Rattling around a big house in Chappaqua, N.Y., with his wife in Washington, his faithful dog Buddy deceased and his presidential powers only a memory, Bill Clinton has had plenty of time to think about what he wants to do next. Last week, he sat down with executives at NBC to discuss one way he might avoid spending his life watching daytime TV: spending his life making daytime TV.
The meeting was set up to consider the possibility of the former president hosting a talk show, supposedly for up to $50 million a year, with the hope of becoming the next Oprah Winfrey.
Even for the onetime leader of the free world, it’s pretty ambitious to dream of matching Oprah’s popularity. But Clinton is not exactly a novice on the tube. During the 1992 campaign, he went on “60 Minutes” to address rumors of his philandering and played the saxophone on Arsenio Hall’s late-night talk show. He developed a rapport with voters in innovative candidate forums where he resembled no one so much as Phil Donahue.
The first thing that comes to mind about a Bill Clinton talk show is that he won’t need any guests. Clinton is an indefatigable talker on a variety of subjects, from golf to the Earned Income Tax Credit. Top White House aides often got calls in the wee hours from a wide-awake president eager to share his thoughts about some matter that couldn’t wait.
It’s safe to assume that the morning headlines and the policies of his successor will provide Bubba with enough fuel to yak for hours. Guests will just get in the way.
In all fairness, though, Clinton is also a famously attentive listener. During a 1992 debate, after President Bush had fumbled over a question from a woman voter concerned about the effects of a sluggish economy, Clinton didn’t make a speech. Instead, as Joe Klein recalls in his recent biography, “The Natural,” “he did something quite extraordinary. He took three steps toward the woman and asked her, `Tell me how it’s affected you again?’ ” Concludes Klein: “The presidential campaign was, in effect, over.”
Of course, what viewers might most like to hear is the whole story of his fling with Monica Lewinsky and its aftermath. But to do that justice, Clinton wouldn’t need a talk show. He’d need his own soap opera.
