A Fighting Chance

Then Senator Chris Dodd, a lifelong Democrat whose name was at the top of the Dodd–Frank Act, threw cold water on the nomination. He questioned whether I had the administrative skills to manage the agency; he also declared that the agency needed someone who could be confirmed quickly and that I would be hard to confirm. This surprised me—and it hurt, too.

Of course, Senator Dodd had put his finger on an important point. The president would nominate the director of the CFPB, but the position would require approval by the Senate. If enough of the senators didn’t like his choice, they could prevent the president’s nominee from ever coming up for a vote.

Reports also began to surface that Treasury secretary Tim Geithner opposed me for the role. This was not such a big surprise. Over the past year and a half, Secretary Geithner and I had disagreed—often quite publicly—about many aspects of the TARP bailout. But Geithner’s opinion was critical. The law required that the new agency be operated from within the Treasury Department until the agency had a permanent director. That meant Geithner was himself in charge of the agency immediately after Dodd–Frank was enacted.

That summer, I had a string of conversations with the president’s three senior advisors, Valerie Jarrett, Pete Rouse, and David Axelrod. They were always very thoughtful, and it was clear they genuinely wanted to give the agency the strongest possible start. But it was also clear that the White House was under tremendous pressure from a number of different directions. Ultimately, this would be the president’s decision alone.

The push and pull in Washington reflected the debate outside. Like it or not, the nomination had become a symbol in the larger fight over financial reform, and I had become a political lightning rod. I would attract a lot of ire from the big banks, and the banks have lots of friends on Capitol Hill.

No doubt some people were also worried that I might be a little too independent or that I couldn’t be trusted not to mouth off to the press. After all, I had called for “blood and teeth on the floor” during the Dodd–Frank battles—not the kind of rhetoric some people expect from a reputable agency director. There was also quite a bit of talk about whether Tim Geithner and I could get along. Nobody wanted internal discord that could somehow be embarrassing to the president.

And although no one said it directly, it was generally known that some of the president’s advisors preferred to avoid confrontation with the big banks, and they weren’t thrilled by the idea of an aggressive new leader for an aggressive new agency. Various alternative proposals began to float around the White House. Would I agree to be a part-time advisor to the new agency? What about becoming the agency’s new public spokesperson while someone else made the real decisions?

One of the president’s advisors even suggested that someone else be named director, while I could serve as “cheerleader” for the new agency. I assume that was meant as a metaphor, but I had to wonder: Cheerleader? Would the same suggestion have been made to a man in my position? I did not rush out to buy pom-poms.

The weeks went on, but nothing was resolved. According to one of his senior advisors, the president was “holding his cards close to his vest.”

A Meeting in the Oval Office

In mid-August, I was invited to the Oval Office for a meeting. I had never seen the Oval Office except in pictures, so as soon as I stepped inside I wanted to take a minute to look around at one of the most famous rooms in the world. It was light, with lots of soft gold and pale colors. But all I had time for was a quick impression, because I couldn’t stand and gawk. The president of the United States was talking to me.

“Is the agency really good?” the president asked. “Really good?”

He had swept me from the outer office into the Oval Office with a cheerful, “Elizabeth!” and a familiar hug, even though we had met only a handful of times before. He asked if I wanted something to drink or eat and then joked about the terrific White House kitchen and how he was like a movie-version president who was amazed—and tickled—to be able to order whatever food he wanted. But that took only seconds. Valerie Jarrett, the president’s senior advisor and longtime friend, was the only other person in the meeting. She and I were barely inside the office when the president got serious. He wanted to know if the new consumer agency was strong enough to get the job done.

He held both my hands in his and scrutinized my face. I had the sense that he didn’t really know what I would say back here behind closed doors. Would I praise the new agency or would I find fault?

“It’s really good, Mr. President. It can do the job.” I meant it.