Before, During and After, Journalists Get Full Spin Cycle

The cavernous room in Hartford’s Civic Center had everything a journalist could need. Everything except the real thing.

There were phones, tables, electricity, free food, television sets (to see the debate, which was actually held half a mile from where most of the press was located) and a full supermarket of political sources waiting desperately to be interviewed about how it went and who won--even before it happened.

These were the “spinners”--Cabinet members, party leaders, campaign officials--the top political activists who have appeared increasingly over the last 12 years to “spin” the media their message.

Under a sign that said “Spin Alley” and a row of cubicles for the big television outlets, about 500 journalists moved from cluster to cluster, interviewing Labor Secretary Robert B. Reich or Republican Party Chairman Haley Barbour or the governor of Pennsylvania or a pollster from the Clinton campaign.

“It reminds me of college rush week,” said John Rutherford of NBC News. He looked out at about 20 pink laminated signs that the Clinton campaign had made up for each person authorized to “spin” the media. Harold M. Ickes, George Stephanopoulos, Education Secretary Richard W. Riley they were all there to talk to reporters, nonstop.

“This is really the media at its worst,” said Kenneth T. Walsh, White House correspondent for U.S. News & World Report. “This is all prepackaged stuff they’re spilling out. It’s all nonsense. People saw this debate. They ought to decide for themselves.”

Still, for any reporter who needed help, there was plenty of it. Although the spinning cycles have been part of debates and every other major political event since 1984, each season it has become more sophisticated, less apologetic.

“One side is lying, and the other side is being lied to,” said Michael Lewis, columnist for the New Republic. “The only thing I can figure that keeps it going is that it fills space in newspapers and TV.”

In some cases, these campaign officials are the very people that journalists have been begging to talk with for weeks. Now, here they were begging to be interviewed. In some cases, aides were trying to drum up interest, like barkers advertising their spinners.

“Would you like to interview Dan?” an aide to Agriculture Secretary Dan Glickman offered a reporter. Apparently, no one did. Glickman stood forlornly under his sign, waiting for a microphone.

During the debate, the tension felt real, even half a mile away from the Bushnell Theater. During the first 45 minutes, the press room was mostly quiet. The only sounds were the voices of the debate participants and the gentle clicking of dozens of reporters working on their portable computers.

For those in the hall, the tension was tangible, especially since the Dole campaign had put a “surprise guest” in the audience intended to rattle Clinton.

Sitting a few seats away from Hillary Rodham Clinton was Billy R. Dale, one of the officials of the White House travel office who was ousted by the Clintons. Still, it was was hard to tell whether Clinton actually recognized his former employee.

On stage, the two men and their wives seemed to be as cordial as most political opponents become after years living in the nation’s capital. Dole patted Clinton’s tie as he walked on stage, apparently giving his approval. After it was over, they shook hands gamely as did their wives.

Back in the media center, however, journalists were watching their own reality--a scene that had begun hours before the debate when officials started what they called the “prespin.”

At one point, Reich was talking about getting more jobs and job confidence to one crowd while Dole’s new advertising man, Alex Castellanos, was dishing out one-liners like a short-order cook.

As they spoke, their crowds grew, with reporters flocking like pigeons to someone tossing out good one-liners--the foodstuff of journalism.

“They’ve kept the first salesman off of TV,” Castellanos said of the Clinton campaign as Reich talked about the increase in jobs and public confidence in the economy.

Clearly the spin cycle has expanded.

Not only was there “prespin,” Clinton campaign aides even had “prerebuttal”--fact sheets passed out in advance to counter things Dole might say.

“Dole might say: The economy is ‘as dead as it’s been in the last 100 years,’ ” the “prerebuttal” said, continuing with the Clinton campaign’s version of the facts--in this case laudatory reviews of the economy from Barron’s magazine. “When that attack doesn’t work, Dole might say . . . “ the statement continued, offering another Dole quote “prerebutted” with citations from the Washington Post or the Boston Globe.]

Midway through the debate came what columnist Roger Simon has dubbed the “Simulspin”--responses from the campaigns while the debate was still going on.

In this case, about 40 minutes into the debate, Dole aides began passing out arguments against Clinton’s statements about how he would balance the budget and protect Medicare, Medicaid, education and the environment. Dole’s campaign sheet countered that the president’s policies would merely reduce the deficit to $81 billion by 2002.

And finally, the ultimate spin--the post-debate scrum that toward the end of the evening had dwindled down to a few durable activists.

By midnight, spin had worked its way down to its apotheosis--political junkies swapping one-liners, as Castellanos, who gained fame working for Sen. Jesse Helms of North Carolina could be seen talking and laughing with the Rev. Jesse Jackson.