ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Sunday, January 19, 1997 TAG: 9701200141
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
DATELINE: WASHINGTON
SOURCE: WARREN FISKE STAFF WRITER
If there's no president Monday, blame U.S. Sen. John Warner.
The peaceful continuation of Bill Clinton's presidency and, perhaps, the very short-term fate of American democracy will rest on Warner's shoulders. On Inauguration Day, the Virginia Republican is responsible for getting the president to the podium on time.
Warner, 70, is chairman of the Joint Congressional Committee on Inaugural Ceremonies, which directs most aspects of the swearing-in festivities. Afterward, the group is host for a presidential luncheon inside the U.S. Capitol that is so exclusive, only a few senior members of Congress are among the 240 invited guests.
Beginning a few days after November's election, Warner and staff have been laboring in a labyrinth of details that comes with distributing 220,000 hard-to-come-by tickets, building bleachers outside the Capitol, soothing the egos of diplomats who don't like their seat assignments, accommodating the Secret Service's endless security demands and making sure 4,500 members of the news media get their press passes.
All of this, in Warner's view, is of secondary importance. "The main function I have is to make sure that the president's hand goes up to take the oath precisely at the stroke of noon," he said last week outside the Capitol, high over Pennsylvania Avenue on the freshly painted blue podium where Clinton will make the vow.
This is no joking matter to Warner and many insiders. The 20th amendment to the Constitution says the president's term "shall end at noon on the 20th day of January." If Clinton is a second or a minute late in taking the oath, the country may be without a constitutional president for that time, Warner said.
What could happen in a matter of seconds? Is the nation's security truly at risk?
"You can write your `Dr. Strangelove' story if you want to," Warner barked after a moment of reflection. "It's not going to happen; I'll see to that."
By any standard, Warner is a natural choice to oversee the inauguration. His political career started in 1960 as an advance man for Richard Nixon. Sixteen years later, he won national recognition as chairman of the American Bicentennial Commission. He knows how to stage an event. During a recent tour of the bleachers, Warner was quick to rearrange the placement of stanchions and order a railing installed by some tricky steps.
But it wasn't Warner's experience as an organizer that landed him this job; his ascension last year to the chairmanship of the Senate Rules Committee automatically conferred the inaugural duties on him.
Along with the post comes a vast network of professionals and volunteers who unite every four years to stage the inauguration. Overseeing them on a daily basis is Susan McGill, Warner's longtime chief of staff.
McGill, 46, is incredulous about her temporary position. "I often wonder how a nice girl from Roanoke got into this," she laughed during a recent sprint across the Capitol to another planning session.
"There may be a lot of things that go wrong that I notice," she said. "But as long as we can get the president to the stand and sworn in at noon, I don't think most people will mind."
McGill's immediate concern on a recent day was walking a number of dignitaries through their inaugural steps. Coming in for private rehearsals were Chief Justice William Rehnquist, who will administer the oath to Clinton, and Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who will swear in Vice President Al Gore.
But first, there was a practice run for Warner, who will be Clinton's escort for much of the day. Here's the drill: Warner meets the president for coffee at the White House and drives with him back to the Capitol. Clinton goes briefly into a holding room (with a lavatory), then emerges on the podium at 11 a.m. for an hour of festivities. Warner takes the spotlight at 11:30 with a brief welcoming speech.
After the oath, Warner escorts Clinton to the President's Room in the Capitol, where Clinton signs papers for his Cabinet appointments. Then on to the Rotunda, where Clinton thanks the six choirs scheduled to sing during the morning. Next, they enter Statuary Hall, where Warner is master of ceremonies of the luncheon for senior congressmen, key White House staff and personal friends and family of the president.
At 2:30 p.m., Warner accompanies Clinton halfway down the rear stairs of the Capitol and hands him over to a military escort who chauffeur the president back to the White House. At that point, Warner and McGill can breathe easy. They are not responsible for staging the Inaugural Parade or any of the 15 balls that night.
But all planning changes with the weather. The White House is keeping an eye on forecasts and, until 4 p.m. today, could move the inauguration indoors to the Capitol Rotunda.
In that case, Warner and McGill quickly would fall back on a fully developed Plan B. About 1,000 dignitaries, including congressmen and special guests with seats on the president's platform, would be invited inside. The Marine Band and choirs would have to perform with half their members. A small press pool would be allowed indoors, and an NBC camera crew would provide live coverage to the world.
The forecast is calling for snow flurries tonight; Monday should be cloudy, with temperatures in the mid to upper 30s. "I think this president is going to want to be outside with the people," McGill said.
Much of the planning is guided by tradition. Every four years, the inaugural committee leaves behind a detailed report of the problems it experienced. So McGill knows, for example, that people who receive commemorative invitations to the inauguration should be warned they're not the same as a ticket that will get you on the Capitol grounds. She knows that hundreds of portable toilets could freeze unless chemicals are put into their tanks.
But Warner and McGill are adding their own touches. For starters, there will be a Pledge of Allegiance for which, amazingly, no one could find a precedent in recent inaugural history. Also planned is a sing-along of patriotic songs and scores of Boy and Girl Scouts passing out sheets for those who don't know the words.
The festivities will have a decided Virginia flavor. David Morales, an Eagle Scout from Vienna, will lead the pledge of allegiance. Choirs from the College of William and Mary (McGill's alma mater) and Hampton University will perform before the oath. Virginia wines will be served at the luncheon. And the feast will be in memory of Thomas Jefferson.
Every detail sets off a chain of complications. At the close of each day, Warner and McGill meet in a Senate conference room with about 60 other planners. The group includes officials from the Secret Service, U.S. Park Police, the president's advance staff, television networks and dozens of others with a stake in the proceedings.
On a typical day last week, several new problems arose. Justice Ginsburg, only 4-foot-9, couldn't be seen over the podium and asked for a stool at least 8 inches high to stand on when she administers the oath to Gore. The Park Police objected to the placement of four jumbo televisions on the Washington Mall, saying they would disrupt the flow of pedestrian traffic.
And diva Jessye Norman, scheduled to sing a medley of patriotic songs only a few minutes before the oath, put forth a confounding demand. Worried that the cold air would "seize up" her voice, Norman didn't want to take her seat with everyone else on the podium before 11 a.m. Instead, she asked to come out just before her appearance. Organizers argued her "ceremonial entrance" would divert attention from the president.
The proposed solution: See if she would take her seat early and sip hot tea to keep her voice warm.
And then there were the tickets. Each senator was issued 393 ducats to dispense to friends and constituents; each representative was given 198. Now, it seemed, everyone wanted more passes and better seats.
As she made rounds last week, McGill carried a cellular phone that constantly rang with requests. "Everyone thinks they should be seated next to the president, and they don't understand why they're not," she said.
McGill kept a notepad on her nightstand at home for those ever-increasing moments when she was jarred awake by a thought. Lately, she said, she had spent more time scribbling than sleeping.
Tonight, McGill won't even try to go home. She's bringing in eight cots so she and her top aides can doze in the office. At 2 a.m. Monday, she'll begin her final tour of the Capitol. A blue carpet and 1,000 chairs must be placed on the podium. The sound system gets one last check. The caterer needs to bring in food and drink for the luncheon.
Everything must be in place before 8 a.m., when the Secret Service begins its final security walk-through. Then begins the countdown to noon.
As Warner walked through yet another dry run last week, he was asked if he saw irony in his efforts to herald Clinton's second term.
"There's just no place for partisanship in this ceremony," Warner said with a scowl. "This is a demonstration to the world of the peaceful transition of power. We have a responsibility to the Constitution to carry it out, and we will.
"It will be a day of joy."
LENGTH: Long : 156 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: Bill Tiernan Landmark News Service. Bill Sweeney,by CNBCapitol coordinator for the inaugural, and Greg Casey, Senate
sergeant-at-arms, work out details about the luncheon for the
president with U.S. Sen. John Warner.