January 17, 1998 - When A Website Shook The White House

The newsroom at Newsweek throbbed with low voices, rustling papers, and the glow of outdated computer monitors. Evan Marshall, junior reporter and unofficial caffeine addict, stared blankly at the breaking headline on his screen:

“DRUDGE REPORT: CLINTON/LEWINSKY SCANDAL BROKE — NEWSWEEK SPIKED STORY.”

His pulse slammed in his ears.

No. No, no, no.

He reread the headline. Then the paragraph beneath it.
It was all there. Everything he’d spent weeks digging into—President Bill Clinton, the rumored relationship with a former White House intern Monica Lewinsky, the late-night phone calls, the gifts exchanged, even the allegation that Clinton had encouraged her to lie under oath in the Paula Jones case.

Drudge had splashed it all over the internet like a digital bomb.

Footsteps thundered behind him. Marla Green, his editor, materialized in a blur of burgundy blazer and fury.

“Tell me you’ve seen this,” she snapped, waving a printed copy of the Drudge post.

“I saw it ten seconds ago,” Evan whispered. “Marla… he published everything. The whole thing.”

“No,” she said sharply, leaning over the screen. “Not everything. Just enough to make us look like clowns.”

She jabbed her finger at the accusation: NEWSWEEK SPiked STORY.

“He’s implying we buried it. That we killed the biggest presidential scandal since Watergate to protect Clinton.”

Evan swallowed hard. “But that’s not what happened. We needed corroboration. Linda Tripp gave us plenty of hints, but none of it was usable—”

“Nuance,” Marla said bitterly, “is dead. Today, the internet kills nuance.

A phone began ringing. Then another. Then a dozen more.
The newsroom transformed from steady buzz to chaos.

Producers, editors, reporters—everyone scrambling.

Marla planted her hands on Evan’s desk. “We need context. Fast. We need to explain what we know before the public assumes we’re part of the cover-up.”

Evan nodded quickly. “Here’s what we have confirmed: Monica Lewinsky, age twenty-four, former White House intern. She told Tripp she had an intimate relationship with the President—”

“Alleged,” Marla corrected, though her eyes told another story.

“—and she said they met in the Oval Office, sometimes late at night.” Evan continued.
“We also know Lewinsky was transferred to the Pentagon in ’96. That’s where she told coworkers she was still seeing him.”

“Good,” Marla said. “Now bring in the Paula Jones case. Explain how Lewinsky was listed as a potential witness.”

Evan typed rapidly. “She allegedly told Tripp that Clinton asked her to deny the relationship if questioned under oath.”

Marla nodded grimly. “And now Kenneth Starr”—she said the name like it tasted sour—“wants everything. Lewinsky, the tapes, the testimony. The whole mess.”

The newsroom TVs flickered with live chatter from cable news anchors tripping over half-formed sentences.

“Look at that,” Marla muttered. “They’re parroting Drudge like gospel.”

Marla’s private line began ringing—a sharp, insistent sound.
She froze.

“That’s the White House number,” she whispered.

Evan’s heart shot into his throat.

She picked up slowly. “Marla Green.”

She listened, lips pressed tight, nodding occasionally.

Finally, she covered the receiver and whispered, “They want to know what we’re planning to publish tonight.”

Evan stared at her. “Do we answer? Or stall?”

Marla’s eyes hardened.
“We answer honestly. We’re printing the truth.”

She lifted the phone again.
“Yes,” she said coolly. “We will be publishing our own verified report. Not speculation.”
Pause.
“Yes, it will include details on the alleged relationship and the potential obstruction of justice claims.”

Evan watched her face—the calm over the storm.

She hung up and exhaled shakily. “They’re nervous.”

“I would be too,” Evan murmured.

Marla leaned over Evan’s shoulder. “Okay, write. Every fact we can stand behind, every detail we know is solid.”

Evan’s fingers flew.

“Sources confirm that Monica Lewinsky, a former White House intern, told a coworker she had an intimate relationship with President Clinton beginning in 1995…”

He continued:

“…including accounts of private meetings in the Oval Office and the exchange of personal gifts.”

Marla nodded. “Add the dress.”

“The blue dress?” he asked, startled. “We don’t know if it exists.”

“We know Lewinsky told Tripp it does,” Marla said quietly. “A dress she claims she never dry-cleaned. A dress Tripp says may contain evidence.”

Evan shivered. “This is going to blow up the country.”

“History tends to do that,” Marla replied.

By midnight, they had a complete draft—clean, verified, and as airtight as journalism could be in the middle of a political hurricane.

Marla placed a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “You did good, Evan.”

He exhaled. “Too bad it wasn’t first.”

She gave a small, tired smile. “Our job isn’t to be first. It’s to be right.”

He nodded, though the frustration lingered.

She continued, “Tonight, we take ownership of our work. Drudge broke the rumor. We break the story.”

The newsroom hummed around them—half panic, half pride, all history.

Outside, Washington slept uneasily.
Inside, the truth was alive, sharp, and ready to print.

And for the first time since the headline appeared, Evan felt steady.

He hadn’t lost the story after all.
He had just begun it.

-

At 12:47 a.m., Marla gave the final nod. The publishing team moved like surgeons—precise, silent, working on a patient with the nation’s pulse.

“Three… two… one…” an editor whispered.

CLICK.

The Newsweek report went live.

A ripple passed through the newsroom. Not cheers, not applause—something quieter, heavier. The gravity of history taking shape.

Marla leaned on Evan’s desk. “Now we wait.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For the country to wake up.”

This time, the calls carried a different tone.

Reporters from The New York Times, The Washington Post, L.A. Times, Time Magazine, and even international outlets flooded the lines:

“Is it true the President asked her to deny the relationship?”
“Can you confirm the phone logs?”
“Did Lewinsky say the meetings took place in the Oval Office or the private study?”
“Do you have evidence of Starr’s involvement before the leak?”

Evan answered one after another, repeating carefully crafted phrases:

“Our report is based on confirmed interviews.”
“We do not speculate.”
“Please refer to the published piece for verified details.”

Between calls, he scribbled notes. His notebook looked like a battlefield—chaotic lines, arrows, circled names, timestamps.

Marla barked across the room, “Keep everything. Every question, every call. Starr’s team will want timelines.”

“Why?” Evan asked.

“Because,” she said, “when a scandal hits Washington, it’s not just about what happened. It’s about who knew what, and when.”

A fax machine screeched to life.

A staffer tore the sheet off and ran it to Marla.

She skimmed it, eyebrows rising.
“It’s Starr,” she said. “He’s praising our ‘commitment to truth.’”

Evan stared. “He liked our reporting?”

“He likes anything that moves his investigation forward,” Marla said flatly.
“He’s wanted Lewinsky for weeks.”

“What does it say?” Evan asked.

Marla read aloud:
“‘We appreciate the seriousness with which Newsweek pursued this matter. We look forward to clarity in the days ahead.’”

Evan frowned. “That sounds like a warning.”

“It is,” Marla replied. “He’s telling the public he’s ready. And telling the White House he’s coming.”

Reporters on White House duty began calling in updates every few minutes:

“The communications director is awake.”
“Secret Service lights on.”
“Lawyers are gathering.”
“There may be a statement at dawn.”

Evan felt the adrenaline wearing thin, replaced by a thudding exhaustion.
He hadn’t eaten since noon. His coffee was cold and bitter.

Marla walked over with a granola bar and tossed it onto his desk.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“Don’t thank me,” she said. “You’re about to need your strength.”

“Why?”

She pointed to the newsroom TVs.

Every major network now had his article on screen—with phrases highlighted:

“Oval Office meetings.”
“Phone calls at all hours.”
“Encouragement to deny allegations under oath.”

He felt both proud and nauseous.

“This is surreal,” he whispered.
“I wrote that five hours ago. Now it’s national news.”

“That,” Marla said, “is history.”

By 6:20 a.m., sunlight began to tint the edges of the newsroom windows.
Outside, commuters were starting their day—coffee in hand, radios on, unaware of the political earthquake beneath their feet.

Inside, Evan and Marla were watching the President’s spokesperson step up to a podium.

“Here we go,” Marla muttered.

The spokesperson took a shaky breath.

“At this time, the White House categorically denies any improper relationship between President Clinton and Ms. Lewinsky…”

Reporters shouted:

“Did he ask her to lie?”
“Was Kenneth Starr investigating before today’s reports?”
“Will the President address the nation?”

“No further comment at this time,” the spokesperson said, retreating quickly.

Evan leaned back in his chair. “They’re not ready.”

“They’ll have to get ready fast,” Marla replied.

By 7 a.m., senior executives were on the floor.

One of them, a tall, stoic man with a navy suit and eyes like polished steel, approached Marla and Evan.

“I want to be clear,” he said. “You saved us tonight. Drudge beat us on the leak, but you delivered the journalism.”

Marla nodded. “Thank you.”

He turned to Evan. “Son, how long have you been here?”

“Eleven months,” Evan said nervously.

“Well, congratulations. You just helped publish the story of the decade.”

He walked away, leaving Evan staring after him.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Evan whispered.

“That’s normal,” Marla said. “Big stories have side effects.”

Just as the newsroom began calming, another editor rushed toward them with a printout.

“You both need to see this.”

The paper showed a new Drudge headline:

“LEWINSKY TO TESTIFY — SOURCES SAY TRIPP TURNED OVER TAPES TO STARR.”

Evan blinked. “He got more?”

Marla’s jaw tightened. “He’s not stopping. And neither can we.”

“He’s acting like a one-man newswire,” Evan said.

“He’s acting like someone who doesn’t have to follow rules,” Marla corrected.
“We do.”

She turned to Evan.

“Get back to your notes. We need a follow-up story. The real one.”

Evan sat down, flipping through his notebook, listening again to the overnight recordings he had made from earlier interviews—Tripp’s exact phrasing, the timeline of Lewinsky’s alleged confessions, details about the subpoena.

Every line now mattered more.

And as he wrote, he realized something:

This wasn’t just a scoop.
This wasn’t just a scandal.

This was a turning point.
For journalism.
For Washington.
For the presidency.

He whispered to himself, “This is only the beginning.”

Marla, passing by, added quietly:

“And you’re in the middle of it, kid.”

Historical Synopsis

On January 17, 1998, internet commentator Matt Drudge, founder of the online newsletter The Drudge Report, publicly broke the first report of what would become the Clinton–Lewinsky scandal. Drudge published a headline stating that Newsweek had declined to run a story alleging a sexual relationship between President Bill Clinton and former White House intern Monica Lewinsky. The post claimed that Newsweek had “spiked" the piece, implying that the magazine intentionally withheld politically sensitive information.

Drudge’s report included details drawn from recordings made by Linda Tripp, a Pentagon employee who had secretly taped conversations with Lewinsky describing an alleged sexual relationship with the President. The tapes were already in the possession of Independent Counsel Kenneth Starr, who was investigating Clinton for unrelated matters connected to the Whitewater inquiry. Drudge’s publication effectively forced the scandal into the public sphere before traditional media had completed their verification process.

The leak marked a pivotal moment in American journalism: it demonstrated the rising power of online, non-traditional media outlets able to publish information instantly—unbound by the editorial standards of legacy news organizations. The story rapidly escalated into a national controversy, eventually contributing to President Clinton’s impeachment by the House of Representatives in December 1998.

^{This story is based on documented historical records and contemporaneous accounts}

Works Cited

Harris, John F. The Survivor: Bill Clinton in the White House. Random House, 2005.

Leopold, Jason. “How the Drudge Report Changed the Landscape of Journalism.” The Huffington Post, 17 Jan. 2013, www.huffpost.com/entry/drudge-report-journalism_b_2495872.

Schmidt, Susan, and Michael Isikoff. Truth at Any Cost: Ken Starr and the Unmaking of Bill Clinton. HarperCollins, 2000.

Woodward, Bob, and Susan Schmidt. “Starr Probes Clinton on Sex Allegations.” The Washington Post, 21 Jan. 1998, pp. A1–A10.