Window Seat on the World

by Glen Johnson

  “Do you think I can handle it?” I asked. I’d just written a story about how being secretary of State wasn’t a cabinet job, but the cabinet job. It was the oldest and first in seniority; it came with a worldwide portfolio and recognition; its holder was fourth in the line of presidential succession and flew on his own plane; and he and his team were protected by a twenty-four-hour phalanx of security guards, akin to the president.

  Kerry chuckled at the question and replied, “Do you think you can handle it? If you’re not comfortable with it, don’t do it.”

  I asked for twenty-four hours to consider it, knowing I didn’t want to make a rash decision. At the same time, I was aware I couldn’t linger in this contemplation of the “dark side” if I hoped to maintain any credibility as a neutral political observer should I decide to turn down the offer.

  “Take the time you need, but there’s not a lot of time here,” the senator replied.526

  During a family dinner, my wife and sons quickly dismissed any concerns. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, they said. You have to do it, each argued. I thought all those things to myself, because the odds were long I’d ever again know someone who might be tapped to be secretary of State.

  Say no, I felt, and you will live with a lifetime of regret.

  Late that night, I emailed Brian McGrory, who’d recently been promoted from columnist to The Globe’s editor, and asked if we could meet for breakfast the following day. I wanted to relay my decision face-to-face. McGrory agreed, and we settled on Mul’s Diner in South Boston.

  Heavy snow was falling when the sun rose, though, trapping McGrory in traffic. “What’s up?” he asked when he called my cellphone to apologize. When I explained I had accepted a job offer from the incoming secretary of State, McGrory didn’t offer the condemnation I feared but support I didn’t expect.

  “Listen, if you were going to work for the Massachusetts Democratic Party, I’d tell you, you were making a big mistake. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. In good conscience, I can’t talk you out of it,” McGrory said.527

  Saddened but relieved, I then called Kerry.

  “If the offer is still good,” I said, “I accept.”

  It was, the secretary-designate replied, adding he was happy with the decision.

  _________

  ON FEBRUARY 24, 2013, I wore jeans and a trench coat as I rolled my carry-on bag through the rain at Andrews Air Force Base. I was all set for my first trip abroad with the secretary of State.

  Some of my former journalism colleagues were clambering up their usual entrance to the secretary of State’s plane—the back steps. As a staffer, I had access to a set of red-carpeted stairs leading to the front door.

  When I reached the top step, I looked down the blue-and-white fuselage and the words now at eye level: United States of America. I then boarded the aircraft with tail number 80002—one of those 757s I’d seen parked on Boeing’s tarmac fifteen years earlier.

  Kerry himself arrived in his motorcade a short time later, and soon all of us aboard were speeding north along the runway, lifting off on a flight to London.

  It was the first of 109 international missions over four years for Secretary Kerry. Along the way, we spent over 120 days aloft—more than four months ensconced in one of those planes that made Boeing officials so proud. I took well over 100,000 photos during our travels in an added role I never anticipated: official State Department travel photographer.

  The beginning of that first trip closed a circle for the secretary and me.

  Two people who’d set down different paths in 1985 came together in 2013 as they left jobs each had held for nearly thirty years in favor of a new career opportunity together.

  Now, riding on the same plane to the same destinations, we’d promised to support one another while confronting some of the world’s most intractable problems.

  Along the way, there was turbulence on land and in the air; but as I looked out my window seat on the world, I took confidence.

  The wingtips never bounced beyond the edges of my windowpane, and the scene outside was mesmerizing until our final landing.

  Glen Johnson

  North Andover, Massachusetts

  December 5, 2018

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  FIRST AND FOREMOST, I want to thank John Kerry for the opportunity of a lifetime.

  From the moment I started working for him, he fully embraced and welcomed me into the fold. Despite my past as a reporter, there was never any qualifier that something this politician said or did was “off the record.” He put complete trust in me the second I accepted his job offer, and working so closely with him gave me an in-depth appreciation of his smarts, energy, creativity, and patience.

  It also gave me an experience I never expected. I’d covered government for nearly thirty years, but hadn’t seen it from the inside. And while I’d traveled across the country, my international exposure had largely been to the typical stops on a beer-sodden Eurail pass: London, Munich, Amsterdam, and Vienna among them.

  All that changed as we spent virtually every day together across four years and all seven continents.

  At home, I was the person to greet him most mornings when he stepped off the elevator at the State Department. On the road, we were companions for all I’ve described in the preceding pages. We saw each other good, bad, and ugly, and when each of us was hurting—me when I flew alongside him in that helicopter after he broke his leg biking, him checking on me in my hotel room in Paris as I stood doubled over, wheezing, after breaking three ribs when I fell on an icy street.

  That, of course, happened while I was trying to catch up to him during our last trip abroad—which had been a perpetual challenge of our time together.

  I still marvel at a November 2016 photo of the two of us on the Pegasus ice runway in Antarctica, him with a thumbs-up while we were cloaked in down parkas and the remnants of our ECW gear. For the guy who took tens of thousands of pictures of Secretary Kerry, it was a rare one with me in the frame with him.

  Working together was no automatic, though.

  When I was a reporter, I wrote my share of tough pieces about him. We also had our run-ins. The most memorable came in 2003, when I noticed the prospective 2004 Democratic presidential candidate didn’t seem to be himself. I asked—as he got into his car—whether he was sick. Then Senator Kerry told me no; but only ten days later, he called a news conference in the US Capitol to announce he had prostate cancer.

  When the time came for questions, I asked why he’d lied to me—using that word. Needless to say, the exchange was pointed and especially insulting to his wife, Teresa Heinz Kerry, and daughters, Alex and Vanessa. They felt he had the right to make his announcement at the time and place of his own choosing. I’d been more simplistic in my analysis, a hometown reporter simply comparing a prior question with a current answer.528 I think I would have been more tactful with age.

  The passage of time and my continuing professional engagement with the senator patched up those differences, and we all were struck in later moments by the unlikeliness of me ending up as a member of his staff.

  I never would have gotten that opportunity, either, had it not been for David Wade.

  David was a smart and aspiring Brown University student who fleshed out his own political ideals early in his life as a Truman Scholar and president of the College Democrats of America.

  He landed a job on Senator Kerry’s staff as a twenty-two-year-old and quickly rose from speechwriter to communications director. He ultimately was named chief of staff.

  We got to know each other particularly well from 2001 to 2003, that period when I was pretty much the only reporter covering the run-up to John Kerry’s 2004 presidential campaign. Often, I ended up traveling with or chasing after three others: the senator, David, and personal aide Marvin Nicholson. “The Marv” is a special person who can make you laugh while teaching you life lessons about how to treat others.

  By the time Senator Kerry won
the 2004 Democratic nomination, Wade was traveling press secretary.

  Titles, however, don’t explain the essential part he remains today in Team Kerry. I heard the secretary himself once label him “brilliant,” and to be blunt, John Kerry’s policies, speeches, memoir, and public image would not be what they are if not for Wade’s strategic thinking and inexhaustible work ethic.

  Pete Rouse, who’d been Barack Obama’s Senate chief of staff, asked Kerry if Wade could work on the 2008 Obama presidential campaign. The senator gave his blessing to David and Marvin, who eventually would become one of the president’s closest aides. David himself ended up on the staff of Obama and Kerry’s Senate colleague, vice presidential nominee Joe Biden. After the election—despite working alongside the man who ended up only a heartbeat from the presidency—David turned down a sure job in the White House.

  Instead, he returned to Kerry’s staff and remained at his boss’s side as he moved from the Senate to the State Department in 2013.529

  Such loyalty must have its own chromosome in Wade’s DNA, because when it came time to put together the State staff, David took it upon himself to raise my name and make the case for my hiring.

  When the secretary called to offer me a job, he made a point of saying that Wade had provided his stamp of approval. I later learned he had done much more than that.

  I take it all as the ultimate compliment, because David knew me well as a reporter, and better than anyone about the ups and downs of my relationship with John Kerry.

  I wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity I was offered without David’s initiative and support. For those reasons and many more, I was sad to see him leave State in 2015 but not surprised at his decision. His Lone Star wife, Elizabeth Alexander, was about to have their first child, and Wade felt he couldn’t be a good father if he continued to devote all of his attention 24/7/365 to the Department.

  His departure didn’t stop the secretary from calling him whenever he needed a gut check on any important decision, or then how to prepare for and execute his transition out of public service and back into private life.

  Wade also led me to Disruption Books, the publisher of this book, just as I had about concluded my only option was self-publishing.

  Next, I want to thank my wife, Cathy, and my two sons, Patrick and Kelley.

  Cathy deservedly got her own place of recognition at the start of this book, but I couldn’t finish it without singling out the boys for praise, too.

  When John Kerry called, everyone came home for a family dinner where I outlined the job offer. All three were effusive in their encouragement, which surprised me.

  For Cathy, the price was a lot of Friday and Saturday nights alone, and no one to talk through the trials and tribulations of every other day of the week.

  Emblematic of her support was how she filled in over the July Fourth holiday in 2015, when we had family friends coming to Washington for the State Department fireworks—and I ended up marooned in Vienna, Austria, as the Iran nuclear talks dragged on.

  Cathy ably showed everyone the usual tourist sights and even joined them in the Oval Office—a place even I had never been.

  She also supported our household for two years while I worked on this book and plotted the next steps in my career. As our savings balance got lower and lower, she only sold more and more real estate.

  I couldn’t have taken the job at the State Department or anywhere else during my career without her unflinching support.

  As for Patrick and Kelley, the truth is they’ve enjoyed a lot of benefits from my jobs. They’ve attended events like political conventions, sat next to or in the laps of network anchors, and shaken hands with the president of the United States.

  They also got to go to the White House after the New England Patriots won their first Super Bowl and stand in the Rose Garden chatting alone with MVP-winning quarterback Tom Brady. He even let them try on his Rose Bowl ring, which preceded all of his NFL jewelry. A class act and great role model. Patrick came to the White House the Friday before 9/11, and when President Bush was walking to Marine One, he veered over to me and asked, “Glen, is this your boy?” Kelley, dressed in his new military uniform, had Al Pacino seek him out for conversation when we all were at a State Department dinner preceding the 2016 Kennedy Center Honors.

  But it’s equally true the two boys had to endure my absences when I traveled during presidential campaign years or when I became a commuter for the four years I worked at State.

  They were older by then, but kids still need their parents. They never complained when I missed a birthday, had to renege on plans to go to a pro sports event, or couldn’t answer the phone at the moment they called.

  They both blossomed into wonderful young men, Pat with smarts and a personality that prompts constant compliments to his mother and me, Kelley with an athleticism and street sense that makes both of us jealous.

  Just before I left the State Department, Kelley gutted his way through Officer Candidates School and was commissioned as a 2nd lieutenant in the US Marine Corps.

  He alone carried the family mantle of service when I completed my own government appointment on January 20, 2017.

  Days later, Kelley drove up from Quantico, Virginia, to my apartment in Washington so he could help me pack a moving truck for the ride home. When I arrived in Massachusetts, Pat was in the driveway, waiting to help me unload.

  My pride swelled on both ends.

  I’d also be remiss if I didn’t thank President Obama for the honor of his political appointment, or the trust of Ben Rhodes when I interviewed with him after being nominated by the State Department. I felt immediately comforted when I walked into his office at the White House and found my old campaign friend Tommy Vietor sitting in the reception area.

  When I got to State, I made a host of new friends, most especially Jason Meininger, Matt Summers, and Julie Wirkkala. We were all part of the original Team Kerry and they supported my transition from outsider to insider.

  Jason and I became very close, since we spent almost all day, every day together as he served Secretary Kerry and I took pictures of the Boss while we crisscrossed the world. We shared a lot of early morning jogs and late-night beers. I also saw his entire courtship and marriage to his wife, Georgiana Cavendish. Matt Summers, meanwhile, provided ceaseless dark comedic relief back in our shared office space at State—as well as an epic road tale when he subbed for Jason in Bahrain.

  David and Rose Thorne were the most amazing hosts in Rome and companions for a memorable car ride and lunch in Brittany, France, alongside Andre Heinz and María Marteinsdóttir. Drew O’Brien, Leigh Garland, Julia Frifield, Nancy Stetson, Chris Flanagan, Maura Hogan, Alex Costello, Mary deBree, Josh Rubin, and Nick Christiansen also were great Kerry teammates, and Doug Frantz was the first to encourage me to jot down color for a possible book.

  I have the same reverence for my fellow road warriors: Jen Psaki, Tom Sullivan, John Kirby, Marie Harf, Mark Toner, Steve Krupin, Andrew Imbrie, Stephanie Epner, Patrick Granfield, Reem Nuseibeh, Dr. Will Walters, Dr. Kathleen McCray, Lee Smith, and the epitome of toughness, Lisa Kenna.

  The team that greeted us at State, including Bill Burns, Tom Shannon, John Bass, Jen Davis, Kathleen Hill, Claire Coleman, Linda Landers, and George Rowland, was extremely helpful in our transition, as were innumerable S Specials and members of The Line. The Dep Execs—among them Paco Palmieri, Julietta Valls Noyes, Ted Allegra, Kent Logsdon, Elisabeth Millard, Kelly Degnan, Harry Kamian, Baxter Hunt, and MaryKay Carlson—were great, as were Deputy Secretary Tony Blinken, Assistant Secretary Evan Ryan, Executive Secretary Joe Macmanus, Deputy Chief of Staff Jen Stout, Sujata Sharma, and Joe Semrad. There is only one John Natter, too, and the same is true of Cindy Chang.

  I also can’t express enough thanks to the members of the Public Affairs team: Rick Stengel, Mike Hammer, Dean Lieberman, Brenda Smith, Hattie Jones, Ashley Yehl, Melissa Turley Toufanian, John Echard, Courtni Wyatt, Ryan Jones, Lauren Hickey, Alec Gerlach, Stephanie B
eechem, and the BlackBerry goddess, Elizabeth Kennedy Trudeau.

  The same can be said for the Office of Digital Engagement, which embraced my request to mount a twenty-four-hour operation so we could get my photographs on the State Department’s social media sites in real-time fashion. Richard Buangan, Vinay Chawla, Cynthia Brown, Luke Forgerson, Sarah Thomas, Hannah Lyons, Alison Bauerlein, Aaron Bruce, Yvonne Gamble, Tara Maria, Jaclyn Cole, and Danielle Hawkins were tireless in their support. They also gave me the nicest going-away present I could have imagined.

  I also appreciate State Department photographers Michael Gross, James Pan, and Mark Stewart for showing me the ropes and letting me fake it on the road.

  The DS folks are too numerous to mention in full, but I have to give a shout-out to Scott Moretti, C. J. Jones, Bill Inman, Ron Roof, Matt Childs, Jerry Aylward, Wade Boston, Maureen McGeough, Steve Antoine, Kevin Maloy, Nic Masonis, Seth Emers, Mark Woods-Hawkins, Brian Wells, Kathryn Huffman, Liz Marmesh, April Germanos, Tom “Candle Wax” Carey, Jessica Pierce, Russell Adams, Julie Yapp, and Jose Mercado. Julie was a constant throughout our four years, and Jose stayed by my side all night at a hospital in Paris after I broke my ribs.

  Otis Pearson also provided me countless thrills and several rides home while serving as the secretary’s unparalleled driver. And there’s no way to quantify how many ways George Rowland and his team—including Danny, Coop, Mac, and all the others—helped me around The Building, or to and from my 109 trips.

  In addition, I’m indebted to the State Department staffers who assisted with the mandatory national security review of this text: Eric Stein, Alden Fahy, and Behar Godani.

  One of the best aspects of my time at State was meeting and working closely with the men and women of our military.

  It was a high honor to travel alongside Admirals Harry Harris, Kurt Tidd, and Frank Pandolfe, and their aides who also answered my endless questions about ships and planes: Curt Renshaw, Scott Thompson, John Richardson, Brian McCarthy, Megan Gumpf, Nicole Chambers, and John Esposito. It was an honor, too, to speak with General Joe Dunford, Admiral Bill McRaven, and former Navy SEAL Jeff Eggers through this job.