In My Time - Dick Cheney [137]
On July 3 I flew down to Crawford again to brief the governor. We met in the small single-story white frame house he and Laura used on the property before their current place was finished. That morning I sat inside with him and went through the updated binders giving him the latest rundown on everybody. After our meeting Laura joined us for lunch, and then he and I moved outside to the back porch. The porch was basically a concrete pad with a few posts holding up the roof, and it was punishingly hot out there. I remember looking out over the cactus and sagebrush and thinking that this was definitely Texas real estate.
Over the past few months, as I had listened to George Bush talk about what kind of vice president he wanted, I had been impressed. He had a strong sense of his own strengths and weaknesses, and he wasn’t looking for someone based on any purely political calculation. He was looking for someone who could help him govern, a person with experience in the kind of national security and foreign policy issues he knew every president must face. And, most important, his pick had to be someone who could step in and become president if the worst happened.
As we sat there looking out at the sunbaked landscape, he said once again, “You know, Dick, you’re the solution to my problem.” This time I said, “Okay, Governor, I will take a look at what I would have to do in order to be a viable candidate.” But I also told him that I needed to come and sit down with him and whomever else he wanted in the room and go through all the reasons he shouldn’t pick me. I told him he needed to be aware of the negatives about me. As I reflect back on it now, I suspect that George W. Bush had never really accepted my first answer—thanks, but no thanks—when Joe Allbaugh asked if I was willing to be considered. The governor had worked hard to convince me, but I didn’t want him to be surprised, and I needed to make sure he vetted the vetter.
I flew back to Washington that afternoon, and the next night Lynne and I went to Alan Greenspan’s July Fourth party on the top floor of the Federal Reserve Building. The Fed’s white marble headquarters faces the National Mall only a few blocks from the Washington Monument, and the view of the national fireworks from the top floor is spectacular. Alan and his wife, Andrea Mitchell, hosted a buffet dinner for friends and then invited everyone outside on the roof terrace to watch the fireworks.
Lynne and I went through the buffet line and then selected open seats at one of the dinner tables. Washington is a funny place when you’re out of power, and that, added to the fact that we had a couple of grandchildren with us, meant that no one rushed to join our little group—except for Bob Woodward. The famed Washington Post reporter brought his plate over, sat down beside me, and after some preliminary small talk proceeded to pump me for information about the VP search process and who the pick might be. His instincts were right—there was a big story here—but none of his speculation was focused on me, and I felt no need to broaden his horizons.
After we returned to Dallas, I called Dave Lesar, my chief operating officer at Halliburton, and asked him to come by the house early one morning. I told him what was happening—that there was a possibility George Bush would select me to be his running mate. I told Dave that if that happened I would recommend to the Halliburton board that he take over as chairman and CEO of the company. From my first days as CEO, I had always believed that there should be somebody in the wings ready to take over. Some CEOs don’t do that because they think such a person may emerge as competition. They don’t want anybody around who would be an obvious successor. I had always operated on the basis that if I got hit by a truck, somebody had to be able to take over—and Dave was the clear choice. I knew that if I did leave Halliburton, the company would be in good hands with Dave, and I wouldn’t be walking away leaving them in the lurch.
I also called a meeting of the board of directors. Even though