In Crisis Mode, the West Wing Braces for Jolts

The West Wing of the White House, the nation’s most powerful office suite, is a mirror of the presidency it serves. Sometimes, in a crisis, it sparkles with intensity; sometimes it seems as placid as a summer afternoon.

These days, the elegant but crowded West Wing is a hushed and wary place--peopled by grand jury witnesses and potential witnesses, combative lawyers and innocent bystanders.

Staffers still stream into work six days a week to battle for President Clinton’s agenda, just as they did before controversy erupted around Clinton’s relationship with former intern Monica S. Lewinsky. Only now, they seem permanently braced for the next shock around the bend.

In public, most declare undying faith in their boss and cite his soaring approval ratings in polls as evidence that this crisis has abated. But in private, some of the same people acknowledge deep worries over what comes next.

“Everybody around him believes in him,” declared John D. Podesta, a deputy chief of staff who was called before the grand jury last week.

But Podesta, a reflective man, added: “I’m not telling you this is without pain.”

For some Clinton aides, the last four weeks have been a bitter ordeal. Betty Currie, the president’s secretary, was a portrait of anguish as she was compelled to testify before the grand jury investigating Clinton.

Others said they have tried to avoid watching television or discussing the allegations that Clinton had an affair with Lewinsky, then sought to get her to lie about it. “It’s just too depressing,” one middle-level staff member said.

But to a few others, the crisis has been, in an odd way, exhilarating. “I am enthusiastic,” said Jim Kennedy, who joined the White House only last month to serve as a spokesman in the president’s legal battles. “Those who head for the hills at the first sign of artillery are not going to be good allies in combat. . . . I believe the president, and I’m optimistic about it coming out all right.”

Still, even Kennedy admits to some suspense. “We’re just catching our breath until Ms. Lewinsky testifies,” he said.

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White House veterans say working in the West Wing has never been like working “on the outside.” “It’s a hothouse,” one senior Clinton advisor noted.

But these days, instead of politicians, lawyers are in charge. In a place where being “in the loop” is a career goal, some aides now give thanks that they are firmly “out of the loop.”

And a staff that began as a close-knit campaign cadre is dividing into four subcultures, all defined by their roles in the Lewinsky controversy: lawyers, warriors, hostages and bystanders.

The lawyers are in charge but largely unseen. The warriors are doing battle, sticking out their necks publicly to defend the president. The hostages came to work for Clinton under brighter circumstances but are sticking grimly by him now. And the bystanders--the largest group--are simply working on the president’s policy agenda and wishing devoutly that the Lewinsky controversy will go away.

There has been tension--inevitably. Most of Clinton’s political advisors raged initially against his lawyers’ insistence that he avoid specifics in responding to the allegations. (The lawyers won. “We are all totally in unison on the standpat, don’t-say-a-thing strategy,” one of Clinton’s top political advisors recently said.)

Some aides complained at first that Chief of Staff Erskine Bowles, a courtly businessman with little political experience, had made himself a bystander--”gone AWOL,” in one’s phrase. (They have since concluded that Bowles, who decided his most useful role was to keep the rest of the White House running, was right.)

By now, the controversy has settled into its own routine, with a regular schedule of meetings and its own little hierarchy of managers and spin doctors.

At the center are the president and First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton, two lawyers who have weathered more than their share of political tempests by refusing to cede an unnecessary inch to their enemies.

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In the first circle around the Clintons are the lawyers: David E. Kendall, their private attorney in the criminal investigation that has pitted them against independent counsel Kenneth W. Starr; Mickey Kantor, the former secretary of Commerce who came back to help the non-political Kendall in this battle; Bruce R. Lindsey, Clinton’s closest aide for two decades; and Charles F.C. Ruff, the official White House counsel.

The lawyers rarely speak in public. “It’s simpler that way,” Kantor said last week. But by virtue of attorney-client privilege, which shields them from being forced to testify before Starr’s grand jury, they are the only ones fully in the president’s confidence--”in the loop.”

Twice a day, at 8:30 a.m. and 6:45 p.m., the loop enlarges a bit: Ruff chairs a meeting in his big corner office on the West Wing’s second floor to brief the political staff on what the lawyers are willing to let them know. The political aides then chart their next moves on the president’s behalf--”not so much strategy as tactics,” said one.

The meetings include the warriors--counselor Paul Begala, Communications Director Ann Lewis, senior advisor Rahm Emanuel, Press Secretary Mike McCurry and political advisor Douglas B. Sosnik.

Also included is special advisor Sidney Blumenthal, a former journalist and reputed favorite of Mrs. Clinton’s who champions the first lady’s view that the president is a victim of a right-wing conspiracy.

Another key player, former deputy chief of staff Harold M. Ickes, advises Kantor and the Clintons from outside the White House. Ickes occasionally speaks to reporters but rarely allows himself to be quoted by name--a behind-the-scenes warrior.

Some of the warriors say it feels good to be in the fight. “Does it ever!” exclaimed Begala. The cheerfully combative Texan, who was a key player in Clinton’s 1992 presidential campaign but who fell from grace after he gave too many candid interviews, returned to the White House last year.

“I got tired of seeing my guy as America’s pinata,” he said. “It’s a little bit like a firedog. The bell rings and you’re panting.”

Emanuel, Sosnik and McCurry are in an odd position: They were all thinking of leaving the White House just before the allegations surfaced. Now they find themselves compelled to stay, out of loyalty to their beleaguered chief.

A few colleagues have jokingly called them “hostages,” but they reject the label. “While we were all contemplating leaving, in the short term we’re not going anywhere,” said one. “We have an obligation to stay and help. And it is challenging and stimulating work.”

McCurry has had to walk a painfully careful line, relating the official White House position to reporters without putting his own credibility behind it.

Asked at one news briefing whether he was “personally confident” the official version was correct, he replied: “My personal feelings are immaterial. I’m here to report on the president’s actions, his activities and the way the White House responds.”

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Another advisor said the Clintons were unhappy at first that McCurry seemed to lack fervor in defending them but have since recognized the value of maintaining his credibility. “It was hard for them to accept that initially, but I think they’ve come to understand,” he said.

Beyond these circles are dozens of other senior White House officials, led by Bowles, who have purposely stayed out of the controversy. “On Day 1, at the morning staff meeting, Erskine said the most important thing we can do for the president is to keep everything running properly . . . and he was right,” Begala said.

The administration’s ability to avoid being paralyzed by the Lewinsky problem has been critical to the president’s strong standing in the polls, aides believe.

But there remains the edgy sense that outside events could yet derail the Clintonites’ plans. And a feeling that working in the West Wing, always intense, has become even more draining.

“I think you don’t have any sense of whether it’s taking any personal toll until long after it’s over,” said one aide.