A full four years after his presidency, it’s still astounding how much hysteria a Bill Clinton appearance can generate. At Hamilton College in November, just a week after the election, I went to hear him speak, and the scene looked like a Stones concert: hordes lined up outside the door, smoking cigarettes to keep warm; buses from points far-flung; cops and checkpoints galore. The gym was packed to capacity (4,600), and the crowd, composed largely of undergraduates with unsettled skin and ski sweaters, was getting more unruly with every passing minute. The room burst into applause for the random fellow who flipped on the light over the lectern onstage, then groaned when the former president failed to materialize after a few moments. Women began shrieking. Men began stamping their feet. There were several unsuccessful attempts at a wave.

When Clinton finally arrived—late, of course—the crowd went nuts. There were howling, metronomic affirmations of his attractiveness (“Yeah, Bubba! Yeah, Bubba!”). But after the thunderous standing ovation, after the yelps and whoops died down, what his audience was left listening to was a rather conciliatory speech. He threw some red meat to the crowd—“every day, the United States of America borrows money from the central banks of China and Japan to cover my tax cut”—but he also gave Bush his due, noting his policies toward Israel have been “pretty good.” He even said the results of the last election were encouraging because so many people showed up to vote.

It wasn’t the speech many in the crowd had been expecting. Kerry had just lost the election, and Oneida County, Hamilton’s home turf, had gone to George W. Bush. Caroline Lewis, a young creative-writing professor, summed it up best. “I kind of wish I’d heard some anger,” she said. “Just a little. An edge. I almost forgot who I was watching. It was like Carter was up there. An elder statesman.”

Hillary really is the preeminent Clinton now. Bill’s still in the game, of course, but the dynamic has obviously shifted. She’s the one in the spotlight, looking as good as she ever has, shiny in her prime; he, on the other hand, looks as if he’s suddenly, violently capitulated to age, as if all the libidinal chaos—so central to his ambition, identity, and ultimate public unraveling—has drained right out of him. He still keeps a preposterous schedule (last week, an emerging-issues conference in North Carolina; two weeks before, Davos), but he tires in the afternoon, and he doesn’t quite fill out his suits. Open-heart surgery is kind to no one, not even former presidents.

By most accounts, Bill and Hillary speak on the phone every day. They see each other mainly on weekends, though only when their schedules align. They recently attended a Broadway performance of Michael Frayn’s Democracy, where they received a long standing ovation; they attended the Trump wedding reception; he followed her down to Florida three weekends ago while she spoke at a seminar and did a fund-raising loop. People can speculate all they want about their marriage, but it seems safe to say that something other than Chelsea keeps it together. Maybe it’s a shared affection and obsession with politics and policy-making; maybe it’s the fact that their lives are so utterly bizarre that they’re the only ones who can truly relate to each other. But to suggest that their marriage is solely one of political convenience seems to miss something essential about their bond.

“Unless someone can push you off the stage, you’re on the stage. No one has pushed her off. is anyone even capable?”
—John Breaux, Former Senator (D)

Most people assume that Bill Clinton, because he’s Bill Clinton, still has his grubby mitts in every political pie. And that’s partially true; his political instincts will never desert him. During this last election, Ickes recalls getting frustrated phone calls from Clinton, who’d tell him about ads he’d heard on black radio in Ohio. “They’re talking about gay marriage,” he’d fret. “We have to respond.” (And sure enough, Bush got 16 percent of the black vote in Ohio—an unusually high number for a Republican.) During the DNC race, people went nuts attempting to discern traces of behind-the-scenes machinations: James Carville had lunch with Wesley Clark and asked if he’d be interested in running the DNC—was that the work of the Clintons?

But the truth is, there’s only so much politicking Clinton can do, because to do so would erode the majesty of his position. Most of his public talks focus on sweeping themes: How the barons of this century will be the builders of a new energy economy, the way the barons of the last made their fortunes in petroleum. How important it is that everyone have access to clean water. How inescapable we all are from one another in an age of global interdependence. He’s also busy running his foundation—fighting AIDS, encouraging urban renewal. And he’s just accepted a job as the special U.N. envoy to regions devastated by the tsunami.

“Nobody will ever admit this,” says Ickes, “but people resent being called and told what to do and say. Like, let’s say someone’s in the middle of the fray: Harry Reid or Nancy Pelosi or any of the congressional leaders. And Bill Clinton calls. Their immediate reaction is: Great, he’ll have a lot to say. But there’s also a subliminal reaction: He’s not in the mix here. I’m in the mix. I know the pressures and the nuances. There’s a time-distance problem.”

Of all people, Ickes should know about this. Just days after our conversation, he endorsed Howard Dean for chairman of the Democratic National Committee, something he never would have done without the tacit approval of the Clintons. (And there are ancillary benefits: Dean’s aggressive antiwar posturing will only make Hillary’s hawkish voting record look moderate by comparison.)

“Bill Clinton has no bigger fish to fry than the overall welfare of this country,” says Ickes. “But he’s no longer president. So while I think he talks to a lot of Democratic leaders on a regular basis, ultimately, they have to be the vehicles, not him. Mrs. Clinton is a different kettle of fish. She’s the one to watch in terms of articulation.”