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  Once again, Roger outwitted his naysayers in the media. He decided to make the show permanent, and he called us together to raise a toast. Lunch hadn’t even been served before Bob started turning purple.

  Del Frisco’s serves some of the biggest shrimp in town, and Roger had ordered some for the table to share as appetizers before our meals arrived. When the starters came out, Bob tucked his linen napkin under his collar and started eating.

  Bob and Roger go way back—they met during the Kentucky U.S. Senate race in 1984 when they worked for the opposing candidates, and they were swapping campaign war stories. For political junkies like us, it was very entertaining.

  Just a week before this, Bob had played a trick on me in Atlanta, where he pretended to be having a heart attack on air during a special anniversary show for Sean Hannity. It was very hot and humid and Bob had complained all day about the heat. He sweated through his makeup and there wasn’t enough powder in Georgia to keep the shine off his forehead. I worried about him but figured we’d do our hit and then I’d get him back into the car to cool down.

  During our segment, I started off, and while I was talking, Bob’s head slumped forward and his hand went to his heart. I didn’t want to make a scene on live TV, so I frantically tried to get the stage manager’s attention without disrupting Sean. Bob let his little prank go on for just one beat too long, and I started to panic. He finally popped his head up, laughing at how he’d tricked me. I didn’t think it was funny.

  So that day at Del Frisco’s when I saw Bob turning red and not talking, I rolled my eyes and thought he was joking, looking for attention. Roger asked Bob if he was okay and Bob just stared straight ahead. I still wasn’t sure if Bob was pulling a gag, but in a second I realized he was in real danger. I wasn’t the only one. Roger jumped up and got behind Bob and tried to put his arms around him to do the Heimlich, but Bob was too big around, and Roger couldn’t hit the right spot. Bob’s face started turning purple.

  Eric to the rescue. He literally vaulted across the table, wrapped his arms around Bob, and in one swift move pulled hard right under Bob’s diaphragm. The piece of shrimp came back up and Eric held him for a couple more seconds to make sure he was breathing again. Then Bob sat down and tried to catch his breath.

  No one else at Del Frisco’s noticed. With our table in the back, the rest of the dining room went about eating their lunch. We tried to play it cool and change the subject from Bob’s near demise to anything else, but it was difficult to eat. I took my meal to go.

  That night right before we went live, Bob told us he didn’t want to mention it on the show. He was embarrassed and still shaken up. Gutfeld insisted that we had to talk about it, since we wouldn’t be able to do the show if we tried to pretend nothing had happened. So Bob led the show with the story and he thanked his good friend Eric for saving his life. Eric was modest about it, but he really was a hero that day. Kimberly and I tried not to cry and Gutfeld let the emotion hang for a couple of seconds before he moved on to the A block.

  I think of that day as the real first day of the show. It was when we finally gelled and knew we’d be together for a while. And to think, we almost lost Bob before 5 p.m.

  The Five saved my life, too—in a way. Before the show, I was burning out in my post–White House life. I wasn’t less stressed or working fewer hours, and I still hadn’t browsed at Target. I had my own business and felt more uptight than ever. I had clients all over the country and two employees in Washington whom I rarely saw, paid speaking gigs, a new nonprofit called Minute Mentoring, and a Presidential appointment by the Obama Administration to the Broadcasting Board of Governors (BBG) that oversaw the Voice of America and other entities. I also was a Fox News contributor, which was my favorite thing on my to-do list.

  I never complained when Fox called to ask if I could be on, and it reminds me of what Marlin Fitzwater, the press secretary to Presidents Reagan and George H. W. Bush, told me as I was figuring out what to do after I left the White House. He said I should simply try to find something that was fun to do and that I was good at—that was his mix for happiness and success.

  I had not figured out that formula, and I said yes to every request, thinking that every phone call might be the last one. I was overly blessed with opportunities, but it was way too much. I barely saw Peter because of my travel schedule, and when I was home, I worked all the time. I had to keep spinning the plates faster to keep them all going. You’d think that the last thing I needed was the pressure of a new TV show in New York City, but it was actually the best thing that happened. It broke the cycle that I’d created for myself.

  I got the call about The Five when I was at baggage claim in Washington. I’d just returned from a trip to Africa with my BBG colleagues and good friends Susan McCue and Michael Meehan. We’d traveled to Ethiopia, South Sudan, and Nigeria to see where we could improve and expand American broadcasting. Africa remains a passion of mine, and I was glad I went, even if the trip was dangerous and they forgot to have security for us (I slept with the lights on in Juba). While I was away, my work had piled up.

  John Finley, an executive producer, had the secret assignment to create the show Roger had in mind. When I answered the phone, I thought it would be about my weekly appearance on Hannity’s show. When he told me they’d like to have me up for the rest of the summer to be on a temporary show called The Five, I didn’t think I’d heard him correctly. “You what?” I asked.

  Finley said he knew it was a big request. And he was right—my first concern was about logistics.

  “But I don’t live in New York,” I said.

  They had that all worked out—I’d stay in a hotel near the studio to make it easier. And the hotel allowed dogs, so I could bring Henry if I wanted. I said I worried about Peter’s reaction, since I was already away from home a lot. Finley said they’d pay for him to come up once in a while, too. He’d thought of everything. There was nothing left to do but accept the offer.

  I called Peter in Seoul, South Korea, where he was traveling for business. His initial reaction was different from mine.

  “Congratulations—this is what you’ve always wanted to do!” he said.

  He knew me so well, and he promised we’d make it work (and that he’d take care of Henry). I was closer to finding Fitzwater’s formula.

  My transition from White House press secretary to Fox News contributor wasn’t as smooth as I thought it would be. I’d been President Bush’s spokesperson for so long that both the anchors and I would fall back into the habit of speaking for the former President. But I liked being in that role—at least there were a few of us still in Washington who were publicly advocating for his positions.

  Nevertheless, I pulled my punches when asked about the Obama Administration. I didn’t want to throw jabs at the new administration on behalf of the previous one. I avoided direct criticism of President Obama and used my experiences to provide context and keep things positive. That was my style, but I also thought viewers would tune me out if I took a sledgehammer to everything the White House said. I rounded my edges to keep people from changing the channel—and tried to bring a new fact or perspective to every hit to keep them watching.

  It took a while for me to come out from behind my press secretary shell. When I was on camera initially, I’d move my hands a lot and fiddle with my rings. Even my mom noticed I was uncomfortable and called often to ask me what was wrong.

  I had a difficult time letting people get to know me as Dana. It was new to me—I’d never actually spoken for myself until then. I’d always spoken on behalf of someone else.

  I held tight to my shield until The Five required that I set it down. After the first few shows, I was totally exposed: Dana Perino starring as herself. Our viewers started to get to know me better, and Bob—my weekly commuting partner to D.C.—said that I was the most straitlaced person he’d ever known. I took that as a compliment.

  Greg once described Special Report as a smooth trip on a G7 and The F
ive as a bumpy motocross ride. It can be a wild show. When I finally stopped being so cautious, I started to let myself laugh, get mad, and make fun of myself. I even pushed the limits of my self-imposed propriety, like when I had to spell out H-E-L-L and S-E-X. But things changed—in year three, I was the first woman ever to get bleeped on the show (I told Bob to stop “bitching”). I even shocked myself.

  One day when Brian Kilmeade filled in for Greg and in a commercial break said to me, “You know, all of those years at the White House I never knew you were funny.”

  I knew what he meant. It wasn’t my job to be funny at the White House. And maybe people don’t think I’m all that funny—all I know is that I’ve never laughed so hard in a job. I love it.

  Behind the Scenes

  We like to mix it up on The Five. We talk a lot about politics, culture, and even sports. Everyone pitches ideas for segments, and our producer, Porter Berry, gets the final say on the topics. The rundown comes out around 10:30 a.m., and then each of us starts preparing for the show. We don’t talk during the day before we see each other in the greenroom, and even then we rarely talk about what’s on the show. Instead, we chat casually about our families, what we watched on TV the night before, or any chatter we’ve picked up throughout the day.

  I like to overprepare (if I’m the Lisa Simpson of The Five, Greg is the Bart). I keep in contact with friends in Washington and they help me understand what’s going on inside the Beltway and out on the campaign trail. I read a lot of articles and send them out as “FYI” to the show, most of which they probably delete. For cultural topics, I’ll choose a few friends to ask their opinions, especially when it comes to parenting issues. I live vicariously through them.

  I can’t stand talking points and the kind of argument that comes out of conventional wisdom from the political parties. To avoid using them, I let all I’ve read and talked about sink in, and then when I walk to the office, I usually think of some original way to get my argument across. Sometimes I pull over to the edge of the sidewalk to type myself a reminder. Our comments need to be short since we don’t have that much time to make points. When you do the math—an average of seven minutes per segment with five people to comment on the subject—there’s not a lot of time to pontificate.

  When we sit down to put on our mics and get our final makeup touches, we still have no idea what’s going to happen. That’s part of what makes it so fun. We just roll with it. The producers cue up the videos and the music that bumps in and out of our segments—country for me, acid or punk rock for Greg, classic rock for Eric, pop hits for Kimberly, and whatever’s leftover for Bob.

  Sometimes our debates get heated, and I’ve had to get comfortable with the yelling. My instincts still pull me toward trying to get group consensus and to smooth things over, but I’ve learned from my co-hosts that it’s okay if we don’t agree. They seem to like the emotional roller coaster of the show, but it still takes me a while to calm down afterward. I use my walk home to shed the excess energy that builds up on live TV—sometimes I call my mom or my sister and they “walk me home” through Central Park. By the time I get to the apartment, Peter has dinner started and we eat while we watch my lifelong standbys—Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy!—happy shows where no one yells or gets mad.

  The best part of The Five isn’t always seen by the viewers. The commercial breaks can be intense and hilarious. At times the arguments spill into the breaks, but usually we ask Bob if he “really believes that” or tell him why he might have to apologize in “One More Thing.” And since I don’t get much of the innuendo, my co-hosts have to explain it to me when we’re not on camera.

  Sometimes we vent our frustration with one another in those few short minutes when we’re off air. In fact, the only time I’ve ever lost my temper at work was during commercial breaks on The Five. It’s happened twice. I erupted and didn’t stop until about thirty seconds before we were back on camera. But we played it off well—no one at home knew what happened either time. Bob’s the best during those outbursts—he knows to just nod his head and agree with me no matter what I’m saying. His imitation of me is priceless.

  All of us have been victims of being “Beckeled” at some point. That’s where you reveal something in the commercial break that you would never say on TV. But when the cameras are rolling, Bob lets out the secret and you’re busted. The charming thing is that he doesn’t mean to do it—at least I don’t think he does. It’s a good thing he’s so likable, or we’d have killed him by now. We may yet.

  A Perfect Mix

  The Five is made up of several people with diverse backgrounds and lots of personality. We are an unlikely crew—that’s why the show works. Here are a few things you may not know about them:

  KIMBERLY GUILFOYLE

  Kimberly Guilfoyle is a former teacher, prosecutor, and Victoria’s Secret model. Eat your hearts out, guys! On TV, Kimberly knows when to bring the heat and when to have some fun. Sometimes you don’t know when she’s going to bring down the hammer, which makes it really entertaining when she does.

  When there’s a legal topic, everyone listens to what she has to say. She is blessed with patience, so she’s really good at dealing with Bob.

  Bob never tires of making fun of Kimberly by suggesting she has five ex-husbands (that’s not true—she only has two but we’re working on finding her the perfect guy for round three). Despite Bob and Kimberly’s play fighting on the show, they’re very funny together. I’ll never forget when she laid a kiss on Bob on the live New Year’s Eve special in Times Square in 2014—everyone was shocked but maybe no one more so than Bob himself. It was the “Kiss Seen Around the World.”

  Kimberly has great television skills, especially during breaking news. One time there was a manhunt for a cop killer in California that we covered live on The Five. She led the entire show, and it wasn’t until halfway through that I realized she was doing it without a teleprompter.

  Her mom died when she was very young and she helped raise her little brother. Then, Kimberly’s father died when her son, Ronan, was only two years old. As a single mom, she shoulders a lot of responsibility, and she still makes sure Ronan has a lot of joy. She lets him drag her to the costume store near their apartment so they can dress up and play different characters at home. She has a cooperative relationship with her ex-husband, and the way they work things out is a model for other families sharing custody.

  When Kimberly’s on the show, our viewers love how she jumps when Bob surprises her by yelling “ ‘ONE MORE THING’… is up next,” and then she pretends to kick him with her pointy shoes. And that brings up one of the questions I’m often asked about Kimberly—can she really walk in those high heels? Yes, she can.

  ANDREA TANTAROS

  Andrea Tantaros spent the first three years of the show with us. Now she’s a permanent co-host of another popular Fox News show, Outnumbered, and we still get to see her on The Five now and then. She grew up working hard waiting tables in her family’s restaurants and diners. Her dad emigrated from Greece and found true love in America—with his wife and his country. He raised four children and built several successful family businesses. By the time he died from cancer a few years ago, he’d overshot the American dream. Andrea says her mom and dad taught her that if she took personal responsibility and was self-reliant, she’d be able to do anything. She took their advice and lives confidently and without fear.

  Believe it or not, Andrea was an intern on CNN’s Crossfire when Bob co-hosted that show. She used to get his coffee, and he doesn’t even remember her. (How rude!) Andrea loved politics, writing, and policy discussions. She worked on Capitol Hill and on several campaigns. She’s taken a lot of risks and worked for a couple of candidates who weren’t sure bets, and some that were downright abusive toward her. She persevered and it paid off.

  Andrea worked in public relations and became a columnist for the New York Daily News. She’s a great writer and brings an edge to her commentary that makes people pay atten
tion.

  Not only does Andrea have a knack for explaining politics from her point of view, but she knows a heck of a lot about popular culture and entertainment. And when Peter and I moved to Manhattan, she helped us with everything from doctors to day trips to restaurants. She wanted us to love living in the city and she tried to make things easier for us. We relied on her advice.

  JUAN WILLIAMS

  Juan Williams is a journalist that I have followed for years. He’s had a varied career as a writer and columnist, and his books, especially the ones on race and education, have challenged policymakers to do better.

  When I was at the White House, Juan wrote for The Washington Post and did commentary on NPR and Fox News. On occasion, we had a reason to work together. In fact, one of the times that Juan got in trouble with NPR was when I offered him an interview of President Bush on race relations. The public radio network accepted my invitation to do the interview, but to my surprise, the show’s brass told me that Juan was being kicked aside and replaced with another anchor. I pushed back—the President had agreed to do an interview with Juan, and I wasn’t going to go back and tell him that NPR was calling the shots for his interviews. NPR held firm. So did I.

  I called Juan and asked if Fox News could run it instead of NPR. Juan appreciated my loyalty to him, and Fox gave the go-ahead. NPR was mad. I’d beaten them at their own game.

  With the knives out, NPR was looking for a reason to cut Juan, and a little while later they got their chance. Their loss was Fox’s gain, and when Bob takes a rare day off, Juan fills in for him.

  Juan and his wife have three children and two grandchildren. Two of his sons are Republicans, so I tease him that he must have done something right along the way. Actually, it shows that he was an excellent parent that gave his children the critical thinking skills and confidence to choose for themselves what ideology would guide them. We could use more parents like that in the world—and more children!