Decision Points Part 6

One evening in the fall of 2006, I was chatting with my high school and college friend Jack Morrison Jack Morrison, whom I had appointed to the President's Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board (PFIAB). I was worried about the deteriorating conditions in Iraq and mentioned Don Rumsfeld's comment about needing fresh eyes.

"I have an idea," Jack said. "What about Bob Gates Bob Gates?" He told me he had met with Gates recently as part of his PFIAB work.

Why hadn't I thought of Bob? He had been CIA director in Dad's administration and deputy national security adviser to President Reagan. He had successfully run a large organization, Texas A&M University. He served on the Baker-Hamilton Commission, which was studying the problems in Iraq. He would be ideal for the job.

I immediately called Steve Hadley Steve Hadley and asked him to feel out Bob. We had tried to recruit him as director of national intelligence the previous year, but he had declined because he loved his job as president of A&M. Steve reported back the next day. Bob was interested. and asked him to feel out Bob. We had tried to recruit him as director of national intelligence the previous year, but he had declined because he loved his job as president of A&M. Steve reported back the next day. Bob was interested.

I was pretty sure I had found the right person for the job. But I was concerned about the timing. We were weeks away from the 2006 midterm elections. If I were to change defense secretaries at that point, it would look like I was making military decisions with politics in mind. I decided to make the move after the election.

The weekend before the midterms, Bob drove from College Station, Texas, to the ranch in Crawford. We met in my office, a secluded one-story building about a half-mile from the main house. I felt comfortable around Bob. He is a straightforward, una.s.suming man with a quiet strength. I promised him access to me anytime he needed it. Then I told him there was something else he needed to know before taking the job: I was seriously considering a troop increase in Iraq. He was open to it. I told him I knew he had a great life at A&M, but his country needed him. He accepted the job on the spot.

At Camp David with Bob Gates (left), and Peter Pace, Joint Chiefs Chairman. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper I knew d.i.c.k would not be happy with my decision. He was a close friend of Don's. As always, d.i.c.k told me what he thought. "I disagree with your decision. I think Don is doing a fine job. But it's your call. You're the president." I asked d.i.c.k to deliver the news to his friend, which I hoped would soften the blow.

Don handled the change like the professional he is. He sent me a touching letter. "I leave with great respect for you and for the leaders.h.i.+p you have provided during a most challenging time for our country," he wrote. "...It has been the highest honor of my long life to have been able to serve our country at such a critical time in our history."

Replacing the secretary of defense was one of two difficult personnel changes I made in 2006. The other was changing chiefs of staff. With the environment in Was.h.i.+ngton turning sour, Andy Card Andy Card reminded me often that there were only a handful of positions in which a personnel move would be viewed as significant. His job was one of them. In early 2006, Andy often brought up the possibility of his departure. "You can do it easily and it could change the debate," he said. "You owe it to yourself to consider it." reminded me often that there were only a handful of positions in which a personnel move would be viewed as significant. His job was one of them. In early 2006, Andy often brought up the possibility of his departure. "You can do it easily and it could change the debate," he said. "You owe it to yourself to consider it."

Around the same time, Clay Johnson Clay Johnson asked to see me. Clay had served with me every day since I took office as governor in 1995. When we sat down for lunch that day, he asked me how I thought the White House was functioning. I told him I was a little unsettled. I had been hearing complaints from staff members. From the perch of the presidency, though, it was hard to tell whether the gripes were petty grievances or evidence of a serious problem. asked to see me. Clay had served with me every day since I took office as governor in 1995. When we sat down for lunch that day, he asked me how I thought the White House was functioning. I told him I was a little unsettled. I had been hearing complaints from staff members. From the perch of the presidency, though, it was hard to tell whether the gripes were petty grievances or evidence of a serious problem.

Clay gave me a look that showed there wasn't much doubt in his mind. Then he pulled a pen out of his pocket, picked up his napkin, and sketched the organizational chart of the White House. It was a tangled mess, with lines of authority crossing and blurred. His point was clear: This was a major source of the unrest. Then he said, "I am not the only one who feels this way." He told me that several people had spontaneously used the same unflattering term to describe the White House structure: It started with "cl.u.s.ter" and ended with four more letters.

Clay was right. The organization was drifting. People had settled into comfort zones, and the sharpness that had once characterized our operation had dulled. The most effective way to fix the problem was to make a change at the top. I decided it was time to take Andy up on his offer to move on.

The realization was painful. Andy Card Andy Card was a loyal, honorable man who led the White House effectively through trying days. On a trip to Camp David that spring, I went to see Andy and his wife Kathi at the bowling alley. They are one of those great couples whose love for each other is so obvious. They knew I wasn't there for bowling. My face must have betrayed my anguish. I started by thanking Andy for his service. He cut me off and said, "Mr. President, you want to make a change." I tried to explain. He wouldn't let me. We hugged and he said he accepted my decision. was a loyal, honorable man who led the White House effectively through trying days. On a trip to Camp David that spring, I went to see Andy and his wife Kathi at the bowling alley. They are one of those great couples whose love for each other is so obvious. They knew I wasn't there for bowling. My face must have betrayed my anguish. I started by thanking Andy for his service. He cut me off and said, "Mr. President, you want to make a change." I tried to explain. He wouldn't let me. We hugged and he said he accepted my decision.

I was uncomfortable creating any large vacancy without having a replacement lined up. So before I had my talk with Andy, I had asked Josh Bolten to come see me. I respected Josh a lot, and so did his colleagues. Since his days as policy director of my campaign, he had served as deputy chief of staff for policy and director of the Office of Management and Budget. He knew my priorities as well as anyone. My trust in him was complete.

When I asked Josh if he would be my next chief of staff, he did not jump at the offer. Like most at the White House, he admired Andy Card and knew how hard the job could be. After thinking about it, he agreed that the White House needed restructuring and refres.h.i.+ng. He told me that if he took the job, he expected a green light to make personnel changes and clarify lines of authority and responsibility. I told him that was precisely why I wanted him. He accepted the job and stayed to the end, which made him one of the first staffers I hired for my campaign and the last I saw in the Oval Office-with ten full years in between.

Shortly after taking over, Josh moved forward with a number of changes, including replacing the White House press secretary with Tony Snow Tony Snow, a witty former TV and radio host who became a dear friend until he lost his valiant battle with cancer in 2008. The trickiest move was redefining Karl's role. After the 2004 election, Andy had asked Karl to become deputy chief of staff for policy, the top policy position in the White House. I understood his rationale. Karl is more than a political adviser. He is a policy wonk with a pa.s.sion for knowledge and for turning ideas into action. I approved his promotion because I wanted to benefit from Karl's expertise and abilities. To avoid any misperceptions, Andy made clear that Karl would not be included in national security meetings.

With my communications team, (from left) Dan Bartlett, Dana Perino, and Tony Snow. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper By the middle of 2006, Republicans were in trouble in the upcoming midterm elections, and the left had unfairly used Karl's new role to accuse us of politicizing policy decisions. Josh asked Karl to focus on the midterms and continue to provide strategic input. To take over the day-to-day policy operations, Josh brought in his deputy from OMB-Joel Kaplan, a brilliant and personable Harvard Law graduate who had worked for me since 2000.

I worried about how Karl would interpret the move. He had developed a thick skin in Was.h.i.+ngton, but he was a proud, sensitive man who had absorbed savage attacks on my behalf. It was a tribute to Karl's loyalty and Josh's managerial skill that they made the new arrangement work until Karl left the White House in August 2007.

While White House staff White House staff and Cabinet appointments are crucial to decision making, they are temporary. Judicial appointments are for life. I knew how proud Dad was to have appointed and Cabinet appointments are crucial to decision making, they are temporary. Judicial appointments are for life. I knew how proud Dad was to have appointed Clarence Thomas Clarence Thomas, a wise, principled, humane man. I also knew he was disappointed that his other nominee, David Souter David Souter, had evolved into a different kind of judge than he expected.

History is full of similar tales. John Adams John Adams famously called Chief Justice famously called Chief Justice John Marshall John Marshall-who served on the bench for thirty years after Adams left office-his greatest gift to the American people. On the other hand, when Dwight Eisenhower Dwight Eisenhower was asked to name his biggest mistakes as president, he answered, "I made two and they're both sitting on the Supreme Court." was asked to name his biggest mistakes as president, he answered, "I made two and they're both sitting on the Supreme Court."

Shortly after the 2000 election was decided, I asked my White House counsel, Alberto Gonzales Alberto Gonzales, and his team of lawyers to develop a list of candidates for the Supreme Court. Al was an impressive second-generation American who had worked his way through Rice University and Harvard Law School and earned my trust when I was governor. I told him the Supreme Court list should include women, minorities, and people with no previous experience on the bench. I made clear there should be no political litmus test. The only tests in my mind were personal integrity, intellectual ability, and judicial restraint. I was concerned about activist judges who subst.i.tuted their personal preferences for the text of the law. I subscribed to the strict constructionist school: I wanted judges who believed the Const.i.tution meant what it said.

With Al Gonzales. White House/Chris Greenburg White House/Chris Greenburg For more than eleven years, the same nine justices had sat together on the Court, the longest such streak in modern history. On June 30, 2005, Harriet Miers Harriet Miers-who had replaced Al Gonzales as White House counsel when he became attorney general-was informed that the Supreme Court would be forwarding a letter for me from one of the justices. We all a.s.sumed it was from Chief Justice William Rehnquist William Rehnquist, who was eighty years old and sick. But the next morning Harriet called me with a surprise. "It's O'Connor," she said.

I had met Justice Sandra Day O'Connor Sandra Day O'Connor many times over the years. The first female justice in the history of the Court, she had an engaging, straightforward personality. I was fond of Sandra and called her immediately after I received her letter. She told me it was time for her to go take care of her beloved husband, John, who was suffering from Alzheimer's. many times over the years. The first female justice in the history of the Court, she had an engaging, straightforward personality. I was fond of Sandra and called her immediately after I received her letter. She told me it was time for her to go take care of her beloved husband, John, who was suffering from Alzheimer's.

While the vacancy was not the one I expected, we were prepared to fill it. Harriet's team prepared a thick binder that contained the biographies of eleven candidates, as well as detailed a.n.a.lyses of their writings, speeches, and judicial philosophies. I had a trip to Europe scheduled in early July, and the long hours on Air Force One made for good reading time. After studying the binder, I narrowed the list down to five impressive judges: Samuel Alito Samuel Alito, Edith Brown Clement Edith Brown Clement, Michael Luttig Michael Luttig, John Roberts John Roberts, and J. Harvie Wilkinson J. Harvie Wilkinson.

Each came to meet me in the White House residence. I tried to put them at ease by giving them a tour of the living area. Then I took them to the family sitting room that overlooks the West Wing. I had read the summaries of their legal opinions; now I wanted to read the people. I was looking for someone who shared my judicial philosophy, and whose values wouldn't change over time. I went into the interviews hoping one person would stand apart.

One did. John Roberts flew in from London, where he was teaching for the summer. I knew Roberts's record: top of his cla.s.s at Harvard and Harvard Law School, law clerk to Justice Rehnquist, dozens of cases argued before the Supreme Court. Roberts had been nominated to the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals in 1992, but he wasn't confirmed before the election. I had nominated him to a seat on the same court in 2001. He was confirmed in 2003 and had established a solid record. Behind the sparkling resume was a genuine man with a gentle soul. He had a quick smile and spoke with pa.s.sion about the two young children he and his wife, Jane, had adopted. His command of the law was obvious, as was his character.

Having coffee with John Roberts in the West Wing Sitting Hall the morning after his nomination. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper I talked about the decision with d.i.c.k, Harriet, Andy, Al, and Karl. They liked Roberts, but he was not at the top of all lists. d.i.c.k and Al backed Luttig, who they felt was the most dedicated conservative jurist. Harriet supported Alito because he had the most established judicial record. Andy and Karl shared my inclination toward Roberts. I solicited opinions from others, including some of the younger lawyers in the White House. One was Brett Kavanaugh Brett Kavanaugh, whom I had nominated to the D.C. Circuit Court of Appeals. Brett told me that Luttig, Alito, and Roberts would all be solid justices. The tiebreaker question, he suggested, was which man would be the most effective leader on the Court-the most capable of convincing his colleagues through persuasion and strategic thinking.

I believed Roberts would be a natural leader. I didn't worry about him drifting away from his principles over time. He described his philosophy of judicial modesty with a baseball a.n.a.logy that stuck with me: "A good judge is like an umpire-and no umpire thinks he is the most important person on the field."

On Tuesday, July 19, I called John to offer him the job. We made the announcement that night in the East Room. Everything went according to plan until, during my primetime televised speech, four-year-old Jack Roberts slipped out of his mother's grip and started dancing around the floor. We later learned he was imitating Spider-Man. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, and it took all my concentration to continue my remarks. Eventually Jane reclaimed little Jack. The audience had a good laugh, and Jack's family got slide-show material for life.

In early September, three days before Roberts's confirmation hearing was scheduled to begin, Karl called me late on a Sat.u.r.day night. Laura and I were in bed, and n.o.body calls with good news at that hour. Karl told me the chief justice had just died. Rehnquist was one of the greats. He had served thirty-three years on the Supreme Court, nineteen of them in the center chair. He had conducted Dad's swearing-in as president in 1989 and mine in 2001. As my Second Inauguration approached, Rehnquist was ailing with thyroid cancer. He hadn't been seen in public for weeks. But when it came time to read the oath of office, his voice boomed loud and clear: "Repeat after me: I, George Walker Bush, do solemnly swear..."

I now had two vacancies on the Court to fill. I decided that John Roberts's leaders.h.i.+p ability made him a perfect fit for chief justice. John excelled at his hearing, was confirmed by a wide majority, and came back to the East Room for his swearing-in. The moment showed what unlikely turns life can take. John Roberts, who thirteen years earlier a.s.sumed that his chance to be a judge had pa.s.sed, was now chief justice of the United States.

With O'Connor's seat still vacant, I felt strongly that I should replace her with a woman. I didn't like the idea of the Supreme Court having only one woman, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Laura agreed-and shared her views with the press.

This was a rare occasion when Laura's advice spilled out into the public, but far from the only time I relied on her thoughtful counsel. Laura had an instinctive feel for the pulse of the country. She wasn't involved in every issue, and she didn't want to be. She picked areas that appealed to her-including education, women's health, rebuilding the Gulf Coast after Katrina, AIDS and malaria, and freedom in Burma and Afghanistan.

I instructed Harriet and the search committee to draw up a new list with more women. The candidates she found were impressive. But there were frustrating roadblocks. When I asked for a more thorough vetting of one well-qualified woman judge, it turned out that her husband had a financial problem that would jeopardize her confirmation. A top choice on the list was Priscilla Owen Priscilla Owen, a former justice on the Texas Supreme Court. Priscilla was one of the first people I nominated for a federal appeals court position in 2001. Unfortunately, Democrats made her a target. She was finally confirmed in the spring of 2005 as part of a bipartisan compromise. I thought she would make a fine member of the Supreme Court. But a number of senators, including Republicans, told me the fight would be b.l.o.o.d.y and ultimately she would not be confirmed.

Two other messages came from our consultations on Capitol Hill. The first was that I should think about picking a lawyer from outside the bench. The second was that I seriously consider my White House counsel, Harriet Miers Harriet Miers. Several senators had been very impressed by Harriet as she shepherded John Roberts John Roberts through his interviews on Capitol Hill. through his interviews on Capitol Hill.

I liked the idea of nominating Harriet. She had been a legal pioneer in Texas-the first woman president of a major Texas law firm, the Dallas Bar a.s.sociation, and the State Bar of Texas. She had been elected to the Dallas City Council, directed the Texas Lottery Commission, and served nearly five years in top White House positions. There was no doubt in my mind that she shared my judicial philosophy and that her outlook would not change. She would make an outstanding justice.

With Harriet Miers in the Oval Office. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper I asked Harriet if she had any interest in the job. She was surprised-more like shocked-but she said she would serve if I asked. I raised the idea with other members of the search group. Harriet's colleagues loved and respected her, and some thought she would be a good choice. Others argued that it was too risky to pick someone with no established record on the bench, or that we would be accused of cronyism. Several told me bluntly that she was not the right choice. None told me to expect the firestorm of criticism we received from our supporters.

The decision came down to Harriet and Priscilla Owen Priscilla Owen. I decided to go with Harriet. I knew her better. I thought she had a better chance to be confirmed. And she would bring a unique perspective to the Court as someone outside the judicial fraternity. Initially, a number of senators and judges praised the selection. Their voices, however, were quickly drowned out. On the right, initial whispers of disbelief turned to howls of incredulity. How could I name someone with so little experience? How could they trust the judicial philosophy of someone they didn't know?

It seemed to me that there was another argument against Harriet, one that went largely unspoken: How could I name someone who did not run in elite legal circles? Harriet had not gone to an Ivy League law school. Her personal style compounded the doubts. She is not glib. She is not fancy. She thinks hard before she speaks-a trait so rare in Was.h.i.+ngton that it was mistaken for intellectual slowness. As one conservative critic condescendingly put it, "However nice, helpful, prompt, and tidy she is, Harriet Miers isn't qualified to play a Supreme Court justice on The West Wing The West Wing, let alone to be a real one."

All of these criticisms came from so-called friends. When the left started criticizing Harriet, too, I knew the nomination was doomed. After three terrible weeks, I got a call in my office in the Treaty Room, where I was working late in the evening. The White House operator told me Harriet was on the phone. In a steady, composed voice, she informed me that she thought it best that she withdraw from consideration for the Supreme Court. As much as it pained me, I agreed.

While I know Harriet would have made a fine justice, I didn't think enough about how the selection would be perceived by others. I put my friend in an impossible situation. If I had it to do over again, I would not have thrown Harriet to the wolves of Was.h.i.+ngton.

The morning after the announcement, Harriet reported to work, just like on any other day. She went office to office in the West Wing, lifting the spirits of the many colleagues, junior and senior, who were saddened to see a person they admired treated so wrongly. When she came to the Oval Office, I said, "Thank goodness you withdrew. I still have a great lawyer." She smiled and said, "Mr. President, I am ready to lead the search for your next nominee."

I had to get the next pick right. While the idea of selecting a woman still appealed to me, I could not find any as qualified as Sam Alito. Sam is as reserved as they come. When we first sat down for the interview, he seemed ill at ease. I tried the old common-ground icebreaker-in this case, baseball. Sam is a huge Philadelphia Phillies fan. As we talked about the game, his body language changed. He opened up a little about his life and the law. He was scholarly, but practical. He had been a federal prosecutor in New Jersey before moving to the Third Circuit Court of Appeals in 1990. His opinions were well grounded and tightly argued. There was no doubt he would adhere strictly to the Const.i.tution.

With Sam Alito. White House/Paul Morse White House/Paul Morse Four days after Harriet withdrew, I met with Sam in the Oval Office and offered him the job. He accepted. Our supporters were elated. Our critics knew they would not be able to block Sam's confirmation, but they subjected him to a nasty hearing anyway. They tried to paint him as a racist, a radical, a bigot, anything they could think of-all based on zero evidence. I was disgusted by the demagoguery. As one senator recounted the false charges, Sam's wife, Martha Ann, broke into tears. Her reaction was so genuine that even some Democrats realized they had gone too far.

After the Senate confirmed Sam to the Court, I invited him and his family to the White House for his swearing-in. Before we went out for the ceremony, I had a moment alone with Sam. I thanked him for enduring the hearings and wished him well on the Court. Then I said, "Sam, you ought to thank Harriet Miers for making this possible." He replied, "Mr. President, you're exactly right."

The most emotional personnel decision I had to make was the last one of my presidency. The roots of my dilemma stretched back to the summer of 2003. Our troops in Iraq had not found the weapons of ma.s.s destruction we all expected, and the media's scramble for a scapegoat had commenced. In my 2003 State of the Union address, I had cited a British intelligence report that Iraq sought to buy uranium from Niger. The single sentence in my five-thousand-word speech was not a major point in the case against Saddam. The British stood by the intelligence.*** Yet those sixteen words became a political controversy and a ma.s.sive distraction. Yet those sixteen words became a political controversy and a ma.s.sive distraction.

In July 2003, former amba.s.sador Joseph Wilson Joseph Wilson wrote a wrote a New York Times New York Times column alleging that the administration had ignored his skeptical findings when he traveled to Africa to investigate the Iraq-Niger connection. There were serious questions about the accuracy and thoroughness of Wilson's report, but his charge became a prime talking point for critics of the war. Shortly after Wilson's op-ed, longtime Was.h.i.+ngton columnist column alleging that the administration had ignored his skeptical findings when he traveled to Africa to investigate the Iraq-Niger connection. There were serious questions about the accuracy and thoroughness of Wilson's report, but his charge became a prime talking point for critics of the war. Shortly after Wilson's op-ed, longtime Was.h.i.+ngton columnist Bob Novak Bob Novak reported that Wilson had been sent to Niger not by d.i.c.k Cheney or any senior member of the administration, as Wilson had suggested, but on the recommendation of his wife, reported that Wilson had been sent to Niger not by d.i.c.k Cheney or any senior member of the administration, as Wilson had suggested, but on the recommendation of his wife, Valerie Plame Valerie Plame, who worked at the CIA.

Then it came out that Wilson's wife's position was cla.s.sified. Critics alleged that someone in my administration had committed a crime by intentionally leaking the ident.i.ty of a CIA operative. The Justice Department named a special prosecutor to investigate.

I was inherently skeptical of special prosecutors. I remembered how Lawrence Walsh Lawrence Walsh had politicized his investigation of Iran-Contra during the 1992 campaign. But an intelligence leak was a serious matter, and I directed my staff to cooperate fully. U.S. Attorney had politicized his investigation of Iran-Contra during the 1992 campaign. But an intelligence leak was a serious matter, and I directed my staff to cooperate fully. U.S. Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald Patrick Fitzgerald interviewed most of the team, including me. Early in the process, Deputy Secretary of State interviewed most of the team, including me. Early in the process, Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage Richard Armitage informed Fitzgerald that he had provided Novak with the information about Plame. Nevertheless, the special prosecutor continued to investigate. informed Fitzgerald that he had provided Novak with the information about Plame. Nevertheless, the special prosecutor continued to investigate.

Over the course of more than two years, Fitzgerald brought numerous administration officials before a grand jury, including d.i.c.k's chief of staff, Scooter Libby. After two appearances by Scooter, Fitzgerald produced an indictment for perjury, obstruction of justice, and making false statements. Scooter went to trial and was convicted. In June 2007 he was sentenced to thirty months in prison.

I faced an agonizing decision. I could let Scooter go to jail. I could use my power under the Const.i.tution to grant him a pardon. Or I could commute his sentence, meaning his conviction would stand but his prison sentence would not. Some in the White House, led by the vice president, pushed aggressively for a pardon. Their argument was that the investigation should never have proceeded after Fitzgerald had identified Novak's source. On the other hand, most advisers believed that the jury verdict was correct and should remain in place.

I decided it would send a bad message to pardon a former staff member convicted of obstructing justice, especially after I had instructed the staff to cooperate with the investigation. But the punishment Scooter had received did not fit the crime. The protracted investigation and trial had already caused personal, professional, and financial damage for Scooter and his family. In early July 2007, I announced my decision: "I respect the jury's verdict. But I have concluded that the prison sentence given to Mr. Libby is excessive. Therefore, I am commuting the portion of Mr. Libby's sentence that required him to spend thirty months in prison."

The reaction from the left was blistering. "President Bush's action today tells America that it's okay to lie, mislead, and obstruct justice, as long as you are loyal to his administration," one congressman said. Another said, "I call on House Democrats to reconsider impeachment proceedings." Not everyone in the White House liked the decision, either. d.i.c.k continued to advocate a full pardon.

One of the biggest surprises of my presidency was the flood of pardon requests at the end. I could not believe the number of people who pulled me aside to suggest that a friend or former colleague deserved a pardon. At first I was frustrated. Then I was disgusted. I came to see ma.s.sive injustice in the system. If you had connections to the president, you could insert your case into the last-minute frenzy. Otherwise, you had to wait for the Justice Department to conduct a review and make a recommendation. In my final weeks in office, I resolved that I would not pardon anyone who went outside the formal channels.

In the closing days of the administration, d.i.c.k pressed his case that Scooter should be pardoned. Scooter was a decent man and dedicated public servant, and I understood the ramifications for his family. I asked two trusted lawyers to review the case from top to bottom, including the evidence presented at the trial for and against Scooter. I also authorized them to meet with Scooter to hear his side of the story. After careful a.n.a.lysis, both lawyers told me they could find no justification for overturning the jury's verdict.

I spent our last weekend at Camp David wrestling with the decision. "Just make up your mind," Laura told me. "You're ruining this for everyone." Ultimately, I reached the same conclusion I had in 2007: The jury verdict should be respected. In one of our final meetings, I informed d.i.c.k that I would not issue a pardon. He stared at me with an intense look. "I can't believe you're going to leave a soldier on the battlefield," he said. The comment stung. In eight years, I had never seen d.i.c.k like this, or even close to this. I worried that the friends.h.i.+p we had built was about to be severely strained, at best.

A few days later, I talked to another person about the pardon process. On the ride up Pennsylvania Avenue on Inauguration Day, I told Barack Obama Barack Obama about my frustrations with the pardon system. I gave him a suggestion: announce a about my frustrations with the pardon system. I gave him a suggestion: announce a pardon policy pardon policy early on, and stick to it. early on, and stick to it.

After President Obama's Inauguration, Laura and I choppered to Andrews Air Force Base. Our final event before boarding the plane home to Texas was a farewell ceremony in front of three thousand friends, family, and former staff. d.i.c.k had agreed to introduce me. He had injured his back moving boxes, so Lynne had to push him onto the stage in a wheelchair. d.i.c.k grabbed the microphone. I had no idea what he would say. I hoped he would be able to get past the disappointment he felt. His words were heartfelt and kind: "Eight and a half years ago, I began a partners.h.i.+p with George Bush that has truly been a special honor....If I have one regret, it is only that these days have ended and that all the members of this fine team, now, must go their own way."

The man I picked that hot day in July remained steady to the end. Our friends.h.i.+p had survived.

*Arguably, my home state provided an exception in 1960, when John F. Kennedy John F. Kennedy chose Lyndon Johnson as his running mate. There was no similar benefit in 1988, when chose Lyndon Johnson as his running mate. There was no similar benefit in 1988, when Michael Dukakis Michael Dukakis tapped Texas Senator tapped Texas Senator Lloyd Bentsen Lloyd Bentsen.

**I later heard that General s.h.i.+nseki's staff had not invited Don to attend. I think he should have gone anyway.

***In 2004, the nonpartisan Butler Report concluded that the statement was "well-founded."

n the heart of central London sat a thirty-four-story gray building. One floor contained a large, open s.p.a.ce known as the Fertilizing Room. Inside, technicians meticulously mixed eggs and sperm in test tubes to produce the next generation. The hatchery served as the lifeblood of a new world government, which had mastered the formula for engineering a productive and stable society.

That scene was not the creation of Jay Lefkowitz Jay Lefkowitz, the bright lawyer reading aloud to me in the Oval Office in 2001. It came from Aldous Huxley Aldous Huxley's 1932 novel, Brave New World Brave New World. With the recent breakthroughs in biotechnology and genetics, the book now seemed chillingly relevant. So did its lesson: For all its efficiency, Huxley's utopian world seemed sterile, joyless, and empty of meaning. The quest to perfect humanity ended in the loss of humanity.

In April of that same year, another piece of writing turned up in the Oval Office. Describing what she called a "wrenching family journey," the author urged me to support the "miracle possibilities" of embryonic stem cell research to provide cures for people like her husband, who was suffering from Alzheimer's. She closed, "Mr. President, I have some personal experience regarding the many decisions you face each day....I'd be very grateful if you would take my thoughts and prayers into your consideration on this critical issue. Most sincerely, Nancy Reagan Nancy Reagan."

The juxtaposition of Mrs. Reagan's letter and the Huxley novel framed the decision I faced on stem cell research. Many felt the federal government had a responsibility to fund medical research that might help save the lives of people like President Reagan. Others argued that supporting the destruction of human embryos could take us off a moral cliff toward an uncaring society that devalued life. The contrast was stark, and I faced a difficult decision.

"Sometimes our differences run so deep it seems we share a continent, but not a country," I said in my Inaugural Address on January 20, 2001. "We do not accept this, and we will not allow it. Our unity, our union, is the serious work of leaders and citizens in every generation. And this is my solemn pledge: I will work to build a single nation of justice and opportunity."

After a luncheon with dignitaries at the Capitol, Laura and I made our way to the White House as part of the official Inaugural parade. Pennsylvania Avenue was lined by well-wishers, along with a few pockets of protesters. They carried big signs with foul language, hurled eggs at the motorcade, and screamed at the top of their lungs. I spent most of the ride in the presidential limo behind thick gla.s.s windows, so their shouting came across in pantomime. While I couldn't make out their words, their middle fingers spoke loudly: The bitterness of the 2000 election was not going away anytime soon.

Laura and I watched the rest of the parade from the reviewing stand at the White House. We waved to the marchers from every state and were thrilled to see high school bands from Midland and Crawford. After the parade, I went to check out the Oval Office. As I walked over from the residence, the room looked like it was glowing. Its bright lights and gold drapes stood out in vivid contrast from the dark winter sky.

Each president decorates the Oval Office in his own style. I hung several Texas paintings, including Julian Onderdonk Julian Onderdonk's renditions of the Alamo, a West Texas landscape, and a field of bluebonnets-a daily reminder of our ranch in Crawford. I also brought a painting called Rio Grande Rio Grande from an El Paso artist and friend, from an El Paso artist and friend, Tom Lea Tom Lea, and a scene of a horseman charging up a hill by W.H.D. Koerner W.H.D. Koerner. The name of the piece, A Charge to Keep A Charge to Keep, echoed a Methodist hymn by Charles Wesley, which we sang at my first inauguration as governor. Both the painting and hymn reflect the importance of serving a cause larger than oneself.

The Oval Office as it looked during my presidency. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper I decided to keep the Rembrandt Peale Rembrandt Peale portrait of portrait of George Was.h.i.+ngton George Was.h.i.+ngton that Dad and that Dad and Bill Clinton Bill Clinton had placed over the mantel. I added busts of had placed over the mantel. I added busts of Abraham Lincoln Abraham Lincoln, Dwight Eisenhower Dwight Eisenhower, and Winston Churchill Winston Churchill-a gift on loan from the British government courtesy of Prime Minister Tony Blair Tony Blair. I had told Tony that I admired Churchill's courage, principle, and sense of humor-all of which I thought were necessary for leaders.h.i.+p. (My favorite example of Churchill's wit was his reply when Franklin Roosevelt Franklin Roosevelt caught him coming out of the tub on a visit to the White House in December 1941. "I have nothing to hide from the president of the United States!" he said.) After 9/11, I realized the three busts had something in common: All depicted wartime leaders. I certainly didn't have that in mind when I chose them. caught him coming out of the tub on a visit to the White House in December 1941. "I have nothing to hide from the president of the United States!" he said.) After 9/11, I realized the three busts had something in common: All depicted wartime leaders. I certainly didn't have that in mind when I chose them.

One s.p.a.ce on the wall was reserved for the president's most influential predecessor. I chose Lincoln. He'd had the most trying job of any president, preserving the Union. Some asked why I didn't put Dad's portrait in that spot. "Number forty-one hangs in my heart," I said. "Sixteen is on the wall."

The centerpiece of the Oval Office was the Resolute desk Resolute desk. I had chosen the desk because of its historical significance. Its story began in 1852, when Queen Victoria Queen Victoria dispatched the HMS dispatched the HMS Resolute Resolute to search for the British explorer John Franklin, who had been lost looking for the Northwest Pa.s.sage. The to search for the British explorer John Franklin, who had been lost looking for the Northwest Pa.s.sage. The Resolute Resolute was trapped in ice near the Arctic and abandoned by its crew. In 1855 it was discovered by an American whaling s.h.i.+p, which sailed the was trapped in ice near the Arctic and abandoned by its crew. In 1855 it was discovered by an American whaling s.h.i.+p, which sailed the Resolute Resolute back to Connecticut. The vessel was purchased by the U.S. government, refitted, and returned to England as a goodwill gift to the queen. When the back to Connecticut. The vessel was purchased by the U.S. government, refitted, and returned to England as a goodwill gift to the queen. When the Resolute Resolute was decommissioned two decades later, Her Majesty had several ornate desks made out of its timbers, one of which she gave to President was decommissioned two decades later, Her Majesty had several ornate desks made out of its timbers, one of which she gave to President Rutherford B. Hayes Rutherford B. Hayes.

Most presidents since Hayes have used the Resolute desk in one capacity or another. Franklin Roosevelt commissioned a front panel door with a carved presidential seal, which some historians believe was intended to hide his wheelchair. Little John F. Kennedy, Jr., poked his head out that door in the most famous Oval Office photo ever taken. Dad had used the Resolute in his upstairs office in the residence, while Bill Clinton returned it to the Oval. Sitting behind the historic desk was a reminder-that first day and every day-that the inst.i.tution of the presidency is more important than the person who holds it.

Andy Card was with me as I took my place at the Resolute for the first time. My first Oval Office decision was to replace the desk chair-a bizarre contraption that vibrated when plugged in-with something more practical. Then the door to the Rose Garden swung open. I looked up and saw Dad.

"Mr. President," he said. He was wearing a dark suit, his hair still wet from the hot bath he'd taken to thaw out.

"Mr. President," I replied.

He stepped into the office, and I walked around the desk. We met in the middle of the room. Neither of us said much. We didn't need to. The moment was more moving than either of us could have expressed.

Dad and I together in the Oval Office that day. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper

On my ninth day as president, my domestic policy team gathered in the Oval Office. Everyone was on time. That was what I expected. Timeliness is important to make sure an organization does not get sloppy. The chief briefer that day was Margaret Spellings Margaret Spellings, a smart and feisty mother of two. Margaret had served with me in Austin and moved to Was.h.i.+ngton as my top domestic policy adviser. She covered a variety of topics that day, including a new initiative for people with disabilities and an election reform commission chaired by former Presidents Ford and Carter. Then she launched into a discussion of embryonic stem cell research. "The Clinton administration issued new legal guidelines that interpret the d.i.c.key Amendment to permit federal funding for embryonic stem cell research. We have several options going forward-"

With Margaret Spellings. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper That's as far as she got before I cut her off. "First of all," I asked, "what exactly is a stem cell?" I learn best by asking questions. In some cases, I probe to understand a complex issue. Other times, I deploy questions as a way to test my briefers' knowledge. If they cannot answer concisely and in plain English, it raises a red flag that they may not fully grasp the subject.

As usual, Margaret was well prepared. She started by explaining the science. Embryonic stem cells are a special medical resource because they can transform into a wide variety of different cell types. Just as the stem of a vine grows into many distinct branches, embryonic stem cells have the capacity to grow into nerve cells for the brain, muscle tissues for the heart, or other organs. These cells offered a possible way to treat ailments from juvenile diabetes to Alzheimer's to Parkinson's. The technology was new, and the science was unproven. But the potential was significant. However, the only way to extract embryonic stem cells is to destroy the embryo. This raised a moral dilemma: Could the destruction of one human life be justified by the hopes of saving others?