An American Life

by Ronald Reagan

  That fall, I went back on the campaign trail—this time, stumping the nation for George Bush and Dan Quayle. I wanted to do all I could to see that the policies we’d set in motion in 1981 would continue. During the primaries, I’d had to follow the Eleventh Commandment and remain neutral. But once George won the nomination, I did all I could to help him get elected. I knew George would be a great president.

  After the Moscow summit, I saw Gorbachev one more time while I was president.

  In December 1988—less than six weeks before Nancy and I were to leave the White House—he came to New York to make a speech to the United Nations at which he announced substantial cuts in the conventional forces of the Warsaw Pact.

  Since I had last seen him, there had been more signs of change in the Soviet Union and its disintegrating empire: What had started as a trickle of refuseniks allowed to leave the Soviet Union was becoming a stream; the relentless Soviet expansionism in the Third World seemed to be waning; Cuba, under a U.S.-mediated settlement and apparently under pressure from Moscow, had agreed to remove its troops from Angola; Vietnam would soon begin pulling its forces from Cambodia; Moscow was no longer bankrolling the insatiable appetite of Syria’s Hafez Assad for Soviet arms and had stopped jamming the broadcasts of Radio Liberty and Radio Free Europe.

  When Gorbachev came to New York, I was concerned for his safety.

  Soviet officials had expressed concern that if he visited the United States there might be an attempt on his life from the streets of New York.

  Before we could respond and say Gorbachev was looked on favorably by most Americans and we didn’t think he faced a danger in our country, we were told their concern was based not on fears that an American would try to assassinate him, but that while he was out of the Soviet Union there would be a coup attempt in Moscow—and as part of it, someone from the Eastern bloc would try to kill him and make it look as if an American had done it. I do not know to what extent the Soviet concern was warranted, but it didn’t take a great deal of logic to imagine that Gorbachev had enemies in the Communist world. Our security people were put on alert, but as far as I know no attempts were made on Gorbachev’s life while he was in New York. I’ve still worried about him: How hard and fast can he push his reforms without risking his life?

  After our reunion in New York, I wrote this in my diary: “The meeting was a tremendous success. A better attitude than at any of our previous meetings. Gorbachev sounded as if he saw us as partners making a better world.”

  Gorbachev, George Bush, and I met privately with our interpreters on Governors Island in New York Harbor, then joined a small group of officials from both countries for lunch, where I enjoyed watching, now almost an outsider, as Gorbachev and George started to get to know each other. I felt good about it: They seemed to have a rapport that encouraged optimism for the future.

  In fact, after another year and a half of hard negotiations, they would come to terms on a number of agreements, including the first phase of the START treaty based on the principles Gorbachev, George Shultz, Eduard Shevardnadze, and I worked out in 1986 in that room overlooking the sea in Reykjavik.

  At one point during lunch, Gorbachev mentioned that George Bush had been a navy flier and George Shultz, who was also there, had been a marine. He joked that he felt outnumbered by American military men. He hadn’t mentioned me, so I said, “Just a minute here, you’ve been dealing with one all the time,” and he laughed.

  Then the three of us went down to the waterfront where George and I showed Gorbachev the Statue of Liberty and the New York City skyline. George then left us alone and Gorbachev and I went down to a dock to say our good-byes.

  We recalled some of the things that we’d said during our first meeting at Geneva about the importance of building trust between our countries and agreed that we had come a long way since then.

  Gorbachev said he regretted that I couldn’t stay on and finish the job, and I have to admit there was a part of me that wanted to do that. But I had enormous faith in George Bush, and I knew the country was in good hands.

  The next five weeks passed quickly—lots of packing, my farewell address, a succession of parties, and various final decisions.

  Despite appeals from their supporters, and despite my own sympathies, I reaffirmed my decision not to give presidential pardons to John Poindexter, Bud McFarlane, and Oliver North. I still felt the law had to be allowed to take its course.

  This was an especially emotional time for Nancy and me. For eight years, the White House had been our home. From around the nation, members of the White House staff and others in the administration had come to Washington to be part of our team, and we had become like a family. Now it was time to move on and we all felt sadness about it.

  I’ve always thought of the presidency as an institution of which presidents are granted only temporary custody; now my custody was coming to an end and the hardest part was having to say goodbye to those who had helped me carry out my responsibilities and had always been there to help us in difficult personal times.

  During the final week, many of these talented and hard-working people came to the East Room for one final good-bye. Nancy tried to thank everyone for a lovely enameled box that had been given to her, but couldn’t get through. I managed a little better, but not much. As I looked into the faces of those gathered there, I couldn’t help but think about what they had sacrificed on our behalf. So many late nights in the office, so many weekends at work away from home, pagers going off at all hours, meals skipped, telephone calls in the middle of the night, vacations abruptly canceled, toddlers’ birthday parties missed, and so much more. In the eight years, we had experienced virtually all of life’s highs and lows. We had been through it all together, and now it was time to say good-bye. How I wanted to say to each one how deeply Nancy and I appreciated them and how much their work had meant to us. We tried to do some of that as we left the East Room, but when the band started playing “Auld Lang Syne” we couldn’t say much of anything.

  On January 20, I got up earlier than usual and did some last-minute puttering in my study, then went over to the Oval Office.

  Alone in the office, I wrote a note to George Bush and stuck it in the top drawer of the desk that in a few hours would become his. I wrote the note on a little pad of paper with a printed heading: DON’T LET THE TURKEYS GET YOU DOWN. It said:

  Dear George

  You’ll have moments when you want to use this particular stationery. Well, go for it.

  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.

  Ron

  All the members of my staff had submitted their resignations effective January 19, so I didn’t expect anyone else to come into the Oval Office that morning. But Ken Duberstein, who had replaced Howard Baker as my chief of staff, came in at our regular meeting time, and so did my national security advisor, Colin Powell, who gave me my last national security briefing:

  “Mr. President,” he said, “the world is quiet today.”

  As he had so many times over the eight years, Mark Weinberg of the press office then brought in a group of photographers for one last photo.

  They left, and I was alone again in the Oval Office. I got up and started to walk out. When I was halfway through the door, I turned around and took one last look at the Oval Office. Then I was gone.

  I walked back to the family quarters, where soon it was time for Nancy and me to say good-bye to the White House staff who had looked after us for eight years, everyone from the ushers and gardeners to the plumbers and chefs.

  A few minutes later, George and Barbara Bush and Dan and Marilyn Quayle arrived at the White House, along with the congressional leaders who were going to escort us to the inauguration.

  At eleven, we left for the Capitol and a ride up Pennsylvania Avenue. At noon, George Bush was inaugurated as the forty-first president of the United States. After he finis
hed his inaugural address and our part in the ceremonies was over, George and Barbara walked Nancy and me under the great dome of the Capitol to where a helicopter was waiting east of the building. And from there we headed home.

  Epilogue

  The helicopter door closed and we lifted off. Without telling us he was going to do it, the pilot made a turn and circled the Capitol. Beneath us was the spectacular panorama that had been our neighborhood: the Washington Monument, the Lincoln and Jefferson memorials, and now the bands and floats of the inaugural parade—and, everywhere on this day, huge crowds. Everything pointed to the marvel of our system of government and the ease with which it exercised the peaceful transition of power.

  But then the pilot reduced the circle and took us lower. We were circling the White House. There it was, complete with its sweep of green lawn and sparkling fountains. I said: “Look, honey, there’s our little shack.”

  I find it hard to describe my feeling. It was entirely different from the way it was back in those days when I’d looked on the building with such a feeling of awe. Now I was looking at what had been our home for eight years. We were familiar with every room and hallway and had the warmest memories of our life in that beautiful, historic mansion. Now we were saying good-bye. We kept looking back until it was out of sight. As we came in to Andrews for our landing we saw a large military detachment, an equally large civilian crowd, and a military band awaiting us. It was a farewell in which I reviewed the troops, then shook hands with each of them. The band played the National Anthem and we boarded the airplane that for eight years had been Air Force One.

  Here again we were filled with memories. We had literally been around the world more than once in that plane and had covered our nation many times. As we stepped aboard for the last time, I noticed how much things seemed just the way they had always been for the past eight years—Jim Kuhn was in my small compartment to talk about the arrival ceremony we would have in California; Ken Duberstein, M. B. Oglesby, and Stu Spencer were conferring in the lounge; Fred Ryan was working on the schedule; Kathy Osborne and Dottie Dellinger were at their typewriters; Dr. John Hutton was warning about the evils of smoking; Elaine Crispen, Jane Erkenbeck, and Jack Courtemanche were talking to Nancy; Jim Hooley was on the phone to the advance man at our next stop; Mark Weinberg was briefing the press photographers on what to expect at Los Angeles International Airport; Pete Souza was snapping pictures; and Bill Plante, Bob Abernathy, Gene Randall, Lou Cannon, Sam Donaldson, Dale Nelson, Lee May, Tom Ferraro, and Jerry O’Leary were in the press section predicting what I would say in my remarks when we touched down. We were joined on the flight by some staff family members: Genny and Genevieve Ryan (Genevieve was born almost a month later, which makes her the youngest passenger ever to be aboard a presidential airplane), Sydney Duberstein, Susan Wing (M. B. Oglesby’s wife), Carole Kuhn, and Shelley Osborne (Kathy’s daughter).

  But one person was notably absent: the military aide, the person who, since twelve noon on January 20, 1981, had been at my side with the information I would need in the event of a nuclear strike. Today that officer was with the new president.

  Today there would be no last-minute changes in a speech text.

  There would be no conferences with the national security advisor, or air-to-ground telephone calls to cabinet members. No legislation would be signed, no press conferences would be held in the back section, no meetings with advisors in the staff section. Today I could take time to look out the windows of the airplane at the breathtaking beauty of our land—the emerald hills of Appalachia, the farms and small towns of the Midwest, the granite peaks of the Rockies, the rugged deserts of the Southwest, and, finally, the great metropolitan panorama of Southern California. It truly is “America, the Beautiful,” and God has, indeed, “shed His grace on thee.” I looked at the houses below and wondered about the people in those houses. Were they better off than they were eight years ago? I hoped so.

  And yet as I reflected on what we had accomplished, I had a sense of incompleteness—that there was still work to be done. We need a constitutional amendment to require a balanced budget. Congressional redistricting has become a national disgrace and needs to be cleaned up. The president needs a line-item veto to cut out unnecessary spending.

  I said earlier that in Hollywood if you didn’t sing or dance, you became an after-dinner speaker. I didn’t learn to sing or dance in Washington, so I was thinking about my plans to be back out there on the speaking circuit, trying to get the people to pressure their representatives to take action on these issues.

  Just then there was a quiet knock on the door of our cabin and I was reminded that we were taking our last ride aboard what had been Air Force One. We were told there was a gathering of all of those on board—staff, press, and Secret Service—a chance to say good-bye before we landed. There were warm handshakes, tearful embraces, and lots of picture-taking. Finally, champagne was poured and glasses were raised. “Mission accomplished, Mr. President,” someone called out, “mission accomplished.”

  Not yet, I thought to myself, not yet.

  Index

  Abernathy, Bob, 725

  Abshire, David, 533

  Academy Awards, 96

  Achille Lauro hijacking, 507–9

  Accounting system, government, 340, 341

  Adenauer, Konrad, 382

  Aeroflot, 306, 584

  Afghanistan, 217, 238, 267, 272, 299, 304, 408, 549, 584, 601, 604, 609, 618–19, 639, 644, 645, 648, 655, 672, 675, 687, 703, 719

  AFL-CIO, 282

  Building and Construction Trades Conference, 256, 259

  Agriculture, see Farmers

  Airborne warning and control aircraft, see AWACS

  Air traffic controllers strike, 282–83

  Alabama primary, 202

  Alexander, Grover Cleveland, 116, 124

  Alfonsín, Raúl, 360

  Algeria, 495

  Allen, Richard, 255

  American Broadcasting Company (ABC), 585, 586, 589

  American College of Surgeons, 560

  American Federation of Labor, 107

  See also AFL-CIO

  American Revolution, contras equated with, 477

  American University in Beirut, 492, 520

  American Veterans Committee, 106

  Anderson, John, 212, 220

  Anderson, Martin, 208, 214

  Anderson, Terry, 520, 524–25, 527

  Andropov, Yuri, 567, 570, 575–83, 586, 589, 591–93, 602

  Angola, 266, 272, 472, 645, 720

  Annenberg, Walter, 377, 513

  Antiballistic Missile (ABM) treaty, 575, 618, 630, 636, 661, 666, 670–71, 676, 685, 689, 698, 709, 716, 718, 719

  Anticrime measures, 184

  Antigua, 450

  Anti-Semitism, 377, 379, 408, 416

  Antitrust suit against movie studios, 117

  Aquino, Benigno, 362

  Aquino, Corazon, 363–65

  Arab oil embargo, 241

  Arab League, 414, 417

  Arabs, 407–8, 412–14, 419, 426, 427, 435, 439–41, 444, 467

  “land for peace” option and, 430–431

  moderate, 410–11, 415–16, 418, 424, 436, 438, 463, 489, 492–93

  Arafat, Yasir, 421, 507

  Arens, Moshe, 442

  Argentina, 357–60

  Aria da Capo (Milky), 58

  Arizona, University of, 97

  Armenians, 645

  Arms control, 269, 288, 293–94, 299, 379, 487, 489, 548–54, 708

  Carter and, 205, 220

  Chernobyl accident as impetus to, 708, 710

  China and, 370

  collapse of talks, 586, 589–91

  conflict between Shultz and Weinberger over, 511, 628, 642, 661, 666, 685

  conservative opposition to, 684–85

  correspondence with Andropov on, 576–82, 591–92

  correspondence with Brezhnev on, 553–54

  correspondence with Chernenko on, 593–602

&nbs
p; correspondence with Gorbachev on, 612–19, 621–31, 642–48, 650–659, 662–5, 669–72, 687–91, 716–18

  deterrence and, 561–62

  Geneva Summit, and, 11–15, 633, 636–37, 639, 641

  KAL incident as demonstration of need for, 584

  missile deployment and, 571, 586, 591, 593, 596, 599, 601, 621

  Moscow summit and, 705, 709, 716

  reopening negotiations on, 603–6, 610–11

  Reykjavik summit and, 669, 674–679, 683–84, 720–21

  Soviet violation of treaties on, 609, 619–20, 661, 665

  and spread of nuclear capabilities, 703–4

  in State of the Union address, 702

  Strategic Defense Initiative and, 548, 602–3, 607–10, 625, 628, 631, 639, 642, 646–47, 650–52, 657, 665–66, 670, 676–79, 683, 687, 691, 696, 697

  Washington summit and, 696–701

  zero-zero option for, 293, 295–97, 352–53, 550–51, 559, 563, 567, 650, 675, 685

  Army, U.S.

  administrative costs in, 340

  on Grenada, 455, 457

  morale of, 205

  Army Air Force Intelligence, 97–98, 402

  Army Emergency Relief, 102

  Arnold, General Hap, 97, 98

  Assad, Hafez el-, 409, 444, 496, 497, 720

  Associated Press, 520

  Astaire, Fred, 253

  Atlantic Monthly, 314

  Australia, 187

  in World War II, 97

  Austria, 555

  Automobile industry, 241, 242, 253–255, 273–74, 356

  Autry, Gene, 78

  AWACS, 410–12, 414–15, 444, 463

  B-l bomber, 294, 557

  B-52 bomber, 294

  Baker, Howard, 212, 324, 446, 454, 536, 538–40, 592, 722

  Baker, James, 213, 255, 315, 318, 448, 488, 536

  Balanced budget amendment, 320, 321, 323, 338, 439

  Baldrige, Malcolm, 616–17, 645, 649