“Who?” I asked.
“Paula White,” he said. “She wants you to go into some other position.”
“What are you talking about? What does Paula White have to do with staffing decisions?”
“Exactly!” he said.
Paula White is a televangelist and spiritual adviser to Donald Trump. Her ministry was one of six that had been investigated by the Senate Committee on Finance for improprieties; the ministries teach the controversial “prosperity gospel” that equates material wealth with Christian faith, and the ministers’ lavish spending, coupled with their churches’ tax-exempt status, raised questions. White refused to cooperate with the investigation, and no penalties were levied against her when it concluded in 2011. I’d run into Paula at the convention and she had been very nice to me, so I was shocked to hear she was trying to stab me in the back.
Why would she feel she had the authority to tell Reince not to hire me in that position? Well, Trump had given her a role as an outside adviser on matters of faith. The OPL’s portfolio included faith issues. I was an ordained minister, a military chaplain, and an unapologetic missionary Baptist. She was an evangelist. There had long been a power struggle between African American clergies and evangelists in Trumpworld. I made the logical leap that Paula White wanted an evangelical to have control over Trump’s faith agenda.
Reince had been careless to tell me about her objection and cavalier in his delivery of the news. I immediately called Pastor Darrell Scott and Michael Cohen and learned that my fears were accurate. Both affirmed, “Yes, she doesn’t want you as the head of the OPL because you’re not an evangelical.”
I was incensed. I got on the phone with Paula, and we had a heated exchange. My contributions were along the lines of “How dare you? What gives you the authority or the audacity?”
She said, “You’re misunderstanding me! I was just advising Donald that maybe you’d prefer to work in presidential personnel. Maybe you could be the head of presidential personnel? I’m only trying to be helpful.”
Her condescension oozed.
My indignation must have struck some chords, but not quite loudly enough. Reince came back to me with the title of AP and “director of communications for the Office of Public Liaison.” He argued it was so much better because I would be able to carve out my own portfolio in OPL and be an important part of the White House communications team as the spokesperson for the OPL. He said that Trump wanted me to be visible and to be free to do media when needed.
I got the AP title I had requested, but not the director of the OPL. I decided to make the best out of the situation and focus on my long list of priorities. I found out later that they were deep into negotiation with Anthony Scaramucci to be the director of the OPL at the time. This would never manifest, because Scaramucci’s business came under scrutiny during his background check. The White House ethics office discovered that a deal under which he would sell his controlling interest in SkyBridge Capital, his hedge fund network, to HNA Group, a Chinese company, was under government review, creating a potential conflict of interest for Scaramucci. (More chaos, more controversy.) Eventually, George Sifakis from the RNC became the OPL director, though he lasted less than six months.
I got in a little trouble for mentioning my appointment on Fox News on New Year’s Eve, and Reince called to say, “You can’t talk about this yet. We have to make the official announcements.” But Donald thought it was a good interview and called to tell me they had watched from Mar-a-Lago and that I had done a great job on Fox News’s New Year’s Eve Special representing the administration. Donald Trump, my audience of one.
Around the first of the year I got a call from the Presidential Inaugural Committee office asking if I could assist with the diversity outreach for the inauguration. My plate was already full, but after speaking with Tucker Davis, the new staffer assigned to the position, I really connected with him and offered to help him by sharing my extensive network of contacts I’d amassed over the years and on the Trump campaign, among other things.
Time barreled on, and we continued to scramble to get things done, like making the schedule for the inauguration events itself, with the ensuing controversies about some of the Rockettes refusing to perform, singers accepting and canceling. Every day, we had to wade through time-consuming craziness instead of filling jobs and setting policy. It was almost like we were moving backward, not forward.
The details about the inauguration ceremony were front-burnered. The PIC sent a list of to-dos to Trump Tower, and one item was Donald’s choosing a Bible to be sworn in on.
Traditionally, the president-elect would visit the National Archives with a guide and select one from the vast collection of historical Bibles that had personal meaning to him or was previously owned by someone with a shared political philosophy or worldview, or that he had an affinity for. Barack Obama, an Illinois native and a black man, chose the same Bible that Abraham Lincoln was sworn in on, as well as the traveling Bible of Martin Luther King Jr. John Quincy Adams was sworn in on a constitutional law book because that held meaning for him. George Washington was sworn in on his own Masonic Bible, which Warren G. Harding, Dwight D. Eisenhower, and George H. W. Bush had since placed their hands upon during their inauguration ceremonies. Others chose a family Bible. Ronald Reagan used his mother’s well-read and annotated Bible. JFK used the Fitzgerald family Bible.
Donald mentioned to me that he would have to make this choice, and wasn’t inspired by his options. It’s not mandatory that new presidents swear in on a Bible, but most have done so.
He asked me, “Omarosa, what do you think about me getting sworn in on The Art of the Deal?”
I said, “Instead of the Bible?”
“Yeah. The Art of the Deal is a bestseller! It’s the greatest business book of all time. It’s how I’m going to make great deals for the country. Just think how many copies I’d sell—maybe a commemorative inauguration copy?!”
“I know you’re not going to be a traditional president, but that’s just too crazy. Whatever you do, don’t repeat that idea to anybody else,” I said.
We laughed. He wanted me to believe he was kidding.
Two things to discuss here. One, Donald Trump has no knowledge of the Bible at all. It might as well be a paper brick to him. “We love the Bible. It’s the best,” he said during the campaign. “We love The Art of the Deal, but the Bible is far, far superior.” How would he know? He says he never reads the Bible. When asked, he can’t recite his favorite scripture or name the books (remember when he quoted from “two Corinthians” during the campaign?). I’m not saying the president has to be a biblical scholar, but he should be biblically aware. Since the Bible has little significance to him, it might have felt disingenuous to him to take an oath on it. But The Art of the Deal meant a lot to him. Nothing has more meaning to Donald than himself.
Also, I think that Donald—like Ivanka, who’d plugged her dress at the convention—hadn’t fully made the shift from being a salesman. He was hardwired to constantly promote Trump brands, properties (which was why he worked out of Mar-a-Lago, Bedminster, and Trump Tower during the transition), and Trump products, like beverages (Trump Winery wine flowed at the convention). Why wouldn’t he think of the inauguration itself as a branding opportunity?
Donald Trump had always been obsessed with ratings. He went on and on about how much the networks would make with that many eyeballs glued to their TVs. Historical ratings! He pondered how he could capitalize on that himself and whether it was feasible to do a pay-per-view event that would get him a piece of the action.
I was surprised to hear that Paula White was giving the invocation at the inauguration. At Bill Clinton’s 1997 inauguration, that honor went to Pastor Billy Graham. At Barack Obama’s 2009 ceremony, that honor went to Myrlie Evers-Williams, the widow of Medgar Evers, the slain civil rights leader. So why on earth would Paula White, the pastor at the New Destiny Christian Center, be given such a prominent, important platform? I
asked.
A Trump family member pulled me aside and told me to back off. When I asked why, I was told she and Trump had enjoyed a special relationship.
I was not sure what to make of this. I had certainly never heard anything that made me wonder about the nature of their relationship before (or since). But I could not stop myself from contemplating whether her position as his spiritual advisor had ever been missionary.
It was of course totally credible from his side, but I really didn’t know her well enough to know if it was from hers. In any event, once I’d been warned, I reeled it in.
I hadn’t heard the last from Paula White, though. Six months later, after Reince Priebus was fired, Paula came to the OPL offices for meetings and we had a come-to-Jesus conversation about what had gone on during the transition. She claimed that Reince didn’t want me as the director of the OPL and had lied when he’d told me Paula had intervened. She apologized in any event. And I moved on.
• • •
FOR THE INAUGURATION, the inaugural committee put my family and me at the historic Willard InterContinental hotel in a beautiful suite. The week before the inauguration, I had twisted my ankle painfully, but I was too busy to deal with it. Throughout breakfast, my foot swelled up like a balloon. I went to the medical team and got treated for what I thought was a sprained ankle. It ended up being much more serious. I had to wear a boot throughout the ceremony, and to all the balls and parties. The combination of the sprain, the fact that I didn’t take care of it by resting and putting my foot up, and chronic inflammation caused nerve damage in my foot. In December 2017, I would finally get corrective surgery, but only after I had been hobbling around the White House on crutches for months.
As assistants to the president, we were introduced one by one to the nation. I was grateful to come out of the historical tunnel with Rick Dearborn, who graciously assisted me to my seat.
During the ceremony, I sat with Rhona Graff, executive assistant to Donald Trump, a woman I’d known for nearly fifteen years. She was so important to his life; I was happy to be seated with her.
As I looked around the platform, I noticed scant diversity, just Senator Tim Scott from South Carolina, Ben Carson, and a couple of others. There should have been more; I made a vow that day to work to increase diversity in Trumpworld.
After the ceremony, as I was headed to the motorcade, I stopped to watch the Obamas’ helicopter take off. It was an emotional moment. Standing on the steps of the US Capitol, I thought about how my mom and I campaigned for then senator Obama in our home state of Ohio and now, I was witnessing the peaceful transfer of power that is the envy of the world. Obama’s departure marked the end to his presidency and the beginning of Trump’s presidency. It was cold, and I was shivering, but I was warmed with respect and gratitude for Obama’s service.
We loaded into the motorcade and headed down Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House. My fiancé and I sat in front, a row ahead of Rex Tillerson and his wife. It was my first meeting with Rex, and I liked him very much. Not a single other car was out there on Pennsylvania Avenue as we rode along with the police escorts. The street was lined with servicemen standing every five feet. It was a thrilling, one-of-a-kind experience.
Once I got inside the White House, there was a team set up to process us quickly. While I went to the Roosevelt Room to receive my ID badge, laptop, and government-issued cell phone, my mom and fiancé went into the Oval Office and had a look around. I’d also been given my office assignment, the security code on a piece of paper, and a White House complex map with my office circled in red. Loaded up with my equipment and code, the three of us followed the map from the West Wing to the Eisenhower Executive Office Building (EEOB) to my new space. The walk, which I would make many hundreds of times over the next eleven months, took about five minutes.
Along the corridors, furniture was piled up against the walls. The government department that handled moving had only had time to empty the offices of Obama-era furnishings. When we got to my new office, I used the code to enter, and was pleasantly surprised by how big it was. It might have appeared enormous because it was empty, save for the desk.
“Wow!” I said.
“Yes, wow!” my mom agreed.
My fiancé said, “Let me go into the hallway and grab a few chairs.”
While he went furniture shopping among the discards, my mother and I took a lap around the huge office, marveling at the high ceilings and the balcony overlooking Seventeenth Street and a circular park called the Ellipse.
John retrieved a beautiful desk chair and two antique chairs from outside the Public Affairs Office, which I kept for my entire time there. Since I was among the first to arrive, I got an early visit from one of the guys in charge of furnishings.
“What can I get for you?” he asked.
I’d been mentally decorating the room since I arrived, and would eventually fill it with a couch, a boardroom table with a telecom system, a coat rack behind the door, a small refrigerator and microwave, and a massive mirror over the fireplace. But that morning, I said, “I’ll need a desk lamp, a printer, a table for the printer.”
While that was going on, John had continued to poke around, and he found a sixty-inch TV abandoned in the hallway outside one of the directors’ suites. I asked the government man if we could claim it, and he said, “It’s all yours.”
This TV was giant, and it had split-screen programming built in so I could watch CNN, Fox News, MSNBC, and C-SPAN simultaneously.
The three of us sat on the chairs, but we were too giddy to stay still. We talked for a spell, and then I suddenly remembered, “The parade! I have to see the marching band!”
I was referring to the Marching Tornadoes of Talladega College—a small HBCU founded in 1867 by former slaves in Alabama. I’d helped to raise money for them to come to DC to perform at the inauguration parade, another historic tradition that starts with the president and his family walking along Pennsylvania Avenue, later followed by a procession of marching groups, bands, and military units—some on horses, some on motorcycles—while the president watches from a viewing stand. When the Marching Tornadoes were initially invited to march, many alumni protested. The college president, Dr. Billy C. Hawkins, stood by his commitment to give these students a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and said participation was not an endorsement of the president himself. But, for the 230-member band to come to DC—which most of them had never visited before—they needed $75,000 and set up a GoFundMe page. Bill O’Reilly invited Dr. Hawkins on his show, and then I appeared, too, to direct people to the GoFundMe page. Together, we were able to help them raise more than $600,000 to pay for the trip and, in addition, scholarships.
We ran from my office at the EEOB along a walkway right to the presidential viewing stand on the parade route on Pennsylvania Avenue, just in time to see the Marching Tornadoes. I was cheering and filled with pride for them. Every one of those students was like me. They’d gone to an HBCU for experience and opportunities, and because of our efforts, they were here, and standing tall. I was just so proud of their determination and resilience. Despite all the protests and forces working against their coming to DC, they’d made it. And now the eyes of the world were on them.
That evening I was honored to give the prayer at the American Legion Veterans Inaugural Ball. That night, in front of all the living Purple Heart recipients, I prayed for our county, I prayed for peace, and I prayed for my friend, the forty-fifth president of the United States, Donald J. Trump.
Chapter Eleven
* * *
Tackled by My Teammates
The first one hundred days of most modern presidencies are fast-paced, with the incoming team ready to go, still high from their victory and with the enthusiasm of the majority of Americans behind them. Trump did not receive the majority of the popular vote, and the victory was tainted by that and Russia interference doubts. The first days of the Trump presidency were defined by chaos and conflict, not surprisingly, and a bl
istering pace of executive orders, controversial tweets, and nonstop outrage from Democrats, opening with the largest, most vociferous protests of the digital era.
Trump didn’t waste any time dismantling Obama’s legacy. Hours after he was sworn in, he signed an executive order aimed at repealing the Affordable Care Act.
On day two, January 21, I returned to the White House, this time in an SUV. As we were coming down Seventeenth Street, all of a sudden, my vehicle was surrounded by women in pink hats. The first Women’s March was in full swing. Protesters carried signs that read, “Dear GOP and Trump: Our pussies are none of your damn business,” “Black Lives Matter,” and “Keep your hands off of our country!” The protesters were peaceful; I saw no one who looked hostile.
As soon as I took a seat at my desk, I forgot about the crocheted hats and was filled with awe at the magnitude of the responsibility of running the government. What I would do from this desk, and beyond it, would impact many lives and make a difference for families.
My first act as an AP was to requisition basic equipment and furniture. Everyone was kind of stunned by the utter lack of tools and services we needed to do our jobs. We were all ready and excited to take up the reins of power, but first, we needed to figure out how to turn on the phones.
Despite the operational inadequacies, we had to hit the ground running. But we didn’t have an organization in place to carry out the ambitious agenda set by the president and his senior advisers, myself included. It was one thing to say, “We’re going to redo the tax code!” or “We need an infrastructure bill!” but without the staff to implement those goals, everything was at a standstill. Manpower was severely limited. The thousands of Schedule C staff jobs we were supposed to fill during the transition (many of which remain empty to this day) were still vacant. Not having support and operations teams stymied forward movement.
Trump started signing executive orders (EOs)—directives from the president that become law, pending judiciary review. We’d asked him to be “more presidential,” and signing EOs was one way to do it. However, it might as well have been a doodle scribbled on a notepad without the people and logistics in place to implement it.
Unhinged: An Insider's Account of the Trump White House Page 18