“When they told me yesterday what had happened, I felt like the moon, the stars and all the planets had fallen on me.” - Harry S. Truman to reporters the day following his ascension as the 33rd President
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People always want to know where I was when I heard the news. I always want to make it seem like I was in the Situation Room looking over what route the troops I was about to send into battle would take, only for secret service to burst into the room and tell me the news. The truth is I in New York, in a modest apartment owned by my daughter.
When you’re the designated survivor you’re not told much. We’re just told to sit in this room for a few hours in case the unthinkable happens. For every other designated survivor, though, nothing happened. They order pizza for their staff and watch the President speak on tv instead of going to the Capitol to hear it live. I’m the only one who actually had to make the job mean something.
I remember exactly what I was doing when I heard the news. My daughter and I had ordered some pizza and were drinking some fairly cheap beer while watching the State of the Union on her tv. It wasn’t a great speech, but it got the job done. I was listening to President Clinton talk with the passion that had served him so well on the campaign trail about healthcare when the screen turned to static. I thought it was just bad reception and made a note to talk to some people at the FCC about what they might be able to do about these signals when the door burst open and the two secret service agents who were supposed to guard me stood with an uncharacteristic sweat coming down their foreheads. “We’ve lost contact with Washington” the senior agent said “We need to get you to a secure location Mr. Secretary.”
That moment drinking beer with my daughter on her worn couch is probably the last time I ever felt normal. After that began the longest four years of my life.
- Hard Choices: Memoir of an Accidental President (2003) by former President Daniel Glickman
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People always want to know where I was when I heard the news. I always want to make it seem like I was in the Situation Room looking over what route the troops I was about to send into battle would take, only for secret service to burst into the room and tell me the news. The truth is I in New York, in a modest apartment owned by my daughter.
When you’re the designated survivor you’re not told much. We’re just told to sit in this room for a few hours in case the unthinkable happens. For every other designated survivor, though, nothing happened. They order pizza for their staff and watch the President speak on tv instead of going to the Capitol to hear it live. I’m the only one who actually had to make the job mean something.
I remember exactly what I was doing when I heard the news. My daughter and I had ordered some pizza and were drinking some fairly cheap beer while watching the State of the Union on her tv. It wasn’t a great speech, but it got the job done. I was listening to President Clinton talk with the passion that had served him so well on the campaign trail about healthcare when the screen turned to static. I thought it was just bad reception and made a note to talk to some people at the FCC about what they might be able to do about these signals when the door burst open and the two secret service agents who were supposed to guard me stood with an uncharacteristic sweat coming down their foreheads. “We’ve lost contact with Washington” the senior agent said “We need to get you to a secure location Mr. Secretary.”
That moment drinking beer with my daughter on her worn couch is probably the last time I ever felt normal. After that began the longest four years of my life.
- Hard Choices: Memoir of an Accidental President (2003) by former President Daniel Glickman
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