office as Katie Kessler discussed the milestones with Eve Goldman. Both women were dressed in linen pants suits, part of the Beltway uniform. Goldman’s was from a Nordstrom in Bethesda, Maryland, where she lived. Katie picked up a similar outfit at Nordstrom Rack on Wisconsin Avenue in Washington at a considerable savings.
“After President Truman succeeded Franklin Roosevelt, he decided to change the first line of succession from cabinet to Congress,” Kessler noted.
“Right,” the forty-nine-year-old AG added, demonstrating her understanding. “Truman didn’t even name a vice president until he ran for re-election in 1948.”
“And without a vice president serving under him, George Marshall, his secretary of state, would have become his immediate successor if he died.”
“Didn’t Truman think that in a democracy, the position of president is elective, and therefore it should fall to someone who had stood the test of the electorate? Hence the Speaker of the House, the leading officer of Congress?”
“Yes,” responded Kessler, “but the speaker is not a nationally elected representative, and is only elevated to national prominence by gaining the support and vote of the majority of the members of the House.
“Interestingly, the 1792 statute named the president pro tempore of the Senate as the first officer in the line of succession, not the Speaker of the House. But without a vice president, the power in the White House could switch to the opposition party.”
“Like now.”
“Exactly. And if that person is not, shall we say, presidential material, the country has a bigger problem. That was Truman’s perspective on the president pro tem at the time, a vindictive and powerful seventy-eight-year-old, good old Tennessean named Kenneth McKellar. On the other hand, Speaker of the House Sam Rayburn was a good friend of Truman’s.”
“Good enough to have been drinking with him when he got word about Roosevelt’s death,” Goldman noted. “But we’ve had extended periods since 1947 when the president’s party is not the majority party in either the House or the Senate, or both. So wouldn’t it be more advantageous to have a cabinet member appointed by a president to continue his policies than a legislative officer with a divergent political agenda?”
“Then this is all about me,” Patrick said, following the explanation from Christine Slocum in his office.
“Politically, at this moment, yes, but put yourself in the president’s shoes.”
“That’s my plan.”
She laughed.
“I’m serious,” he said. His demeanor switched to underscore the point. “Stick with me and this time you will make it to the White House.”
“I believe you could,” Slocum said.
“More than could. Will.”
“I stand corrected, Mr. Speaker. Will.” Slocum refocused. “Let me explain some more.”
“Okay.”
“President Grover Cleveland’s vice president died in office in 1886. Congress was out of session, and according to the 1792 act, there were no statutory successors if, in turn, Cleveland died or he couldn’t discharge his duties. So Congress reconvened and pulled together The First Presidential Succession Act, which set the line of succession after the vice president with the secretary of state, then the rest of the cabinet department heads, in order of their department’s establishment. Approved, the 1886 Act required the successor to convene Congress, if it wasn’t already in session, to determine whether or not to call for a special presidential election.”
“Kinda foreign notion. I don’t like it.”
“Neither did Congress, including the whole definition of who’s an officer . For example, would even the Speaker of the House be considered an officer in Constitutional terms?”
“Yes? No,” he settled on. “Hell, I’m elected, so…”
“Yes, but an elected officer of Congress,” Kessler said, reviewing the same argument. “The Constitution, Article II, Section 1, Clause
“After President Truman succeeded Franklin Roosevelt, he decided to change the first line of succession from cabinet to Congress,” Kessler noted.
“Right,” the forty-nine-year-old AG added, demonstrating her understanding. “Truman didn’t even name a vice president until he ran for re-election in 1948.”
“And without a vice president serving under him, George Marshall, his secretary of state, would have become his immediate successor if he died.”
“Didn’t Truman think that in a democracy, the position of president is elective, and therefore it should fall to someone who had stood the test of the electorate? Hence the Speaker of the House, the leading officer of Congress?”
“Yes,” responded Kessler, “but the speaker is not a nationally elected representative, and is only elevated to national prominence by gaining the support and vote of the majority of the members of the House.
“Interestingly, the 1792 statute named the president pro tempore of the Senate as the first officer in the line of succession, not the Speaker of the House. But without a vice president, the power in the White House could switch to the opposition party.”
“Like now.”
“Exactly. And if that person is not, shall we say, presidential material, the country has a bigger problem. That was Truman’s perspective on the president pro tem at the time, a vindictive and powerful seventy-eight-year-old, good old Tennessean named Kenneth McKellar. On the other hand, Speaker of the House Sam Rayburn was a good friend of Truman’s.”
“Good enough to have been drinking with him when he got word about Roosevelt’s death,” Goldman noted. “But we’ve had extended periods since 1947 when the president’s party is not the majority party in either the House or the Senate, or both. So wouldn’t it be more advantageous to have a cabinet member appointed by a president to continue his policies than a legislative officer with a divergent political agenda?”
“Then this is all about me,” Patrick said, following the explanation from Christine Slocum in his office.
“Politically, at this moment, yes, but put yourself in the president’s shoes.”
“That’s my plan.”
She laughed.
“I’m serious,” he said. His demeanor switched to underscore the point. “Stick with me and this time you will make it to the White House.”
“I believe you could,” Slocum said.
“More than could. Will.”
“I stand corrected, Mr. Speaker. Will.” Slocum refocused. “Let me explain some more.”
“Okay.”
“President Grover Cleveland’s vice president died in office in 1886. Congress was out of session, and according to the 1792 act, there were no statutory successors if, in turn, Cleveland died or he couldn’t discharge his duties. So Congress reconvened and pulled together The First Presidential Succession Act, which set the line of succession after the vice president with the secretary of state, then the rest of the cabinet department heads, in order of their department’s establishment. Approved, the 1886 Act required the successor to convene Congress, if it wasn’t already in session, to determine whether or not to call for a special presidential election.”
“Kinda foreign notion. I don’t like it.”
“Neither did Congress, including the whole definition of who’s an officer . For example, would even the Speaker of the House be considered an officer in Constitutional terms?”
“Yes? No,” he settled on. “Hell, I’m elected, so…”
“Yes, but an elected officer of Congress,” Kessler said, reviewing the same argument. “The Constitution, Article II, Section 1, Clause
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