Last Act

by Craig Shirley

  Reagan never talked much or wrote much about his own death and almost never used the legacy word. When he did talk about it, it was to poke fun at himself and his opponents, noting that he’d exceeded his expected years and that this greatly troubled25 his political opponents.

  It was only at the 1992 convention, four years out of office, that he addressed his passing in any meaningful way, at least until his letter to the nation two years later.

  And whatever else history may say about me when I’m gone, I hope it will record that I appealed to your best hopes, not your worst fears, to your confidence rather than your doubts. My dream is that you will travel the road ahead with liberty’s lamp guiding your steps and opportunity’s arm steadying your way . . . My fondest hope for each one of you—and especially for the young people here—is that you will love your country, not for her power or wealth, but for her selflessness and her idealism. May each of you have the heart to conceive, the understanding to direct, and the hand to execute works that will make the world a little better for your having been here.

  May all of you as Americans never forget your heroic origins, never fail to seek divine guidance, and never lose your natural, God-given optimism.

  And finally, my fellow Americans, may every dawn be a great new beginning for America and every evening bring us closer to that shining city upon a hill.

  Before I go, I would like to ask the person who has made my life’s journey so meaningful, someone I have been so proud of through the years, to join me. Nancy . . . My fellow Americans, on behalf of both of us, goodbye, and God bless each and every one of you, and God bless this country we love.26

  It was one of Reagan’s finest speeches and though he began slowly, as the faithful sounded their approval and ate up the shots at Bill Clinton, Reagan hit his stride in a few minutes and was that night the Reagan everybody loved and admired and had followed. At the end, thousands in the old Astrodome, a giant moldy petri dish, smiled. Some cried as they thought it would be the last time they would ever see him and certainly believed it was the last time they would ever see him at a Republican convention. It was in many ways the beginning of a long good-bye.

  Friday morning. The day was overcast, grey, and humid. But it also was cooler. All day long it rained off and on. All in all a crummy day.

  It was time for the funeral procession to move from the Rotunda to the National Cathedral. By the count of the Park police, 104,684 individuals stood in line to pay their last respects to Reagan in the Capitol. “This figure does not include 1,324 visitors admitted onto the West Front . . . lawn to observe the departure of former President Reagan. Over 200,000 bottles of water were distributed during the event.”27

  The Associated Press moved a heartrending photo on the wires of a young marine saluting Reagan’s remains. The marine Corporal James E. Wright’s right hand and left hand were missing.

  Amid the solemnity of the ceremony there were numerous reminders of the sacrifices of young men and women. Even in the reality of death and the face of war, a college professor Gary Laderman of Emory University said from his own personal Ivory Tower of the Reagan funeral, “We’re now in the realm of myth.”28

  The people who came represented a cross section of the American fabric. Elders and youngsters, polished shoes and casual sandals, American Indians in headdresses and seniors in walkers. Not all could touch the coffin or smooth the flag, but all had been touched by Reagan, by his words, or by his presidency.

  Some who passed through weren’t American citizens, including Mikhail Gorbachev, who once called Reagan “the preeminent anti-communist,” which in his world (and on some American college campuses) was not a badge of honor. At their first meeting in Geneva in 1985, Gorbachev had told aides that Reagan was “a real dinosaur,” but at the end Gorbachev had nothing but respect for Reagan.29

  One report had it that three thousand people per hour were moving through the Rotunda.30 The previous day, the Washington Metro subway system had its busiest day in its history to that point, transporting more than 850,000 people. It easily broke the record set the day of Bill Clinton’s inaugural in 1993.31 The heat and distance and the lines and the security may have kept tens of thousands more citizens away from seeing Reagan off.

  Mist and light rain fell throughout the morning hours. Many thousands would have to be turned away despite their best pleas about the distance they’d traveled or how much they loved Reagan. Near the deadline, people who had to use the bathroom were allowed to leave the line and return, provided they knew the secret password that Park officials gave them, which was “yogurt.”32

  History may forever dispute who the last person in line was. According to the Washington Post, it was either Fred Miller, an office worker from NYC, who’d driven for hours and stood waiting for hours, or it may have been Brenda McGuirk, an office worker from Alexandria, Virginia, who’d driven minutes and stood waiting for minutes. She had snuck in as security temporarily deteriorated toward the end of the viewing.33 The Washington Times, however, said it was Michael Golias of Fairfax, Virginia, who also got in just under the wire.34

  As the final moments drew near, in order to accommodate the many thousands still in line, security encouraged, hurried, and cajoled the mourners to move quickly; for those who did not get in, many were also given a treasured copy of the palm card that had been distributed inside the Capitol on this and on previous days. The unwritten standing order from Mrs. Reagan to Fred Ryan to all the volunteers was maximum politeness and maximum courtesy and maximum patience. The man at the center of all this would have been overjoyed had he known how kindly citizens were being treated.

  The events of the past several days had been nothing short of remarkable because some Reaganites had been working literally years on the planning and implementation of the state funeral for President Reagan, and none had been paid one cent. In fact, going back to early days of the post-presidency when the Reagans were traveling and giving speeches and doing the like, they still needed advance men and advance women to handle and plan things and smooth the way; all did it without being paid a penny more than the reimbursement for their out-of-pocket expenses said Ahearn.35 Loyal Reaganites like Robbie Aiken and Matt Boland were volunteering and working at Ahearn’s direction at the National Cathedral, juggling tasks and egos.

  No one outside of politics knew how tough the job of an advance man was. These unsung men and women had to deal with people, weather, tempers, alcoholics, screwups, lines, waiting, corruption, their own luggage, and deportment. And then the thousand other things that would surface during the course of the week. They were like offensive linemen in football. If they did their jobs you never heard their names, but if they made a mistake their name was etched permanently in event-planning nightmares.

  On the military side the logistics required were equal to none. Mike Wagner, the chief of state funeral planning at the Joint Force Headquarters said all told “there were about 5,000 military personnel . . . in support of the funeral. There were about 1,900 marchers, about six hundred members of the Joint Service Military Cordon, and several hundred air force personnel who were involved in supporting the flyover.” And it was even more considering the bands and troops at various locations and behind-the-scenes support staff, Wagner said. The casket team alone had nine soldiers. Along with the eight pallbearers, there was the officer who commanded the team. But because of the heat and humidity, there were multiple casket teams that week and fresh teams were rotated in often.36

  The schedule read, “Mrs. Reagan proceeds inside Rotunda alone for a private moment.”37 As it had been all week, when her husband was transferred from one location to another or from one mode of transportation to another, Mrs. Reagan was there as the casket was slowly marched out of the Rotunda and into a hearse for the unhurried trip to the National Ca
thedral at 3101 Wisconsin Avenue NW several miles away. Again, she reached with a hand to smooth the flag and then gently kissed it. She emerged, and as with the previous six days, she was once again escorted by General Jackman.

  The entourage departed the Capitol at 10:45 a.m., arriving at the Cathedral less than an hour later at 11:25 a.m., with the services to begin at 11:30 a.m. The enormous, grey gothic structure had been closed for the week for security reasons and its fifty-seven acres cordoned off. The service was scheduled to conclude at 1:15 p.m.38 “The atmosphere was cheerful, almost festive . . . then, 40 minutes before the ceremony, when the achingly beautiful music began, people sat quietly and somberly, some with tears in their eyes . . .,” said columnist Michael Barone of the mood in the Cathedral.39

  The music selected was appropriately grand and featured pieces composed by Brahms, Mendelssohn, Bach, and Schubert’s “Ave Maria.” But American composers would not be overlooked, and a Reagan favorite, “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” written by Julia Ward Howe, was sung by the United States Armed Forces Chorus.40

  Almost four thousand members of the Washington power elite gathered at the National Cathedral; many newspapers compared the funeral service to a reunion or family get-together. There were plenty of VIPs gathering in that holy place, however, who would have happily crucified more than a few of their enemies. While few Washingtonians ever engaged in actually plotting the murder of a political opponent, they did subscribe to Clarence Darrow’s pithy observation that while he never wished for anyone’s death, he did on occasion read an obituary with a great deal of pleasure.

  Amid the arrangements at the Capitol and at the National Cathedral, Linda Bond had received a phone call a couple of days earlier from the world famous Soviet dissident Natan Sharansky meekly asking if a seat could be arranged for him at the Cathedral.41 He hadn’t been on the original invitation list, but a seat was hastily and happily arranged. He whispered to Bond, “I want to be there. The President saved my life. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for Ronald Reagan.”

  Bond, like others, was busy and stressed with her responsibilities. It was only after the week was over it hit her. She realized Reagan had passed away, and only then did she break down, weeping uncontrollably over a newspaper article about the funeral.42 She was not alone in experiencing a delayed reaction.

  Another Soviet dissident, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, once said, “The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either—but right through every human heart.”43 Reagan had been taught since an early age that people were generally good.

  The Washington National Cathedral—officially The Cathedral Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul—sat atop the highest point in the nation’s capital. When George Washington commissioned Pierre L’Enfant to design the capital city, he envisioned a “great church for national purposes,” but it wasn’t built until more than a century later. Teddy Roosevelt gave a speech during the laying of the cornerstone, and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s last Sunday sermon was in the National Cathedral. Most presidents of the twentieth century had attended services at this venerated place of worship. The denomination was Episcopalian but over the years it had taken on the ecumenical cast.44

  The Cathedral structure was draped in history and tradition. It was constructed mostly of limestone from Indiana. At the altar were ten stones that had been obtained from the Chapel of Moses at Mt. Sinai. These stones were representative of the Ten Commandments. There had been death services and prayer services for presidents and First Ladies there, including Eleanor Roosevelt. Helen Keller was buried in the church. President Wilson was buried there as was his second wife, Edith. So was Cordell Hull, former secretary of state. Eisenhower lay in repose there after his death in 1969.45 It was cavernous, foreboding, and yet also so familiar. The acoustics were both intimidating and unambiguous.

  People solemnly moved into the giant, grey stone structure. The color of the church matched the color of the low clouds, which matched the mood of the day. All were gathered to celebrate the life but also mourn the death of Ronald Wilson Reagan. Somewhere in the middle of light and dark was grey.

  The grounds of the church were lined with a high chain-link fence temporarily installed for obvious security reasons. The streets around the church were closed off to civilian traffic, and congregants had to park some distance away. Much of the area around the Capitol, the White House, Blair House, and the National Cathedral had been barricaded since Monday.

  The sidewalks were jammed with tourists and the merely curious. Many were peering through the fence to see if they could spot the famous and the powerful. Many were crying, holding rosaries, offering silent prayers. Some held umbrellas and listened to the services and news of the funeral proceedings on radios. Others sported cameras and video cameras poised to capture the images of Barbara Walters or Katie Couric or Bob Dole.

  The following day in Washington, a Gay Pride Festival was scheduled, and some early arrivals mingled in the crowd but fewer mingled with those there for the Reagan funeral. Along with the gay activists came anti-gay activists and the usual sidewalk arguments ensued.

  A tearful young woman standing in the crowd, Patty McGaughey, twenty-one years old, had an extra-special reason to be present as she was an undergraduate at Eureka College, Reagan’s beloved alma mater. She’d come from Illinois with no special pass, no special access, just a special appreciation for the deceased man. “It’s the least I could do for what he’s done for me and other students at the college.”46 For her classmates, a service was planned at the school in the Ronald Reagan Peace Garden.

  In recent memory only three American presidents made their fellow countrymen cry. John Kennedy when he was assassinated, Richard Nixon when he resigned, and Ronald Reagan any time he spoke of his beloved America. And now, at the last, Americans were crying as they spoke of their beloved president.

  For those who were invited to the Reagan funeral, this was not an event or a day to show up “fashionably late” as so many in Washington did for social events. Make no mistake about it—funerals in Washington were social events, the kissing cousin to the Washington cocktail party. Both were opportunities to network and rubberneck.

  For the Reagan funeral, egos were supposed to be checked at the door.

  Given all the closed-off roads and fencing and guard dogs and security personnel, a good number of the high and mighty of Washington arrived extra early, surprisingly, in order to get through security and find a good seat in their assigned area, which essentially went from the top of the power pyramid at the front of the church to the bottom of the pyramid at the back of the church. But any seat was a desired part of history.

  Each ticket had a discrete, small round sticker on the backside. Those with yellow dots were first among equals, then red, then orange, and finally black. Those with black dots sat at the back of the Cathedral.

  Linda Bond alerted Robert Higdon to the color-coded system she’d come up with, and asked him who was in charge of the ushers at the Cathedral. She was taken aback when Higdon informed her on the spot that she was now in charge of the ushers.47 Bond had violated the old Bob Dole maxim: “Never ask a question unless you already know the answer.”48

  Senator John Danforth, an Episcopal priest, had been summoned to lead the funeral proceedings as Billy Graham’s health had deteriorated. Graham personally told Reagan some years earlier that his health might not allow him to preside over the funeral. Still, Graham had the strength and wisdom to observe that “Reagan had a religious faith ’deeper than most people knew.’ ”49

  Danforth was a gentle, sincere, and Midwestern kind of man—like someone else, some thought. Reagan had been more conservative in his political career but there was a great deal of admiration between the two men. Na
ncy Reagan really liked Danforth, and they spoke often over the phone in the years leading up to the funeral. Danforth had a voice that was both calming and commanding. He intoned, “If ever we have known a child of light, it was Ronald Reagan.”50 He was no latecomer to his faith or the collar. Reverend Danforth had already given homilies at the funerals of senators John Heinz, John Chafee, and Washington Post publisher Katharine Graham.51

  So much history and so many men and women who had affected history were there in the National Cathedral. It was simply the largest gathering of past and present officialdom the world had seen in a long time, certainly since the funeral for JFK, and before that King Edward VII. “Twenty-five heads of state converged on the cathedral, and 11 former heads of state, and 180 ambassadors or foreign ministers.”52 Mikhail Gorbachev, the former leader of a regime that had occupied Poland, was seated near Lech Wałęsa, the former Polish shipyard welder who after a food price hike in 1980 would lead a strike that ended up changing the world. The collapse of communism had brought Gorbachev down and raised up Wałęsa, and along the way they both oddly collected Nobel Peace Prizes.

  Two other Nobel Prize winners were present, former president Jimmy Carter and former vice president Al Gore, along with their wives, Rosalynn and Tipper. And there were Gerald and Betty Ford. And, of course, George and Barbara Bush as well as the president of the United States George W. Bush and the First Lady Laura Bush, and the vice president of the United States Richard Cheney and wife Lynne Cheney.