As of the last days of the Reagan administration, Hooley had been head of the advance office in the White House, now planning and supervising the president’s transition back to California. Hooley left briefly in 1981 and 1982, taking other jobs in the administration but was back with Reagan for good by the end of the second year.
On January 20, 1989, as the moments of the Reagan administration drifted away, he was one of the last few members of the Reagan Revolution. Everybody else was off payroll and had turned in their passes. Hooley arrived at the White House early to have a Bloody Mary and make one last silent toast to President Ronald Reagan.
There was a lot of tension between the incoming Bush Brigades and the outgoing Reaganites, but Hooley brushed it off. The White House was deathly quiet except for the phone calls coming in to Duberstein’s office that morning. A radio talk show host had gotten ahold of the direct line to the chief of staff and urged his listeners to call him.46
In the last several weeks, there had been a number of good-bye parties and receptions and send-offs. No one was overlooked, not the permanent staff, not the personal staff, not the East Wing or West Wing staff. All were remembered by the Reagans—and all would remember the Reagans.
The night before his last day as president, Reagan’s entry in his diary was, “Tomorrow I stop being President.”47
The Resolute desk was cleared of Reagan’s personal effects; so, too, were the pictures of Nancy and family members on the credenza behind the desk. Reagan, his personal aide Jim Kuhn, military advisor Colin Powell, Chief of Staff Ken Duberstein, Marlin Fitzwater, and Reagan’s secretary Kathy Osborne all gathered in the Oval Office one last time. Also present was White House photographer Pete Souza, who would memorialize the historic event. It was just after 10:00 a.m.48
Powell had one final duty to perform. “Mr. President, this is my last briefing for you. I can tell you that the world is quiet today.”49
Reagan simply said, “That was nice of you, General. That was a nice thing to say.”50
Powell then reminded Reagan that as soon as Bush was sworn in, he had to surrender the card with the nuclear codes to his military aide. As Reagan moved to the door, he turned and looked at the room that had defined him and that he had defined for the past eight years and then silently left. Hooley noted, “One of the things I really admired about him was I always thought that Reagan was not only very secure in himself, but he was there to do something, not to be somebody. Unlike Nixon or others, he didn’t have to have the job.”51
It suddenly dawned on Hooley that Reagan was not unhappy to leave the presidency. “And that moment . . . made me realize that . . . he’s moving on. I think he loved every minute of the job. But I don’t think he wanted to stay. I don’t think he had any remorse. He was done.”52
Jim Kuhn recalled that the very last phone call Reagan took in the White House was from his old friend and aide Lyn Nofziger, which Kuhn found “fitting.” “Lynwood”—Reagan’s pet nickname for Nofziger—had been there at the beginning, even before the beginning in 1965, just as people who were more confident in Reagan’s political skills than Reagan was himself were urging him to run for governor of California.53 Nofziger was once described as the Sancho Panza to Reagan’s Don Quixote but in fact, Lyn was a bona fide war hero, and Reagan almost never tilted at windmills.
It was odd to see Reagan standing behind the Resolute desk, its surface bare, talking on the phone using his left hand, his right jammed in his pocket. The Remington statuettes of cowboys had also been removed from the matching small cabinets in which they’d sat for eight years. In 1981, White House carpenters had to add a shim to the base of the desk because the six-foot-one-inch Reagan’s knees and thighs banged against the bottom of the well of the Resolute.
Even to the last, and past Reagan’s time of office, Hooley was involved in many things. Three weeks earlier, Duberstein called Hooley and asked him to write a memo detailing the handoff of power from the former president to the new president. The plan that evolved had the Reagans depart via Marine One (whose call sign became “Nighthawk Two” for ex-presidents and other private citizens who used the VP’s helicopter) from the east side of the Capitol, after being walked down the steps by President Bush and First Lady Barbara Bush.
Bush didn’t get the symbolism of the event, so Duberstein and Hooley explained things to the incoming president, who was afraid not only of offending sensibilities but of somehow insulting Reagan. They explained it would be a symbolic handing off, from Reagan to Bush. After Bush was sworn in on the west side of the Capitol, the four would walk down the steps of the east side. At the bottom, they’d bid their good-byes, the Reagans would walk to the helicopter, and there Reagan would turn and snap off a final salute, now to his commander in chief.
Reagan also began another tradition of leaving a handwritten letter in the top drawer of the Resolute desk in the Oval Office for Bush. Later, Bush left one for Bill Clinton, and so forth. Reagan also left a jokey note in the private quarters of the White House for the new president. Under the heading of “Don’t Let the Turkeys Get You Down,” the note read “George, I treasure the memories we share and wish you all the very best. You’ll be in my prayers. God bless you and Barbara. I’ll miss our Thursday lunches.”54
Bush, in turn, gave Reagan his chair from the Oval Office and the last flag to fly over the White House on January 20, 1989.
On that clear, bright, and cold day, the departure ceremony came off without a hitch, and Reagan asked the chopper pilot to take him and Mrs. Reagan and their small traveling party, which included Hooley, over the White House one last time. “Look, honey, there’s our little bungalow,” he teased his wife. Also on board were Secret Service agents, Kathy Osborne, Duberstein, and Kuhn. Hooley had discretely boarded the helicopter but not before catching a glimpse of Jim Baker watching the Reagans depart, tears streaming down his face.55
At Andrews Air Force Base, the Reagan White House staff and campaign staff and friends gathered to bid the Reagans a final adieu. Military bands played, there was a 21-gun salute, Reagan reviewed the troops for the last time, cannons fired, and the National Anthem was performed. Hooley had been in charge of the traveling party, but Rick Ahearn had been in charge of the departure ceremonies. As Hooley climbed on board the plane, he turned around to see Karen Roberts, Shelby Scarbrough, and hundreds of others in tears, watching the man to whom they had devoted so much leaving them, never again to be the Leader of the Free World.56 He was, once again, private citizen Ronald Reagan. And yet, it was the very title he glorified more than any other—to him, the phrase “private citizen” was the most important of all in America. Fred Ryan said that Reagan “loved the idea of being a private citizen.”57 Reagan, Lou Cannon said, “didn’t have any problems with his term being over.”58
On board the presidential plane “Special Air Mission”59 at Andrews—only Air Force One now to the newly minted President Bush—Reagan went back to the staff section as he often did and told Hooley, “Well, let’s set our watches.” He then asked what was for lunch, which everybody knew was his favorite: meatloaf and macaroni and cheese. The plane had some kids and families, including Duberstein’s, on board and journalist Lou Cannon, but relatively few staffers, and Hooley thought ruefully that there were some people from the campaigns who should have been invited aboard to fill the empty seats. Later, the inevitable champagne and cake were brought out and promptly consumed. Throughout, Mrs. Reagan was mostly quiet, and Hooley was surprised to find that, for himself, the trip conjured up few emotions of any sort, maybe because there were so many unfamiliar faces on board. Even so, “the old man” was “up front so . . .” that always made any trip special.60
They landed in Los Angeles to a comparatively restrained ceremony and a crowd of around seven hundred. Some waved “Welcome Home
” and “Happy Trails Again” signs, but just so no one would think that political opponents had deserted the field, someone also waved a placard that read “The King and Queen Return.”61
A band from USC played, and Hooley again was in charge of the motorcade to take the Reagans to their new home in Bel Air, 668 St. Cloud. It was 666 when they bought it but Reagan asked it to be changed because the number was the “mark of the beast”—the devil—in the Bible.62 Waiting at the airport was Joanne Drake, who had already assumed her duties at the new Reagan offices. Also on hand were Mayor Tom Bradley and actor Robert Stack, a Reagan friend who had done the voice-over for some of the 1980 campaign commercials.
On the plane ride home, Nancy had been weepy and Reagan was “relaxed and subdued.” He was looking forward to getting home, saying their life there they had loved “very much. California isn’t a place in my mind; it’s a way of life.”63
Upon landing, he told the crowd, “It has been a bittersweet several hours . . . There were many wonderful associates that we have been working with the last eight years that we had to say good-bye to. It was hard to say good-bye.” But when asked, he ticked off a list of things he had not accomplished while president, including “outlawing of abortion.”64
On the trip back to Washington, Hooley and company had the big jet nearly to themselves, and Jim invited a small group of remaining Reaganites to join him, consume some cocktails, and commandeer a table at which they kicked around old times. All told, the plane had maybe twelve people winging their way back to Washington, drinking and laughing and remembering fondly the enormous and momentous eight years of the Reagan presidency. A group of advance men had gone ahead to California to smooth the way but now they, too, like Hooley, were unemployed, and the plane became essentially a flying halfway house for jobless, not entirely sober, Reaganites.
There would be no job for Hooley in the Bush administration nor would there be for almost all the Reagan team. “I was out. In fact, it was four cold years because . . . the Bush advance people didn’t like the Reagan advance people.” The advance people used to joke they weren’t the geniuses of American politics and government. As one Reagan advance man was known to say, they were “every cleft palate and club foot in America.”65
Hooley knocked around after that, trying to set up his own business, going to work for other Washington firms, but wasn’t really happy and so, several years later, jumped at the chance to organize the advance for the opening of the Reagan Library, which was a gigantic task as it involved four former presidents—Reagan, Jimmy Carter, Gerald Ford, and Richard Nixon—President Bush and Mrs. Bush, and all the former First Ladies, plus children of presidents, former Reagan cabinet officials, and hundreds of high-maintenance attendees. It was the first time in history five presidents were gathered together in one location.
Mike Deaver had hired Hooley to handle the advance but gave him no manual for the handling of demanding and high-maintenance ex-presidents. In a way, the Reagan staff had been spoiled working for the Gipper but Nixon, Ford, and Carter could be much more difficult; throw in the former First Ladies for good measure and it was enough to give any advance man nightmares.
Richard Nixon showed little interest when his wife grew faint in the sun and had to lie down on a cot in the Library for a moment as Mike Deaver comforted her. “Tell Nancy I wanted to be here for her,” Mrs. Nixon moaned to Hooley and Deaver, as if she were about to expire. At the time, they took her plight seriously but later after she recovered, they had a laugh about it, especially since President Nixon kept talking to the men there about college football while completely ignoring his wife’s plight. Nixon was also indifferent to his wife as she struggled to get to the other side of the limousine and open her own door while getting into the car himself and shutting the door. The closest door.
Anticipating he was “gonna get clobbered” with all the demands, Hooley recruited an extra amount of volunteers to help him out. Charlton Heston and Lee Greenwood were scheduled to perform. Jets flew over, Universal Studios helped in the production, including producing instant trees on Hooley’s request, and it turned out to be a lovely and successful event as far as the media and the spectators were concerned.66
Later, Hooley grinned to himself listening to Ford drawl in that distinctive Michigan voice of his, “We are very, very late,” because Ford always used the phrase “very, very.”67 He also knew Ford was in a hurry to get home because he had a tee time to make.
Carter was grinning but it seemed as if he was really just gritting his teeth, mockingly telling his wife, Rosalynn, that there were more and more pictures to take. “We haven’t done enough photos. We haven’t taken enough pictures,” he said repeatedly and sarcastically to his wife.68
Despite all the backroom hijinks and clashing personalities, and playing to type, the opening of the Reagan Library was a successful event as far as the world was concerned as four former presidents and President George Bush all appeared simultaneously before the audience. It was a rare moment in American history.
For his competence, his ability to get things done, his ability to organize and play well with others, Ryan and Deaver selected Hooley to handle many of the important logistics of the state funeral, which he started planning in the last year of the Reagan presidency. Hooley would report to Drake and Fred Ryan. They were both battle-hardened veterans of the Reagan White House and the Reagan post-presidency, including supervising the building and opening of the Reagan Library in Simi Valley, California, and the Reagan Foundation and its charitable works.
Hooley hadn’t fawned over the candidate—later the president—the way some others did. Still, he and the president joshed each other, told jokes to each other, and, because of their closeness over many years, Hooley did the best Reagan impression of anyone in the administration.
Hooley was one of the few now in charge of Reagan’s last journey. The one, as Ronald Reagan wrote, “that will lead me into the sunset of my life,”69 in his parting letter to the American people on November 5, 1994, in which he told his fellow countrymen of his Alzheimer’s. It was less than ten years earlier that he’d written that historic and poignant and brave and tear-jerking letter. And it was just a few years before that he was finishing his last months in office, campaigning hard for his successor, George H. W. Bush. Reagan knew if Bush lost, it would be seen as a rejection of his eight years. The last vice president to succeed his own president via election was Martin Van Buren in 1836, which was “OK” with Andrew Jackson.
Reagan was also okay in January 1989, just exhausted after eight years in the belly of the beast, fighting the Soviets, fighting the bureaucrats, fighting House Speaker Tip O’Neill, and fighting slothful, entrenched anti-intellectualism. He was tired, mentally and physically, but after a few days back in his beloved California, he was raring to go again. After all, the last sentence of his diary on January 20, 1989, had said, with his typical optimism, “Then home & the start of our new life.”70 Reagan was seventy-seven years old.
The country in 2004 was in the heat of a pitched presidential campaign between the incumbent, George W. Bush, who claimed the Reagan mantle—even if he governed in a drastically different way—and Senator John Kerry of Massachusetts, who rejected the Reagan mantle outright.
A minor kerfuffle was just beginning to break into the national consciousness—and become a major scandal—involving the blown cover of Valerie Plame, a CIA operative, by White House officials. Plame’s husband had angered administration officials by disputing claims about terrorist incentives. Bush told reporters in the Rose Garden, “I want to know the truth, and I’m willing to cooperate myself.”71 The FBI was starting to look into the matter, and Bush assured investigating officials that he and his staff would cooperate fully. In short, the accusation was that the White House exposed the cover of a CIA operative
because they were mad at her husband, but it would be silly to compare Washington to a bad soap opera.
Weapons of mass destruction had yet to be found in Iraq, a year and a half since the incursion and since Bush had ordered a very un-Reagan-like invasion. The news was filled with stories of Iraq, of Afghanistan, and of the explosive growth of government, of government spying operations, and of the new world brought to the American people by the Big Government Republicans. The head of the CIA, George Tenet, was being bombarded with questions and second guesses and accusations over the faulty information about Saddam Hussein’s regime. The TSA, the new scourge of that portion of the traveling public that cherished their privacy and their private parts, announced it was making plans to screen checked bags at Union Station,72 the charming train depot in Washington that some mistakenly identified as Second Empire but in fact was in the Beaux-Arts style of architecture. The Bush administration also announced it was spending billions on facial recognition technology for every person coming into and leaving America.73 Oil on the world market had just moved to about forty dollars per barrel.74
Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld told CNN that al-Qaida was “active in Iraq.” He also alleged that the fanatical organization was “recruiting volunteers from various parts of the world for carrying out terrorist acts in Iraq.”75
Of the newer architecture in Washington, all were pleased but some quietly questioned the design of the new World War II memorial on the Washington Mall. It was beautiful, stark, heroic, but to a few, it had echoes of Roman architecture and to others, even more darkly, of Albert Speer, the master architect of the Third Reich.76 Rome and Berlin had been the capitals of two of the four major enemies of humanity in World War II. But each day tributes to veterans and to the fallen appeared at the immense out-of-doors amphitheater. Flowers, teddy bears, forty-eight-star flags, and other memorabilia were left to honor the Greatest Generation.
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