Consolation Prize

Amid the hustle and bustle of furniture being moved back and forth, weaving between various repairmen are Secret Service agents assigned to go through personal effects before they are removed from the complex. Over the years, there’s been a surge in pilfered items. One of the most common? Those heavy, engraved brass doorknobs.

Among the final pieces gathered are personal mementos: a box of Mike and Ikes from Air Force One, a plastic egg from the White House Easter Egg Roll, and a handwritten note signed by the president. One of the most noticeable changes is the removal of presidential photographs that have lined the West Wing’s walls for the past four years. At his discretion, the president hands out some of these photos, often bearing his autograph, as everlasting parting gifts to staffers. These tokens become cherished symbols of service, capturing fleeting moments of history as the halls prepare to host a new chapter.

The White House Curator’s Office makes several sweeps through the building, reclaiming items to be stored among its collection of historic artifacts.

On the night before the inauguration, West Wing staff embrace each other and exchange personal phone numbers, as their White House cell phones are disconnected.

On a more ceremonious note, staffers will stream into the vestibule between Lower Press and the Press Briefing Room. A side door leads to a staircase, generally off-limits, which descends to the floor below, once the bottom of FDR’s private swimming pool. The space is cramped with thousands of miles of wires and cables, but that’s not what the staff are there for.

New Management

Armed with pens or Sharpies, the departing staffers search for unclaimed spots along the plastered walls or tiled floors to inscribe their autographs. Their signatures will mingle with those of staff and VIP guests of decades and administrations past. Their final act is the return of their White House hard passes to the Secret Service on their way out, after which they exit the West Wing for, quite likely, the final time of their lives.

The night before Biden’s inauguration, junior staffers in the West Wing had already begun claiming spaces left vacant by their soon-to-be-departed bosses. Once-busy offices had become impromptu lounges, filled with quiet conversations and stolen moments of nostalgia. After spending about 45 minutes talking with some of them, soaking in the surreal atmosphere of camaraderie and uncertainty, I headed back to the briefing room.

In the hallway, I ran into Avi Berkowitz who was clutching his Blue Pass as he made his way to the Secret Service desk to turn it in. The gesture was symbolic — marking the end of his access to the White House grounds and the close of a pivotal role in the administration. We exchanged a quick embrace, a few words of farewell, and then he walked away.

Watching him leave, I couldn’t help but marvel at the moment’s absurdity. Here was Avi Berkowitz, one of the architects of the Abraham Accords that transformed the Middle East — and yet, come morning, he wouldn’t even be allowed past the gates of the White House. I would still be here, covering whatever came next.

On the morning of the inauguration, only one or two of the outgoing president’s staffers will stick around the West Wing, just in case something breaks at the last minute. They sit at an empty desk with not even so much as a stapler handy. Once the inauguration gets underway, the West Wing is placed under lockdown, and anyone still inside the building is confined to the zone where they are at that moment.

A rocky transition can have lasting effects that linger long into the new president’s term. For example, during the first month of Trump’s presidency, the incoming White House staff was left with an intercom system that was either non-operational or entirely unfamiliar to them. As a result, throughout most of 2017, whenever White House staff needed to pass along messages to the press corps, they would simply appear at the door on the side of the briefing room stage and shout out the information. Those of us in the room at the time were left to disseminate the news further — a vivid example of how an overlooked detail can shape day-to-day operations in unexpected ways.

However, their transition to the Biden administration, though complicated by the Covid pandemic, was far smoother in some respects. With a skeleton crew operating in the West Wing and many staffers being veterans of the Obama administration, the incoming team easily adjusted to operational oversights, leveraging experience and flexibility to navigate the challenges of a pandemic-era transfer of power.

Over the span of six hours, all of the outgoing president’s personal effects are removed while the incoming president’s are put in their place. Transition day at the White House is a feat of precision, requiring meticulous planning and military-like efficiency. Moving trucks arrive early in the morning, stationed at opposite ends of Pennsylvania Avenue. The outgoing president’s belongings are carefully packed and transported out, while the incoming president’s personal effects, furniture, and decorations are moved in almost simultaneously.

The Chief Usher plays a pivotal role in orchestrating the chaos, working closely with the General Services Administration (GSA) and private contractors to ensure that every detail is accounted for. Bedrooms are reconfigured, bathrooms restocked with the new family’s preferences, and even the kitchen staff adjusts menus to suit the incoming family’s dietary needs. Movers work room by room, ensuring that the outgoing administration’s belongings are discreetly removed before the new items arrive.

Home Base

A major priority during the transition is the Oval Office makeover, which happens at lightning speed. Crews repaint walls, replace carpeting, swap out drapes, and install the new president’s preferred furniture. By the time the new commander-in-chief walks into the office later in the day, it feels as though it has always been his space. Meanwhile, every room in the White House undergoes deep cleaning and sanitization — a process that gained even more significance during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Despite the whirlwind pace, personal touches are added to make the transition as seamless as possible for the new First Family. The incoming president’s favorite snacks might be stocked in the kitchen, framed photos are placed on desks and mantels, and clothing is arranged neatly in closets.

The transition is designed to be invisible to the public, but for those working behind the scenes, it’s one of the most challenging and rewarding tasks of any presidential transition. The goal is simple: to ensure that, by the end of Inauguration Day, the White House fully reflects the incoming administration, ready for the work and history yet to come.

One last gesture on that morning before departing the White House for the final time, the president will congregate with members of his personal staff in the State Dining Room of the White House for one final farewell. Hands will be shaken, tears spilled, words exchanged. And suddenly, at precisely noon, the personal staff become property of their new boss.

By the time the new president enters his office, it’s as if he has always been there. Any memory of his predecessor is completely gone, with the exception of a brief, personal handwritten letter.

Return Policy

When I stepped outside onto 16th Street on the evening of January 19, 2021, I was struck by the stillness. The air was heavy with endings, the streets hauntingly quiet except for the slow trickle of staff exiting the gates. Some walked in small groups, others alone, lost in their thoughts.

Without fail, each paused to look back at the illuminated executive mansion, its iconic facade casting a stark contrast against the dark night. For some, the gaze seemed to convey pride; for others, bittersweet farewell. But for all, it was a final, lingering glance at the venue where they had given so much of themselves during an extraordinary and tumultuous chapter in American history.

It was a night filled with small, poignant moments — endings that felt deeply personal against the backdrop of history. While the world outside waited for the next administration to make its mark, those leaving the White House were already grappling with the echoes of their time within its walls.

At 8:13 on the following morning, outgoing President Trump would hold the final South Lawn gaggle of his term. He ended his brief remarks with a statement that — even in retrospect — conveys just how unlikely is the fact that he has a second transition at all.

“I just want to say goodbye, but hopefully it’s not a long-term goodbye. We’ll see each other again.”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1045)