March 27

When I grew up, I wanted to be Bruce Lindsey. That name probably does not mean anything to you. Bruce is not a famous rock star like another guy named Bruce. He is not a star athlete or a famous movie star. He did not cure a disease or win a Nobel Prize. No, Bruce was a fixer before that term was polluted by Michael Cohen. 

Bruce stood a step behind (and invariably with his down) Bill Clinton. Bruce was Clinton's aide-de-camp, his consigliere, the guy with a portfolio of work that was as broad as it was vague. He disappeared into the background and made things go away or happen, as was needed. He was the guy behind the guy, never quoted, seen but not heard, and trusted implicitly to deal with the stuff that was some combination of fucked up, complicated, and political. 

Today, we might call that being a fixer. Some attorneys have rebranded that into "crisis communications," but I only tangentially got to experience it. I have honed many of the skills - I have made problems go away, distilled complex information to its essence in order to get a resolution, and my counsel has been relied on by the people who are not choosing between good and bad options but between bad and worse options. You would be hard pressed to find me quoted on the internet and my fingerprints are usually not found in the final decision, which is as I like it. 

But the thing is, and the thing I did not appreciate when I was in my 20s and watched Bruce operate, is that to do that job you have sublimate your ego and accept that you will never receive credit - publicly - for what you do. Part of living in the shadows is understanding that people either will not or cannot see your hand in the final product. 

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