Todd S. Purdum is senior writer at Politico and contributing editor for Vanity Fair, as well as author of An Idea Whose Time Has Come: Two Presidents, Two Parties and the Battle for the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

She arrived at the East Front of the Capitol at not quite 20 minutes past 10 a.m. in a pantsuit of the softest cream, smiling gamely and waving to onlookers. She ignored a reporter’s shouted question about how it felt to be there, but off camera, some among the panelists and anchors on CNN could be heard chuckling at the excruciating obviousness of the query.

And just a half hour later, Hillary Rodham Clinton appeared at the top of the passageway leading to the inaugural platform, a mute witness to a moment of history she had prayed would never happen. As she and her husband made their way through the VIP crowd to their seats, still smiling, someone called out, “We’re here for you!”


If it was Clinton’s unhappy task to sit just behind and to the left of Donald Trump as he took the oath of office as the 45th president, she bore it with her usual stoicism and cast-iron discipline, despite a smattering of boos when her name was announced. “I am here today to honor our democracy and its enduring values,” her Twitter account declared. “I will never stop believing in our country & its future.”

Clinton may have been relegated to the mere status of “The Honorable” former secretary of state and senator, while Trump took what she had hoped would be her place as the leader of the free world. But she was far from the only loser in presidential history forced to stand by as the winner was sworn in. Just 24 years ago today, George H.W. Bush surrendered his office to Bill Clinton, who had won only a plurality of the vote after a hard-fought and often bitter campaign.

It was a measure of the cycles of history, and of the strange bedfellows that politics can make, that the friendliest faces on the platform for Bill and Hillary Clinton on Friday may well have been their seatmates: George and Laura Bush, the two couples united not only by the mystic bonds of the former presidents’ club but by their families’ mutual and well-established disdain for Trump. The affection between them was visible in small gestures: Bill Clinton’s hand on Laura’s shoulder as they walked through the Capitol, Hillary’s arm around George’s back.

As rain spattered the platform, Hillary Clinton joined the comparatively small and sad ranks of vanquished candidates in open presidential races in modern times who have been compelled to stand by as their rivals took power: Richard Nixon in 1961, Hubert Humphrey in 1969, Al Gore in 2001. Nixon alone had experienced both sides of the equation, watching John F. Kennedy take the oath in 1961, and taking the job that Humphrey wanted eight years later.

“I think maybe you should deliver my address today, Hubert,” Nixon told Humphrey as he arrived at the White House for the ceremonial ride to Capitol Hill with Lyndon Johnson, trying to “keep the mood light,” he remembered.

“That’s what I had planned to do, Dick,” Humphrey replied.

In his memoirs, Nixon would recall, “I remembered from 1961 how painful this ceremony could be for a man who had lost a close election, and I was touched by Humphrey’s graceful show of good humor.”

Graceful good humor was not always the order of business on Friday. At least one stray shout of “Lock her up!” could be heard on television after Vice President Mike Pence took the oath.

But by the standards of history, the ceremonial ritual was civil enough. After all, John Adams and Andrew Johnson boycotted their successors’ inaugurals altogether. In 1953, Dwight Eisenhower refused even to get out of his car as he met Harry Truman at the White House, and in 1981, the younger Ron Reagan told reporters he would refuse to shake Jimmy Carter’s hand because the outgoing president had “the morals of a snake.”

If the look on Clinton’s face sometimes suggested she might rather be taking a walk in the woods in Chappaqua, she endured the scrutiny of the pool cameras with resolute dignity all the same. If Trump did not take a page from such past winners as Carter and George W. Bush by paying tribute to his vanquished opponent in his inaugural address, Clinton was at least spared the inevitable reaction shot, which could have forced her to look grateful, whether she felt so or not.

In advance of the ceremony, Clinton loyalists made no secret of the discomfort and sense of dislocation she still feels at her loss. Some wondered whether they should live-Tweet critical commentary of Trump’s speech. In the end, they settled for silence, which itself spoke volumes.

As the ceremony ended, and Trump made his way down the front row of the platform, shaking hands with Barack Obama and justices of the Supreme Court, he came within inches of Clinton herself. But they never made contact or shook hands; a massive Secret Service agent stood guard between them. It seemed a missed opportunity, but perhaps a fitting image for a deeply divided day.

But later, at the congressional luncheon in Statuary Hall, Trump could be seen vigorously pumping Clinton's hand, and mouthing the words, "Thank you," repeatedly. It was surely the least he could do.