The president asked me, “Why do you keep trying to work with those people? They clearly hate me.”
To my dismay, he still liked to use that phrase.
“Even if they dislike you, they represent districts with Americans who are suffering. We have to find a way to work with elected officials who may have different political agendas,” I said.
He said, “But they are attacking you personally, Omarosa! Why?”
I was being attacked by the same group I was trying to fight for, as if hurting me would help to damage the president. It just didn’t make sense or serve any purpose. It’s sad and frustrating to think about now. I was in the right position, and when I offered my hand so we could help each other achieve our common goals, it was slapped down again and again.
• • •
THE RUSSIA INQUIRY continued to percolate all summer. On July 11, Don Jr. released the email chain about his meeting in Trump Tower with the Russian lawyer. When I saw Donald that day, I said, “I’m sorry to hear about Don.”
He said, “He is such a f**kup. He screwed up again, but this time, he’s screwing us all, big-time!”
On July 24, Trump spoke at the annual Boy Scouts Jamboree in West Virginia. Despite the fact that his audience was comprised of thousands of teenagers, Trump decided to ramble on about fake news, the swamp (“Today, I said we ought to change it from the word ‘swamp’ to the word ‘cesspool,’ or perhaps to the word ‘sewer’), repealing Obamacare, a party with “the hottest people in New York,” the stock market, the jobs report, the “incredible night with the maps,” a.k.a., Election Day. He also told the saga of William Levitt of Levittown fame, with this snippet, “He went out and bought a big yacht, and he had a very interesting life. I won’t go any more than that, because you’re Boy Scouts, so I’m not going to tell you what he did. Should I tell you? Should I tell you? You’re Boy Scouts, but you know life. You know life.”
The implication was that Levitt’s yacht was a WWII-era version of the Playboy Mansion. Nudge, wink. It wasn’t appropriate content for the event for a few reasons, but mainly, it resounded as sexist and lascivious. Trump thought he’d done a fabulous job with that speech and was furious about the criticism of it in general and, specifically, that anecdote.
I said, “You have to be aware of whom you’re talking to.”
He said, “[The Scouts] are going to have to man up and grow some hair on their chests. They’re not little boys. They have to man up!” He kept saying “man up!” over and over, for days.
• • •
THE OTHER DEFINING word for the Trump White House during the spring and summer of 2017 was leaks. Things got so bad on the comms team that Sean Spicer ambushed us in his office with a member of the counsels office. He explained that everyone on the team would have to submit their personal and government phones for inspection. He was looking for communications with a particular reporter. Spicer and the lawyer went through our phones one by one. I regret that I did not speak up. It was so clearly a violation of our privacy for them to inspect our personal devices. They told us we could not leave until the inspection was done. I didn’t want to rock the boat, so I handed the phone to the White House lawyer as he swiped through my personal photos—stopping at one of my wedding photos and saying, “Congrats,”—my texts, and my emails. I felt disgusted. It was humiliating, and I felt powerless, but if I protested, everyone would think I was the leaker.
Reports have come out that allegedly many members of the senior staff were also leaking to individuals in the media. Kellyanne Conway had her list of sources. She’d been in Washington for decades, a bona fide swamp creature, and had any number of people to confide in. Bannon had his people, including, now famously, Michael Wolff. Ivanka and Jared kept open lines of communication with Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski, New Yorkers who, for much of the campaign, were pro-Trump. Hope Hicks was cozy with Maggie Haberman. Even though we all suspected Ivanka was leaky, she always acted appalled about other people’s leaking, especially if it was unflattering to her. Her father never suspected her, though.
The constant leaking created the mother of all hostile work environments. Everybody was paranoid about everyone else, everyone was angry with someone. Damaging leaks came at everyone daily. Trump was going nuclear daily. Different factions started warring with each other Hunger Games–style: Bannon versus Jared; the RNC faction of Spicer and Reince against the “original Trumpers”; the campaign people against the swamp monsters.
Trump was furious about the leaks. They set off violent mood swings and “going nuclear” outbursts. General John Kelly would report that Trump screamed at him with such violence, that he’d never been spoken to by anyone that way before. Kirstjen Nielsen, the head of Homeland Security, recently reported that he yelled at her so offensively, she contemplated quitting. Sean Spicer was Trump’s personal verbal punching bag. Trump berated Reince, called him names, mocked him. It was humiliating for everyone to witness.
To protect myself and stay above the fray, I only went into meetings I absolutely had to be in. I didn’t want to be exposed to certain information, because if it leaked and you were in the room, you might fall under suspicion. When people said disparaging things about Donald, even in a joking way, I would say, “Just for the record, I am going to remove myself from this conversation.” It was like raising a warning flag to let them know that I didn’t want to hear it and would not participate.
When they said, “I’m just joking,” I would reply, “Say what you want, but I’m out of here.”
Of all the senior staff, I might be among the few who was never labeled a leaker. In my capacity as spokesperson for OPL, I had to give reporters background information or quotes or context. But I never leaked. Donald Trump considered leakers to be traitors. Anyone who would violate his most sacred creed of loyalty would not be forgiven. Being disloyal meant the end—of your job and your reputation. A betrayal among his inner circle would have been far worse than what someone like Katie Walsh, Reince’s deputy, did—she allegedly leaked from the very beginning, supposedly at Reince’s behest, and was fired in late March 2017.
Meanwhile, Anthony Scaramucci was finally hired. He’d been chomping at the bit to get started for months. I remember soon after he joined the staff, flying with him on a trip to Ohio on Air Force One—which is a supremely cool experience—but Anthony couldn’t contain himself. He walked around like he owned the place. He was cocky and arrogant . . . but oddly likable.
With Ivanka and Jared’s blessing, Donald got rid of the comms director, Mike Dubke (he never liked him anyway, telling a room of people he was “irritating as hell” right after Dubke walked out), as well as Sean Spicer, “Mr. Men’s Warehouse.” He brought in Scaramucci to take over. Sean was allowed to stay in the White House for several weeks, to just ramble around and use the office to find a new job. He was given the dignity of a peaceful transition—which was not afforded to me.
My personal relationship with Scaramucci took a blow on his first day, when he accused me of plotting against him to block his appointment as director of the OPL six months ago. My first thought: He’s lumping me in with the leakers; he’s here to fire them; he wants to fire me. Then I thought, It’s the paranoia. Everyone was pointing fingers at everyone.
I had to nip it in the bud immediately, because if you were labeled a leaker, your days were numbered. I said, “Let’s go straight to the president to discuss it.” I started walking toward the Oval. After a few paces, I looked behind me and Anthony was nowhere to be seen. He knew Donald would not be happy with him picking a fight with me in his first week on the job.
To deal with hostility directed at me because of my longstanding relationship with the president (and the double whammy of being black and a woman AP)—from the press and the white men who surrounded me—I had to put on a silent mask. There were complaints about my title and my pay. “Why is she paid the same salary as the chief of staff and press secretary?” they would ask. I had to employ coping mechanisms like �
��shifting” and “code switching.” If I had defended myself as passionately as I’d wanted to, I would be described as an “angry black woman” and be instantly discounted and accused of starting confrontations or of being hypersensitive because of my race. A white participant is given the benefit of the doubt; a black woman in the workplace never is, regardless of the circumstances.
Many of the senior white men on the White House staff spoke to me privately with open contempt that would probably shock a lot of people if they could have heard it. In public, they were cordial. But when no one else could hear? They changed their tone to demeaning and hostile. Two notable exceptions, men who treated me with kindness, dignity, and respect, were Tom Bossert, former homeland security adviser, and the president himself.
Anthony Scaramucci held his first press briefing, which I couldn’t wait to attend. I sat in the staff seats against the wall next to Kellyanne, and watched with baited breath for something exciting to happen. I knew him to be a smooth talker but to also go off script, just like his idol, the president.
“I’m going to be very brief . . .” he said and we were off.
As soon as he began talking, I fixated on his hands. The gestures reminded me of someone . . . it took a beat before I realized they were a match to Trump’s, down to the “cobra” pointed finger and the starfish finger flail. He thanked Sean Spicer and said, “I hope he goes on to make a tremendous amount of money.” He described Reince and himself to be “like brothers” who liked to rough each other up once in a while. Other golden nuggets: The president had some of the best political instincts “in the world and perhaps in history,” was “the most competitive person” he’d ever met, could throw “a dead spiral through a tire,” and had no problem “hitting foul shots and swishing them.” I almost burst out laughing. It was just so inappropriate, so cult of personality worshipful.
After a half an hour, Sarah tried to give him the wrap it up signal. He was only supposed to talk for seven minutes. He said, “I’m feeling the hook here, is it okay if I answer a few more questions?” He was having an absolute ball out there. He was not going to give up the podium until he was ready.
At the end, he actually blew a kiss to the press corps!
Afterwards, he asked, “How’d I do?”
It was the most unconventional presser I’d ever witnessed, but at least he hadn’t flubbed words or attacked the press like Sean. I said, “You were quite entertaining, let’s see what DJT thinks!”
It would be the last press briefing he’d do in the White House.
Along with his comms directorship, Scaramucci had a secondary job. He was apparently the hired hit man. Very low-key, Ivanka went around to the original Trumpers, the loyal soldiers, and asked the team to compile a list of suspected leakers. I’d already said my piece about Katie Walsh directly to Donald, and she’d been let go. But Ivanka wanted a new list and, once she had it, she would give it to Scaramucci, so he could fire them all. The final list that was texted to me on July 22 had ten names on it: Vanessa Morrone (Spicer’s secretary), Lindsay Walters (Reince’s press secretary), Janet Montesi (Dubke’s assistant), Raj Shah (deputy comms director), Kelly Sadler (she of the John McCain is “dying anyway” comment; live by the leak, die by the leak), Ory Rinat (a Dubke tech person), Kate Karnes and Lara Barger (RNC digital people), Michael Short (a press aide who resigned before Anthony had a chance to fire him), and Jessica Ditto (a deputy director of comms). Anthony would start firing them all, after a quick rally in Ohio.
The mega MAGA rally would be on July 25 in Youngstown, Ohio, my hometown. It felt like a celebration as much as a homecoming for me. I resolved to put any disquieting thoughts about the turmoil in the White House aside and just enjoy this day.
The trip started with a fourteen-vehicle motorcade from the White House to Andrews Air Force Base with dozens of senior staffers and cabinet members, including Energy Secretary Rick Perry, Interior Secretary Ryan Zinke, Reince, Kellyanne, Hope, and Rob Porter rode in one car, Corey and David Bossie in another, Anthony Scaramucci, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, Stephen Miller, director of social media Dan Scavino, political director Bill Stepien, and many more. When we pulled up to the plane on the runway, I couldn’t resist taking a few snaps with Hope and Kellyanne in our fancy outfits; I wore an electric blue dress, perfect for my mood.
It was my second ride on Air Force One, but that didn’t mean it was any less thrilling. We had assigned seats for take off. Mine was next to Bill Stepien and across from a military aide. But as soon as we were wheels up, I went to the plane’s conference room and grabbed the phone. If you place a call while on Air Force One, the operator, when you connect, says, “I have Omarosa Manigault Newman on Air Force One, will you accept the call . . .” I wanted to give the small joy of hearing that to my mom, my husband, and a few friends.
I wasn’t in there for long before it filled up with people. Kellyanne and Ryan Zinke, Hope and Rick Perry. Corey and David Bossie and I went exploring the massive plane, and I took some photos of the plane’s Oval office, the president’s private quarters and his bathroom—spacious and spotless.
Even though the flight was only an hour, they served a meal, the menu printed and leather bound. (FYI: If you fly on Air Force One, you will be invoiced for the meal whether you eat it or not.) After I finished eating, I went to a small work area and placed my final calls. Then I watched our landing at Youngstown–Warren Regional Airport on TV while we were making it.
We all walked off the plane, down that famous staircase, into waiting limos to take us to the Covelli Centre to greet a capacity crowd of more than five thousand people. I felt like I was going to burst with happiness at any moment after we landed in Ohio. There I was, a kid from the Westlake projects, flying into town on Air Force One, driving through the streets where I grew up in the presidential motorcade, to be the guest of honor in the VIP box along with Lara, Eric and Melania Trump, at a rally for the man I helped get elected. There were only good vibes in the box. Of the four elder Trump children, Eric was the easiest, always kind and pleasant to be around. I believe he was Melania’s favorite.
In every photo of that day, I am beaming! When I entered the stadium and waved, the crowd of people cheered for me. My aunt Evelyn McClendon and my younger cousin Darian Rushton came to see me in the green room. I missed my family so much, but this was the only time I would get to see them. I would be back in the motorcade and on the plane with the president immediately after the rally. The local headlines heralded my triumphant return. However troubled things were in the White House, this rally was like a blessed balm. It reconnected me with a purpose and reminded me of my larger goals. The optimism seemed to be shared by everyone that day. After Melania introduced Donald, the two even kissed at the podium. In some photos the next day, it looked like she was smiling. In others, she was grimacing. I’d noticed on the plane that they kept their distance and that at the rally itself, the air between them was several degrees colder than the AC in the venue.
But nothing could have upset me that day, or distracted me from how happy I was. It was the single most thrilling event of the entire year for me. I’m not embarrassed to say that I felt lucky, and special, as well as the unique satisfaction of returning home in grand style.
And then, on July 27, the day before he was going to fire everyone on the Hit List, Scaramucci talked to Ryan Lizza from The New Yorker, who recorded the interview. It was all about leaks, including one that said the president was getting strategic advice from Sean Hannity. Anthony boasted about heads rolling. He called Reince a “f**king paranoid schizophrenic,” and made some anatomically descriptive comments about Steve Bannon, a man who, to my knowledge, does not do yoga and is not nearly as flexible as Anthony made him out to be. When I first heard the vulgar conversation, I thought the language was not becoming of someone who was going to be taking the same oath that I had taken in front of the nation.
Reince was fired the next day—literally kicked out of the presidential motorcade at an
airport. To replace him, Donald hired General John Kelly as the new chief of staff. Anthony lingered for another three days, and on July 31, ten days after he was hired, Donald called him in and said, “You have to go.”
Anthony walked out, made a left by the chief of staff’s office, where all the assistants sat, stepped into a little cubby-like office, and started crying. One of the assistants saw and heard the whole thing. She described it as “a girly cry.”
I like to think that somewhere in the West Wing, Sean Spicer was still rambling around in the final days of his grace period, heard Anthony’s high-pitched, plaintive wail, and smiled.
Chapter Thirteen
* * *
The Unraveling
“John Kelly, New Chief of Staff, Is Seen as Beacon of Discipline,” The New York Times, July 28, 2017
The senior staff meetings will now take place in the Roosevelt Room. Effective immediately.
One of General Kelly’s first acts as chief of staff was to move the daily senior staff meetings from the chief of staff’s office where Reince Priebus held them to the Roosevelt Room, which would comfortably hold thirty-plus senior staff members. I always sat at the table, while most of the female senior staff members sat along the wall or on the couches.
Kelly ran his senior staff meetings like a military operation. He barked each person’s name and would cut them off if they got too long winded. He was particularly short with General H. R. McMaster. He would rudely cut him off midsentence and say, “Let’s pick this back up at another time.” He would often lament about the press and constantly reminded us that he was there to enforce discipline and order.
General Kelly wanted total control over the West Wing. In order to achieve that, he had to divide it like a battlefield and set up perimeters. He informed all the senior staff that everyone would have to stop dropping into the Oval. If you wanted to see the president or bring guests by, you now had to submit a formal scheduling request.
Unhinged: An Insider's Account of the Trump White House Page 24