Fear: Trump in the White House

One of Clinton’s last rallies was at Philadelphia’s Independence Hall, where tens of thousands gathered on November 7. President Obama was there. According to Clinton’s book, he hugged her and whispered to her, “You’ve got this. I’m so proud.”

About 5 p.m. on election day Trump received the latest exit polls. They were brutal. Tied in Ohio and Iowa, down nine in Pennsylvania, down seven in North Carolina.

“There’s nothing else we could have done,” Trump told Bannon. “We left it all on the field.”

On election night, it was remarkable to watch the needle on the live forecast dial on the New York Times website, which started out giving Clinton an 85 percent chance of winning. But the dial began to swing swiftly toward Trump. A good sign for Trump was North Carolina. African American and Latino turnout was down. The state was called for Trump at 11:11 p.m. It was announced he had won Ohio at 10:36 p.m., Florida at 10:50 p.m. and Iowa at 12:02 a.m.

President Obama sent a message to Hillary Clinton that he was concerned that another uncertain election outcome, as had happened in the 2000 presidential election, would be bad for the country. If she was going to lose, she should concede quickly and with grace.

The AP called Wisconsin for Trump at 2:29 a.m. and declared him the winner.

“Donald, it’s Hillary,” Clinton began her concession phone call shortly afterward.

Trump went to speak to the crowd at the New York Hilton in Midtown Manhattan, a few blocks from Trump Tower.

“Now it’s time for Americans to bind the wounds of division,” he said in remarks right out of a good-government playbook. “I pledge to every citizen of our land that I will be president for all Americans.

“As I’ve said from the beginning, ours was not a campaign, but rather an incredible and great movement . . . comprised of Americans from all races, religions, backgrounds and beliefs.

“We must reclaim our country’s destiny and dream big and bold and daring.

“We will seek common ground, not hostility; partnership, not conflict.”

He thanked his family, Conway, Bannon, Alabama Republican senator Jeff Sessions (“great man”), who had given Trump an early endorsement, and General Michael Flynn, a retired Army general and national security adviser to the campaign. Flynn had forged an extraordinarily close relationship with Trump.

The president-elect dwelled on Priebus. “Reince is a superstar. But I said, ‘They can’t call you a superstar, Reince, unless you win.’ Reince come up here.” He located Priebus in the audience and summoned him to the stage.

Priebus stumbled up from the crowd.

“Say a few words,” Trump said. “No, come on, say something.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Priebus said, “the next president of the United States, Donald Trump.”

“Amazing guy,” Trump said, and as if he fully understood what the RNC had done for him—all the money, the workers, the volunteers, the canvassing—added, “Our partnership with the RNC was so important to the success and what we’ve done.”

He closed by saying, “It’s been an amazing two-year period. And I love this country.”

Bannon was convinced that Trump himself was stunned. “He has no earthly idea he’s going to win,” Bannon said later. “And he had done no preparation. He never thought he would lose, but he didn’t think he would win. There’s a difference. And you’ve got to remember, no preparation, no transition team.”

Putin called from Russia with congratulations, as did President Xi Jinping from China. Many other world leaders called. “It’s finally dawning on him,” Bannon recalled, “that this is the real deal. This is a guy totally unprepared. Hillary Clinton spent her entire adult life getting ready for this moment. Trump hasn’t spent a second getting ready for this moment.”

After a few hours of sleep, Bannon started flipping through the transition documents. Garbage supreme, he thought. For secretary of defense they listed some big campaign donor from New Hampshire. Unbelievable. Now there were 4,000 jobs to fill. He realized they would have to at least temporarily embrace the establishment. Perhaps a better word would be fleece—pluck off some people who knew something.

“Give me the executive director of this thing,” Bannon ordered, seeking some connection with whatever transition apparatus existed. “Get him in my office immediately.” He didn’t remember his name.

Bannon reached the director’s office. Can he come in? he asked.

“It’s going to be tough.”

Why?

“He’s in the Bahamas.”

“This is the Island of Misfit Toys,” Bannon said. “How the fuck are we going to put together a government? We relieve the watch in 10 weeks at noon. We’ve got to be up and running.”

Priebus and Bannon were now going to share top staff power. They worked out an unusual arrangement. Bannon would be “chief strategist”—a new title and idea. Priebus would be White House chief of staff. The press release listed Bannon first, which Priebus agreed to in order to keep Bannon from being chief of staff, traditionally listed at the top.

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