It’s a rarity to find a biography that reads like a novel, but Maraniss comes as close to that as you ever are going to. I’m not sure if it was the subject matter, or the firsthand accounts, or the effortless narration (probably all three), but First In His Class is inherently readable, with all the dramatic tension and highs and lows of a gripping story, with a compelling character, one who was full of contradictions — “considerate and calculating, easygoing and ambitious, mediator and predator.”
“With Bill CLinton, it is often tempting, but usually misleading, to try to separate the good from the bad, to say that the part of him that is indecisive, too eager to please and prone to deception, is more revealing of the inner man than the part of him that is indefatigable, intelligent, empathetic, and self-deprecating. They co-exist.”
Starting with Clinton’s memorable experience shaking the hand of JFK at Boys Nation, the book presents us with a boy eager to achieve the eight of the political world, carried by his boyish energy and ambition.
We’re then brought back in time to Clinton’s humble beginnings, born to a single mother whose husband died three months before Bill was born, and then being raised between Hope and Hot Springs, in the presence of a violent drunk, his stepfather Roger Clinton.
A talented student, who never shied away from his Southern heritage, he went to Georgetown to get to the center of the political universe: “The Georgetown years established that Clinton was first in his class in terms of political will and skill, and yet people could sometimes tire of him.”
Running for various student government posts and working for his Arkansas senator, Sen. Fulbright, whose critical views of the Vietnam War helped shape Clinton’s own: “His opposition remained a conviction, not activist, rooted in the documents he read at the foreign relations committee and in the arguments of Chairman Fulbright.”
His raw academic and political talent eventually landed him a Rhodes Scholarship, which sent him to Oxford and opened up a whole new world of international perspectives, while surroinding himself with equally ambitious classmates. Still, despite the antiwar fervor that swept the country and Oxford, Clinton stayed on relative moderate ground, while wrestling tirelessly over his draft status back in the States.
As students ceaselessly debating the motives and morals of the war, and how they would each dodge their draft numbers, a melancholy spread over Clinton, one that was especially potent given Clinton’s political aspirations.
He didn’t want to dodge the draft, given how that would make him look as a candidate, but he also didn’t want to fight in a war in which he was morally opposed: “His friends knew that he had invested too much time, hope, and ambition in his political future to abandon it by resisting… he believed in rules and he succeeded with them.”
That torment eventually led to countless phone calls and conversations, of allies back home pulling strings to eventually get him into an ROTC program at the University of Arkansas Law School, a situation that would defer his draft, but also lock him into a law school he had no interest in.
Still, Clinton managed to avoid the draft and avoid going to law school, returning to Oxford for a second year after the draft number system was established, and Clinton pulled a high number, and after Clinton then reentered the draft — a somewhat messy affair that would come back to harm him later, as opponents called him a draft dodger. The whole affair showed how Clinton “played the draft like a chess player and withdrew his deferment only when he thought it was safe to do so.”
Clinton continued to surround himself with the brightest of his generation when he entered Yale Law School, which “answered his every need: political, academic, social, and personal.” He worked on another senate race, this one for Connecticut and learn more about the faction of party politics, notably how to hold together competing forces in the Democratic Party, and also how to champion social change without alienating the vast American middle class.
Yale was also where he met Hillary Rodham, his intellectual equal if vastly different in personality and makeup: “Her focused intellect was also a perfect counterpoint to his restless, diffuse mind, and made her a superior law student… What set Rodham apart was her combination of social commitment and pragmatism.”
Put another way: “Clinton was soft and engaging, eager to charm the judge and jury and make witnesses feel comfortable, pouting when a ruling went the other way. Rodham was clear and all business.”
This relationship is central to much of the second half of the book, when, despite Clinton’s reputation as a lady chaser, and his well-documented affairs with many women, even when married, he maintained that Hillary was the only woman he wanted to marry.
“He might not be faithful, but together they could be faithful to their larger mission in life and achieve things beyond their individual reach.”
Though the book isn’t about Hillary, it does dedicate quite a few pages to her background, political ideology and evolution, and her tough decision to move to Arkansas and clash somewhat with the Southern culture, while forgoing opportunities in bigger cities. But staying by Clinton created its own opportunities.
“As a political advisor and pro bono public servant, she was devoting her time and intellect to the betterment of the state. Her motives always seemed practical — she was looking for solutions — but there was also a sanctimonious aspect to it that tended to blind her and her husband to the appearances of what they were doing. Clinton considered her the ethical pillar of their partnership.”
The Yale years were followed by working as Texas coordinators for McGovern’s failed presidential campaign, showcasing Clinton’s ability again to read personalities and adapt depending on the personalities of the people he was dealing with and establishing a network to enlarge his own political base.
That was followed by a homecoming to Arknsas, teaching law at the University of Arkansas, and whose laidback, easygoing style made him a student favorite. The state was always central to Clinton’s political rise and symbolic of the man’s powerful desire to move beyond his provincial roots (which probably explains his eagerness to run for Congress right after moving there).
After losing that race, Clinton became a governor in waiting of sorts: having made his name in his Congressional campaign, he was marked as a star on the rise, and soon became attorney general and eventually the country’s youngest governor in forty years.
This led to an overly ambitious first term of governor, of a kid in a candy store who wanted to do it all, from creating new departments in energy and economic development to revamping the rural healthcare system to reorganizing school districts to reordering the education system.
It also led to one of his first political blunders: raising the annual car licensing fees to build and improve roads. And it made him enemies with some of the high-powered lobbying interests, including the timber lobby, who was clear-cutting lands across the state, posing an environmental problem, but also providing the state with a reliable economic engine.
It put him in an uncomfortable exposition: “He was fighting his own emotions related to ambition and expectations…. He often seemed to be doing things because they were what someone who might be president should do… And when the public started to turn against him, it left him at a loss.”
These blunders, along with his sometimes youthful arrogance and naivety, his friendship with President Carter, a fallout over a Cuban refugee fiasco, and a general feeling of “national unease and disarray,” set the stack against him for his reelection campaign. He lost, becoming the youngest former governor in the state’s history, and putting his political future in jeopardy for maybe the first time ever.
But that loss also fueled Clinton’s ultimate rise to the national stage. He learned the importance of negative advertising, and the need to fight back. He surrounded himself with a well-oiled political machine, consolidating his network and hiring political strategists to concoct a permanent campaign, in which he would always be promoting himself and using messaging grounded in extensive public opinion polls.
He learned to ground this permanent campaign in several components: turn to idealism; never rely on the press; and merge ends and means, strategy and philosophy. In other words, “his political personality was largely unchanged: he was still restless, eclectic, intellectually hungry, eager to please. But this time he had a survival plan.”
That led to a successful run of ten years as governor, and the power to give national speeches outside of the state, fundraising for larger aspirations.
Always in his career, Maraniss argues, Clinton was balancing two competing hourglasses: his mortality as a person and his mortality as a politician. The early deaths of his father and stepfather perhaps shaped this restless energy that drove him to the top of the political mountain. But beyond that, Clinton’s boundless ambition, combined with his ever-present awareness of higher office, created maybe the last old-school politician: One who rises through the ranks of Yale Law, to Attorney General, to Governor, to President.
He was so meticulous about this ladder that he sometimes lost sight of himself: When voters turned against him, he — who was Arkansas’s wonder boy and whose chameleon-like personality helped win friends in every corner of the state — was at a loss.
And at the same time, for someone with so much boundless energy and ambition, he probably could never have accomplished this without someone like Hillary in his life, who gave him perseverance and optimism, even during the toughest political battles.
First In His Class is a gripping narrative of a complicated leader, one whose ambitious rise to power is equally compromised by his flaws as a person. The book doesn’t cover his presidency at all, but shows how Clinton’s background and personality shaped the years that followed. One of the best presidential biographies I’ve ever read.