INSIDE THE REAGAN WHITE HOUSE, A DIFFERENT PARADE

In the end, it came down to housekeeping: turning in the beeper, the White House pass, the Secret Service pin that meant access to everything; boxing the countless pictures of himself talking to the leader of the western world; settling his bill in the White House mess; and arranging for his young daughter, who worships Ronald Reagan, to be photographed with him one last time.

On the last full day of the Reagan presidency, Frank J. Donatelli, the White House political director, had to fill out a resignation form. Where it said, "I resign for the following reason," he wrote, "END OF THE ADMINISTRATION."

Of course it would be in all capitals. This was an extraordinary punctuation mark in the life of the country, not to mention Donatelli, a Reagan activist since 1976, soon to seek his fortune as a political consultant. It was the passing of power, the twilight of one era, the dawn of another.

You could see it so clearly on the outside, where the view of Reagan's White House was all but obscured by the reviewing stands for George Bush's inaugural parade.

Inside 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, there was a different parade on Thursday: Movers pushing dollies loaded with cardboard cartons, departing officials walking in and out of each other's offices, saying goodbye against the backdrops of empty bookshelves, empty in-boxes, empty out-boxes, pictureless walls, silent telephones. Everywhere, the the exchange was the same: "What are you going to do? " and "I don't know, do you? "

As assistant to Reagan for political and intergovernmental affairs, Donatelli was charged for the last two years with protecting the president's personal political fortunes. This meant thinking big about strategy and trends. It could also mean thinking small, minding the egos of various constituencies that could be bruised if the White House overlooked them.

Among those he nurtured were governors and conservative grass-roots organizations. But in the final days, they were looking to the White House-in-waiting. Donatelli's constituency became the people left in the building -- the White House staffers who wanted tickets to the inauguration, the parade, the balls. He had foreseen that this could be a problem and weeks ago had appointed an aide to run interference.

"I'm the ticket queen," said Lisa Stoltenberg, who throughout the day gave her boss updates about ticket deficits. "We've got a problem with the children's gala," she would say. Or, "Now we're short on the youth ball."

It was an unusual sensation for White House staffers, ultimate insiders, suddenly scrambling for inaugural tickets, much like people on the outside. For his part, Donatelli had had a sensation like that for weeks. He had been learning of new administration appointments from the newspapers; in his old life, he would have known of the appointments long before the public heard about them.

At 39, Donatelli has believed in Reagan since the beginning. He recalled watching him on television at the 1964 Republican National Convention and, as a high school student raised as a Democrat, feeling powerfully moved. In college, he joined Young Americans for Freedom and became a Republican. Then he became a lawyer and a political activist. He was one of the first 12 staffers working for Reagan's 1980 presidential campaign here.

All day Thursday, he said, the thought recurred: "We literally were present at the creation of this man's successful campaign." Donatelli has passed that reverence for Reagan to his daughter, Elizabeth, an effervescent 6-year-old who arrived at the end of his last day for her final photo opportunity with the president. "I wish President Reagan could stay. I wish there could be two presidents," she said.

Donatelli had scripted the day carefully -- a farewell staff meeting, the Medal of Freedom luncheon with the president, packing and Elizabeth's photo at 3:15 -- so that he could leave in time to attend five political receptions where an outgoing political director and incoming consultant was very much expected to be seen.

But Reagan ran late. Donatelli found himself hostage to his empty office in his cummerbund and pleated shirt, watching the clock tick away the first hour of his new life. "Elizabeth is really counting on this," he kept saying.

Finally the Donatellis were ushered into the Oval Office for the last time. Five minutes later, they emerged. Elizabeth was in ecstasy. "I said, 'I'm glad you were president,' and he said, 'Thank you,' " she reported. "It made my year! "

All egos large and small thus attended to, Frank Donatelli got into a White House car with his wife for the last time and rode out through the gate to get on with the rest of his life. Minutes later, when he arrived at his first reception, he was introduced this way: "This is Frank Donatelli. He used to work in the White House."

Articles appear as they were originally printed in The Washington Post and may not include subsequent corrections.