Read All Too Human: A Political Education for Free Online

big shot, or at least felt like one.
    “Be smart,” Kirk said. “You've got one of the top jobs in Congress. Why throw it away? Stick with Dick. If you really want to work in the campaign, wait until after the convention.”
    This was a kind voice of reason and prudence, but I was restless and willing to gamble. Although waiting to work for the nominee was a safe bet, the sooner I signed up with a candidate, the closer I'd be to the center of the action. And for someone like me, with more ambition than actual campaign experience, it was an ideal time to be looking for work. Like the top tier of potential candidates who had already announced that they wouldn't challenge Bush — Gephardt, and Senators Bill Bradley, Jay Rockefeller, and Al Gore — most top staffers were sitting this one out. They had upended their lives for two losing campaigns in a row, and they weren't going down that road again for an effort that appeared hopeless. The best jobs were still open.
    I met Kerrey and Clinton on the same day in September 1991. It was a sunny Friday morning, and I walked to the Senate side of the Hill from my office in the Capitol aware that whatever happened that day could start a chain of events that would change my life.
    Kerrey was announcing the next Monday. My “interview” was an invitation to join the prep for his post-announcement press conference — a “murder board” in which staffers played reporter and peppered the boss with all the tough questions he could expect to hear. I joined Kerrey's core team on the sofa across from his desk. The senator waved an offhand hello, and we began, with me trying to ask questions that were challenging enough to be useful but not so harsh as to seem hostile. After all, I didn't even know the guy. But I liked what I saw.
    Later in the meeting, Kerrey started reading aloud a draft of his announcement speech, which closed with a quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian who was executed for plotting to assassinate Hitler.
Nice: Bonhoeffer — the noble martyr willing to dirty his hands and sacrifice his life for a righteous cause
. The me that had studied Bonhoeffer's
Ethics
and admired his moral heroism was captivated. Then my internal political twin kicked in, reminding me that quoting a German minister on the subject of sacrifice might not be the ideal way to open a campaign for the hearts and minds of middle-class Americans who already felt squeezed. It would appear obscure at best, condescending at worst.
    There was also something vaguely unsettling about the atmosphere in Kerrey's office. Staffers always defer to senators, but as Kerrey spoke to us from behind his enormous desk, I noticed a slow nodding of heads that suggested that the words Kerrey spoke were deeper than your average political talk — that the senator's terse replies were political koans. A cool but unmistakably messianic zeal hummed just below the surface of the Kerrey campaign.
    I wasn't immune to it, and had I joined his team, I probably would have succumbed to it. But after the meeting, when I met with Kerrey's campaign manager to discuss the logistics of a possible job, she was distracted and slightly dismissive, unsure how I'd fit into their top-heavy hierarchy. As the interview crept on, I felt more like the son of a big contributor seeking an internship than a political pro applying for a top job. When I said I would appreciate a quick decision because I needed to give Gephardt notice, she looked at me and said: “You have to understand something. This is about a cause, not a career.”
    I was beginning to figure that out.
    The Clinton meeting was at the town-house office of Stan Greenberg, a former Yale professor turned pollster who had signed on with Clinton. I didn't know what to expect but had plenty of time to wonder, because Clinton was late. When he walked into the room with Stan and Mark Gearan, I got the full treatment.
    Bulky and butter-cheeked, Clinton looked like an