Away From the Cameras

Holly Bailey — Mon, 25 Jun 2007 23:44:05 GMT

Fred Thompson has a gift for knowing just what to say to anyone, in any situation. In 1998, when Thompson was a Republican senator and a single man about town, New York socialite Georgette Mosbacher invited him to accompany her on an overseas trip. Thompson couldn't go, and summoned the full measure of his Tennessee charm in letting her down. "I am sitting here with a long face and broken heart as I contemplate sunsets on the Mediterranean, which I will not see," he wrote to Mosbacher on his official Senate stationery. "We must remember the unspoken vow that all United States senators take upon entering the Senate: I shall have no money, and I shall have no fun. I, of course regarding myself as an unconquerable soul, am still determined to break the second part of that vow."

The Monica Lewinsky scandal was dominating Washington that year and Thompson, like every other Republican, was critical of Bill Clinton in public. But away from the cameras, he quietly reached out to the president in a letter sent through Clinton's chief of staff. "If the President is going to have any good cigars left over," he relayed to Clinton, who had once sent him a stogie, "in the spirit of bipartisanship I might be willing to help him out."

Intimate correspondence like this usually doesn't see light until long after a politician is dead and gone, or at least done with politics for good. Thompson apparently believed he had forever traded Washington for Hollywood when he agreed to put his eight years of Senate records, including personal correspondence, in a public archive at the University of Tennessee. The papers, which have gone largely unnoticed, offer an unusual glimpse at his life as a Washington fixture, and clues about how he might lead as a president—hints that might not please conservative voters who are intrigued by him but who know little about him.

Charismatic and down to earth, a baritone with an LBJ-like command of his large frame, Thompson was a natural leader in the Senate. Now some Republicans, underwhelmed with the current lineup of 2008 contenders, have latched onto him as something of a political messiah, a latter-day Ronald Reagan who can lead their party out of the wilderness. In the latest Los Angeles Times/Bloomberg poll, Thompson, who isn't officially running yet, came in a close second behind the current leader, Rudy Giuliani—and beat everyone, including Giuliani, among self-described "religious right" voters. "Fred Thompson is a Southern-fried Reagan," says the Southern Baptist Convention's Richard Land. "He has the same appeal."

Hundreds Of Boxes. Thousands Of Revealing Documents And Still Nothing That Can Explain 'Curly Sue'

Holly Bailey — Tue, 19 Jun 2007 18:15:52 GMT

Fred Thompson once joked with reporters that he's an "open book," and he wasn't kidding. Unlike many prominent former senators--Al Gore, John Edwards, Bill Frist--Thompson put his eight years of Senate records up for public review two years ago. The collection, on file at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, includes more than 400 boxes of personal letters, campaign memos, photographs and internal-strategy files on everything from his investigation into Bill Clinton's 1996 fund-raising to dealings with reporters. As NEWSWEEK reported this week, there are plenty of documents about politics and policy, some that GOP voters might not like.

And then there's the interesting stuff.

Example No. 1: in files related to Thompson's personal biography, your Gaggler found an official U.S. Senate "memorandum" on Thompson's clothing sizes, apparently jotted down by a very dutiful staff member. Now there's been some confusion lately over exactly how tall the former senator turned actor is. USA Today, for example, reports Thompson is 6 feet 6 inches, but columnist Robert Novak measured him in a recent column at 6 feet 7 inches. Sadly, his Senate files don't clear up the mystery, but the undated memo does reveal that back during his Senate days, Thompson's shoe size was a 13a. He wore a 48XL jacket and had a 40-inch waist. His arms were 36 inches long, and he wore pants with a 32- inch inseam. In other words, he's a BIG guy and would be one of the biggest presidents ever. (Abraham Lincoln was just 6 feet 4 inches and, while his memo on clothing sizes hasn't turned up, he appeared supermodel skinny in his official photographs.)

But your Gaggler's favorite part of the Thompson files are his letters--boxes and boxes of them. The files include dozens of thank you notes Thompson wrote to fellow senators for gifts they gave him, like the "cream of wheat" he received from Conrad Burns and the Alaskan salmon Frank Murkowski bestowed upon him. In 2001, Thompson wrote fellow Sen. Wayne Allard to thank him for giving him a lambskin rug. It's a typed letter, but at the bottom, Thompson added a handwritten note: "I'll think of you when I wear it!" Thompson sent joking memos to fellow Sens. Joe Lieberman and Chuck Grassley, admonishing them for eating his stash of Goo Goo Clusters, a slab of chocolately goodness perhaps most famous for its commercials during the Grand Ole Opry. In 1995, Thompson's staff sent a letter to Rep. Jack Kingston, who had forwarded Thompson a friend's audition tape in hopes that he'd pass it on to his then-girlfriend, country star Lorrie Morgan. "As a general rule, the senator does not give tapes to Ms. Lorrie Morgan," the letter says.

There are even notes from Thompson to journalists and vice versa, including letters from NBC's Tim Russert, CBS's Dan Rather and CNN's Wolf Blitzer asking for interviews. But CNN's Larry King was clearly the most persistent, sending Thompson three notes in spring 1997 begging for an interview about his campaign-finance investigation. "I realize you are preparing for very important hearings," King wrote. "However, the country is anxious to know you better! Please join me soon!" (In fairness, your Gaggler must mention Thompson also archived a November 1997 letter from NEWSWEEK's then-Washington bureau chief Ann McDaniel, inviting the senator to sit down with her and other reporters. He agreed two months later, but according to a Thompson's staffer note on the letter, the magazine was too busy with the Monica Lewinsky scandal and canceled. Our bad!)

In November 1997, the Washington Post's Bob Woodward wrote Thompson to apologize personally for a line in a story he wrote that said his campaign-finance hearings were "running out of steam without producing many tangible results." Woodward wrote that the "construction of the sentence" implied that those were his thoughts, when in fact they were the words of a Justice Department official. "There, at times, has been mention of eating crow," Woodward wrote. "I want to eat a full plate. (I only wish it were warmer.)"

In 2001, New York Times columnist William Safire wrote Thompson to ask what he had meant when he said "the ox is in the ditch" when it comes to postal reform. "Once again, you remind me that the rest of the country doesn't necessarily use the same phrases as a country boy from Tennessee," Thompson replied, confessing he'd actually never seen an ox in a ditch--or frankly, an ox. "As usual, I have no idea where this comes from. All I know is that when the ox is in the ditch, it is a very serious matter--very serious. A big ox, a small ditch, a big load and a hot day--well, you can see the problem."

The Gaggle : The Thompson Files

Away From the Cameras

Hundreds Of Boxes. Thousands Of Revealing Documents And Still Nothing That Can Explain 'Curly Sue'