Feature

Talking With Susan McDougal

Before she was released, Susan McDougal of Whitewater fame spoke with the OC about life in prison and the loyalty that kept her there.

In March of 1998, Tamir Kriegel conducted an exclusive interview with Susan McDougal. With her name once again in the news, and her present trial considered by many to be Kenneth Starr's last chance to expose President Clinton, his article is reprinted, in full, below.

"I'm sorry he's still not here," replied my frustrated house mate upon Susan McDougal's third phone call of the day. "Is there a number he can reach you at?"

"No silly," she said with a southern chuckle. "I'm in prison."

That's the way it is with Susan McDougal. Nobody needs to be informed that she is presently incarcerated--though sometimes we all need a little reminding as to why--but once one gets to talking with her, the tons of concrete, mangled metal, and surveillance equipment imprisoning her seem to vanish. Upon the first hello, she becomes a friend eager to share stories and opinions--which is good, because I don't know the first thing about conducting a formal interview. You see, I'm not a journalist.

The first question, then, is how an unqualified humorist from a satiric college magazine finds himself on the phone with one of the most sought after interviews in the nation. My father is a chaplain for the federal prison in Los Angeles. He counsels and consoles many of the inmates in the prison. For the duration of her stay in this prison, Susan McDougal has been visiting with my father. During one visit, my father asked her if she would grant his son an interview. The next day she called my home.

"There's a little a joke with a few of the women in here," she told me in explaining her relationship with my father. "Everyday, I announce: 'I love my Rabbi.'"

The second question, then, is how a Southern Baptist from Camden, Arkansas finds herself in weekly meetings with the prison Rabbi. The first prison she was sent to was the Twin Tower Correctional Facility, a county prison-even though she was in violation of federal law. She was very uncomfortable with what she described as a "right-wing services in the prison church."

Alone and uncomfortable in this new environment, "I had never been to prison before," she explains with a tinge of banter, she found a few Jewish women to take her around. By looking out for her, they helped fill the void that the "right-wing services" had left in spirit.

They also got her Kosher meals. In order to get Kosher meals in the prison, she had to enroll in Jewish Education. Upon being moved to the downtown federal detention center, she remained in Jewish Education and, as a result, was assigned a Rabbi.

Describing my father as "her spiritual advisor," she praised him for all the hope and help he gives the women she sends to him. The joy she draws from having a spiritual guide is equally matched by the happiness she seems to obtain from helping other women in the facility.

"The majority of the female inmates are Hispanic or Black and can't raise bail," she said. "Because they have no place to go, they are taken to the courthouse at 4 AM and have to stay there until 6 PM. At the end of the day, they are exhausted."

Mindful of a prison system filled with inequities, she dedicates much of her time in prison to helping other women. Her voice fills a great deal of pride as she lists the countless women she has assisted through difficult situations. Using her many resources and contacts, from Senators to lawyers to doctors to her own spiritual advisor, she helps women into rehabs and birth programs, provides them with legal consults and psychological evaluations, and presents them with alternative forms of medical attention. She seemed to glow as she spoke about the success these women achieve as a result of her help and can discuss their progress for hours.

When asked if she holds an official role within the prison population that invites these female inmates to call on her for help, she replied, "No. They just find me."

It's just that simple for Susan McDougal. In a time when all decisions seem to be grounded in some sort of gray area. McDougal sees an unmistakable line between right and wrong and all of her decisions are rooted in doing what is right. It is legacy she adopted from mother. Born and raised in Belgium, Susan McDougal's mother was a part of the just resistance during World War II. Her house was a safe-haven for many Jewish children hiding from the Nazis. The house hid a number of people until they found safety.

When she moved to the United States, she brought her common sense and understanding of right and wrong with her. Being fresh to America and the South in particular, she had not adopted its history and social mores. When driving a housekeeper home one day, she nearly scolded her for not sitting in the front with her. And when Susan's brother came home with a black friend, Susan's mother wondered out loud as to what everyone was looking at.

McDougal is quick to point out, though, that mores that her mother violated were more specific to time and population than they were to the area. "Segregation battles were fought early in the South," she said in defense of the area. "By the time I was in school, Arkansas' black and white populations were fully integrated."

She continued by citing population as the greatest indicator of intolerance within a city. "I've found more racism in highly populated cities," she said. "People in smaller towns are more tolerant of peculiarities because you've got to get along with everybody."

She noted that although she found more intolerance in highly populated cities, "[acceptance] comes from the family, and it matters how you're taught."

Using what she's been taught, she has managed to maintain the honor of her friends and family in the face difficult obstacles and trying situations--the most recent of which coming in the form of a bungled interview with "60 Minutes". McDougal agreed to do an interview with the show along with couple promotions for the show.

"I understood that they had to publicize the show, so we talked about several options," she said. "But when I refused to say anything negative about the President for the promotions, they canceled the interview."

Citing the importance of profit over truth in modern journalism and the media's fascination with the negative, she said, "If I had something negative to say, I would say it. It's not for me to say something that didn't happen."

She remembered an instance in which then-governor Bill Clinton informed her of the engagement of her sister Paula.

"He said, 'you know your sister is getting married,' so I called Paula and asked her how she could tell Bill before me."

She continued, "Paula said, 'but Susan, he cared so much.'" McDougal joked about the fact that among her circle of friends and family the rule in making personal announcements is: "Call Bill Clinton then tell us."

McDougal also remembered when Bill Clinton first told her about Hillary. "We were having dinner and he said that he was thinking of marrying this girl. She was different, thoughtful, not his typical cheerleader girlfriends."

McDougal explained that when she saw the look in Bill Clinton's eyes as he talked about Hillary, she knew that this was a very special lady. "Hillary was different. The way she dressed. The way she talked," she said. "Even today, you can see how they compliment each other and lean on each other for support."

The support shared among family members and spouses is very important to McDougal. On multiple instances through our conversation she tells me how much she respects my father for speaking so wonderfully about my mother. And, in a brief conversation with my mother, she conceded that she had, in fact, shed a tear at my mother's retelling of how her brother had traveled from Israel for the first time in fifteen years to surprise my mother on her birthday. At a time when loyalty, support, and honor would seem most insignificant, Susan McDougal has found a way to appreciate those traits even more by simply trusting what she believes to be good and right.

And just as I was about to end the interview with an emphatic thank you, she interjected: "Let me tell you about where I live. There is a big common space surrounded by cells. Each cell has a toilet, a sink and two beds..."

Silly me, with all of our talk over loyalty, support and honor, I forgot she was in prison.

[Ed. note: Ms. McDougal would not answer any of the questions that she refused to answer for special prosecutors... that's why she was in prison in the first place.]

Tamir Kriegel, a senior majoring in English, is managing editor of the Oregon Commentator