True Faith and Allegiance

by Alberto R. Gonzales

  I also met Dick and Lynne Cheney for the first time that evening. Cheney brought a wealth of experience to the campaign. He had been a CEO with Halliburton, a Fortune 500 company, and had served as the White House chief of staff for President Gerald Ford; he was a former congressman from Wyoming and a member of the House Intelligence Committee during the Reagan administration, and had served as secretary of defense during the administration of George H. W. Bush. At nearly sixty years of age, it was unlikely that Cheney would be running for office again in four or eight years, so Governor Bush could count on his honest, straightforward insights. The way Dick and Lynne Cheney carried themselves, as well as the gracious manner in which they interacted with people, was impressive. I began to understand why Governor Bush had selected Cheney over the others, and I felt pleased with his choice. Becky and I had dinner with Joe and Dianne Allbaugh after the event, and Joe was elated about our vice presidential candidate.

  Governor Bush sent Becky and me an invitation to the National Republican Convention, one of the privileged few that he offered to people around the country. We were especially honored because the governor had included us in his “friends and family” invitations, which gave us greater access to the Bushes and VIP treatment at the convention. We enjoyed the social events, entertainment, and the many speeches.

  The last day of the convention, I saw Joe Allbaugh in the hotel lobby. He waved and said, “Congratulations.” I had no idea what he was talking about. Later that afternoon, I received a telephone call informing me that I had been selected to serve on the escort committee; I was one of a small group to meet Governor Bush when he arrived for his acceptance speech that evening. It was a tremendous honor.

  Becky and I arrived at the convention around 6:30 p.m. Becky went inside while I went back to the tunnel where Governor Bush was scheduled to arrive. Members of the escort committee formed a receiving line, and while television cameras covering the event zoomed in on us, we greeted the Cheneys as they arrived. Governor Bush and his entourage arrived shortly thereafter, Bush shaking hands with everyone as he made his way down the line.

  When he got to me I said, “I’m very proud of you, sir.”

  He smiled broadly and said, “I’m ready to go!” He continued on into the convention center holding room as the emcee announced to the euphoric delegates and guests that Governor Bush had arrived and had been greeted by the escort committee. The crowd roared in anticipation. Bush officially received the party’s nomination that night and gave a magnificent acceptance speech, setting the tone for the exciting campaign ahead. We all knew that Vice President Al Gore would be a formidable opponent, but everyone in the arena had total confidence that George W. Bush would be the next president of the United States.

  Becky and I returned home to Austin, excited about the possibilities, and wondering how a George W. Bush presidency might impact our future.

  CHAPTER 11

  WEST WING POSSIBILITIES

  Back home, I received a deluge of requests for interviews regarding Governor Bush and his presidential aspirations. Although I had to be circumspect because I was a sitting Texas Supreme Court justice, I told the reporters about the man I knew—a George W. Bush who genuinely cared about helping people, and a man with a good heart. I spoke of his passion to help those less fortunate, and his concerns to improve the educational and vocational opportunities for all Texans, especially for Hispanic children. “One of the best things the governor has done,” I said, “was to inspire hopes and dreams in Hispanic kids.” He had certainly accomplished that goal in my family.

  Earlier, Governor Bush had decided that Clay Johnson would lead the transition team. Dick Cheney would be in charge of the vetting process. Although the election was still more than three months away, it was important for the new administration to hit the ground running, to be ready to start governing the day the new president took office. So even though nobody was certain of the election’s outcome, the governor had to assume that he would win, and he had to begin gathering a strong team around him, as he had done when he moved into the governor’s office. Now, of course, the transition issues were more complicated, since he needed talented people he trusted, and who were willing to live in Washington, DC.

  Known affectionately as “the icebox” because he was big, white, and sometimes coldly efficient in making appointment decisions, Clay Johnson, with his no-nonsense demeanor, was perfect for the job. A successful businessman who had known Governor Bush longer than any of us, Clay understood his friend’s strengths and weaknesses and was determined to surround him with only the best people.

  I made no overtures to Clay during the campaign regarding any possible positions for me in the new administration, but other insiders had told me that they believed I would be under consideration. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t totally surprised when Clay called me the morning of September 6, 2000, and said he wanted to come by my office to pick my brain about something.

  I had been up all night working before spending a full day listening to oral arguments featuring the noted Harvard Law professor Laurence Tribe. So by the time Clay arrived later that afternoon, I was wrung out. Nevertheless, I perked up when he indicated the purpose for his visit.

  “I was talking to a legal expert,” Clay began, “about what factors are most important for the position of White House counsel. The expert said, ‘loyalty to the president is the number one ingredient.’ ”

  Clay sat back in his chair as though contemplating. “So I began thinking of all the lawyers I know in America. And I cannot think of anyone who is more loyal to George W. Bush than you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you, Al.” Clay leaned forward in his chair. “The ideal person is tough and smart, someone that the governor knows well and trusts. That’s you too. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that you are the right person for the job. The governor is comfortable with you and has confidence in your judgment.” Clay paused and his forehead wrinkled, as though he was thinking about something. “But then I crossed you off my list because you are running for reelection, and it wouldn’t look right to win an election and then leave office.”

  I nodded. People had donated money to my candidacy for supreme court justice, and we had raised more than $800,000 to win the primary election. We weren’t spending much during the summer because the Democrats had not run anyone against me and there was only token opposition in the general election from the Libertarian candidate. Still, I understood Clay’s concern about asking donors for money and then not serving.

  Clay continued, “I had lunch with Karl the other day and I told him that you would be perfect for the job, but gosh, it’s too bad that you couldn’t be considered.”

  I nodded again and remained silent.

  “But Karl said you should not automatically be out of the running.”

  “Really?” I replied, feigning only mild interest.

  “That’s right. Karl said that the real race for supreme court justice took place during the primary. And you won that for us. So people would not be upset about you leaving office to continue serving the governor.” He paused. “When I took this job, I understood that you wanted to stay on the court, that you did not want to go to Washington.”

  Now it was my turn to lean forward. “That’s not quite correct, Clay. I said that I would gladly stay on the court and serve, but I did not want to automatically be taken off the Washington list.”

  Clay chuckled. “I guess I’m the only one who had not thought about you going.” I smiled as Clay continued. “I have not talked to the governor about this yet, but I wanted to feel you out and hear what you are thinking.”

  “To be honest, Clay, I have no burning desire to go to Washington. I have a great job and I love Austin. But if there is an opportunity to work closely with the governor, helping him in some way, I would consider it.”

  “What jobs would interest you?”

  “Something in the White House or the Justice Department,�
� I replied. “As long as I’m working directly with the governor. If I was not working with him, I’d rather stay right here.”

  “Well, there’s no question on how he feels about you,” Clay said. “If the governor were going to climb a mountain and could only take along six or seven people, you would be one of those.”

  I thanked Clay for the comment, all the more meaningful to me because of Clay’s track record as a straight shooter, not to mention his own closeness to the governor.

  “If you were White House counsel, you would have a very close working relationship with the governor,” Clay said. “No question about that.”

  We talked further about the job, and Clay mentioned that he had some books and materials about the White House operations and the transition. “If you’d like to look at any of those materials, I’ll be happy to send them over.”

  “Thanks, Clay. Yes, I would be quite interested.”

  “Great. I’ll have the materials brought over to you.”

  After we concluded our meeting and Clay departed, I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath. I had no idea if anything would come of our conversation, but I felt good hearing Clay’s assurance that the governor regarded me as one of his closest advisors. I allowed my imagination to roam, thinking about what might happen if the governor won the presidency. I shook my head and snapped back to reality. I tried not to dwell too much on the possibilities. Then Clay’s books and materials about the White House were delivered. This is getting serious, I thought.

  I talked with Becky about the possibility of another potential transition in our lives—a possible move to Washington, DC. We both agreed that while we loved our life in Austin, if Governor Bush asked us, we would welcome the new opportunity. In mid-September, I communicated to Clay that I was willing to serve.

  “Great,” Clay responded. “I’m going to talk to the governor about it this weekend.” I began gathering more information about the positions of White House counsel and attorney general. Because the counsel works closely with the AG, I was curious about whom Governor Bush was considering.

  Becky and I followed the 2000 presidential campaign involving our friend even more closely now. Certainly, we wanted Governor Bush to lead our country. Although Vice President Gore had eight years of Washington experience, we had seen firsthand Governor Bush’s ability to put aside partisan politics to do what was best for the people. We could only imagine how his positive approach could help revive a sick Washington after the scandals of the Clinton administration. As the summer progressed, Bush’s message of unity and bringing dignity and honor back to the office of the president seemed to be resonating with the public.

  The evening of November 2, 2000, mere days before the November 7 election, an incident surfaced in the news that threatened to unhinge our hopes. Twenty-four years earlier, George W. Bush had been arrested for driving too slow and slapped with a DUI charge in Kennebunkport, Maine. When news of the DUI suddenly surfaced, Karl Rove and several other key advisors feared accusations of a cover-up that would cost Governor Bush the presidential election.

  The incident had never been covered up, though neither was it widely broadcast. Bush had been called for jury duty in Austin in 1996 for a driving under the influence case. In a DUI case, potential jurors would almost certainly be asked if they had any similar prior offenses. When the governor arrived for jury duty, I went with him and engaged in what one publication later described as some “canny lawyering.”1 First, I assured the defense attorney, the prosecutor, and the judge that the governor was present and willing to serve. Then I subtly reminded the defense attorney that should his client be convicted by a jury that included a sitting governor, it would be unlikely that he would ever receive a pardon for the offense from another governor.

  The defense lawyer replied that he had already considered this possible conflict, and he planned to strike Governor Bush during voir dire, the questioning of potential jurors. Later, in the judge’s chambers, the prosecutor said that he had no objections to striking the governor. When asked by the judge, I reiterated that Bush was there ready to serve. “But why waste time going through that process if the lawyers know they are going to strike him anyway?” I asked.

  A few minutes later, in open court, the defense attorney presented his motion to strike the governor, and with no objection from the prosecutor, the judge granted the motion. I was glad that our conversations resulted in having the governor dismissed, thus avoiding the disclosure of the DUI before Bush could inform his daughters—both of whom were teenage drivers at the time the news finally broke.

  Obviously, I had known about the Bush DUI for some time. When news of it became public, I immediately called Dan Bartlett in the governor’s campaign office and relayed what I knew. Governor Bush had admitted that in the past he sometimes had too much to drink, and he chose to play down the matter because he did not want to be a negative role model. The fact that he had not voluntarily disclosed the DUI previously did not play well in the media, but Joe Allbaugh and Dan Bartlett put out fires as best they could from the campaign office, and Karen Hughes helped deal with the press out on the road. Since I was on the supreme court, I said nothing about the issue and stayed out of the public discussion of it. That same day, after his next campaign event, Governor Bush addressed the media, accepted blame, said he was sorry, and answered questions about the DUI. “I’ve oftentimes said that years ago I made some mistakes. I drank too much, and I did on that night,” the governor said. “I regret that it happened, but it did. I’ve learned my lesson.” His wife, Laura, was by his side.

  It was a few days before the presidential election. There was nothing left to do but to wait and see how the public responded.

  CHAPTER 12

  WHITE HOUSE BOUND

  A few days before the election, Clay Johnson told me, “The governor is going to call you the day after the election and offer you the job as counsel.”

  I thanked Clay for letting me know. Although the polls showed the presidential race was tightening, Becky and I remained optimistic that our lives were about to take a dramatic and historic turn. No Hispanic had previously advised the president of the United States as his chief counsel.

  The night before the election, Governor Bush came home from his last campaign trip, landing at Bergstrom airport in Austin. Becky and I went out to meet him and joined in the celebration at a private hangar at the airport. A loud and excited crowd of friends and supporters greeted him, and the air was electric at the conclusion of a long campaign. As the event concluded, Governor Bush shook hands with well-wishers.

  In the crowd of people, the governor found Becky and me clapping. He walked over close to us and said, “I’m going to call you tomorrow.”

  I smiled, nodded, and continued clapping.

  On Election Day, Becky and I took our two youngest sons along with us to the voting booths, located at an elementary school near our home. I wanted our sons, Graham, age eight, and Gabriel, age five, to see me cast my vote for Governor Bush as president and for me to remain on the supreme court. It felt surreal voting for myself, but Becky and I did it with pride.

  That evening, as the news media covered the election returns, the Texas secretary of state’s office hosted an election watch party in the capitol suite, where elected officials and friends of the governor and secretary of state could watch the returns together, according to custom. Becky and I attended. It was a fun place to gather with friends and watch the most current and accurate returns in Texas, as tabulated by the secretary of state’s office. The mood was festive and optimistic, and it felt good to be back in my former offices.

  About one hundred yards to the south of the capitol stood a large stage at Eleventh and Congress. The Austin fire department estimated that a crowd of more than twenty thousand people had squeezed into the area in front of the stage, in anticipation of receiving a new president-elect. It had been a cold, wet day in Austin, but nothing seemed to dampen the crowd’s enthusiasm. Indeed, fro
m the windows of the secretary of state’s office, we could see that despite the inclement weather, the crowd was growing larger throughout the evening.

  Since the Democrats did not run anyone against me in my contest to remain on the supreme court, I was declared the winner early in the evening, with 82 percent of the vote. People at the party enthusiastically congratulated me on the landslide victory, bolstering our spirits even more.

  But then, just prior to 7:00 p.m., several television networks called Florida for Vice President Gore. Given Florida’s demographics and its large number of electoral votes, and the fact that Governor Bush’s brother Jeb Bush was the current governor of Florida, the Gore announcement was both surprising and disheartening. With further projections of a Gore victory in Pennsylvania and Michigan, the party grew quiet as the tension mounted. It looked like it might be a long night.

  Close to 9:00 p.m., CNN pulled Florida from the blue column to the yellow—undecided—category. Apparently, the exit polls and the television networks that had forecasted Florida for Gore were wrong. Florida, the pundits now said, was too close to call, as the votes were still being counted. The mood in the capitol brightened, but nobody was lighting cigars yet.

  We waited and watched . . . and waited. Finally, at 1:17 a.m. (Central time), the networks projected Florida for Governor Bush, which meant George W. Bush would be the next president of the United States. The room erupted in cheers. Around 1:30 a.m., Al Gore called Governor Bush to concede.

  Becky and I grabbed our coats and, along with a number of other people, hurried outside to the stage and joined the huge crowd that had gathered on Congress Avenue, the main street in front of the capitol, to await President-elect Bush. The celebration was already in full swing, with people singing and cheering, shaking hands, and taking photographs of this historic moment. The crowd roared its approval every time the Jumbotron television screen showed video footage of the president-elect.