Within Arm's Length: A Secret Service Agent's Definitive Inside Account of Protecting the President (29 page)

Having fully digested the grim reality that the president had no intent of modifying his morning fitness regimen, the Secret Service set out to formulate a security plan that would give President Clinton some degree of protection as he ran among pedestrians and traffic with dangerous regularity. Even under perfect conditions it is impossible for the Secret Service to ensure the safety of the president 100 percent. In the running scenario this percentage dropped drastically.

If the president was intent on running, perhaps at least he could be persuaded to run in a safer, more controlled environment. One attempt to increase the president’s safety was the construction of a running track around the perimeter of the lower roadway on the south grounds of the White House. It was exactly a quarter mile around, and it was hoped that would satisfy the president’s needs. If he ran there, only one or two agents would be required to run with him. It would largely be a matter of posting a few agents in strategic locations—but President Clinton did not like the track and seldom used it.

After the running track idea failed, the next approach for providing better security was to try to steer President Clinton to venues such as nearby military bases. Half of his purpose in running, however, was to be out among the people and to escape the confines of the White House. While going to locations such as Fort McNair, a few miles from the White House, made sense and provided an excellent place for him to run, President Clinton would have none of it. He wanted to run in the streets and around the monuments, just like anyone else. The problem, of course, was that he was not like anyone else; he was the president of the United States, and, like all presidents, thousands around the world wished him ill.

The final plan devised by the Secret Service was to pre-stage large groups of agents borrowed form the various divisions in Washington around the morning’s proposed running site, then surround the president with agents who could run with him while hoping for the best.

Many citizens wanted to run with President Clinton. To be selected as a guest runner was very prestigious and good for a significant amount of boasting at the next Georgetown cocktail party. These invited runners usually had some notoriety socially or had contributed enough money to the DNC to earn an invitation. Some of these politically motivated fitness enthusiasts had obviously spent more time shopping for running apparel than actually running. While most had spent a great deal of money on perfectly coordinated running attire and the latest in high-tech shoes, many finished the run inside the Secret Service follow-up or the tail car while being tended to by the White House physician for heat exhaustion or other ailments found in first-time runners. The Secret Service was always happy to see these guests, however—in fact, the more the better, as they presented excellent ballistic insulation around the president during these outings.

Each shift had some agents who could run three miles with equipment at President Clinton’s usual nine-minute-per-mile pace. The problem was that this number was not sufficient. At a minimum, four shift agents and a supervisor were needed for each run, and all had to possess not just the endurance to finish but also enough reserve energy for responding to an emergency during or at the end of the run.

It was at this point that the mission of CAT expanded from being prepared to respond with speed, surprise, and violence of action against attacks on the president to also running with the president. While many PPD supervisors seemed to be at a loss about how to make the best use of CAT, there was one clear advantage to having buffed weapons experts around: Each could run forever while burdened with weapons and radios. Until each shift could field the sufficient number of runners, the decision was made that every morning CAT would provide runners to augment the shift.

Because CAT agents could run while simultaneously surveying the area for possible ambush sites, not merely keep up on the runs. CAT saved PPD and possibly the life of the president during the first year of the Clinton administration.

The utilization of CAT for the morning runs was, however, a stopgap measure only. The job of running with POTUS was really a shift responsibility. With a total of thirty to thirty-six agents in CAT during this period, pulling between two and four agents each morning for the run placed a strain on CAT operational readiness. Still, until enough shift agents were up to speed, CAT would continue to pull double duty.

On many mornings the CAT midnight shift that had already been up all night providing coverage at the White House was held over for another four hours to cover the run. Exhausted CAT staff watched their working shift colleagues depart the White House for home and sleep but soldiered on without complaint.

One day the SAIC of PPD called a meeting with all available PPD agents in an auditorium of the Old Executive Office Building. The purpose of the meeting was to lay down the law to agents that this president ran almost every morning, that it was the responsibility of agents to run with him, and that everyone, not just CAT and a few fit shift agents, was going to be required to help out by taking turns running.

Soon every agent who could run was training to help with this new PPD responsibility. As the weeks progressed, many agents joined the ranks. Others discovered that running on older knees and ankles was not a pleasant experience and were medically excused from the challenge.

There was no such thing as an uneventful run with President Clinton. It seemed that on almost every outing there was an incident of some sort that reinforced the opinion, held by most, that a public running POTUS was not the best of ideas. It was unsafe not only for him but, in some cases, for the public as well.

On one outing, we had begun the run at the reflecting pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial, dismounting the motorcade on Seventeenth Street in the middle of morning rush hour. This was a particularly memorable run for several reasons. The first thing that happened, even before the run began, was that a motorist driving south on Seventeenth Street looked to his right, where he was amazed to see the president of the United States in running apparel. Astounded, the motorist stared at the president until he rear-ended the car in front of him.

Our route that morning took us around the reflecting pool at the Lincoln Memorial. The run was going as it normally did, with the president plodding along at his usual nine- to ten-minute-per-mile pace. After one lap around the pool, President Clinton, to the surprise and horror of all, crossed Seventeenth Street without the benefit of the crosswalk and ran toward the Washington Monument. After crossing Seventeenth Street, he continued to run up the gradual but increasingly steep incline toward the Washington Monument and multitudes of tourists. At least he had not been run over crossing the street. This was not his usual routine of two or three times around the reflecting pool and then home.

I was one of two agents running trail that morning. As President Clinton ascended the hill toward the monument, the supervisor who was running next to him began to slow, then turned and signaled for me to take the off-shoulder position with the president. This required me to sprint uphill a good seventy-five yards to close the distance between my position and that of POTUS, who was now totally without agent coverage and seemingly unconcerned about it. I ran past the supervisor with a reserve energy born of adrenaline and extreme urgency as much as aerobic fitness, trying to catch up before POTUS disappeared over the top of the hill and into the unknown. Staff Sergeant McLean from my Quantico days was subliminally in my head at this point, reminding me that I could rest after I was dead and to get to the top of the god-damned hill now.

Just as POTUS reached the crest of the hill, I caught up with him, and we came face-to-face with about thirty unbelieving tourists standing at the base of the monument. Each began scrambling for what I hoped were cameras as I moved between them and POTUS while placing my right hand inside my running jacket around the grip of my pistol. As we descended the hill, with me now running while looking over my shoulder to keep an eye on the tourists at the monument, there was no other agent in sight.

Not long after topping the hill, President Clinton said to me, “Okay, Dan, let’s go home.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered, trying not to appear as out of breath as I actually was. As he reversed course, heading back to the top of the hill toward the waiting tourists now aiming cameras, my biggest concern was that he would stop and work the crowd. On this day, however, he merely waved and continued down the side of the hill back toward Seventeenth Street and the waiting cars.

After arriving back at the motorcade, parked on Seventeenth Street, President Clinton performed his usual stretching exercises next to the limo. This was the most dangerous time of the run—we had been in this general area for about thirty-five minutes, and our presence was well known. The police had just finished working the accident that had occurred at the beginning of the run, and traffic on Seventeenth Street was beginning to back up. Many people were beginning to converge on the area as the president finally got back into the limo for the short trip back to the White House. This scenario was the norm three to four days per week.

Whether President Clinton intended to run on a given morning was always a matter of speculation. It seemed that no one on his staff ever had courage enough to ask him prior to his turning in for the evening if he planned to run the following morning or not. I never understood the reluctance to ask. The worst thing that could have happened was that President Clinton would have said he didn’t know, or don’t bother me now. By the end of each day most senior staff had gone home, leaving only young staffers still at the White House, and they were not going to ask the president if he intended to run the following day.

This lack of assertiveness by the staff made our work on PPD unnecessarily complicated, and we had to assume that each morning the president would run. Each morning we staged a motorcade on the south grounds of the White House outside the diplomatic entrance that led to the area where FDR once gave his “fireside chats” and were prepared to drive to one of President Clinton’s designated running sites. This required the designated agent runners each morning to show up for shift change in running gear. That, in turn, required the runners to bring their business suits in a hanging bag along with everything else they would need to wear for the day: suit, shirt, belt, socks, shoes, tie, towel, toiletries, and so forth.

While the motorcade required for transporting President Clinton to his running sites was scaled down from the normal cavalcade, it was still large. In addition to Secret Service limo and follow-up, this motorcade required two marked units—one from Metro DC police and the other from Secret Service Uniformed Division—to serve as a lead car and tail car, respectively. Many mornings these officers and their vehicles sat and waited for hours not knowing whether they would be needed or not. Other vehicles needed for the procession were vehicles for the press, guest runners, and staff.

The usual running procedure was for the day shift, running outfits and all, to assume the posts in the White House. One post was on the main floor next to the front door of the White House. This was pre-9/11, when there were public tours most mornings. There the puzzled tourist would stare at some of the best agents in the Secret Service, wondering why each was dressed in workout attire. One particularly curious middle-aged woman asked me, as she leaned over the velvet rope barrier, why we were dressed in gym clothes? Not wanting to engage in conversation, I answered, “Sorry, the answer to that is classified.” This seemed to satisfy her as her husband prodded her toward the North Portico and out of the building.

As the morning wore on, speculation would always begin as to whether President Clinton was going to run or not. Supervisors were put in a bind because they had to make the call after a certain point whether to keep agents in running gear or have them change into business attire for an upcoming move out of the White House.

When the elevator outside the family residence lit up, everyone knew that the president was on his way down. Upon the door opening the agent standing post there would immediately call out, “Eagle,” the president was headed for the Oval Office or for the cars. If the call was to move to the Oval Office, we knew he was not running and we would sprint to our command post area, known as W-16, where we would change from running gear into our suits faster than supermodels changing outfits between runs down the catwalk. Running shorts and T-shirts flew as we tried to get into our work attire as quickly as possible. If the president emerged from the elevator in running gear, we all abandoned our posts and ran toward the motorcade, where we would get into the follow-up vehicle behind the limo and drive to the running site. Making the decision when to have the runners change into business suits was a matter of timing and luck, and on some occasions both were bad.

On one such morning, we were, as usual, standing our posts in running gear. It was getting late, almost nine o’clock, and still no President Clinton. The shift leader, feeling it was safe to do so, made the call for all runners to go ahead and change into our suits for a regular workday. We changed and had no sooner assumed our posts than the elevator delivered President Clinton, attired in running gear. He walked to the cars, as usual, but there was a problem: There were no cars. The motorcade cars had been cut loose and had returned to their off-site location and could not be recalled in a timely manner. Also, those of us who were runners were in the process of changing from business attire back into running gear. This time there were suit coats, pants, belts, and other masculine wardrobe items flying around the command post as if we were caught in a windstorm.

The president was not happy to find there were no cars waiting for him. He told the shift leader that he wanted to run off-site, and right now. The flustered agent suggested to the president that he run on the seldom-used track until we could put together some sort of motorcade package. With a look of frustration and without speaking, Clinton began running on the track. Using the emergency motorcade cars staged on the grounds and setting a record for changing outfits, we had cars and agents ready to go before Clinton had run two laps around the quarter-mile track. We proceeded to the reflecting pool, which was less than a quarter mile from the White House, and President Clinton got in his run.