Handover Horror Stories

1980-81
President-elect Ronald Reagan assembled his transition team and chose Teamster bigwig Jackie Presser as a labor adviser. The problem: Presser had alleged Mafia contacts, and was a target of a Department of Labor malfeasance lawsuit. Reagan had courted the Teamster endorsement during the campaign (which he got—both in 1980 and 1984). When the news broke, administration officials denied knowledge of Presser's more nefarious connections and rejected the notion his advice would compromise any federal investigation into Teamster corruption. In ensuing days, more bad news surfaced: police witnesses testified that Presser made loans from Teamster pension funds to various organized-crime families. Though Presser denied any ties to organized crime, calls for his resignation grew louder; eventually, Reagan spokesman (and soon-to-be press secretary) James Brady said the Teamster boss's job had ended. However, the Associated Press quoted spokesman Larry Speakes as saying that Presser "may be called on" for "some continuing role." Presser, a Jimmy Hoffa protégé who had previously sought an audience with President Jimmy Carter, was elected president of the Teamsters in 1983.

1976-77
Theodore Sorensen was nominated to head the CIA by newly elected President Carter in 1976. The choice drew immediate fire from the right. Sorensen was accused of taking classified material during his time as a Kennedy adviser, criticized for having been a conscientious objector during World War II and blasted for his law firm's client roster's including foreign governments. Ideology also played a part. Sorensen was an old-school liberal who had some very definite ideas on reorganizing the agency, including reining in covert operations. Even though Democrats controlled the Senate, Sorensen could not withstand the onslaught. He pulled his nomination in front of the Senate committee, saying, "A substantial portion of the U.S. Senate and the intelligence community is not yet ready to accept as director of Central Intelligence an outsider who believes as I believe." Carter, perhaps afraid of the embarrassment of such an early rejection, decided to cut his losses; he did not forcefully back Sorensen, nor did he ask outright for his withdrawal.

1932-33
For the first 150 years of the presidency, the transition took place between November and the Inauguration in early March, primarily to account for slow travel time. But as communication and transportation improved, Inauguration Day stayed the same, leaving a lame-duck administration especially lame for four months.

In '32 Herbert Hoover was the lame duck, and for months Franklin Roosevelt distanced himself from all things Hoover—at the time an expedient maneuver, but one that may well have cost the country. Hoover had set in motion government plans to reverse the economic crisis, hoping the appearance of solidarity between the actual and incoming administrations would be a financial tonic. But he was already seen as politically toxic, and Roosevelt had won by steering clear of him. The Democrat rejected Hoover's plea to address the European end of the crisis, calling the war-debt issue the Republican's "baby." In January and February 1933, banks were failing en masse and Roosevelt-Hoover meetings were fruitless standoffs—described by historian Herbert Feis as a "naval engagement on a foggy night between two opposed fleets … the proponents were shooting at shadows and hitting air." So who gets the blame for the depression? Historians have quarreled over the question, but Hoover has borne most of the blame. The economic inertia during the long, contentious winter of 1932-33 did not help. Ironically, the 20th Amendment shortening the transition time to 11 weeks was ratified in late January, but didn't go into practical effect until 1937.

1924-25
In 1925, Calvin Coolidge nominated Charles B. Warren, a former ambassador and businessman, to be his attorney general. The Senate rejected Warren for his interest in the "sugar trust"—a conglomerate of sugar companies that had been investigated by Congress. In the early 20th century, Warren had been instrumental in consolidating smaller Michigan refineries and later became president of the resulting conglomerate. Missouri Sen. James A. Reed was particularly hostile to the idea of Warren's appointment. "I trust there are enough [senators] left to vote against delivering the Department of Justice into the hands of the sugar trust," he said in an impassioned speech on the Senate floor. "Warren is owned in advance." Congress was especially sensitive to cabinet members with backdoor connections after the bribery scandals of the Harding presidency. Warren was rejected 41-39. Upon hearing the news, Coolidge stubbornly resubmitted Warren's name, saying in a statement that he hoped "the unbroken practice of three generations of permitting the president to choose his own cabinet will not be changed." The Senate, its sovereignty challenged, rejected Warren again.

1829
In the first months of 1829, Andrew Jackson supporters from far and wide made their way to the Capital for the Inauguration. Washington was captivated by the Democratic revolution, but the hero of New Orleans kept mainly out of sight. His wife had died in December (after a nasty campaign that sullied her reputation) and for most of the transition, Jackson was in mourning, secluded in his quarters at Gadsby's Hotel and only receiving visitors for three hours a day. A huge crowd assembled for the Inauguration, then flowed toward the White House. Jackson had opened the grounds to all his well wishers—who quickly became an unruly mob in the overcrowded reception room. Many of the people—penned in, hot and liquored up—began to fight or faint. Aides had to form a human ring around the gaunt president to avoid his being crushed. Opened windows provided the only escape route, but the fracas spilled out; aides used ice cream and wine to try to lure the masses outside. Margaret Bayard Smith, a lady of Washington society, wrote of the scene: "Ladies and gentlemen only had been expected at this Levee, not the people en masse. But it was the People's day, and the People's President and the People would rule."