by Dana Perino
Tony put up a valiant fight against cancer, but ultimately he did not win it. He died on July 12, 2008, the morning after the President and his staff arrived back from the G8 meeting in Japan.
I was woken up by a phone call from Ed Henry, who was the White House correspondent for CNN. I pretended I’d been up for hours even though the jet lag felt like a lead blanket.
“What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound alert.
“I’m sorry to call so early, but could I get reaction to the news?” Ed said.
He sounded so sad (Ed is one of the most sentimental guys you’ll ever meet). My instincts kicked in and I guessed the reason for the call. I didn’t want CNN to be able to say that it was the news network that had informed the White House about Tony’s death, so I said I’d call him back. I scrolled through my e-mails. And there it was, a little after 4 a.m. Jill had sent me a note to say Tony had just passed away.
The White House helped Jill make arrangements for the funeral at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception because the outpouring of support was overwhelming and she had three kids to take care of. The advance team ensured every detail of the service was perfect. There was a full Mass and President Bush, though he’d been to many funerals, gave his first eulogy for a friend. He was concerned he wouldn’t get through it, but of course he did and it was a fitting tribute to a remarkable man. We were fortunate to know Tony Snow.
Taking Over at the Podium
Meanwhile, in Ed Gillespie’s office, I still hadn’t responded to his news. He raised his eyebrows and asked, “So?”
I didn’t immediately accept because something was bothering me about how this was happening. You’d think when you’re named the press secretary that the clouds will part, the sun will shine, and beautiful music will start playing in the background. But this wasn’t a fairy tale.
“What does the President think about all of this?” I asked.
Ed looked surprised and he said, “Well, he just assumed you would.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” I teased.
I told Ed that I was honored to accept, but I was a bit concerned about how I was picked. Tony had been a very outside-the-box selection, and even his hiring was a message in itself that said the White House was stepping up its game, choosing a big-time media personality who wasn’t biased by White House-itis, a disease you can get if you work there too long. Naming Tony Snow sent the public a very strong message at the time, and it helped us get the storyline of an insular White House turned around. This helped us with media coverage and Congressional relations.
I was not that kind of pick—I was safe. It crossed my mind that I had been an obvious choice and that perhaps they thought it was easier just to have me take over officially since there wasn’t that much time left in the administration. Was I just the convenient choice, the most obvious option, or did the President really have confidence in me to do the job well?
Ed assured me it was the latter, but I had a few nagging doubts. He and I agreed to keep the conversation between us until they could work out a smooth transition plan and announcement. Press secretaries change infrequently at the White House, and this was going to be a big story, especially when it came to speculation about Tony’s health.
I walked down the stairs and thought about what I’d say to Peter. He expected me to say that I’d resigned. But here was another example of how just when I’d make a plan, God had another idea in mind.
I called Peter and whispered into the phone from my office so that no one could overhear the news. He was stunned, and a bit overwhelmed with pride at the same time (Peter is not my most objective critic). He rallied and said, “Whatever you need me to do to help, consider it done.”
A few hours later I went to the Oval Office for a previously scheduled policy meeting. I walked in and saw the President. I raised an eyebrow that said, “So you just assumed, huh?” And he winked at me and nodded his head, with a look that said, “Well, well, look at you—the new press secretary.” His facial expression said it all. It reassured me that I was a deliberate choice, that I wasn’t just the next in line. I decided not to fight it with self-doubt and just spend a rare moment feeling good about something. I took my seat for the meeting and tried to focus on the topic, but I started writing a list in the margin of my briefing paper. We had a lot to do.
The morning of the announcement, the press still had no idea that big news was coming. Only a few people inside the White House were aware that I’d be taking over for Tony. It was August 31 and hot outside. I decided to wear a lavender dress with a matching jacket and paid a little extra attention to my hair and makeup. I was distracted because the very next day the President was leaving on a secret trip to Iraq, and I was in charge of the planning for the press office while also getting myself packed and ready to go. No one could know about the trip, so I could delegate only certain tasks.
I went to the senior staff and communications meetings as if it were a regular day, while Tony Fratto, my good friend and the new principal deputy press secretary, stepped up to help make sure everything went smoothly. He even wrote some remarks the President could use about me since Ed and I had forgotten to do that. Then Tony Snow and I gathered the press staff and gave them the news. A few of them bit their lips to keep from crying—they feared the worst about his health, too, despite Tony’s insistence that he was fine.
One of the press assistants made an overhead announcement to the reporters in their offices in the West Wing that the President would be coming to the briefing room to make a statement about a change in personnel. The press office phones started ringing off the hook. The press isn’t patient, asking “Who? What? When? Tell me!” they pleaded. We held firm and said they’d know soon enough.
Just before the big announcement, the President walked down to the press office and we made small talk before taking the stage. By now, word had leaked to the press what the change was going to be, and the photographers were in place to capture the moment.
When it was time, Tony and I followed President Bush into the briefing room and I felt really short as I stood there next to them. I looked around and saw Peter dressed in a suit. He gave me a big smile and a subtle thumbs-up. “Can you believe this?” we said with our eyes.
The President thanked Tony for his service and complimented his many talents. He did not mention Tony’s cancer directly, but he spoke admiringly of how Tony had managed the competing pressures he was under with class, dignity, and good humor. Tony’s remarks were equally gracious.
After that, the President turned to his written remarks about me. But that felt too formal to him and about halfway through he put down his notes and said what I needed to hear.
“Look, I chose Dana because I know she can handle you all.”
That sealed it. With his impromptu remark, he signaled to everyone, including me, that I had his full confidence. It said that he knew I had the ability, management style, and commitment to serve as his press secretary and assured the reporters that I was going to have the access I needed to be able to do my job. He immediately boosted my credibility and made the transition smoother for everyone.
A few weeks later, the President saw Peter and said, “I owe you an apology. I made a mistake when we announced Dana as the press secretary. I didn’t see you there and I should have recognized you.”
Peter was blown away that he remembered that. It was another example of the thoughtfulness of President Bush, who made sure our significant others felt a part of the White House experience. Peter even had a Presidential nickname, “The Englishman,” and was presented a cake by the Commander in Chief at Camp David one June. Having “Happy Birthday” sung to him by the President and Condoleeza Rice is one of Peter’s favorite bragging rights.
Visits to Camp David are unforgettable experiences. But it was what I learned about leadership while serving under President Bush that left the biggest impression on me.
I know that my personal take on the Bush presidency won’t ne
cessarily affect how historians write about him—they’ll continue to rank his decisions, accomplishments, and failures for the rest of time. President Bush didn’t worry about that. When asked about his legacy, he’d say, “Last year I read three books about George Washington. So if they’re still analyzing the first President, then the forty-third doesn’t have a lot to worry about.” He did not mean that he had confidence in being viewed favorably, just that there was nothing we could do about the future. He taught me not to dwell too much on his legacy, which helped me keep things in perspective.
But I hope that my memories can help fill in the gaps of the story of him as a President—the shorthand of history hasn’t gotten it right yet. So with that in mind, I compiled some of my strongest impressions from my years with President Bush. I call it leadership from a follower’s perspective, and it starts with my big lesson in humility.
The White Ho
One of the most professional young men that worked in the press office was Carlton Carroll of Tallahassee. He was there to help me manage being the acting press secretary while Tony Snow had some exploratory surgery that kept him away from the office for three weeks.
On the Friday night before I was to take over at the podium for that interim period, Carlton knocked on my office door and said, “Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but do you think they should build you a new podium over the weekend?”
He asked because the White House Communications Agency had built a podium for Tony in the temporary space on Jackson Place that we were using as a briefing room until the renovations of the James S. Brady Briefing Room were completed. Now, Tony was six-feet-five and I am an even five feet tall. I could barely see over his podium without my heels.
“Oh, goodness no, I don’t want to waste any time or money. Just get me one of those apple boxes and I’ll stand on that. It’ll be fine.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We got through that first week without triggering any major national or international catastrophes, so I was feeling pretty good. Then Carlton came back.
“Ma’am, I’m really sorry to bother you with this again, but I think that we should have them make you a new podium,” he said.
“Don’t be silly. We got through this week and next week we are traveling two days—before you know it, Tony will be back,” I said, barely looking up from my computer.
Carlton looked at the floor and didn’t leave. He was gathering some courage to tell me something I never expected to hear.
“Well, actually, NBC News showed me the camera shot from the back of the room. And when you’re at Tony’s podium standing on that apple box, the seal above your head is partly blocked by your head—so it doesn’t say, ‘The White House’… it says, ‘The White Ho.’ ”
I stared at him for a minute. We started giggling. The cameraman, Rodney Batten, had been kind to me and shot the briefings wide all week to spare me any embarrassment.
I gave Carlton the go-ahead, and by Monday, I had a new podium.
I was grateful for Rodney and Carlton’s protection. Staying connected to the staff and crew was really important to me, and it paid off. I didn’t want to get a big “senior staff head” and was grateful for the reminder of where I came from—in Wyoming, being cocky was a sure way to fall off your high horse.
Strength When No One Is Watching
In January 2008, President Bush went to the Middle East. He traveled to the region several times, though this was his first visit to Isreal as president. As always, the stakes were high.
The Bush Administration had just hosted the Middle East countries at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland, the previous November. It was the first time that all of the Arab nations had joined such a meeting, and there was some hope that Israeli Prime Minister Olmert and Palestinian President Abbas would be able to take the next steps toward a peace agreement (I know—but bear with me). The President’s first stop was Israel.
When Air Force One landed, it taxied to the hangar where the Israelis were gathered to greet us. Since President Bush didn’t waste any time, we were up and ready to go, standing by the door as the plane came to a stop. The President had just put on his suit jacket and was straightening his tie. I loved when he said to his personal aide and his advance man, “Look alive, boys! America has arrived.”
As we walked down the steps of the plane, the Israeli national band played “The Star-Spangled Banner.” It was an inspiring start to the trip. Our delegation lined up just outside Air Force One, and President Bush then introduced us one by one to Olmert. It was a wonderful bit of formality, except for President Bush’s personal touch of using our nicknames, which showed he was very friendly with the Israelis. When he got to me, he said, “This is Sweet Dana, Dana Perino, my press secretary.” I nodded, stifled a laugh, and shook the Prime Minister’s hand.
In the morning, President Bush had meetings with President Simon Peres, and in the afternoon, we took the choppers over to Ramallah, where he met with Abbas. It was shuttle diplomacy by chopper.
That night, our delegation dined at Olmert’s residence. The dining room table was very long and narrow with a full formal dinner setting for about twenty people. The walls were painted a pale yellow and decorated with Israeli art. The Prime Minister served wines from the region and the conversation was very easy and comfortable.
I sat next to Raffi Eitan, who at the time was the Minister of Pensioners Affairs. He’d dedicated his life to Israel, serving in many different government positions. In his youth, he had been in charge of the Mossad operation that led to the kidnapping of Adolf Eichmann. In his eighties when I met him, Minister Eitan was a bit hard of hearing and at dinner kept raising his glass to me and in a loud voice saying, “Bon appétit!” At one point, President Bush shot me a look of “What the heck is going on down there?” I just smiled, shrugged, and toasted Eitan back.
As we finished the main course, Olmert took a moment to thank President Bush for coming to Israel, and he described how much it meant to them to have the special relationship with the United States. On the Israeli side of the table, there was at least one person who was very much against the idea of the peace agreement as it had been loosely defined. Olmert’s coalition wasn’t strong, and any change in the cabinet would have triggered elections under the Israeli system. So keeping everyone on the same page was key to preventing a breakdown in the discussions.
After Olmert wound down, President Bush took charge of the dinner. I’d never seen him quite like this before, and I’d been in most of the foreign leader meetings for the previous couple of years.
The President said, “Thank you, Mr. Prime Minister. We are honored to be here. The relationship between Israel and the United States has never been stronger. And we have an opportunity here to ensure security for your citizens through decisions we have before us,” he said and then paused as he looked around the room. “But I’m telling you right now—if there’s anyone sitting at this table that is waiting in the tall grass with plans to attack this good man”—pointing at Olmert—“as soon as he makes a tough decision, please tell me now. Because I am the President of the United States of America, and I will not waste my country’s capital on you if you aren’t serious.”
Silence. I was stunned and teared up. It showed such strength and demonstrated clearly President Bush’s commitment to helping the Israelis and the Palestinians come to an agreement. No cameras were there to capture the moment, but we saw him stand up for America when no one was watching.
The Israelis started shifting in their seats after the President’s remarks and they murmured, “Oh no, no, no, there are no problems here, nothing to see, let’s move along.”
But President Bush didn’t let them off the hook so easily. “Tell you what—I’d like to hear more about all of you. Who here was born in Israel?” Only one cabinet official raised her hand.
The President then asked, “Well, what are your stories—how did your families come here? Let’s start with you,” pointing to Ol
mert’s chief of staff at the opposite end of the table from where I was sitting.
There was a short hesitation and then he said, “Well, Mr. President, my family came here from Iraq…” And then—Ukraine, Poland, Russia, Hungary, and elsewhere. As they told their stories, some ministers leaned forward and said, “Wait, your dad was in Poland in 1928? So was my dad!” There were several small world exchanges like that, and they kept saying that they’d never known this or that about one another.
President Bush let the discussion last awhile. Then, when the conversation started dying down and there was a renewed sense of camaraderie and shared purpose among the Israelis, he said, “I had a feeling you all may have forgotten why you were here in the first place. Thank you for having us. Good night.”
And with that, he pushed back his chair and everyone stood up. Dinner was over. Afterward, the President and Olmert went into the Prime Minister’s private study to smoke a cigar and discuss the day’s events. The delegation waited in the lobby and chatted with our counterparts. The Prime Minister’s spokesman and I worked on a description of the dinner that could be shared with reporters who were waiting outside.
The next morning the U.S. delegation left Israel for Kuwait. While on the flight, I needed President Bush to sign off on something before I did the press gaggle. I went up to his office on Air Force One, and he invited me to have a seat. I didn’t want to bother him, but I loved any time I had a chance to talk with him more casually. When I sat down, I said, “So about last night…”
He looked at me and winked. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“Yes, sir. Pretty cool.”
I asked him how he knew to get the conversation going among Olmert’s cabinet. He said that based on his observations and his gut instinct, he believed they’d become so wrapped up in the daily politics that they’d lost sight of the overall goal of signing a peace agreement that would secure Israel in a hostile neighborhood. He had a feeling that they’d just stopped talking to one another, so he decided to take a chance to get them to start seeing themselves as allies for a common cause, rather than as individuals fighting their own political battles.