The Principal
The Secret Service has a long history of success. They’ve been protecting the President of the United States, the “principal”, since 1901. That President is the biggest “target” in the world, forced by his job to go out in the public, walk to crowds, stand in front of assemblies. There is always a threat. In the 120 plus years, they’ve failed once, spectacularly, in Dealey Plaza in Dallas.
But there have been several other “close calls”. An assassin attacked FDR in an open car in Miami. Puerto Rican separatists tried to storm the Blair House where Truman was staying. A Charles Manson follower shot at Ford in San Francisco. And a crazed man shot Reagan as he left a Washington hotel.
The Secret Service aren’t just “bodyguards”. When the President of the United States comes into town, there is a weeks long process, mobilizing Federal agents from every agency. A list of those who have threatened the President comes out, and every “potential” is “checked” to make sure they aren’t a threat at the moment. Federal agents scout every possible Presidential route, determining the safest passage for the motorcade. Every “sniper’s nest” is checked, every ambush site evaluated. Each person who will be in contact with the President is vetted.
After all of that, they still know one thing. If someone is willing to die, they can probably take the President with them. They don’t need history to know that: look at former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, assassinated in Japan a couple weeks ago, one of the safest countries in the world. No matter how secure they try to make things, there’s always the potential for disaster.
Jimmy Carter
In 1976 I was a twenty-year old lowly Field Coordinator in the Carter/Mondale Campaign. One of my many tasks was to help prepare when one of the Carter’s came into town. Each time, I interacted with the Secret Service, both the local office and the direct protection details. They were “pros”, cooperative but definitive about what they would and wouldn’t do. And they also had a sense of humor.
Jimmy Carter himself came in to Cincinnati just one time that fall, on a day when the Reds were playing at home in the World Series. The campaign had a long discussion about whether the Governor should go to the game. There was concern that he would be booed and it would look bad on television. I argued that if he put a Reds hat on, he’d be fine.
I lost the argument, and Carter was brought into Lunken Airport, a smaller “business” airport near downtown. There were several thousand people gathered to hear his speech from the tarmac, and our staff got the opportunity to have a few minutes to meet and talk to him in the small terminal building. When I greeted the “Governor”, he made clear that it was “Jimmy”, not “Governor”. It was exciting to meet the man whose name was on all the signs, buttons and bumper stickers. Like most of those interactions, he looked smaller than I thought, almost my own five-seven. All of the campaigning made him seem seven feet tall.
In the Crowd
Carter left our staff, and met with some local dignitaries in a private room. Then he went out into the crowd to get back on his plane. I went out ahead to help clear a path for him. As I backed into the crowd, I bumped into a rough looking, middle-aged man. He was around six-foot tall or so, and my elbow accidently bumped into his ribs. I could feel the outline of something hard under his dirty army jacket. It felt like a gun.
What should I do? Carter was coming out of the terminal, there wasn’t time to get help. I slowly turned and looked up at the man. He smiled – then reached for the collar of his worn jacket. He turned the collar over – and there was the security pin of the day. Whew; he was Secret Service, put in the crowd to make sure nothing happened. I’m sure he could see the concern, then relief in my face. He nodded, then continued to scan the crowd.
Rosalynn
Rosalynn Carter (pronounced Rose-a-lin, not Ros-a-lin) came to open our downtown, street-front office in the old Sheraton-Gibson Hotel building on Fountain Square. It was a crowd, in the small office, and in the street, as the always gracious Mrs. Carter (please call me Rosalynn) encouraged the staff and supporters to work even harder in the last few weeks before the vote. We were headed back out onto Fifth Street across from the square, when a woman about my age stepped in front of me, struggling to get something out of her purse.
I nodded to the Secret Service agent behind me (and ahead of Mrs. Carter) and in a flash, the young lady was gone – out of the crowd and “safe” against a wall. Her purse was quickly examined – and the pen she was searching for discovered. Rosalynn came over and gave her and autograph, and an apology. But the Secret Service was clear; don’t reach for something at the moment that the “principal” was coming.
The President
I should have learned that lesson myself. In the last week of the campaign, President Ford was coming into town to give a speech from Fountain Square. The Secret Service was really buzzing – the President himself is “the” big deal. The Carter staff let the Service know that we were going to hang a Carter/Mondale banner from the top of the building where our street-front office was located. They weren’t happy about it, but gave grudging approval.
The building was old and abandoned (torn down a year later), and the elevators didn’t work. But we could go upstairs to the rooftop, and unfurl our sign from the side of the building moments before President Ford arrived. So three of us, all “junior” staff, were up there, watching the final preparations on the Square.
As we leaned over, tying the sign to the side, we saw the Cincinnati Police officers pointing to the top of “our” building. It looked like those scenes from Dallas in 1963, with folks pointing to the windows. At that moment we saw several officers charge into the storefront office, and realized that the Secret Service didn’t want a sign up here. They didn’t say “no” to us, but they didn’t tell the local cops about it.
We started heading down the stairs, and met the officers about halfway up. After we were “controlled”, frisked and cuffed, they started listening to our explanation. It didn’t do much good, and they were marching us out of the door when a Secret Service agent finally gave them the word to let us go. There was no Carter/Mondale sign when the President gave his speech.
Today
I have enormous respect for the Secret Service protection details. They are all-business, until the “principal” leaves, and always prepared to take action. They are trained not to hesitate, not to question, but to act. I’m sure, even now, forty-six years later, they are the same.
I wrote an essay the other day (Praetorian Guard) about the Secret Service deleting text messages from January 6th. The agents that day were in a “no-win” situation. They had a single duty, to protect their principal. And yet, on that day, the “principal” was acting in opposition to the Constitution, the basic foundation of our nation. Each agent swore to “support and defend” the Constitution, not the “principal”.
But in my experience, the Secret Service agents on the Protective Details are single-minded. It wouldn’t be a surprise that they “crossed some lines” on January 6th. Now it seems, they crossed more lines in deleting the text messages from that day. And their bosses, the leadership of the Secret Service, allowed them to do it.
That single-minded “beyond” the law attitude, cannot be allowed to stand.
