the one I wanted, a town hall meeting where we would be questioned by a representative group of local undecided voters.
My big worry this time was my voice. It was so bad right before the first debate that I could hardly speak above a whisper. When I had lost it during the primary, I saw a specialist in New York and got a voice coach, who taught me a set of exercises to open my throat and push the sound up through my sinus cavities. They involved humming; singing pairs of vowels, back to back, always beginning with
