accounting.
**I am particularly grateful to Commissioner Peter Ueberroth, American League President Bobby Brown, and Jerry Reinsdorf of the Chicago White Sox for their help in navigating the buying process.
***The final tally was 110 to 95 in books, 40,347 to 37,343 in pages, and 2,275,297 to 2,032,083 in total square inches.
****The team included my friend Jim Francis as chairman; Don Evans as finance director; Karl Rove as the top strategist; Stanford-educated lawyer Vance McMahon as policy director; former Texas Association of School Boards official Margaret LaMontagne as political director; Dan Bartlett, a recent University of Texas graduate, on the communications team; and Israel Hernandez, a hardworking UT grad who took pressure off Laura and me, as traveling aide.
ick’s face was hard to read. He betrayed no emotion. He stared at the cows grazing under the broiling sun at our ranch in Crawford, Texas.
It was July 3, 2000. Ten weeks earlier, after securing the Republican presidential nomination, I had sent campaign manager Joe Allbaugh to visit Dick Cheney in Dallas. I asked him to find answers to two questions. First, was Dick interested in being a candidate for vice president? If not, was he willing to help me find a running mate?
Dick told Joe he was happy with his life and finished with politics. But he would be willing to lead the VP search committee.
As I expected, Dick did a meticulous, thorough job. In our first meeting, I laid out my top criteria for a running mate. I wanted someone with whom I was comfortable, someone willing to serve as part of a team, someone with the Washington experience that I lacked, and, most important, someone prepared to serve as president at any moment. Dick recruited a small team of lawyers and discreetly gathered reams of paperwork on potential candidates. By the time he came to see me at the ranch in July, we had narrowed the list to nine people. But in my mind, there was always a tenth.
After a relaxed lunch with Laura, Dick and I walked into the yard behind our old wooden ranch house. I listened patiently as Dick talked me through the search committee’s final report. Then I looked him in the eye and said, “Dick, I’ve made up my mind.”
As a small business owner, baseball executive, governor, and front-row observer of Dad’s White House, I learned the importance of properly structuring and staffing an organization. The people you choose to surround you determine the quality of advice you receive and the way your goals are implemented. Over eight years as president, my personnel decisions raised some of the most complex and sensitive questions that reached the Oval Office: how to assemble a cohesive team, when to reshuffle an organization, how to manage disputes, how to distinguish among qualified candidates, and how to deliver bad news to good people.
I started each personnel decision by defining the job description and the criteria for the ideal candidate. I directed a wide search and considered a diverse range of options. For major appointments, I interviewed candidates face to face. I used my time to gauge character and personality. I was looking for integrity, competence, selflessness, and an ability to handle pressure. I always liked people with a sense of humor, a sign of modesty and self-awareness.
My goal was to assemble a team of talented people whose experience and skills complemented each other’s and to whom I felt comfortable delegating. I wanted people who agreed on the direction of the administration but felt free to express differences on any issue. An important part of my job was to create a culture that encouraged teamwork and fostered loyalty—not to me, but to the country and our ideals.
I am proud of the many honorable, talented, hardworking people who served in my administration. We had low turnover, little infighting, and close cooperation through some of the most challenging times in our nation’s history. I will always be grateful for their dedicated service.
I didn’t get every personnel decision right. Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher once said, “I usually make up my mind about a man in ten seconds, and I very rarely change it.” I didn’t operate quite that fast, but I’ve always been able to read people. For the most part, this was an advantage. But there were times when I was too loyal or too slow to change. I misjudged how some selections would be perceived. Sometimes I flat out picked the wrong person for the job. Personnel decisions were among my first decisions as president—and my most important.
A president’s first major personnel decision comes before taking office. The vice presidential selection provides voters with a window into a candidate’s decision-making style. It reveals how careful and thorough he or she will be. And it signals a potential president’s priorities for the country.
By the time I clinched the Republican nomination in March 2000, I knew quite a bit about vice presidents. I had followed the selection process closely when Dad was discussed as a possible running mate for Richard Nixon in 1968 and Gerald Ford in 1976. I had watched him serve eight years at President Reagan’s side. I had observed his relationship with Dan Quayle. And I remembered the vice presidential horror story of my youth, when Democratic nominee George McGovern picked Tom Eagleton to be his running mate, only to learn later that Eagleton had suffered several nervous breakdowns and undergone electroshock therapy.
I was determined not to repeat that mistake, which was one reason I chose someone as careful and deliberate as Dick Cheney to run the vetting process. By early summer, we were focused on the finalists. Four were current or former governors: Lamar Alexander of Tennessee, Tom Ridge of Pennsylvania, Frank Keating of Oklahoma, and John Engler of Michigan. The other five were current or former senators: Jack Danforth of Missouri, Jon Kyl of Arizona, Chuck Hagel of Nebraska, and Bill Frist and Fred Thompson of Tennessee.
I talked through the choices with Dick, Laura, Karl, Karen, and a few other trusted aides. Karen recommended Tom Ridge, a Vietnam veteran from a key swing state. As a fellow chief executive, Tom would be plenty capable of running the country if anything happened to me. He was also pro-choice, which would appeal to moderates in both parties, while turning off some in the Republican base. Others made the case for Chuck Hagel, who sat on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and would bring foreign policy experience. I was close with Frank Keating and John Engler, and I knew I would work well with either. Jon Kyl was a rock-solid conservative who would help shore up the base. Lamar Alexander, Bill Frist, and Fred Thompson were fine men, and they might help me pull off an upset in Tennessee, the home state of the Democratic nominee, Vice President Al Gore.
I was intrigued by Jack Danforth. An ordained minister, Jack was honest, ethical, and forthright. His voting record over three terms in the Senate was solid. He had earned my respect with his defense of Clarence Thomas during his Supreme Court confirmation hearing in 1991. He was a principled conservative who could also appeal across party lines. As a dividend, he might help carry Missouri, which would be a key battleground state.
I thought seriously about offering the job to Danforth, but I found myself returning again and again to Dick Cheney. Dick’s experience was more extensive and diverse than that of anyone else on my list. As White House chief of staff, he had helped President Ford guide the nation through the aftermath of Watergate. He had served more than a decade in Congress and never lost an election. He had been a strong secretary of defense. He had run a global business and understood the private sector. Unlike any of the senators or governors on my list, he had stood next to presidents during the most gut-wrenching decisions that reach the Oval Office, including sending Americans to war. Not only would Dick be a valuable adviser, he would be fully capable of assuming the presidency.
While Dick knew Washington better than almost anyone, he didn’t behave like an insider. He allowed subordinates to get credit. When he spoke at meetings, his carefully chosen words carried credibility and influence.
Like me, Dick was a westerner. He enjoyed fishing and spending time outdoors. He had married Lynne Vincent, his high school sweetheart from Wyoming, and he was deeply devoted to their daughters, Liz and Mary. He had a practical mind and a dry sense of humor. He told me he had started at Yale a few years before me, but the university asked him not to come back. Twice. He said he had once filled out a compatibility test designed to match his personality with the most appropriate career. When the results came in, Dick was told he was best suited to be a funeral director.
As I mulled the decision, I called Dad for an outside opinion. I read him the names I was considering. He knew most of the candidates and said they were all fine people. “What about Dick Cheney?” I asked.
