“BACK FOR GOOD?” the uniformed Secret Service officer asked as I passed him my driver’s license. “Back for good,” I replied with a smile. I went straight to get my White House identification badge. Eric Ueland, the director of OLA, had received permission to cut my onboarding short so that I could be on staff in time for the congressional picnic at the White House, on June 21.
After picking up my ID, I walked to the East Wing, cutting through the Rose Garden. There was no breeze, and the humidity kept the scent of the blooms hanging in the air.
Reaching the office, I was surprised to discover that I was the first staffer to arrive. Ben Howard walked in moments later. “You beat me on your first day,” he observed. “I knew I made a good choice.” The rest of the House team arrived shortly after. My new colleagues, all male, escorted me to my first senior staff meeting in Eric Ueland’s West Wing office. It was Eric’s first official day, too. I introduced myself to him, and he asked that I stand next to him as he ran through the week ahead for Congress. Before he turned the floor over to colleagues, he reintroduced me to the OLA staff, reminding everyone that I was now the point person for all House member inquiries.
Back in the East Wing, I went into Ben’s office with a list I had prepared: I needed access to his email and calendar, to make sure his schedule was organized and ran smoothly. My second priority was anything related to member services. He took a long look at my list and started laughing, placing it on top of a stack of papers on his chronically messy desk. “This is all great,” Ben said. “I wasn’t expecting to hit the ground running this fast, but it’s great.” I started to respond as he stood up. “I actually have to be up on the Hill right now,” he said, cutting me off. “Why don’t you come. As you know, the best way to learn about the place is on your feet.”
We walked outside and got into a black SUV idling on East Executive Avenue waiting to take us up to Capitol Hill. “The first day of every week Congress is in session, I meet with Kevin McCarthy, Speaker Nancy Pelosi, occasionally Liz Cheney, and their chiefs of staff—all separate meetings,” he explained, as he scrolled through hundreds of unread emails. I made a mental note to learn who the contacts were for his meetings, and to get access to his email as soon as possible. “We’ll head back to the White House after these meetings,” he told me, “and then come back to the Hill for whip team meetings, Republican Conference meetings, and when the House is voting.”
We got out at the south Capitol entrance, walking straight to House minority leader Kevin McCarthy’s office. Ben had worked for Kevin for many years and developed a professional relationship and friendship with him, as well as his chief of staff, Dan Meyer. Ben introduced me.
“Leader McCarthy,” I said, extending my hand.
“Kevin, please,” he replied. “We’re all friends here.”
Pelosi’s staff canceled our meeting that morning, so we headed to Liz Cheney’s office, in the Cannon House Office Building. Liz was Republican Conference chair then, in charge of forming a unified Republican message on issues. Her position was third in House Republican leadership, behind minority whip Steve Scalise and minority leader Kevin McCarthy. On the way, Ben advised me not to address Liz informally. “She takes her job very seriously,” he explained. “Not that Kevin and Steve don’t. But Liz is all business until you really get to know her… if she lets you.”
When we reached her office, an aide whisked Ben into her personal office while I waited in the lobby. I don’t know if it was because Ben suggested it, but I did sense an air of formality in Liz’s office that felt more traditional, old-school Republican, where staff operated by the book, people were addressed as “Mr.” or “Ms.,” and you were expected to observe certain courtesies.
Back in the White House that morning, I began digging into my new assignments, starting with an email to all House members and their chiefs of staff, introducing myself as their new point of contact in OLA. Over the next few weeks, I scheduled meetings with the heads of various White House offices instrumental in the care of members. I brought homemade baked goods to each meeting, and before I left, I had collected biographical information—birthdays, kids’ names, that kind of thing—for future use when I might send a card or schedule a Capitol tour. As the forward-facing staffer for the House OLA, I wanted to be on good terms with everyone in the White House who could help us advance the president’s agenda on the Hill.
After votes the next night, we hosted a dinner at Trattoria Alberto for about twenty members. Former speaker John Boehner was standing under the awning, smoking a Camel, when we arrived. “You’re new.” Ben answered for me. “Yeah, second day.” About an hour into the dinner, Boehner came over to our table to address the members. He looked down at my cranberry vodka and whispered, “Dark liquor or red wine from now on.” Then he tugged on the ends of my hair, saying, “And lose the ponytail.”
Ben and I were usually of the same mind. He seldom had to tell me what to do. We both appreciated how being personable helped you with members and their chiefs of staff, so we would come up with ideas for fostering those bonds, like retreats, and White House tours for friends, family, and donors. I gave tours a handful of times a week. I also checked in on every member every two weeks. I spent as much time as I could on the Hill, sitting in the cloakroom or standing on the floor during votes, where I kept a running tally, noting where members stood on bills being voted on that day, and what concerns they needed addressed and by whom before we secured their vote.
By the middle of July, Eric had noticed my close relationships with members and my growing network of Hill and administration staffers. After negotiating a two-year budget deal, he asked me to work with acting chief of staff Mick Mulvaney’s office to assemble a list of members to include on a call with the president about the budget. From then on, Mick and his staff viewed me as a conduit for House outreach on behalf of the president.
Trump was late joining the members’ budget call, because he was on the other line with Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyy, a whistleblower would later report.
In early August, I stopped by the office of Rep. Mark Meadows, of North Carolina, to drop off a few gifts from the president for his birthday. Since Mark and the president were close, no one in OLA, including me, had much of a relationship with him. Mark also had a reputation for preferring to work directly with Trump, circumventing our office. “He’ll never work with us,” Ben told me, “and it’s useless trying to read him. He’s a solo operator.”
But that one word, “operator,” gave me enough of a reason to try to establish a relationship with him. A leading figure in the House Freedom Caucus, he was influential, and, more importantly, he had the president’s ear.
Mark was in his office lobby on his phone when I walked in, and he held up a finger to indicate that I should wait for him to finish his call. When he hung up, I was prepared to introduce myself, and extended my hand to shake his. He pulled me in for a hug. “Sir, sorry to disrupt your day. I just came by to drop off a few things for you from POTUS,” I said. “And here’s your birthday gift,” I added, handing him a gift bag. Mustering the faux surprise of a veteran politician, he beamed, “Oh my gosh, how’d you know it’s my birthday soon?”
I replied, “Nothing gets past me.”
Studying my face for a moment, he then welcomed me into the office suite to introduce me to his staff. He asked me to give each of them my contact information. He stopped me as I turned to leave his office and handed me his phone. “Can you make sure all of your information is correct in my contacts?” I was taken aback to see that he had it. I handed the phone back to him. “Yes, sir, it’s all there.”
“Alright, then, you have a good August,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll be talking to you soon.”
We would, in fact, be talking soon, almost every day.
While my colleagues rotated taking time off during the recess, I volunteered to stay at the White House the full five weeks. William and I had rented an apartment together earlier that summer, but we had grown apart. I was focused on building my career, knowing we were headed into the busiest time of the year on the Hill. William didn’t support Trump, questioning his policies as well as how much time I devoted to work. When we broke up at the end of the summer, he cut ties quickly. We went from four years by each other’s side to there being a gaping hole where my best friend used to be. The change was jarring, but while I grieved the loss, I didn’t process it much and escaped into work. After all, this was the first time in my life I was on my own. Renting an apartment in the Navy Yard neighborhood, I embraced my new independence, free to do what I wanted.
On Tuesday, September 24, 2019, I was at Tortilla Coast with my colleagues when Eric called and asked me to hurry back to the White House. Speaker Pelosi had just formalized the impeachment inquiry against Trump over his call with President Zelenskyy. The president directed White House staff to launch a media campaign against the impeachment inquiry, which he called a “witch hunt.” We were to rely on his most vocal allies, many of whom were members of Congress, and begin to personally assemble messages they were to amplify. The president also recognized how critical it was to ensure that no Republicans turned their back on him as we neared the midterm elections.
On the call, Eric informed me that until the House formally voted on the articles of impeachment, I was to send hourly emails to every House Republican with messages from the president, flooding people’s inboxes with talking points, rebuttals, and pointed criticism meant to rally the troops like when Trump ripped out an article from the New York Times and wrote over it, in black Sharpie, “House Rs must have PERFECT VOTE.” I didn’t stop to think more about it at the time, other than doing what the president asked of me.
I ran through the East Wing doors, holding my dress in place, and raced to my desk. Catching my breath for a moment, I had the distinct sense that this was how my life would be from this day forward.