On his first day in the White House, he was alone

Jeff Eller's first-person account of being the first Clinton staff person in the West Wing of the White House

A little over three decades ago, Jeff Eller worked in the Clinton White House before moving to Austin and, among other things, becoming my boss. He has been a mentor and friend ever since, so when he posted something on Facebook about being the first member of the Clinton staff in the White House, I asked him to contribute a fuller recollection for you. Thank you to Jeff, and to you all, enjoy!

January 20, 1992. 

30 years ago.

At noon Bill Clinton raised his hand, while standing on the West Front of the U.S. Capitol and was sworn in as 42nd President of the United States.

I was the only staff person in the West Wing of the White House that day. 

As the transition person for the communications office, I had already been cleared and was in possession of that coveted “hard pass.”  

Standing in the upper press office, the last staffer from the Bush White House, said goodbye and "It's all yours." Everyone else was either at the Capitol or somewhere on the inaugural parade route or the viewing stand. 

In short order, two very polite gentlemen called me by name, handed me a cell phone and a pager and said: “You now have press duty.” I had no idea what that meant or how they knew my name.  I later would find out it meant after the press office closed for the day, the person with “duty” would get the overnight phone calls.  It was fascinating at first but after the first week and a nightly call from Helen Thomas with UPI, the fascination wore off.  It took two weeks before we set up a rotating schedule

I sat and watched the swearing and the parade from the multiple TV's scattered around the press office.

I also made a decision that day.  It set off a mini furor among the White House press corps.  Furors among the White House press corps, I soon learned, are fairly routine. They are always pissed off about something.

The White House Press Office has two distinct physical parts.  The lower press office is through a door behind the podium where the daily press briefings are held.  The upper press office is where the press secretary and other staff have offices.

There is a short hallway that branches off to go to the Roosevelt and Cabinet Rooms.

There’s a uniformed Secret Service agent halfway in between to keep strays from those rooms and the Oval Office.

That day, that agent, asked me if we wanted to maintain press access from the lower press office to the upper press office.  

Knowing that Dee Dee Myers, George Stephanopoulos, and other press staff had not even been in the West Wing let alone see their offices, I said no.  My thinking at the time was to let my colleagues find their footing before being surrounded by the press corps.

Eventually, they all arrived. George, Dee Dee, April, Dave, Kathy, Mack, Tony, Sandy, Gene, Bruce, Marla, Rabbi, Andrew...and the press corps covering the inaugural. 

My decision that day to stop reporters access to the upper press set off a howling among the press corps that we had already decided to limit access.  We hadn’t.

That decision, reversed in short order, set a tone that if I could get a do over, I would. 

I know this. It was made with the best intentions.

And even though I would do it over, for a few hours my friends were able to find a moment to savor being in the White House.

It was a joyous and scary afternoon in the White House.  Joyous because we were there.  Scary because now we had to help prove up what President Clinton said he’d do.  We’d come so far at times with so little except a great candidate, a purpose, and an intense desire to do it different.  

Later, the time frame grows fuzzy.  I made my way to my office in the Old Executive Office Building (OEOB), still mystified that all those agents knew my name.  I soon learned they had a book at every post with our photos and names.

As the transition lead for communications, I was able to pick beforehand, the offices for the media affairs staff.  I picked well.  First floor, East side overlooking the front lawn of the White House.  My office had a desk the size of a battleship, a non-working fireplace and a small balcony which was perfect for an occasional cigar.  World War II was run out of the OEOB before the Pentagon was built.  A magnificent historic building, the doorknobs have an anchor if it was a Navy office, swords if it was an Army office.  I think I got an anchor door.

That balcony was directly below the working office of the Vice-President.  Al Gore was an adamant non-smoker.  Occasionally, I’d get this call from the VP’s office imploring me to please wait until the VP wasn’t in the office.

That night, the OEOB was quiet.  The black and white checkerboard floors were shiny and clean, ready for a fresh start. At night, the lighting there is subdued. I was by myself and glad everyone who had worked so hard went to one or more inaugural balls. 

I didn't. I wrote a letter to my parents, then went to bed.  

Time has faded those words I wrote.  I'm pretty sure I said how proud I was that day. I am the first of seven generations to leave a farm in Indiana, I didn't graduate college, yet I had the high honor of working for the President.

I'm still proud. I'm proud of the work we did. I'm proud I played a part. 

Mom and Dad have passed. I think they are proud too.

Jeff Eller advises clients in the areas of U.S. politics and litigation, crisis management and crisis preparedness. His innovative strategies have succeeded on the largest stages and at the highest levels of government and business, and he has orchestrated media, lobbying and communications strategies in high-profile crisis situations throughout his career, including the Firestone tire recall and the G.M. ignition switch issue. Jeff serves on the boards of latakoo and Zignal Labs. He is a past board member for UsAgainstAlzheimers and The Texas Tribune.

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