A Hardy Band of Brothers

The Presidency

"That august group who stand fearlessly between Presidents and the press, caught in the onslaught of verbal crossfire—announcing, pronouncing, fending, defending ad infinitum, without fear or trepidation for their jobs, their future, and their reputation..."

—Association of White House Press Secretaries

The media presidency has been authenticated. The Association of White House Press Secretaries has been formed in high humor. Certificates of membership have been printed and issued with the above mock-heroic proclamation. Enter the age of A.W.H.P.S.

Acting White House Press Secretary Larry Speakes, who concocted Washington's newest alumni society, issued a call to his ten living brethren a fortnight ago. The sheer number in the fraternity attests to how we are governed today.

Roger Tubby, 71, who was one of Harry Truman's press secretaries, was surprised that such an organization could be formed. "In my time, alas, there were no former press secretaries," he wrote to Speakes. "All three of my predecessors-Steve Early, Charlie Ross and Joe Short—died of heart attacks." They come younger and stronger now, and press secretaries are often stars themselves.

Seven members of the new club came to the first meeting of A.W.H.P.S., visiting Speakes' office where each had presided at one time or another over the past 30 years. "You've cleaned the carpet," observed Ron Nessen, who was Jerry Ford's man. "You've taken out the private bathroom," lamented George Christian, one of Lyndon Johnson's press officers, and still an astute judge of power perks. One of Christian's main innovations was still operational. That is a circular desk, situated in the office corner to prevent reporters from sneaking behind a press secretary and reading secret dispatches over his shoulder.

The press secretaries had a photo opportunity with the President He told them a couple of old movie stories ("As you can see," joked Reagan, "I'm heavily into anecdotes"). They loved it. Then Speakes invited them to brief the press once again. To a man, they showed their old skills in evasion and diversion. Asked if he had ever had to lie, Ron Ziegler, who was secretary for Richard Nixon, answered with an appropriate grin, "Never knowingly."

Christian went over to the President's desk in the Oval Office to see if the little black marks made by Dwight Eisenhower's golf cleats were still in the wooden floor. "I'll be darned," said Christian. "They finally got them out."

Tubby looked mistily at the fireplace. The day after Truman fired General Douglas MacArthur, Tubby had come into the Oval Office bearing a stack of telegrams from outraged voters. "See that fireplace," Truman snorted. "Throw 'em in there." Tubby smiled approvingly at the memory of having done so.