The Most Dangerous Place in America
Donald Morrison
Commentator at NPR's Robin Hood Radio, Columnist and Advisory Board Co-chair at The Berkshire Eagle
The official residence of the president of the United States was designed not by the famous Pierre L’Enfant (he did the overall plan for the District of Columbia) or even Thomas Jefferson (he submitted sketches to the competition anonymously; they were rejected).
Instead, the job went to James Hoban, a little-known Irish architect newly arrived in the U.S. Hoban had designed a few stately homes, and George Washington liked a courthouse he’d done in South Carolina. Construction of the white-painted sandstone edifice at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. began in 1792. President John Adams became the first resident in 1800, followed by Jefferson a year later.
Hoban’s White House was rebuilt after the unfortunate incident of 1812 and has been expanded several times since. But today, the Leader of the Free World operates out of a building that is, in effect, bursting at the cornices.
How many people work in the White House? About half, goes an old jibe. The real number is 370 or so, most of them stuffed into the tiny rooms and narrow corridors of the West Wing -– about the size of three basketball courts. The West Wing looks bigger in the Aaron Sorkin TV series of that name than it does in person.
I know. Decades ago, I had to visit the West Wing press room for work. Not a place for claustrophobes. I wondered: Since the more spacious Executive Office Building was just steps away, why did the White House remain a teeming tenement? Clearly because presidents want their top aides close at hand, and they in turn want to be in the room where it happens.
Thus, I’m appalled that our president returned to the White House only three days after being hospitalized with Covid-19. He’s still shedding the virus like a wet dog, and his staff is paying the price. More than a dozen denizens have tested positive, along with dozens of other folks who’ve merely visited the place -- where, until recently, almost nobody wore a mask.
That’s a one-week case count higher than those of many countries. As House Speaker Nancy Pelosi said of the Trump White House the other day, “It’s the most dangerous place in America.”
I am tempted to turn these developments into metaphors. A president with scant regard for the little people. An administration contemptuous of science. A country rattling toward disaster.
Let’s not get carried away. The President may sincerely believe he’s healthy and everybody around him is safe. His underlings knew the risks when they signed on. Many now realize that masks are essential. Others are working from home.
What’s more important – and more fertile ground for metaphor – is the future. The White House may well have a new, less reckless occupant come January, but the virus will still be with us. And just as one-third of coronavirus survivors suffer some kind of lasting disability, so will the country continue to ail.
For one thing, we will never get back the 220,000 Americans who have died of the virus (plus another 80,000 or so by Inauguration Day at current rates). For another, it may take months to contain the pandemic, years to restore the economy, longer still to heal the pernicious distrust of science – and of each other.
We should start planning for this difficult transition, especially the healing part. The last days of a hard-fought election campaign aren’t the best time, but maybe we could start looking for opportunities to dial down our anger. Also ramp up our efforts at understanding, cooperating with and being civil to our political opposites. Sounds idealistic, I know, but we’ve seen the alternative. And it stinks.
Our divisions have prevented us from saving jobs, lives and dreams. We can’t pass a Covid relief package, and we can’t even agree about wearing masks. Let’s not perpetuate this standoff, or further fan the same flames of passion, during the next four years.
A new administration can disinfect the corridors of James Hoban’s graceful old White House. But healing the country is something only we can do, and only together.
Donald Morrison is an Eagle columnist and advisory board member. Follow him on Twitter @DonaldMMorrison.