Although our alarm clock was set for 6:00am on Friday May 17, 2019, Tom and Bob were up before that. And I knew exactly why – they were as excited as I was to go back inside the White House. Not only did the three of us have tickets to take the public tour of the White House at 10:00am, which was the same tour we had taken two days earlier; we also had a West Wing lunch date with Trump attorney Scott Gast at noon. Last, but not least, we planned on ending our day with a Gast-led tour of the West Wing that we hoped would get us close to President Trump’s Oval Office. In the back of our minds, however, was the fact that Scott was in New York City and we weren’t confident that he could make it back in time to meet us for lunch. Then the thoughts in my resin mind got even worse – what if Scott had to stay in the Big Apple for an extra day? No lunch. No Oval Office. No posing with Scott for a photo. We knew that Scott would do his very best to meet us and that’s all we could ask for; although a little luck wouldn’t hurt either.
Normally it takes my photographer about 20 minutes to get ready for the day; after all, he doesn’t have much hair to comb, and it doesn’t take very long for him to slap on a tee-shirt and a ball cap. But on that day, Tom wanted to make sure he had extra time because he needed to wear a suit coat and tie while in the West Wing. From my position near the television set, I watched Tom during his transformation from an ordinary history-lovin’ picture-taker into a White House ‘hob-nobber’ who might get the opportunity to meet the President of the United States. Everything seemed to go well until it was time for him to secure his necktie. After my photographer watched a “How to tie a Windsor Knot” tutorial on YouTube, a video that only seemed to confuse him, Mongo saved the day by tying his necktie for him.
Even though my camera guy looked awkwardly dashing in his suit, I knew he was already uncomfortable; especially during the twenty-minute drive from the hotel into Washington. Once we had arrived at our parking spot near the White House, we had some extra time to kill before we could legally park the vehicle on Constitution Avenue. That unexpected additional time gave us the opportunity to visit the infamous Watergate Hotel, which was situated less than two miles from the White House. In 1972, the Watergate Hotel gained fame for the botched burglary of the Democratic National Headquarters and the subsequent coverup by the Richard Nixon administration. That coverup ultimately led to Nixon becoming the first and only President to resign from office in 1974. At first, Tom had planned on taking me inside the massive luxury hotel to photograph me near the room where the break-in had occurred. But since he didn’t have a clue as to where that room was located; and we didn’t have a lot of extra time to wander aimlessly around in search of the room; I simply posed for a few photos alongside the exterior of the hotel. In my mind, the Watergate Hotel was a weak Presidential site because Richard Nixon likely never stepped foot inside the building. In the grand scheme of things, however, the photos helped us tell the story of Presidential power that went terribly wrong and led to the downfall of the leader of the free world.
Finished at the Watergate Hotel, we made it back to Constitution Avenue and grabbed a parking spot for our return visit to the White House. As my photographer stepped out of the Acadia, however, I realized that something didn’t seem right. My gut feeling turned to reality when I heard him tell Bob: “I’m going to leave Jefferson in the car so I can enjoy seeing the White House without worrying about taking pictures. This tour should be exactly the same as it was on Wednesday, and I’ve already captured a ton of photos of TJ inside each room”. I was devastated when I heard that news. After all, I was Robin to his Batman; Garth Algar to his Wayne Campbell; Sherman to his Mr. Peabody; and yet Tom was leaving me to fend for myself on the backseat of the Acadia. As I stayed in the dark and lonely solitude of the camera case, I was left to wonder what Tom experienced inside the White House. He can show the photos and tell his story – without me.
Soon after Bob and I entered the property and were standing in line to get through the security screening process, Mongo received a text message on his cell phone at 9:52am. The message was from Scott Gast and it read: “About to take off on AF1. Should be back at the White House in time for lunch.” I heard a huge sigh of relief from Mongo, which was followed by: “Can you believe that? Scott said he’s about to take off on AF1 – that has to be Air Force One. My good friend, who I’ve known for a long time, is flying with the President of the United States on Air Force One and in a little over two hours we will be having lunch with him inside the White House. This will be a day that we’ll remember forever.” At that moment, our smiles were so big we likely would need plastic surgery to remove them from our faces.
We went through the same rigorous screening process that we endured on Wednesday and by 10:20am we were back inside the White House. Originally my plan was to enjoy a slow walk though the mansion and absorb its majestic beauty without a camera in front of my face, but I quickly found myself using my cell phone camera to snap some images. I couldn’t help it. Early on during the tour, I stopped at a small souvenir stand that was setup in a lower level corridor and bought a children’s book about the White House for my granddaughter Reese. She loves books and I thought it would be special for her to have a book about the White House purchased from inside the White House. While the lower level of the tour, which once again featured the Library, Vermeil Room, China Room, was exactly the same as we saw two days earlier, that quickly changed when we walked up the marble staircase to the State Floor. At the moment we entered the East Room, which was closed to the public on Wednesday, I realized I had made a mistake by not having the bobble head with me. I wanted to photograph Jefferson in the largest room in the White House for two reasons: seven Presidents have lain in state there; plus, that room contained the famous portrait of George Washington that Dolley Madison had saved during the 1814 fire.
Bob and I spent roughly ten minutes inside the East Room before we headed to the three ‘colored’ rooms on the State Floor. The first of those rooms was the Green Room. I thought of Thomas Jefferson while I stood inside the Green Room as he used it as his dining room. On a darker note, the Green Room was also where Abraham Lincoln’s son Willie was embalmed following his unexpected death on February 20, 1862. Following my stay in the Green Room, I strolled into the Blue Room; which is often used by the President to receive guests. It might be my favorite room on the public tour as it’s oval shaped and directly in the center of the South portico. Not only is that room filled with furniture purchased by James Monroe to replace the stuff the British burned in 1814, it also featured the official White House portrait of Thomas Jefferson in the prime spot on the wall. On January 20, 2013, President Barack Obama took the Oath of Office in the Blue Room as Inauguration Day fell on a Sunday.
Immediately after I stepped into the Red Room from the Blue, my eyes were drawn to the window as I saw something large in the sky above the South Lawn. In my mind, I thought to myself: “Is that a helicopter hovering over the South Lawn? Wait, that’s not just any helicopter – that’s Marine One and the President is landing!” I captured a handful of photos as Marine One slowly approached and set down onto the White House lawn. The entire event surprised me as it seemed the helicopter was very close to the front of the building; closer than I would’ve ever imagined. At one point, I thought the rotating blades might hit the columns of the South Portico; but luckily that never happened. As I waited for the occupants to leave the chopper, I heard a Secret Service agent in the room say aloud: “Folks, you can move along now. It’s going to be a long time before anyone gets out of the helicopter.” At that moment, I told the handful of other tourists that stood near me that he was lying; I mentioned that as soon as those blades quit rotating, the President will step out. And sure enough, the helicopter’s blades came to a halt, the door opened, and people began to disembark. As I did my best to catch a glimpse of President Trump, that task was made a bit difficult as the windows in the White House were not totally clear; they had the wavy affect of historic glass – not to mention the several layers of bulletproof glass that was in place as well. Then he emerged – I saw President Donald Trump, dressed in his traditional blue suit coat and red tie, as he walked down the steps of Marine One. My visual identification of the President was confirmed when he saluted the Marine soldier who stood guard. It was only a two-second glimpse, but those two seconds were ones I will never forget. In April of 2018, I saw President Trump at a rally in Washington, Michigan and it was cool to see a sitting President in person. But to see the President while standing inside the White House, however, was an experience that’s difficult to describe and even harder to believe had happened. And the best part of all: it also meant that Scott Gast was back at the White House as well. Moments after the buzz of the tourists had died down from what we had just witnessed, we walked through a doorway and into the State Dining Room.
The portrait of Abraham Lincoln that hung above the fireplace in the State Dining Room was the first thing that caught my eye; which was what had happened on Wednesday as well. The artist captured the President deep in thought; and when I stared at the painting, I had wondered what was going though Lincoln’s mind at the time. Even though everyone in that room was snapping photos like me, the chatter still centered on the experience of watching President Trump’s helicopter land in front of us. For a few minutes inside the State Dining Room, I became an instant celebrity when I mentioned that I had caught a photo of Trump as he walked off Marine One. When I brought the image up on the screen of my phone to show some of the visitors, a small handful of folks took photos of my phone because they had missed their own opportunity.
During the final moments of the tour, I slowly walked from the State Dining Room, through the Cross Halls and then I finished at the Entrance Hall; which once hosted a dance by John Travolta and Princess Diana in 1985. Thomas Jefferson also used that large rectangular room to display artifacts brought back to the White House from the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Outside, Mongo and I reunited in front of the North Portico, and we immediately shared our stories of seeing the President. It turned out that when Bob saw the event unfolding from the Blue Room, his attempts to get my attention as I stood in the Red Room went for naught. Mongo said he tried yelling my name several times, but at the same time he didn’t want to draw unwanted attention from the Secret Service. Luckily for both of us, we were in the right place at the right time – for once.
The two of us had little time to waste – we had exactly 45 minutes to walk back to the Acadia and move it to a new location to avoid another parking ticket. We also had to put on our suit coats and then walk to the security entrance along Pennsylvania Avenue before 12 noon. When we arrived at our vehicle that was parked along Constitution Avenue, Bob and I agreed that we had no time to relocate it to another parking space. We put more money into the parking meter and “rolled the dice” with the cops. As I put on my suit coat, I knew TJ would be peeved because he couldn’t join us for lunch inside the West Wing. Scott informed Bob ahead of time that we would have to stow our belongings, including cell phones, into a storage area before going into the Navy Mess for lunch. Since I was unable to bring Jefferson into the lunch area anyway, I once again left him in the car.
After an exhausting hike to the security gate located between the White House and Executive Office Building, which was made more difficult because the two of us were in full business suits and the temperature was in the low 90s, we approached the Secret Service station with our identification in hand. The next words we heard were: “I’m sorry; I don’t see either one of your names on the list for lunch.” Immediately we were devastated and a terrible feeling consumed the two of us. What could have gone wrong? Mongo had filled-out all of the required pre-visit paperwork and we were cleared to visit; but something had happened. After a fifteen-minute text message exchange between Bob and Scott, which ultimately cleared-up the confusion, we were allowed through the gate and onto the property.
To be honest, I was nervous to meet Scott Gast; even though Mongo assured me that Scott was a down-to-earth friendly guy. But in my mind, this was President Trump’s attorney and two hours earlier he was onboard Air Force One with the President of the United States. How could someone in that position not look down to an ordinary history enthusiast from St. Clair, Michigan like me? As we approached the side of the Executive Office Building, Scott stood outside to greet us in person. Mongo was absolutely correct; Scott Gast seemed extremely friendly and a lot more low-key than I had anticipated. His demeanor immediately put my apprehension at ease; which was good because I was on the doorstep of the West Wing of the White House and that had me wired-up from head-to-toe all on its own.
After Bob and I had stowed our cell phones into secured lockers, Scott led us into the White House Mess, which was a small dining area in the basement of the West Wing and was situated directly one floor below the Oval Office. Unofficially the dining area was known as the ‘Navy Mess’ because it’s run by the U.S. Navy. Completely paneled in wood, the room had a definite nautical theme; especially since it had numerous paintings of ships on the walls. There were over a dozen tables in the Navy Mess, with seating for roughly 50 people; Scott mentioned to us that Vice President Pence dined there once in a while. That definitely got my attention and I quickly scanned the room; but unfortunately the Vice President was nowhere in sight. We were seated at a table for three; a table that was positioned next to the support beam in the center of the room and embellished with exquisite linens, fresh flowers, and official White House china. I had ordered the West Wing Burger and fries, along with a bowl of chicken noodle soup. As we waited for our meal to arrive, it gave the three of us a chance to relax and chat; and it turned out that Scott seemed very interested in my bobble head’s adventures. After I shared a quick story or two about Jefferson’s travels, Scott said to me: “You really should share those stories and pictures with the world. Have you ever thought about starting a blog?” I about fell out of my seat because my good friend and co-worker Rick Bieth had been saying that very same thing for the past year or so. When those words came out of the President’s lawyer’s mouth inside the White House, however, it watered and fertilized the seed that Rick had already planted.
There were times during our lunch that I had to pinch myself to see if I was dreaming or not. It was such a surreal setting to see Bob and I eating from White House china in the actual White House, because most of the time the two of us eat from paper plates that may have been made in China. Then out of nowhere, Scott said something that gave me a full dose of reality: “You see that closed door across the hallway? That’s the Situation Room and right now the President, Vice President, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff are meeting inside there.” When I asked Gast if they were discussing Iran, he said “likely”. Once lunch was finished and we walked out of the Mess, Scott introduced Mongo and I to two young guys who stood outside of the Situation Room. After the four of us shook hands and exchanged greetings, Scott mentioned that they controlled the “nuclear football” for the President. Once again, I had difficulty believing what I had just experienced. It was nothing more than a very good dream; but, I didn’t want to wake up. After Bob and I retrieved our cell phones, Scott led us outside where we were allowed to take pictures. As we stood near the area where some of the Presidential limousines were parked, the West Wing door opened and Vice President Mike Pence emerged as he headed for the Executive Office Building. Before I had a chance to think, I quickly blurted out: “Good morning, Mr. Vice President”; even though it was around 1:45pm. Mike Pence waved and said “Good morning, how are you?” The VP likely thought to himself: “That idiot doesn’t even know the time of day.” As he waved at us, my quick-thinking friend Bob snapped a photograph of the Vice President, which was great because the only images I captured was when Pence had already walked away from us.
After our Vice-Presidential sighting, which added the frosting to our White House cake, Bob and I posed for photos outside of the West Wing. I thought it was cool that Scott insisted that he use our phones to capture the images. As I watched Scott snap a picture of Bob, I thought to myself: “That’s the President’s lawyer and now he’s our personal photographer. Can it get any more unbelievable than that?” The last stop of our lunch-time tour was a quick look at the Executive Office Building, which was where Scott Gast’s office was located as well. We were inside the historic building for roughly ten minutes before we parted ways with our gracious host. When Bob and I returned to the Acadia, the first thing we noticed was the absence of a ticket on the windshield; which meant we could roll the dice again. The two of us removed our suit coats and grabbed our cameras; and of course, I couldn’t forget the star of my show – Thomas Jefferson the bobble head.
My photographer and Mongo had left me alone for over three hours while they hob-nobbed in the White House. As I was carried in the camera case towards The Octagon House, I heard my two companions talk about what they had experienced. While it disappointed me that I didn’t get the chance to see the Vice President, I knew for a fact that later in the evening I would get the opportunity to meet Scott Gast. All I could do was smile when I heard my camera guy say that Scott wanted to hear stories about me during lunch. In a little over six hours, Scott would become a huge part of my story.
The Octagon House, or the Colonel John Tayloe III House as it’s also known as, was located about a block west of the White House. After the British destroyed the White House in 1814, President James Madison and his wife Dolley moved into the Tayloe house and resided there for about six months. On February 17, 1815 while residing at the Octagon House, President Madison signed the Treaty of Ghent in an upstairs study. That treaty ended the War of 1812. After I had posed for a handful of photos near the exterior of the historic house, the three of us went inside for a tour. During our time inside the house, I was allowed to stand on the historic table that Madison used when he signed the Treaty of Ghent. I also kept a keen eye out for the alleged ghosts whose presence have been felt for years inside the Tayloe residence; several ghosts who have been reputed to be the spirits of Dolley Madison, two of Colonel Tayloe’s daughters, a gambler, and possibly an old soldier. We toured the interior of the house for over 30 minutes, and I stood in a few spots where spirits had been reported to have been seen. But unfortunately, I didn’t experience any paranormal activity; much to my chagrin.
When the three of us left the Octagon House, we had to hurry back to the Acadia because the parking meter was about to expire. For my photographer, it had been a day filled with a lot of walking and his feet were once again in pain. As my two companions sat in the car and discussed their next move, Tom suggested that they return to the hotel in Alexandria and relax; maybe even take a nap. He figured they would enjoy the evening’s West Wing tour more if they were refreshed instead of being exhausted from a full day of sightseeing. Bob thought the idea was brilliant. They made the ten-mile pilgrimage back to the Days Inn and the two of them kicked-back for over four hours while I stood next to the television set. Even though I was still upset over the fact that Tom left me in the car while he toured the White House earlier in the day, I knew that he had planned on taking me inside the West Wing at 8:30pm that night. As my companions napped, I envisioned Scott Gast as he introduced the three of us to President Trump while we stood near the Oval Office. Unexpectedly, Trump wanted to pose for a photo with me as I stood on the Resolute Desk. Then I snapped out of my fantasy when I was smashed into oblivion when Donald accidentally dropped me onto the floor. The dream ended when Trump said, “You’re fired!”
The three of us left the hotel around 7:20pm as Tom and Bob didn’t want to take a chance of being late. I heard my photographer say that he would rather be an hour early than five minutes late. During the entire 20-minute drive to the White House, I could tell that my travel partners were excited as they talked non-stop about what they saw earlier in the day; as well as what they were about to experience. Bob found a great parking spot along Pennsylvania Avenue just West of the White House. Since we were 45 minutes early, we waited in the car and killed time by watching tourists pass by. At 8:15pm, the meter was filled and the three of us headed on foot towards the most famous house in America. Once we reached the security gate, I heard Bob say aloud: “Our names should be on the list because they saw them this morning. But the way our luck goes, you just never know what might happen.” Sure enough, the Secret Service found the reservation and examined their identification; but we were told that Scott needed to escort us onto the property. After several attempts by Bob to contact Gast had gone unanswered, the three of us began to panic. Then out of nowhere, Scott arrived at the gate and we were in.
During the walk up the driveway towards the West Wing, Scott asked to see the “famous bobble head” and he smiled when Tom pulled me from the camera case. My photographer asked the attorney if he would have trouble getting me past the final Secret Service screening; Scott said: “Probably not, but you never know sometimes.” Sure enough, the Secret Service agents at the West Wing were very serious and they didn’t seem overly friendly when they asked my photographer why he was bringing the bobble head into the White House. I nervously laughed to myself when Tom delivered his well-rehearsed spiel to the agents; and once again it worked – we were through the final hurdle. Scott once again reminded my photographer and Mongo that they couldn’t take any pictures inside the West Wing or in the Rose Garden. Gast mentioned that he had a couple of places that he had planned on taking us where Tom and Bob could capture images for posterity. I was carried in my photographer’s hand as we made our way past Press Secretary Sarah Sander’s locked office and then we turned the corner towards the Cabinet Room. At the end of the hallway I could see an illuminated room with a portrait of Andrew Jackson hanging on the far wall. At that moment, I heard my photographer say to Scott: “That’s the Oval Office, isn’t it?” Gast simply smiled and said we would be going there next. The Cabinet Room, which was built in 1934 during the FDR administration, featured a huge oval-shaped mahogany table that was surrounded by a lot of chairs. It was easy to see which chair belonged to the President as it was two inches taller than the rest. As cool as it was to see the Cabinet Room, all I could think about was the Oval Office.
My head was bobbing more than usual as we made the slow walk from the Cabinet Room to the Oval Office. As we approached the historic room, light emitted from the open door; almost as though we were walking into heaven. And for me, I was. A large and stern-looking Secret Service agent stood with his arms folded to the right of the door and there was a ‘velvet rope’ at the entrance – so much for going inside. Tom held me up and his arm extended through the threshold of the opening; I was inside the Oval Office. It was a dream-come-true as my eyes focused on the Resolute Desk. At that moment, I envisioned little John-John Kennedy as he sat in the center opening while his father worked behind the historic desk. It was a breathtaking moment for sure and the only way to describe the feeling was “an out-of-body experience”. The original Oval Office was built in 1909 during the Taft administration, but it was destroyed during a West Wing Christmas Eve fire in 1929. Rebuilt in 1934, every President since Franklin D. Roosevelt has used the current Oval Office as their formal place to conduct business.
Although the three of us could’ve stood and looked at the Oval Office for hours, Scott didn’t have the luxury of grabbing a nap like my chaperones had done and it was getting late. The final stop inside the West Wing was at the James S. Brady Press Briefing Room. I immediately recognized the room when I saw the podium situated in front of the oval-shaped backdrop that featured an image of the White House and the words ‘White House – Washington’. I had two surprises in that room – the first was the thickness of the glass in the window that was located to the side of the stage. The windows where the press would normally be seated looked to be of normal thickness, but the glass at the stage appeared to be over three inches thick. The second surprise was when Scott said we could take photographs inside that room; although we were not allowed to access the stage. As Tom held me near the podium for a photo, I could see Sarah Sanders in my mind’s eye as she briefed the press. I’ve always thought Sarah had a cute southern accent and she wasn’t bad on my painted resin eyes either. Compared to the rest of the West Wing, the Press Briefing Room was fairly new; built during the George W. Bush administration and dedicated on July 11, 2007. The room was built over the swimming pool that FDR had installed in the White House as therapeutic relief for his polio-stricken legs.
We spent roughly ten minutes inside the Press Briefing Room as we listened to Scott talk about the seating assignments for reporters from different media outlets. When he mentioned CNN, I thought to myself that CNN should be called ‘CON’ – the Cable Opinion Network. The few times I have stood on my shelf and tried to watch the news on ‘CON’, it turned out to be the reporter’s opinion instead of actual news.
The time that we were in the West Wing seemed to fly by, but the fact was we were inside the White House for nearly an hour. Back outside and into the humid night air, we spent the final moments of our tour as Tom and Bob captured images of the illuminated White House. It was an honor when Scott Gast wanted to hold me for a photo in front of the West Wing entrance. I thought to myself: “I’m just an old, bandaged-up bobble head; and now I’m in the hands of Donald Trump’s lawyer. Earlier today, Scott likely shook hands with the President and now he’s holding me with the same hand.” It was a moment that I will cherish forever. When the three of us parted ways with our gracious host and returned to our vehicle on Pennsylvania Avenue, it was still hard to fathom where we had been. I’ve been to numerous full-scale replicas of the Oval Office in the past; but on that night, I was in the real Oval Office inside the White House. All I could do was say to myself: “Thank you Scott Gast for making that experience possible”.
While my photographer and Mongo were running on pure adrenaline, I also knew they had to have been exhausted. But that didn’t stop them from making a late-night stop at the Jefferson Memorial; and quite frankly, I was glad they did. I had been to the monument in 2014, but that particular visit was during the day. It was exciting for me to visit my namesake’s memorial during the darkness of night. Bob parked the vehicle near West Potomac Park and the three of us set out on foot towards the Jefferson Memorial; which turned out to be a longer-than-anticipated hike. Washington D.C. looks incredible during the day, but the sight of the illuminated monuments at night is nothing short of spectacular. By the time we made it to the Jefferson Memorial and then up the plethora of marble steps to the rotunda, I could feel that my photographer’s pace had slowed. There was no doubt that Tom’s feet were causing him pain and unfortunately there was no relief in sight. But once we were inside and standing in front of the 19-foot tall bronze statue of Thomas Jefferson, he forgot all about his “barking dogs”. Towards the end of our time inside the memorial, as Tom held me up near the likeness of Jefferson, I heard a voice come from behind my photographer: “What’s up with the bobble head?” My camera guy turned and he was face-to-face with two college-aged guys from Texas. After Tom explained what we do and then recited a couple of interesting stories about our adventures, they were hooked on every word. Then it happened; I experienced deja vu when one of the guys said: “You really should share those stories with the world. Did you ever think about starting a blog where you could post pictures and write stories about the bobble head? People will love your concept.” My photographer laughed and said he’d been contemplating a blog for a while; all thanks to Rick Bieth and Scott Gast.
I think my photographer would’ve talked with those two guys until the Sun came up; thankfully Bob arrived and broke up their little chat session. I bid farewell to Jefferson and Tom carried me back to the car that was parked over a half mile away. Seconds after my photographer stowed me away onto the back seat, he and Mongo collapsed into the Acadia. The last meal that my two companions had eaten were the West Wing Burgers in the White House and they were in need of some grub. Mongo found a McDonald’s along the route back to Alexandria and the pair purchased a handful of dollar burgers to eat at the hotel.
From my perch alongside of the TV set, I listened as my photographer ate his food and reminisced with Bob about their incredible experience. I laughed to myself when Tom said: “These McDonald’s burgers would taste better if we ate them off of White House China.” It was nearly 11:30pm when the lights were extinguished in the room. While my camera guy began to snore, I stood in complete silence throughout the night and thought about the Oval Office. Would I ever get another chance to see that historic room again with my own painted eyes? My chances just might lie with the American voters next year. In the meantime, I will be simply “Biden” my time!
Note: The bobble head, Thomas Jefferson, dedicated this post to Scott Gast in appreciation for his time and generosity at the White House. “Thank you from the bottom of my resin-filled heart, Scott!”
