43 minute read
Chapter 9
Transition to Federal Government
On Wednesday, November 5 , 2003, my nearly eleven years as Utah’s chief executive came to an end. I resigned as governor to become a member of President George W. Bush’s Cabinet, following U.S. Senate confirmation just days earlier as the tenth administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency.
In a carefully scripted ceremony in the rotunda of the Utah State Capitol, a transition of power took place. The gathering facilitated my departure and served as a small-scale inauguration of Olene S. Walker, who would serve out the remaining 425 days of my third term. In doing so, Olene became Utah’s fifteenth governor, the first woman to hold that office.
As part of the ceremony, I signed the formal resignation documents and remained present for the swearing-in and inaugural speech of Governor Walker. Following her speech, Jackie and I were escorted down an aisle of seats set up to accommodate the crowd of friends, family, colleagues, and supporters who had gathered on the front steps of the Capitol building. Handshakes, hugs, and wellwishes were exchanged, then Jackie and I sat in the back seat of the governor’s Lincoln Continental limo for the drive home.
This is car one, I am 10-42.
Three thousand, nine hundred and fifty-five days earlier, I had ridden up State Street toward my inauguration as a newly elected governor, forty-three years old and filled with confident anticipation. Now I was headed down State Street, leaving the Capitol and my work as governor into the hands of my capable successor. As we drove toward home, I asked Alan Workman, the head of my security detail, to hand me the microphone of the car’s communication radio. There was one final act I wanted to perform to finish my service. I needed to sign off as Car One.
After my own inauguration, the security detail told me that it was a tradition for a new governor to call the Highway Patrol dispatcher declaring themselves on active duty. The proper expression was, “This is Car One, I am 10-41.” The code for an officer to declare themselves off duty is 10-42. So, in my final act as governor, I clicked the key and declared, “Dispatch, this is Car One. I am 10-42.” The dispatcher, aware of the significance, thanked me on behalf of her colleagues in uniform. It was a fitting end.
A Formal Goodbye
My formal goodbye had come two nights earlier in the Gold Room of the Capitol, where I delivered a farewell address to a couple hundred close friends in attendance and a larger television audience statewide. In the same way an inaugural address is an invocation on the service of a governor, a farewell address is a benediction. It was a lovely evening. The in-person audience consisted entirely of my family, colleagues, close friends, and most loyal supporters. I felt satisfied in my service now past and enthusiastic about the federal role that lay ahead.
The speech expressed a large measure of gratitude, some highlights of the previous ten-and-a-half years, an aspirational look forward, and a bit of sentimentality:
Many times you have heard me express three personal goals for my service as Governor: To leave Utah better than I found it; to plant seeds for the next generation; and to give it all I have. I am satisfied that all three have been accomplished.
Ours is a young state. I have been governor for approximately ten percent of its history. During our time together, Utah’s population has grown by a half million.
We’ve seen boom times and lean times, and [we’ve] ushered in the information age—the defining activity of the last quarter-century.
We experienced a succession of events that closed out the twentieth century and opened the new millennium in ways both unforgettable and indelible: the state centennial; September 11; and, of course, our extraordinary Winter Olympics.
It has been an extraordinary privilege and honor.
Thank you does not suffice, but I’m at a loss for what does. The human soul has [the] capacity to feel things that cannot be adequately expressed in words. It is my great hope that, by that power, you can know the depth of gratitude I feel.
In addition to thanking the people of Utah for the privilege of serving as governor, I held up three keys symbolizing the three primary challenges that would define Utah’s prosperity in the future. The keys were (1) adequately funding education to build a quality workforce; (2) assimilating Utah’s growing minority population into the mainstream; and (3) prioritizing future water sources and investment, along with energy, while maintaining balance between the needs of the environment and the needs of humanity.
My closing remarks came straight from the heart.
It’s a composite, really, of people and places. The tiny handshakes of first graders and the salutes of military heroes. The impact of a great teacher. The economic multiplier created by a single employer. The wealth to society contributed by just one devoted family. I will never forget the sight of a torch-lit Salt Lake skyline and our incomparable western sunsets. I’ll remember the faces, the hopes, and the character of Utah’s people—the friendliness and generosity and their enormous drive, ability, spirit, and capacity for achievement. Utah’s character mirrors the larger profile of America, and I intend to tap that reservoir of greatness in all the national endeavors that lie ahead.
The twenty years between that speech and the current day of this writing have demonstrated that the three key issues I foreshadowed have maintained their importance and demanded present-day focus.
Even more lasting have been my aspirations for Utah, the indelible images and memories, and my enduring love for this state.
President Bush’s Job Offer
An early exit from state service was not something I had ever contemplated as my third term in the Governor’s Office proceeded apace. Indeed, we had made no formal decision ruling out a run for a fourth term as governor in 2004. I think the decision to conclude my service after three terms had been made in my heart, but not yet in my mind. Decision-making was in process when things changed unexpectedly.
On May 29, 2003, more than five months before I left state office for the federal position, I was conducting a media tour of the San Rafael Swell area of Utah with a team from PBS NewsHour as part of my efforts to tell the state’s story on public lands. We stopped in Price for fuel. As I got off the plane, security handed me a note to call Dina Powell of the White House Office of Presidential Personnel. I called her from a little office next to the vending machines in the small airport office. The purpose of the call was not entirely surprising to me—Dina wanted to know my interest in becoming the head of the Environmental Protection Agency.
When Christie Whitman, the EPA administrator at the time, announced her resignation, I told my Washington office director Joanne Neumann that I thought my name would be part of the mix; it was just a hunch. I had committed to attend and speak at an environmental conference in West Virginia on June 9th and 10th. So when Dina called, I agreed to visit D.C. and meet with her and other staffers from the White House on June 6th, the Friday before.
As the D.C. trip approached, I began assembling a memo to myself that laid out the pros and cons of accepting a role in the Bush Cabinet. Initially, the obvious cons seemed to outweigh the pros. It would mean concluding my service as governor and uprooting our family, among other things. Also, environmental issues were unfriendly for Republicans, and the Bush Administration had poor relationships with the environmental network of groups, financial backers, and supporters. It would likely be a minefield to navigate politically. The pros mostly dealt with what an opportunity it would be to serve in a new way, and at a national level.
At the White House I met with Dina Powell, Jim Connaughton, Karl Rove, and Josh Bolten. We had general discussions focused on the issues facing the administration. I did not leave the meetings feeling energized and told them that I would consider the matter over the weekend and let them know on Monday if I wanted to be considered.
Over the weekend I arranged to attend church at the congregation Joanne Neumann attended in McLean, Virginia. I was quite preoccupied by the question of whether to allow my name to be considered. I had a yellow pad with me for note taking. As the meeting went on, I found myself again sorting through my pros and cons list. Sitting there in church, I began to have a new thought. Perhaps I was looking at this wrong. Rather than simply looking at it through the lens of a pro/con list, I realized it would be useful to ask myself which of the two alternatives provided the best opportunity for the next eighteen months. It was unlikely that I would run for governor again in 2004. If I did run, it would be a difficult campaign. If I did not, it could be a miserable time being a “lame duck,” repeating tasks I had done for ten straight years. There was also no certainty that George Bush would win a second term or that I would be given this opportunity again.
As the church program proceeded, I began to sketch a graph on my yellow pad. It had a one-to-ten scale on the vertical axis labeled “relevance.” On the horizontal axis I lined out the remaining months of 2003 and 2004 and wrote down the activities I would be pursuing by virtue of my situation. It would include budget preparation and then getting ready for the legislature, plus another State of the State address, working with the legislature, and—if I didn’t run for governor again—managing the incoming flack, since every candidate for governor would try to differentiate themselves from me. Next I built a similar list projecting what activities I might be doing serving in Washington, D.C., going through confirmation, and then working at the job.
Finally, I drew a graph line that represented the amount of public relevance I would have under each scenario using the one-to-ten scale, along with another line gauging on a one-to-ten scale how much I would enjoy each scenario. The process was life changing. I realized in that moment that I did not want to seek reelection for a fourth term. It was time for me to do something else and time for someone else to be governor. Just as importantly, I concluded that the final year of my term would not feel particularly productive, so if I had an opportunity to serve in the Bush Cabinet, I should be open to it.
On Monday afternoon, June 9, before leaving for West Virginia, I had another meeting with Dina Powell at the White House. I told her I was willing to be considered, but there were logistical issues that made it problematic. I was also aware that Dirk Kempthorne, the governor of Idaho and former U.S. senator, wanted the job. We agreed to see how things unfolded.
During the next week, my meeting at the White House became public knowledge, and questions followed. We reported accurately that I had told the president it would be problematic for me to serve and that I was considering a fourth term. While I sensed I wouldn’t seek another term, the fact that I hadn’t finalized the decision made me comfortable in saying that.
That week, media reports carried the word that I’d asked to not be considered further. I had very little media attention after that, something that turned out to be rather useful. National media now began to focus on Dirk Kempthorne as the apparent choice.
While the idea was still in my head, as June unfolded and I heard nothing at all from the White House, I began to assume that the deal probably wouldn’t happen. The combination of my reluctance and the fact that Dirk apparently did want the job made him the logical choice.
I created a set of talking points that I kept in my wallet for when Dina Powell called to tell me Kempthorne had been chosen. She called at the end of June—but not to tell me Kempthorne had been chosen. As I pulled the card out so I could remember all the gracious stuff I planned to say, Dina surprised me by saying that the president wanted to see me privately about the job. Of course, you don’t turn down an interview from the president, so I agreed to meet with him the next time I was in Washington.
I’d Rather Play Shortstop
On July 6, I met with President Bush in the Oval Office. During the interview, the president said to me, “I’m sort of surprised that you are willing to do this.”
I responded, saying, “Candidly, Mr. President, the EPA is not the first place I would choose to serve. When I was in high school, I don’t think it would be considered an exaggeration to say that I was the best catcher in our league.”
It seems to me, Mr. President, that the EPA is a lot like playing catcher. You need protective gear over there.
The president interrupted me and laughingly said, “It must not have been a very big league.”
“It wasn’t a very big league, but big enough to make a point,” I countered. We both laughed.
I continued. “As catcher,” I said, “you wear protective gear, you get hot and sweaty, and you often catch foul tips with your hands. The truth is, I really preferred shortstop. But I played catcher because that is what the team needed.”
“Finally, my senior year they got another catcher and they let me play shortstop. However, periodically the new catcher would get hurt or need to rest and I’d strap on the gear and get behind the plate. That’s what the team needed.”
“It seems to me, Mr. President, that the EPA is a lot like playing catcher. You need protective gear over there. It is not an easy place to be a Republican, but if that’s what you need on your team, I’m willing to do it. However, you need to know—I’d rather play shortstop.”
We also discussed environmental issues. During the discussion I made a statement related to his environmental philosophy. He stopped me and said, “Just what do you think my environmental philosophy is?”
I responded by saying, “I’m not sure I have ever heard you express it directly, but I think our points of view are pretty close. Let me tell you what mine is, and you decide how close we are.” I then went on to recite the principles of Enlibra, the doctrine of environmental balance I had developed and written about. I had spoken about the principles enough that I could recite them word for word, but I just weaved them into a paragraph or two. It was poetry.
Right after the interview I wrote an email to Rich McKeown, saying, “I felt good about the interview. I was relaxed and expressed what I wanted to say.”
However, for a long time after my interview with the president, I heard nothing. The rumors on Dirk Kempthorne became more pronounced and regular. He was in a difficult position. The environmental community had already begun to attack his record and to make clear that they were going to take him on big time, or, for that matter, whomever the president selected.
The situation was a little difficult for me because I was closing in on the point in time where I would have to make an announcement on my reelection plans. Plus, in addition to my regular duties as governor, there was the constant distraction of thinking about it and wondering. Jackie and I had constant dialogue about it.
My primary goal was to keep it out of the media. Given that the president was rather likely to choose Dirk, I didn’t want it to look like I had pursued the job and didn’t get it.
I had a funny moment in Sun Valley with Don Graham, owner of the Washington Post. We were at Allen and Company’s pool reception on the next-to-last night. Dirk was there. Don said, “So your friend Dirk is going to Washington to head EPA?” I just said, “That’s what I read in the Washington Post.”
As the latter part of July rolled around, I was feeling less and less sure I wanted the job. There were family dynamics to consider, like Westin still being at home. The thought of either getting back into the private sector or running again was all weighing on me. But one of the biggest concerns I had was leaving my position as governor early—I had made a promise to the people of Utah that I would serve until the end of my third term.
Governor, I just left the president, and he would like you to be a member of his Cabinet.
Dina Powell had told me that the president wanted to make a decision before he went to Texas on vacation. I assumed that they would not want to make the decision while Congress was in session as well.
The Phone Call Offer
On August 2, I was working out at the Alta Club when security handed me a note that said Dina Powell needed a call from me. I knew it was about EPA, so I waited until after my workout to call because I was still feeling rather unsure. When I reached her, rather than telling me what the president had decided, she said, “Where are you going to be for the next two or three weeks? The president has not made a decision, but I need to know how to find you if he does.”
I told Dina that she could call my office; they would know how to find me anytime. However, I told her I needed to talk with her, sending the signal that I was having serious second thoughts. She had just stepped out of a meeting to connect with me, so she couldn’t talk then. I asked that she call me later in the afternoon. She agreed.
It was a Friday afternoon, and I had an appointment to play golf with a group in Bountiful. Just before four o’clock, I was in the back seat of the Suburban changing clothes. I was literally caught with my pants down when my cell phone rang. It was Dina Powell. Before I could say anything about my misgivings, Dina said, “Governor, I just left the president, and he would like you to be a member of his Cabinet.” I was not at all prepared for that conversation. First of all, she had told me earlier in the day that it would be two to three weeks, plus I was still struggling with the correctness of leaving my governorship early.
We agreed that she would report that I was honored to serve and that I needed to have one more conversation with Andy Card, the chief of staff, to confirm some details. I was in a daze. I went out to play golf and played rather well for eight holes until the whole thing caught up with me. At that point, not only did my game fall apart but my desire to be there did also, and I announced I had to go early.
Jackie and I had something in Provo that night and I wanted to get home to talk with her about the situation.
Earlier in the day I had scored some success on a project of hers, so when I got home I waited until just the right moment to tell her the news. I was lying on our bed, and when she came into the bedroom I said, “Two things I need to tell you. First. . .” and I laid out the success I had on one of her programs. She was pleased and excited. Then I said, “And the second thing is, I got a call from the White House today and the president wants me to be a member of his cabinet.” We just looked at each other for a few seconds, without words. I don’t believe we ever made it to Provo. We decided to stay home instead to talk about what this new development all meant. Ultimately, our misgivings gave way to a sense of rightness. I called Dina to tell her I was in.
Preparing for the Announcement
Dina Powell had notified me that the White House wanted to announce my appointment on August 11 in Denver, but they wanted absolute confidentiality until then. That presented a considerable challenge because there was so much that needed to be done, and so many people who needed to be notified for what would be an important transition—for me and for the State of Utah. This would be the first time in the 106-year history of the state that a governor had resigned mid-term. It would have profound impacts on all of my staff and my family. In addition, it would set off a power vacuum within the state of Utah as people scrambled to position themselves. I wanted very much for the president to make the announcement and for nothing to leak beforehand.
As I have reviewed history there is not a woman I know of, on either the basis of competency or previous service, who deserves that honor more.
The weekend after I finalized the agreement to be nominated, Rich McKeown and I started to lay out what resembled a battle plan to get ready for the announcement in Denver. We created a list of who needed to be notified, when they needed to be notified, and by whom. One of the greatest complications was a golf tournament I was sponsoring at Wasatch State Park in Heber City on the same day as the announcement. Another was arranging for Utah’s Speaker of the House and President of the Senate to be in Denver so President Bush could ask them to help free me up from the promise I made to serve the entire third term. We also needed to arrange for my family to be there without creating commotion.
Slowly, we increased the number of people who knew. A few of my personal staff needed to know first, then others. One critical person was the lieutenant governor.
On Wednesday, August 7, I asked Olene Walker to join me in my private office. She was aware that early conversations had been held about the nomination but was not privy to the July interview or subsequent events. I was straightforward: “Olene, the president has asked me join his cabinet as administrator of the United States Environmental Protection Agency; obviously this will have a big impact on you, and I want discuss the matter with you.”
I told her that when I chose her as my lieutenant governor, first on my list of criteria was to find a person who was capable of being governor, and that I had no hesitation about her assuming the responsibility. I also told her that as I weighed the decision, the fact that Utah had never had a woman as governor was not lost on me. I said, “As I have reviewed history there is not a woman I know of, on either the basis of competency or previous service, who deserves that honor more.”
We then began talking about timing and the fact that all of this was contingent on being confirmed by the Senate.
Olene was rather quiet and reserved, clearly surprised and taken aback, but dignified. It was exactly the way a historic conversation of that importance should be conducted, with soberness and in a businesslike manner. She said simply, “I’ll be ready.”
Rich McKeown, my chief of staff, and Gary Doxey, general counsel, then came in and we had a brief conversation about the next few days and the importance of confidentiality.
There were many emotional moments during that week. One that typifies them occurred the weekend before the announcement. Natalie and I had been working on press releases and talking points. I had written a draft of my remarks and asked her to read them out loud so I could hear them spoken.
We were in Natalie’s office, all standing. Rich McKeown was there also. When she got to the part in the text where I described how much I love Utah and the people of Utah, both Natalie and I were overcome with emotion.
The scene in Natalie’s office, as well as a meeting I had with my cabinet a couple of days after the president’s announcement, were the only two times that my emotions got the best of me throughout the course of the week. That doesn’t mean I didn’t feel emotional—I spent much of the week with a lump in my throat.
The plan we created was executed with near perfection. We continued to slowly expand the circle as people needed to know. On Sunday night I invited a handful of people like Dan Jones, Bob Mendenhall, Max Farbman, and Kim Hood to my home to tell them in person. Those were nice experiences because they all valued the fact that I told them personally.
Announcing My Nomination
On Monday morning, August 11, I went to the Governors Classic Golf Tournament. I took pictures with each one of the participants and did my best to engage everyone. At various points I had to find a quiet place in order to have a conversation with a senator or other person we needed to tell in advance. At eleven o’clock I quietly left the event.
We were amazed that the news had not leaked. As we drove from the golf tournament, Natalie checked again with Washington and the Capitol. No news.
Natalie and I drove to a Holiday Inn in Heber City where we had arranged to meet Senate President Al Mansell and House Speaker Marty Stephens. I had called them on Saturday, told them that the president was going to be in Denver and had invited me to have a meeting and bring two people with me. They both readily accepted. Originally, we envisioned telling them on the plane after we took off but thought better of it.
Natalie and I were waiting for them when they arrived at the airport. Knowing that we didn’t have much time I got right to the point. “There is a piece of information about this meeting I want to tell you before we leave. The president has asked that I become a member of his Cabinet and serve as the administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency. That will have obvious ramifications on the state, and the president wants to talk with you about it.”
“Specifically,” I continued, “he is going to ask you to help resolve a commitment I made during the campaign last time that I would serve the entire term.” I then told them the entire history of his invitation, and that a prerequisite for my taking the job was getting this resolved.
Both were momentarily stunned. Al was the first to recover and express excitement.
Marty took a little longer and said something about him being a “potential competitor” in the 2004 election before realizing how my stepping down changed the landscape and the dynamics. I would not even be finishing the third term, much less seeking a fourth.
Within a few minutes they were very enthused, and we were on our way to the airport. We boarded the small King Aire. As we were doing so, my family was getting on the large King Aire at the state hangar. We talked a good share of the time on the flight, but then I had to work on my remarks for the news conference. We arrived at Denver International Airport a little behind the family plane.
While we were in the air, Rich McKeown was back in Heber City meeting with my cabinet in a small room at the Wasatch State Park building. He then went back to the golf tournament to tell the participants. When we arrived, my family had already gone to the hotel. All the security was in place for Air Force One. Television satellite trucks and TV people were everywhere.
On the way into Denver, we were able to get on our cell phones for the first time. The phones instantly buzzed with messages. The story had broken during the time we were in the air.
In Salt Lake City, the story spread like brush fire. Television stations interrupted broadcasts; radio stations turned all of their attention to the development; people called friends on the phone. Apparently, it just went everywhere instantly.
As we drove to the Marriott Hotel where the event was to be held, I started calling the final list of those I wanted to pre-notify. I spoke with some and left messages for others. I placed a dozen or more calls before we got to the hotel.
We went to a room where I showered and changed from my golf clothes to business attire. We had about an hour and fifteen minutes until they took us to a holding room in anticipation of the president’s arrival. We were briefed by the advance people, took some pictures, and talked.
When we go out there, I’m going to say your name on TV, and your world will change in ways you just can’t imagine.
The advance man left the family in one room and took me to meet the president. Alan Workman and I were standing in a hall outside the hotel’s kitchen. When the president arrived, the usual armada of Secret Service people accompanied him. He rounded the corner and exclaimed, “Mikey!”
As we shook hands he said, “So, you’re going to play catcher?” We went into a holding room, just the two of us. There were no staff or security. One of the things I remember he said to me was, “When we go out there, I’m going to say your name on TV, and your world will change in ways you just can’t imagine.”
A few minutes later, Al Mansell and Marty Stephens came into the room. Introductions were made. I had briefed the president on why this meeting was important to me and what I wanted to accomplish with it. The president was perfect in his execution. He told Marty and Al that he had asked me to do this job, but I told him I needed to resolve the promise I’d made. He then asked them if they would help explain to the people of the state that I was needed. They, of course, agreed. The president said some nice things about me and alluded to what a difficult job this might be. He said something like, “The people of the country will find out how good this guy is. There may be other places he could serve, but this is the place we need him right now.”
We took some pictures and then the family came in. More pictures were taken with Jackie and I, my mom and dad, and all the kids.
The president, Jackie, and I then went back to the hall near the kitchen so we could enter the staging area for the news announcement. News of the appointment had already gone out over the Associated Press wire service.
President Bush first made some comments about the president of Liberia agreeing to resign and go into exile amid civil war in his nation, then read his remarks about my nomination. He then turned it over to me.1
As The Chicago Tribune reported, “Announcing his choice of Leavitt in Denver, where the president had gone for a campaign fundraising appearance, Bush called the governor “a trusted friend, a capable executive and a man who understands the obligations of environmental stewardship.”
“Mike Leavitt will come to the EPA with a strong environmental record and a strong desire to improve on what has taken place during the last three decades,” Bush said. “He understands the importance of clear standards in every environmental policy. He respects the ability of state and local governments to meet those standards, [and] rejects the old ways of command and control from above.”
Joining Bush for the announcement, Leavitt said, “There is no progress polarizing at the extremes, but there is great progress . . . when we collaborate in the productive middle.”
Emphasizing the need for balance in environmental policy, Leavitt added: “There is an inherent human responsibility to care for the Earth. But there’s also an economic imperative that we’re dealing with in a global economy to do it less expensively.” 2
There were only about thirty people in the room, including my family, but it was broadcast around the world. We finished, took no questions, and exited. The president took a minute or two to say good-bye. He went one way and I went another, and, just as the president said, my life was changed forever.
Media Frenzy
Within about thirty minutes we were headed back to the airport. We had picked up Jim Connaughton, the chairman of the White House Council on Environmental Quality, who flew back with us. The president had been in Arizona earlier in the day doing a forest fire event. He was doing a fundraiser in Colorado later in the evening and then heading back to his ranch in Texas.
When we arrived in Salt Lake, we were met by a horde of reporters all trying to get a picture of us getting off the plane. The TV stations were carrying the event live. Marty and Al spoke to the reporters at the airport; I proceeded directly to the Capitol. That worked out perfectly because it created a forum for them to expound on my release from the promise to serve out the full third term. They did a good job.
When we got to the Capitol, things were a beehive of activity. I was scheduled to do a live news conference explaining what had occurred to the people of Utah. The room was packed with reporters and cameras, staff, and family. I spent a few minutes catching my breath and then went live. I said the things I wanted to say and for the most part, I was happy with it; Olene spoke as well. Things immediately began to turn to the prospect of Olene being the first woman governor.
Myron Walker, Olene’s husband, who was about to become Utah’s first-ever first gentleman, was asked what title he would use since First Lady didn’t apply. He brought down the house and had the quote of the week, deadpanning that he would go by “husband and lover.” 3
After we did questions and answers, the Governor’s Board Room filled with friends, staff, and former staff members gathering there to celebrate and wish me well. It was a wonderful moment really. Too many emotions to express adequately and too grand to comprehend.
The few days after the announcement were rather crazy. The national media were all trying to figure out my environmental views. The environmental groups were caught off guard because they were expecting Governor Kempthorne to be nominated. I’m sure they were ready with all kinds of research and attack pieces for him.
The local media was obsessing over what it all meant for Utah with Olene Walker becoming governor. I did very few interviews, and the ones I did were mostly local. I was getting calls from people all over the country to congratulate me, my state email account filled up every day with people asking questions, and our website started getting thousands of hits. It was all rather strange.
The Transition
The White House appointed Ziad Ojakli, referred to almost universally as “Z,” to oversee my confirmation preparation. At the time, Z headed White House Legislative Affairs on the Senate side. And it was Z who arranged meetings for me with all the necessary White House offices in late August.
The team agreed to a timetable and to have conference calls every Tuesday and Thursday. I felt better having had the meetings. At least we had a plan and an idea of who was going to do what.
Rich McKeown and Natalie Gochnour were there with me, so we were able to spend lots of time planning and talking about how to approach things. We had a constantly updating list of things to do.
The priority was getting all the paperwork and security checks done. I had a team of accounting people helping me, and we delivered the paperwork to the White House before the meeting with the confirmation team. From there the documentation was immediately turned over to the FBI and Office of Government Ethics.
Because I got the paperwork done so quickly, the process got underway faster. The vetting agencies sent FBI people to Cedar City and all the places I’d ever lived. They interviewed our neighbors, people I’d been in business with, and many more.
The following week I was able to finish a letter with the Office of Government Ethics. There are ostensibly 8,600 full-time employees in the federal government ensuring that no one in government positions does anything unethical. In a way it’s helpful, since there are so many people with agendas to damage one’s reputation and, therefore, their ability to work effectively. You don’t want to have an angle uncovered.
At the end of August, the FBI declared that there was nothing in my background that would cause any problem and they could formally send my nomination to Capitol Hill. That was done on September 3, 2003.
Beginning the next week, I started going to Washington on a Tuesday-to-Thursday schedule each week, working in Utah the rest of the time. My time in Washington was a combination of briefings and instruction on environmental issues and meetings with senators in order to get to know them.
Preparation for the Senate Hearing
The process required that I have a confirmation hearing conducted by the Senate’s Environment and Public Works Committee, face a vote there, and then be confirmed in a vote of the full Senate. And within days it became evident that my nomination would be delayed by presidential politics. Democrats just wanted to bash President Bush, and my nomination gave them a perfect opportunity to do it.
During the run-up to the confirmation hearing, national environmental groups researched everything about my record, and they did anything and everything they could to discredit the president and me.
To get ready for the hearing, I started studying several hours every day. First, I read the transcripts of previous hearings the committee had held to see the kind of questions each senator usually asked.
Then I had the environmental interests of each senator researched. I made a long list of the topics—there were more than eighty of them—and then started studying.
I studied a lot, and then we had people come to teach me about subjects I didn’t know much about. Finally, we invited stand-ins to hold mock hearings where we would try to mirror and game out what the hearings would be like. It helped me get used to talking about environmental subjects and specific topics. I did five formal mock hearings—dubbed “murder boards,” just as other congressional hearings are—and a couple of informal sessions.
The first week in September, the Environment and Public Works Committee set a hearing date of September 18, and we targeted our work toward that date. A couple of Democrat senators, most notably Hillary Clinton, decided that while they didn’t have any problem with me, they did plan to put a hold on the vote for my nomination because Hillary was mad about issues related to the EPA. In short order, all of the Democratic senators running for president—Joe Lieberman of Connecticut, John Kerry of Massachusetts, and John Edwards of North Carolina— did the same thing.
The media nationally and locally started making a big deal out of my confirmation hearing because the Democrats had promised to pound the president and me. Drama was mounting. However, the biggest news rounding the corner was an approaching Hurricane Isabel. The storm was headed right for the east coast, tracking potentially for Washington, D.C. That put everything on hold.
On Tuesday, September 17, I did more Senate visits and more mock hearings. I was starting to feel well prepared. Jackie was planning to leave home on Tuesday afternoon to join me in Washington. As the storm got closer, however, it was more and more evident that the hearing could be cancelled.
Jackie stayed in Salt Lake. Then on Wednesday she packed and got ready, only to unpack and get ready again three more times because the committee would say they were canceling, and then the hearing would abruptly be back on. Rich and Natalie finally decided they would leave Washington, D.C., because they figured it would be cancelled. At one o’clock we got word it would be held. Then at three o’clock they cancelled it again.
I decided to stay put, just in case they scheduled the hearing on Monday and then claimed I was not there. I also decided not to do any more preparation during the weekend. I was afraid I would start getting stale on the material. I just worked in the office. A number of Salt Lake-based media were in Washington, D.C., for the hearing and they all just ended up staying and covering the hurricane, which turned out to be a rather spectacular event. It didn’t hit Washington directly, but the aftermath was serious, with considerable flooding and damage to buildings.
Westin had stayed in D.C. with me, and rather than sit around Washington, we decided to take the train to New York City and go see a World Series game. We stayed with my friend Moshe Azulay and scored tickets. We returned to Washington, D.C., but once again, the hearing was delayed and rescheduled for ten days later.
On Sunday night a week later, I flew again to Washington, and this time Jackie came with me, as did Rich, Natalie, and Dianne Nielson, head of Utah’s Department of Environmental Quality. We arrived late Sunday night. On Monday I did Senate visits and another couple of hours of briefing and hearing practice. Tuesday morning, I awoke at 2 a.m. and could not sleep. I retired to the hotel bathroom where I could read my briefing books without waking Jackie. I was hoping it would put me to sleep, but it did not. At 6:30 a.m., I called Shane Terry from my security detail and told him I wanted to go for a run. It was pouring rain, but we decided to go anyway. This was not a drizzle; it was a heavy rainstorm. We walked to the mall and then ran to the Washington monument and back to the hotel. We were the only two at the mall, running alone, splashing through the puddles as I recited my opening remarks to an imaginary audience and Shane.
The run accomplished its hoped-for purpose though. It cleared my head. We dressed and headed for the hearing room about 8:30 a.m.
Senate Confirmation
As we arrived, there were hundreds of people who had lined up waiting to get into the room. A few Utah friends were there for support, people who were in town on other business.
We were kept in a holding office for about fifteen minutes and then led into the hearing room. A Senate hearing has predictable properties. Senators move in and out of the meeting, attending other hearings and meetings, and there are TV cameras and photographers taking pictures. Sometimes very few senators are there, at other moments it’s a packed house.
Senator James Inhofe of Oklahoma was the chairman, and a very helpful individual during the confirmation process. He called the meeting to order and then made an opening statement. Senator Jim Jeffords of Vermont, the ranking minority member, did the same thing. Utah’s senators Hatch and Bennett made remarks to introduce me. They both took a lot of time, which was fine with me because the chairman had made it clear that he wanted the hearing done by noon. It turned out to be 12:30 p.m. by later agreement.
I do not know Mr. Leavitt well, but if he is anything like his father, he’s good enough for me.
Each senator then took three to five minutes. The Republicans praised President Bush and me. The Democrats, almost to a person, said nice things or stayed neutral about me and then bashed the president. Several of the senators were friends of mine; Senators George Voinovich and Tom Carper had been governors the same time I was.
Then a remarkable thing happened. Senator Harry Reid of Nevada, the Democrat minority leader, entered the hearing room. It was unexpected because Senator Reid was not a member of the committee. He asked to be recognized and was immediately because of his seniority and leadership role. Senator Reid began by saying, “I do not know Mr. Leavitt well, but I would like to convey a story.”
Reid indicated that he had attended college in the town where I grew up. He married his wife, Landra, and decided he should have insurance in case she became pregnant. He went to a young insurance agent on Main Street in Cedar City and bought an insurance policy from that man, who turned out to be my father.
Senator Reid continued his story by saying that a few months later he and Landra moved to another town to attend a different university. In time, Landra became pregnant. When the baby was born, the hospital informed him that the policy did not cover maternity care.
I will pause at this point in Senator Reid’s story to add that I had never heard of this story and when he got to the part about having no coverage, I became quite uncomfortable.
Senator Reid went on to say that he called my father on the phone and told him there was no coverage.
At this point, everyone in the room was rapt with attention. Reid paused and then said, “Mr. Leavitt’s father said, ‘Harry, when you bought that policy, did you think it covered the delivery of a baby?’ I told him that is the reason we bought it. Mr. Leavitt’s father then said, ‘Harry, if that is what you thought, bundle up those bills and send them to me.’”
Senator Reid then ended by saying: “I do not know Mr. Leavitt well, but if he is anything like his father, he’s good enough for me.”
The tone of the hearing changed. The committee concluded its questioning. Although the news media came expecting a bloodbath, it didn’t occur. The hearing lasted just under four hours. I felt great about the way I had prepared but understood that the nature of the hearing had been changed because of Senator Reid’s intervention.
Reid told me later that he had not thought of that story for many years, but it just came to him that morning as he drove to work, and he took the flash of memory as a prompting to do something to help me. And it certainly did.
After the hearing, Jackie and I traveled that night to Omaha, Nebraska, for a meeting of the Oquirrh Institute, a small think tank we had formed in Utah. Warren Buffet was the featured speaker. We had become friendly with the Buffetts at one of the Allen and Company conferences in Sun Valley. Afterward, we flew back to Salt Lake City.
Even with our delay getting home, it was evident that people in Utah were highly interested in the hearings. Everybody knew when they were, and more than I would ever have imagined watched. The local news organizations all had sent reporters to Washington.
He’s very good at bringing people together.
On October 15 , 2003, the Environment and Public Works Committee voted 16-2 to endorse me as head of the EPA. Then on October 28, the full Senate voted. As the Associated Press reported:
Utah Gov. Mike Leavitt easily won Senate confirmation Tuesday to become head of the Environmental Protection Agency after Senate Democrats sharply critical of the Bush administration backed down in the face of an overwhelming Republican show of force.
The Senate voted 88-8 to hand Leavitt the reins of the 18,000-employee agency. President Bush’s nomination of Leavitt was helped by the Utah Republican’s three terms as governor, during which he forged personal relationships with many Democrats who also were governors.
“He’s very good at bringing people together,” Sen. Tom Carper, D-Del., said moments before the vote in explaining why he was supporting Leavitt.
With confirmation over, I was free to resign as governor, and the turnaround from state to national service proceeded quickly. Less than a week after the confirmation hearing, I was saying farewell to Utah in the Gold Room, and two days after that came my formal resignation, the last ride in the big car, and the ritual signoff.
That same afternoon, I met Rich McKeown, Natalie Gochnour, Alayne Peterson, and my security detail at the airport. One of my favorite memories of that trip was that once we were in Washington, as we drove to some temporary apartments that had been arranged, we stopped at a CVS store in Clarendon, Virginia, to grab cereal and milk for the next morning’s breakfast. We laughed and took pictures of a big box of Frosted Flakes and a gallon of milk Rich and I procured for our breakfast fare.
The following day, I would be sworn in first thing, with little fanfare, becoming the fifth Utahn ever to hold Cabinet rank. Those before me were former Gov. George Dern, secretary of war for Franklin Roosevelt; Ezra Taft Benson, secretary of agriculture for Dwight Eisenhower; David Kennedy, secretary of treasury for Richard Nixon; and T. H. Bell, secretary of education for Ronald Reagan.
I was coming in with the same foundational aim I had upon assuming the governorship more than ten years ago—to make things better than I had found them. So, too, I’d be bringing a western sensibility to Washington, D.C., a place I had compared in my farewell address to the unruly town of Dodge City, from the Gunsmoke television show that had captivated me as a boy.
One adventure had ended and another was taking its place. Dodge City was about to get a taste of Cedar City.
