One of the great unheralded pleasures of being a former presidential speechwriter is being inducted into the Judson Welliver Society, named after the first presidential speechwriter—the man who wrote the immortal words of Warren Harding and Calvin Coolidge. Comprised of selected former White House speechwriters, the society includes scribes for every president since Harry Truman.
I attended my first Judson Welliver Society dinner in December 2002, after my stint in the Clinton White House. It was held in the stately dining room of the Motion Picture Association’s headquarters in Washington, D.C., courtesy of the society member, Lyndon Johnson speechwriter, and MPAA president Jack Valenti. The evening was capped by an after-dinner round robin of White House memories from the men and women who had written some of the most memorable and forgettable words in presidential history.
At that meeting, the society president, the late William Safire, a speechwriter for Richard Nixon and subsequently a New York Times columnist, called the roll, as was his custom, reading the names of speechwriters in attendance from their respective administrations, starting from the earliest, and asking them to stand. There was Ted Sorensen, famed speechwriter for John F. Kennedy; Richard Goodwin from the Johnson White House; Nixon’s acid penman Pat Buchanan; Jimmy Carter wordsmith James Fallows; and so on.
Finally, Safire got to the Clinton writers. It was a long list, owing to Clinton being the first Democrat since Franklin D. Roosevelt to win reelection. It took a lot of writers to keep up with Clinton’s eight-year love affair with the podium.
I waited expectantly while Safire called the Clinton roll: “Don Baer, Michael Waldman, David Kusnet, Bob Boorstin, Paul Glastris, Carolyn Curiel, Jeff Shesol, Jonathan Prince, Jordan Tamagni …” I was more than a little puzzled as I raised my hand to get Safire’s attention while slowly rising to my feet. “Excuse me, my name is Terry Edmonds. I was President Clinton’s chief speechwriter, and, I might add, the first African American presidential speechwriter in the history of this country.”
Perhaps there really was some innocent snafu that left my name off the list. After all, no one who looked like me had ever sat at this table. But as I took my seat, I wondered how many other times African Americans and other people of color have been written out of the pages of history. How many more generations of young African American boys and girls would be privy only to the dust and not the shine of their ancestors?
Invisibility is the natural habitat of a ghostwriter, and even more so for a speechwriter, who is paid to be the faceless voice of a public figure. While I have held a succession of executive speechwriting roles since leaving the White House more than 20 years ago, I have often been the only person of color in the room. Workplace racial tensions are a persistent reality, and I have felt both the sharp and subtle pains of the color line.
Beyond the workplace slights, there is a bigger reason why the relative dearth of speechwriters of color is a problem. To be effective, leaders need advisers who, through their life experiences, understand the world around them. And the world is changing. The 2020 census revealed that the non-Hispanic white population in the United States declined from 64 percent in 2010 to 58 percent in 2020. As demographics shift, we see a widening gap between the haves and the have-nots, a polarized argument about global climate change, and a hardening of attitudes about race. Public figures are unlikely to speak effectively on these issues to a diversifying country without more speechwriters of color. But, according to recent data, 72.5 percent of speechwriters in America are white, with speechwriters of color—Hispanic, Asian, Native American, and African American—making up only 24.9 percent.
Since retiring from my last job as speechwriter, for New York State Attorney General Letitia James, I have joined a burgeoning movement to ensure that more speechwriters of color are afforded the opportunities and professional recognition they deserve. Progress, once slow, is gathering steam. In April 2021, Shaan Heng-Devan, who describes himself as “a proud biracial first-generation immigrant,” was hired as speechwriter for Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg. In November, a young African American woman, Alexandra Robinson, became deputy speechwriter for Labor Secretary Marty Walsh.
The hidden hand behind these and other breakthrough opportunities is a new organization called Speechwriters of Color. Celebrating its first year, SOC is committed to increasing the number of speechwriters of color who are developing messaging and serving as “ghostwriters” for leaders in business, politics, nonprofits, and government. Through mentoring, networking, and outreach to historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs) and other minority-serving institutions, SOC hopes to inspire more young writers of color to pursue careers in speechwriting. It also wants to encourage more thought leaders from every sector to hire a diverse cadre of talented speechwriters.
