The problem was that the helicopter support companies were under long term contracts to the oil companies and their support companies. It was more than a little fragmented, with hundreds of offshore rigs and dozens of refineries ashore, simply a gargantuan industry. I decided to cut the complaint off mid-stream. “Mike, let me make a phone call and see what I can do. Be prepared to follow up afterwards.”
I hung up and told the switchboard to get me Lee Raymond, the Chairman of the Board of ExxonMobil, the biggest oil company in America. It always amused me to hear the awe in people’s voices when they heard the operator say, ‘Please hold for the President of the United States.’ I was sure that today would be no different. It wasn’t.
I had known Lee for a number of years, though I couldn’t say we were friends, rather more like acquaintances. We had met a number of times, he was a Republican and very big on corporate citizenship. “Hello?”
“Lee, it’s Carl Buckman. How are you doing, sir?”
“Just fine, Mister President. How can I help you?”
“Lee, I need your help. I know that you know just how bad this storm, Hurricane Katrina, will be. One of my people told me yesterday that the oil and gas industry has one of the largest fleets of helicopters in the world. What I am looking for is assistance after the storm passes through.”
“Uh, yes, sir. The industry as a whole does have lots of helicopters, but I can assure you they are all busy right now. I can guarantee they are pulling people off the rigs as they shut down, and moving out of the path of the storm. It would be much too dangerous to be out on a rig in this kind of weather,” he replied.
“I’m sure it is. No, I am talking about afterwards. I am speaking to you not just as the head of ExxonMobil, but as the head of your industry. I know you’ll be moving people back out to the rigs, to get them up and running again. I won’t insult your intelligence and claim to know your business. Still, I know that there has to be some slack in your operations, some sort of surge capacity. You’re too smart a guy not to do that, and you know everybody in your business better than anybody in Washington does. What I am asking is that after the storm, if you can free up some of that capacity to assist in rescue operations, to do so,” I said.
“Yes, sir, I understand what you are asking. I will see what I can do.”
“Feel free to use my name. Call who you have to call in your company and elsewhere. Your nation needs your help, and that help will be remembered.” That was the quid pro quo, of course. He was going to have a big marker to call in at some point in the future, and I was going to have to concede on whatever it was.
“Of course, Mister President. I’ll get right on it.”
“Thank you, Mister Raymond. After this is all over, we can meet here and you can tell me how you did the great job I know you’ll be doing. Thank you sir.” We said our good-byes and hung up. I smiled to myself. I knew that three things were going to happen. After the storm some of their helicopter capacity would be offered to the government, that some wonderfully heart warming commercials would be generated about how they were helping, and that before I was out of office Lee Raymond would be knocking on my door for something worth billions of dollars and I would give in.
I spoke to General Myers later in the morning, and I got a little testy with him. He was looking for permission to move some men and supplies from well outside the storm area into pre-positioning sites. I told him not to ask in the future, but to simply do it. We had money and manpower; we didn’t have time! In that regard, we worked up a letter to every state governor, asking for assistance in the crisis. They were to assume that if there was a request for National Guard assistance from their state, even if they weren’t in the storm zone and hadn’t been affected, that the request was in my name and they would be looked to for immediate assistance. I did a little editing, and made sure we took out anything mandatory, and used lots of phrases like ‘request’, ‘assist’, ‘support’, and ‘national emergency’. The letter was sent to every governor that day, hand delivered by the local ranking military leader. It was also leaked to the press.
Results were generally positive. Three governors of mid-western states promptly activated their National Guard units and ordered them to prepare for any and all assistance measures, and made sure to do this on television. Another governor declined however, stating through his press spokesman that state law prohibited that sort of action without there being an immediate need in his state. Legally that might have been true, politically it was a disaster! Within six hours that same spokesman was tap-dancing in front of the cameras and stating that what he really meant to say was that of course the Governor was going to help, but voluntarily, not because it was required. I got a good laugh out of that.
Meanwhile, Nagin was still being an asshole, and Blanco was definitely a lightweight. She had approved a plan to use school buses and other buses to move people out of the area, but had refused to sign an order allowing non-livery or non-commercial licensed drivers to drive them! John had overridden that immediately, and sent out the word. If you can drive heavy equipment, load up with refugees and head north. They would sort them out when they got somewhere. Some guys were even loading people onto flatbed trucks and taking them north. The roads were clogged and traffic was moving at a snail’s pace, but it was moving, and the farther they got, the safer they would be.
Sunday is normally a quiet day at the White House, just like it is everywhere else. Aside from my morning Daily Presidential Brief, I am able to mostly relax, watch some television, read a book, or spend a few hours in my personal study just reviewing things. Marilyn can head out to church, maybe with the kids if they are around (I almost never go, since I’m not Catholic, and when I show up, I have to show up with the entire zoo. Incredibly disruptive!) Otherwise, we just get to do the normal things. Not so Sunday the 28th.
Sunday morning, I woke up to find that our worst fears were coming true. I knew what was coming, but for the life of me couldn’t remember just how bad it was going to get. Overnight the storm had strengthened dramatically, and was now up to a Category Five. The news was full of dire warnings and predictions, and the Weather Channel was giving minute by minute updates. The mandatory evacuation order I had issued and the other precautionary measures were major topics on the Sunday news shows. Opinion seemed evenly split, with half the pundits thinking I wasn’t doing enough, and the other half replying that I had gone off the deep end and this thing would be a fizzle. I don’t recall any of them, however, volunteering to head south and report from the front lines.
I gave John and Mike and General Myers carte blanche to do what needed to be done. It was obvious now that any strategy to simply ride it out would be hopeless. Ray Nagin was finally figuring out there was a problem, and was screaming for immediate assistance. He wanted fleets of helicopters to lift everybody out. We ignored him.
Even at this late a date, with disaster quite literally looming over the horizon, some small town mayors and tourist boards wanted people to stick around. They would lose money from vacation cancellations and contracts would be broken, that sort of thing. They couldn’t quite grasp the concept that a reservation is no good when the motel is under water!
There was nothing more I could do at this point. I had already rushed as much aid to the area as I could scrape up. I was as much a spectator as anybody else. I just watched the news and tried, failingly, to relax. It was out of my hands. By every schedule, Monday was going to be the big day.