True Faith and Allegiance

by Alberto R. Gonzales

  But then the unthinkable happened: Al Gore called Governor Bush a second time, this time to retract his concession. What? Who concedes a presidential election and then retracts the concession?

  Apparently the vice president planned to contest the election results in Florida. Disappointed and somewhat confused and dejected, Becky and I headed home, cold, wet, and unsure of what might happen next, and concerned about what these highly irregular twists meant for our nation, and for us.

  The banner atop Wednesday’s edition of the Austin American Statesman trumpeted the news: HISTORY ON HOLD. That headline summed up how Becky and I felt, as did, no doubt, many other Americans. Any hopes that a new day would bring the election to a close were dashed when the Gore campaign manager, Bill Daley, gave a press conference announcing that the vice president’s campaign would be requesting hand recounts of ballots in Palm Beach, Miami-Dade, Volusia, and Broward counties, all Democrat strongholds. Moreover, Daley hinted at something sinister when he said the Gore campaign was “still collecting other irregularities,” an ironic description considering Daley’s family history in Chicago. The recount promised to be historic and bizarre at the same time, so we stayed close to the television throughout the day, grasping at any bit of news that might give us a hint about our future. Nothing did.

  That afternoon, despite the long, tumultuous night, Governor Bush called me. In typical form, he began by congratulating me on my victory. “We each now have had a close contest and a landslide win,” he quipped, referring to my close election in the primaries and his whopping victory, compared to my sweep in the general election, and his close race that he unofficially led by a mere three hundred votes, with absentee ballots still being counted. He seemed pleased that I had won a six-year term to the supreme court in 2000, becoming only the second person of Hispanic background ever to be elected statewide in Texas as a Republican.

  The governor’s voice sounded tired as he and I talked briefly about the election returns. “It was a rough evening, without much sleep,” he said. “Don’t worry about this recount. It will all be resolved within a few days.”

  I appreciated his optimism. Legal experts and the media, however, might not have concurred.

  “And when it is over,” Governor Bush said, “I want you to join me in Washington as the White House lawyer.” He told me that Andy Card would be his chief of staff, Condi Rice would be the National Security Council advisor, and Karen, Clay, and Josh Bolten would all be part of the team.

  “Thank you, sir,” I replied. “It would be an honor to serve in that capacity, and I would enjoy working with you again. Will I have the same sort of access to you as White House counsel as I had when I was your general counsel here in Texas?”

  “Absolutely,” the governor assured me. “You’ll have direct access, as will the other people I mentioned. You will be dealing a lot with the attorney general, but I’m not yet certain who that will be.” He mentioned Senator John Ashcroft, former US trade representative Carla Hills, former senator John Danforth, and Montana governor Mark Racicot as possibilities.

  “Well then, let me talk with Becky and I will give Clay my answer in the morning.”

  “Good, and call Andy Card tomorrow and he will bring you up to speed on everything.”

  “Thank you, sir. Good luck.”

  During the next few weeks as the legal wrangling continued in Florida, I worked diligently to complete my tasks at the Texas supreme court should I have to resign, and at the same time, I began preparing for the challenges in Washington. I had a million questions for Clay, and Clay had few answers. “This is all new territory,” he said as he rolled his eyes and laughed.

  A few days later, I met with Andy Card at the governor’s office. We talked for more than an hour on a wide variety of issues. “Your job will be the most important in the White House,” Andy told me. “You will represent the president, the presidency, and the White House. You should plan to hire a staff of ten to twelve lawyers and view the counsel staff as the best law firm in the country.” Andy described the type of experienced, hard-charging attorneys who might do well. He also told me that my new job would mean a nice increase in my salary, but given the much higher costs of living in Washington, it might actually be a net reduction in pay.

  I expressed to Andy my concern that I have time to complete the legal opinions on which I was working at the supreme court. Unlike Clay, who felt that I needed to head for Washington immediately, Andy did not think it critical for me to start work yet. “The only thing to do early on,” he said, “is to get our people cleared by the FBI, so you won’t be able to do much until January.” That gave me a few weeks to breathe.

  I left my meeting with Andy encouraged. He seemed down-to-earth, kind, and strictly ethical. Over the next four years, he would become a close friend and ally in the White House.

  A question arose as to whether the governor and I should resign. I told Clay that I didn’t think it wise to resign our Texas responsibilities while the national election remained up in the air. Clay agreed. “Gore may steal the election, but he will not steal the governorship.” I decided that I should not resign my seat on the supreme court until all doubts about the presidential election results were settled.

  In the meantime, I talked further with Andy Card, who indicated that Dick Cheney would be actively involved in the transition, and that Cheney’s incoming counsel, David Addington, would help with the FBI clearances. Andy also put me in touch with Fred Fielding, a respected lawyer who had served as White House counsel with President Ronald Reagan. Fred would help with the transition, and over time, he became an invaluable advisor to me.

  I didn’t speak to the governor during the recount in Florida, although Becky and I closely followed the legal proceedings and the many news conferences. We watched images of officials counting chads, and we listened to the audio coverage of the arguments in the US Supreme Court.

  During the recount, several people from the governor’s staff went to Florida, but as a supreme court justice, my first allegiance was to the rule of law, so I could not go. I tried to focus on doing my job as a justice. We needed our best hands on deck, too, as the Gore campaign presented one argument after another, to the point of even trying to disqualify many of the absentee ballots cast by members of the US military stationed overseas, many of whom, history suggested, would have voted for George W. Bush.

  While we tried to allay our concerns, we all felt uncertain whether Governor Bush would ultimately win. The big question for most of us serving in Austin was what would happen if he did win. Transitions from one presidential administration to another are notoriously difficult under the best of circumstances with the maximum amount of time. We would have neither.

  We were decorating our family Christmas tree when I heard the news that the US Supreme Court had ordered that Florida stop counting the ballots. I was somewhat surprised that the Supreme Court would overrule a state supreme court and order that the counting of votes stop, but considered it good news for Governor Bush. Then on Tuesday, December 12, the television networks reported that the Supreme Court had turned down Vice President Gore’s request for further manual recounts. The election seemed to be finally drawing to a close.

  The following day, Vice President Gore conceded the election—again—this time in a reluctant but gracious nationally televised speech from his White House office. He noted that he had telephoned the president-elect to offer his congratulations. “And I promised that I wouldn’t call him back this time,” Gore said.

  About an hour later, Governor Bush addressed the nation for the first time as president-elect. Becky and I hurried to the floor of the Texas house chambers for the hastily arranged gathering.

  Along with many other Bush supporters, we listened as President-elect Bush spoke in heartfelt terms of national unity, healing, and reconciliation. Now that the election was decided, our nation “must rise above a house divided,” he said. He emphasized his desire to serve everyone, not simply Repu
blicans, saying, “I was not elected to serve one party, but one nation.” Despite the contentious election campaign and the thirty-seven-day post-election challenge, our government system had worked and the president-elect clearly hoped to bring the nation together. It was a mere ten-minute speech, but it encapsulated George W. Bush’s dreams for America’s future greatness.

  Somewhere in the celebration events to follow, it hit Becky and me full-force: This is real! Of course, we had known for a couple months that if Bush were elected president, I would be leaving the court and we would be moving to Washington; but because the governor had not yet announced anything regarding me, I had made no public statements regarding my resignation from the court. Suddenly, the reality of those choices poked holes in the balloons of our idealism. We had a lot of work to do.

  The president-elect initially mentioned our plans to my close friend, Chief Justice Tom Phillips, at a dinner party we were attending in Austin. Tom was delighted by the news, but disappointed that I would be leaving. News of my appointment soon began to leak and the press picked up on it, but I said nothing other than to confirm that the president-elect and I had talked.

  On December 17, 2000, Becky and the boys joined me at the governor’s mansion for a special announcement by the president-elect. It was the only time our boys had been to the mansion, other than to attend Halloween parties held for children of the staff and friends. I smiled as I saw Graham and Gabriel gawking at the cameras in the majestic setting of the governor’s mansion.

  In a brief event, President-elect Bush announced that Condoleezza Rice would be his national security advisor, his longtime friend Karen Hughes would be the communications director, and that I would be the White House counsel. Bush had announced Colin Powell as secretary of state the previous day.

  Covering the event, the editor of the Dallas Morning News wrote, “To George W. Bush, Al Gonzales’ rags-to-riches story represents the best in America . . . And now he’s going to be sitting at the right hand of the president of the United States. Mr. Bush said, ‘That really explains what America can and should be about.’ ”1

  The morning of December 22, I received a call from Andy asking me if I could be present at the announcement of the president-elect’s selection for attorney general—former US senator from Missouri John Ashcroft. I had just left my dentist’s office and the left side of my face was still numb from Novocain, but I said, “Sure, I’ll be right there.”

  John Ashcroft had been defeated for the US Senate in the November elections by the late Missouri governor Mel Carnahan. The governor and his aide had been killed in a tragic plane crash in mid-October, and because his death had occurred three days after the deadline for making changes to the ballot, Governor Carnahan’s name remained on the ballot as Missouri voters stepped into the voting booth. Carnahan’s replacement, Governor Roger Wilson, who had served as lieutenant governor under Carnahan, made it clear that he would appoint Carnahan’s widow, Jean Carnahan, to the Senate seat if voters elected her deceased husband. In a hotly contested and controversy-ridden election, the incumbent Ashcroft lost to the sympathy vote for Carnahan.

  News about President-elect Bush’s appointment of John Ashcroft as attorney general probably generated joy among conservatives and anger among some liberals and so-called civil rights advocacy groups. I was glad to finally meet Ashcroft since I’d heard a great deal about him in recent weeks.

  Unfortunately, at our first face-to-face encounter, my cheek looked and felt more like that of a chipmunk. With my Novocain-loaded, still-numbed mouth, I had some difficulty speaking clearly, and I consciously guarded against drooling. While I had a hard time reading John, his first impressions of me must have been hilarious.

  In time, I came to regard John Ashcroft as an interesting contradiction of qualities. He was fiercely proud of his conservatism, yet one of the humblest men I have ever known. He readily admitted to not being a legal scholar, yet in defending the president’s policies, John was a warrior, always willing to take arrows for the administration—and he took a lot—for which I admire him greatly.

  By the time my successor on the Texas Supreme Court was named, I was already in Washington, but I returned for the investiture ceremony. My emotions nearly overwhelmed me as I said good-bye to my colleagues. I hated to leave, but I had been called to other service—to work in Washington with the newly elected president of the United States.

  CHAPTER 13

  TRANSITION TO POWER

  My family and I had a bittersweet Christmas in 2000. We were excited about the upcoming changes, but sad about leaving Austin. The day after Christmas, Clay Johnson and his wife, Anne, went with Becky and me to the Signature Air private terminal at Austin-Bergstrom airport. Clay and I kissed our wives good-bye, and then along with other “Bushies,” we boarded a chartered jet for Washington. I carried with me only a briefcase filled with notes and a suitcase full of clothing. I left Becky, once again, with the responsibility to sell our home and find somewhere for us to live in the Washington area. She and the boys would join me for the inauguration, and then not again permanently until after school dismissed in June. I felt sad at leaving my family, but I knew Becky would handle everything in her usual meticulous fashion. I loved my wife and I wanted her with me. She tried her best to smile as she waved good-bye.

  As the plane whisked us toward Washington, everyone seemed in good spirits; a bit anxious, perhaps, but nonetheless excited to get started. Soon, the pilot announced that we were beginning our descent into the nation’s capital. I gazed out the window as the jet headed toward Reagan National Airport, a short distance from the White House. There was snow on the ground, and I couldn’t help thinking that despite its majesty and history, the city looked dreary and cold. I had no idea just how cold Washington could be to outsiders.

  Some people assume that when a new presidential administration comes to town, the government pays for the transition—at least for senior staff members. Not so. We received a small moving stipend from the presidential campaign to help defray moving costs from Austin to Washington. By the time Becky and I finally found a house, the stipend was long gone and we were spending our own money. One of my lawyers offered to let me stay in his family’s basement until I found a place. I gladly accepted. During the time I was living there, a problem occurred with the furnace emitting carbon monoxide. The repairman told the homeowners that they should not allow anyone to sleep in the basement because the levels of carbon monoxide could kill someone. I had already been sleeping there for several weeks! I quickly rented a small garage apartment in Georgetown and called it home until my family could move to Washington.

  The president-elect’s transition office was located at 1800 G Street, a few blocks from the White House. My office was a tiny space with a window that faced a brick wall, but I didn’t mind. I was in Washington, working for my friend, the soon-to-be-inaugurated president of the United States. When Clay first saw my office, he was embarassed that the counsel to the president should be assigned to such a location. “Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “I don’t mind. It’s only temporary, and in a few weeks, I’ll be moving into an office in the West Wing.”

  Soon after arriving in the transition office, I met with David Addington, who was assisting Fred Fielding with transition issues. David, a graduate of Duke Law School and former defense department general counsel, would serve as general counsel and later as chief of staff to Vice President Cheney. David cut an imposing physical presence. His personality was very direct, and I felt sure he would be a strong ally. “You will have the finest law firm in the world,” he told me. “Everybody wants to work for the counsel.”

  David’s careful nature surfaced in our initial conversation. “OLC is available to help,” he said, “but you might want to keep things in house that you don’t want others to know about.” The OLC, the Office of Legal Counsel, is relatively unknown to the general public, but is one of the most important offices in our government, since it is basically the att
orney general’s law office and counsel. I had no reason to be unduly suspicious or secretive, so I was a bit puzzled at David’s caution, especially when compared with everyone else’s optimism. When I later asked Clay Johnson about David, Clay described him as a tough, knowledgeable lawyer who would run through a brick wall to solve a legal problem. I soon discovered that Clay had understated the matter. There was nothing subtle about David. He was smart and opinionated, someone you wanted next to you in a foxhole.

  Fred and his small team of volunteers handled many of the legal issues during the early days of the transition as I put together my staff. Due to the Florida recount, we had only a matter of weeks to actually assemble a team to help the president govern the country. While Andy Card, Clay Johnson, and others had been informally interviewing potential staff members, and Dick Cheney and his staff had been putting out feelers since mid-November, until the election was finally settled, no one could extend firm job offers. Decisions that normally could be made between Election Day and Inauguration Day—filling some of the most important positions in the United States government—now had to be made in a compressed transition period. Consequently, we worked extra hard to identify and interview extraordinarily talented people to serve in the executive branch.

  Fortunately, because the Clinton administration had been in office for eight years, an army of talented conservative lawyers had been patiently waiting for an opportunity to work in the White House. The array of outstanding legal minds President Bush attracted was impressive, even by Washington standards.

  Although I had a close relationship with George W. Bush, I had no federal experience and limited Washington connections, so I decided to balance my strengths by hiring a team with proven federal experience and who were well known in Washington legal circles and conservative political groups. I hired as my deputy Tim Flanigan, a former assistant attorney general for the Office of Legal Counsel (OLC) and former clerk for US Supreme Court chief justice Warren Burger. Tim was very bright and possessed the wisdom and patience one needs as the father of fourteen children—which he was.