Over the years, Mrs. Reagan became quite close to Prince Charles. In a rare gesture of respect and friendship, the prince traveled to Washington for the state funeral when President Reagan died. Before the formal ceremony, he called on Mrs. Reagan at Blair House, the presidential guest house, located across the street from the White House, and handed her a handwritten letter of sympathy from his mother, the queen—another example of the extraordinary relationship between the Reagans and the Windsors.
In England and America, Reagan invoked Chariots of Fire to conjure up images of freedom and the divine source from which he firmly believed it flowed. In 1984, at the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC) in Washington, he urged the audience to “unite, shoulder to shoulder, behind one mighty banner for freedom,” offering this encouragement:
And in those moments when we grow tired, when our struggle seems hard, remember what Eric Liddell, Scotland’s Olympic champion runner, said in Chariots of Fire. He said, “So where does the power come from to see the race to its end? From within. God made me for a purpose, and I will run for His pleasure.”
If we trust in Him, keep His word, and live our lives for His pleasure, He’ll give us the power we need—power to fight the good fight, to finish the race, and to keep the faith.XVIII
Reagan himself kept that faith throughout his presidency. In 1988, as his time in office was drawing to a close, he addressed the Royal Institute of International Affairs, in London, just days after he and Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev had “exchanged the instruments of ratification” of the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty, putting the agreement into effect and ushering in significant arms reduction in both the United States and the Soviet Union.XIX Reagan hailed this step as a victory for civilization, as some progress made “ever so slowly but ever so relentlessly and lovingly to a moment when the will of man and God are as one again.” He closed with “one last story that can remind us best of what we’re about.”
It’s a story that a few years ago came in the guise of that art form for which I have an understandable affection: the cinema. It’s a story about the 1924 Olympics and two British athletes: Harold Abrahams, a young Jew, whose victory—as his immigrant Arab Italian coach put it—was a triumph for all those who have come from distant lands and found freedom and refuge here in England; and Eric Liddell, a young Scotsman, who would not sacrifice religious conviction for fame. In one unforgettable scene, Eric Liddell reads the words of Isaiah: “He giveth power to the faint, and to them that have no might, he increased their strength, but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings as eagles. They shall run and not be weary.”
Reagan called this faith that drives so much of Chariots of Fire “our formula for completing our crusade for freedom . . . the strength of our civilization and our belief in the rights of humanity.”XX
As it turned out, echoes of Chariots of Fire, which Reagan first watched at Camp David in October 1981, would be felt decades later in his last appearance in the public eye. In 2004, at Ronald Reagan’s funeral service at the Washington National Cathedral, the choir sang a version of “Jerusalem”—the hymn that gave the film its title. As the Washington Post reported, “[T]he organ roared to life, and the boy sopranos floated their ineffable descant into the ether.”XXI Just a few moments after the last notes of “Jerusalem” faded away, the assembled mourners heard the first of the tributes to the fallen president. It was delivered by Lady Thatcher, who, though too ill to speak on her own, had recorded a video message for the event. “We have lost a great president, a great American, and a great man,” she said, “and I have lost a dear friend.”
6
E.T. THE EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL
Starring:
Henry Thomas, Drew Barrymore, Peter Coyote
Directed by:
Steven Spielberg
Viewed by the Reagans:
June 27, 1982
The Film That Made the Reagans Cry
A lot of what was happening on Earth in the days before the president and Mrs. Reagan hosted a screening of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial at the White House probably made a science-fiction movie about life on another planet appealing to many of the people there.
It started with Israeli prime minister Menachem Begin’s visit to Washington. Ronald Reagan was unalterably committed to the well-being of Israel and its people. He understood the alliance’s strategic importance to the United States, but well beyond that, he understood the historic significance and imperative of the right of the state of Israel to exist in peace. Israel’s safety was nonnegotiable to him. But Menachem Begin was not the easiest man to like, even for strong supporters of Israel. The discussions President Reagan had with the prime minister that day were exasperating.
The administration’s concerns about Israel’s strong response to the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) shelling of Israeli villages was the issue. In retaliation for repeated attacks by PLO forces in southern Lebanon, Israel invaded and briefly occupied southern Lebanon until the PLO left. The president’s public comments after their meeting telegraphed the tension. In uncharacteristically brief remarks to the press, Reagan said that it had been merely “worthwhile” to have Begin at the White House again. Ouch. Everyone knew that was diplomat speak for contentious.
Reagan’s private diary entries offer more illumination. The president described himself as being “pretty blunt” about his concerns but that Begin came back with a “defense.” Sounds like an argument. The president’s notes went on to refer to the matter as “a complex problem,” saying: “In the larger meetings with his people and ours, we went at it again. He’s adamant against our proposal to sell arms to Jordan. My argument is we’re trying to create more ‘Egypts’ who’ll make peace with Israel. He refuses to believe another Arab state will do what Egypt did.” Ronald Reagan’s last word on that meeting says it all: “Frustrating.” That was Monday. Quite a beginning to the week.
Storm clouds arrived that Wednesday. The president met with Secretary of State Alexander Haig, whose arrogance, constant complaints, and refusal to cooperate with the White House staff had become a problem. From his bizarre (and constitutionally incorrect) behavior announcing himself “in charge” in the White House after the president had been wounded by a would-be assassin’s bullet, to his whining about what helicopters he was assigned to ride, Haig had alienated virtually everyone at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. The president knew a change had to be made and wrote in his diary, “I was prepared for Al to resign.” But Haig did not make it easy, complaining to the president about a number of things, almost all of which related to perceived slights and other minor issues. Reagan referred to it as “a bill of particulars,” which he promised to review. In a rare, but telling, note of exasperation, Ronald Reagan penned in his diary for that day: “I’m ready for Camp David.”
Friday was a predictably grim day at the White House, as the president accepted Haig’s resignation. The drama was over. There were no wet eyes among the White House staff when Ronald Reagan walked into the Press Briefing Room that afternoon to announce Haig was out and former labor and treasury secretary and Office of Management and Budget director George P. Shultz would replace him. The president was gracious to Haig in his public statements, but in his diary, he referred to the ordeal as “a heavy load.” Although Ronald Reagan respected the service that the highly decorated veteran of both the Korean and Vietnam Wars had rendered to his country, enough was enough.
Some may consider George Shultz to have been a terrific Secretary of State, but he was not always nice to the president’s staff, at least not the mid-level and junior staff. Simply put, he could be rude. He often treated me and others like we were furniture. Not worth acknowledging.
I am certain the Reagans were not aware of how Shultz treated us. Had they been, I am sure they would have passed the word to him to behave appropriately. Regardless, I eventually got to tell Mrs. Reagan about it and was more than happy to do so.
In 1989 or 1990, we were on an airplane traveling somewhere, and Mrs. Reagan mentioned George Shultz’s name. I either rolled my eyes or curled my lip to indicate my dislike, which Mrs. Reagan saw and chose not to ignore. “Mark,” she said in a tone a bit less than warm, “what’s the issue with George?” I knew she liked him (he kissed up to her shamelessly), so I took a deep breath and decided to tell her. “Well, Mrs. Reagan,” I began, “you know how no matter how busy or preoccupied you or your husband could be, that you never, ever failed to smile and say hello to people when you saw them?” She smiled and said, “Yes.”
“George is not that way.” She raised her eyebrows and said “Oh?” in a very skeptical tone. So I explained: “Yes, George walks right by people and ignores them, even if they say hello. Sometimes he just looks at people and says nothing. Nothing. Even if they say hello first. That is, unless you happen to be a pretty woman or someone very powerful. Then he has all the time in the world for you,” I said. She laughed.
“But Mrs. Reagan,” I said, “if the most important and busy man and woman in the world always had time to be courteous to people, why couldn’t he?”
She paused. “Yes, well, you may have a point.” From then on, every time we were with George Shultz, Mrs. Reagan would look at me, raise her eyebrows, and smile.
As Ronald Reagan entered the second year of his presidency, his widespread popularity among the American people had begun to decline. This leveling was common after a president’s first year in office, but it reminded Reagan of how fleeting a sense of unity in America could be. Undeterred, he looked for new opportunities to transcend typical partisan divisions and inspire the nation. He identified one such opportunity in the Space Shuttle Program in the summer of 1982.
To maximize its impact, Reagan wanted the American people to feel that the Shuttle Program belonged to them rather than to the government. This task was well suited to his unique gifts as a communicator. His speech declaring the first space shuttle operational could have easily been given from the Oval Office or the press room at NASA’s headquarters, but he delivered it instead on the tarmac at Edwards Air Force Base in California after the space shuttle Columbia landed from its test mission.
He made sure it happened on the Fourth of July, when people would be off from work and feeling their most patriotic. The event turned into a remarkable spectacle. A half million Americans came to the Southern California desert to watch the Columbia land, including forty-five thousand who overflowed onto the ramps and taxiways at the Dryden Flight Research Center to hear the president speak.
The White House advance team had worked hard to create an event that would showcase the best of the president’s onstage skills as a communicator, with a little bit of drama. Some might call it a Hollywood touch. In addition to christening Columbia, the purpose of the event was to introduce America to its second space shuttle, the Challenger. When Reagan reached the part in his speech referencing the future of the Shuttle Program, a jetliner carrying the Challenger on its back thundered overhead with precision. As the crowd roared, he leaned into the microphone and boomed, “Where we’re going to go in the future is something that depends on you.” His message resonated deeply with a country already transfixed on the wonders of space.
Following America’s victory in the space race of the 1960s, defined by our being the first (and only) country to land men on the moon and bring them back safely, the United States and the Soviet Union had spent a decade trading off on a series of remarkable achievements, from orbital space stations, to unmanned Mars landings, to flybys of Jupiter and Saturn. As these captured the attention of the public, an appetite developed for movies, music, and books that could transport anyone, not just NASA astronauts, into the far reaches of space. Perhaps the most notable cultural touchstone from the era was Star Wars, which broke the record for highest-grossing film of all time upon its release in 1977. Five years later, however, Star Wars’s record would be surpassed by another film—one that, as if to complement Reagan’s own efforts, took all the mystery and enchantment of space and placed it in the heart of the American suburbs.
On June 27, 1982, one week before the event at Edwards Air Force Base—and the day of Columbia’s launch—a star-studded group of Washington and Hollywood veterans sat with the Reagans at the White House to watch a new film titled E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial. This was an unusual occurrence, as the president and Mrs. Reagan customarily watched movies at Camp David with a small circle of aides.
Its director, Steven Spielberg, and members of the cast were there. Neil Armstrong, the first man to walk on the moon, and several other astronauts were also in attendance, as was the newest Supreme Court Justice, Sandra Day O’Connor. Several of the guests and luminaries had brought their young children. The atmosphere in the White House that evening was almost whimsical. Columbia’s successful launch hours earlier had been the perfect prelude, and now these influential Americans were gathered not for a stuffy state dinner but to watch a family film about a homesick alien.
In E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, a lonely middle child named Elliott discovers an equally lonely alien hiding in the shed in his suburban backyard. With the help of his teenage brother and younger sister, he brings it into his house and hides it from his mother. Over time Elliott’s friendship with the creature, which he names E.T., grows into a mysterious telekinetic connection in which he gets sick when E.T. is sick, sad when E.T. is sad, and even intoxicated when E.T. discovers beer in the family refrigerator. After government agents in full astronaut suits capture the alien, the children manage to help him escape just in time to meet the spaceship that’s come to take him home.
After the audience took their seats, Spielberg stood and introduced the film, calling it an ode to his childhood. He then sat beside the Reagans. As the film played, the president seemed enchanted, laughing at the charming dialogue and turning occasionally to whisper into Nancy’s ear. By the time the film reached its stirring emotional send-off, both he and the First Lady were crying, as were many others in the audience.I Spielberg later recounted that the president was so moved toward the end that he “looked like a ten-year-old kid,” leaning forward in his seat as he watched.
E.T. struck me as fundamentally Reaganesque in tone and approach. Its wholesome depiction of Middle America, its impish sense of humor, and its subtle placement of the protagonist in opposition to the government aligned with his identity. After the closing credits, President Reagan stood and faced the crowd, searching from face to face for a moment to read reactions. “I wanted to thank you for bringing E.T. to the White House,” he said. “We really enjoyed your movie.” He paused before saying with a completely straight face: “And there are a number of people in this room who know that everything on that screen is absolutely true.”II
The audience broke out in laughter, but the seriousness of his delivery went on to spark rumors among self-proclaimed “UFOlogists” that Reagan had let slip a state secret about an alien encounter. The rumors persist to this day. In an interview in 2011, Spielberg confirmed the comment but stated, “I’m sorry to say I think he was simply trying to tell a joke.”
One guest at the event, Morgan Mason, had an interesting take on what Reagan was doing. I believe Morgan was the only Hollywood movie veteran to serve on Ronald Reagan’s White House staff. The son of Academy Award nominee and acclaimed actor James Mason and actress-screenwriter Pamela Mason, both born in England, Morgan had appeared in Hero’s Island, along with his father, when he was just seven, and in The Sandpiper with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton three years later. In 1979 he joined Ronald Reagan’s presidential campaign, despite his father’s advice to the contrary—“Oh, my dear boy, don’t be ridiculous; he doesn’t have a chance”—and, following Reagan’s decisive victory over incumbent president Jimmy Carter in 1980, was appointed deputy chief of protocol of the United States. Shortly thereafter, the president asked him to join the White House staff, where he served as special assistant to the president
for political affairs. Morgan is married to Belinda Carlisle, lead vocalist of the all-female rock group the Go-Go’s. Their son, Duke, is also active in politics.
The Reagans liked Morgan so much that when he left the White House staff, they came to his farewell party at the home of Mike Deaver. Despite his pedigree, Morgan was neither pretentious nor arrogant. He was like a young Ronald Reagan: handsome, smart, charming, politically savvy, courteous to everyone, and had a wonderful sense of humor. Unlike many on the White House staff, Morgan was a person about whom no one had an unkind word.
And he was clever. Morgan once gave the Reagans a unique anniversary gift: the business card of the famed divorce attorney Marvin Mitchelson framed behind glass with a small hammer and a sign reading “Break in Case of Emergency!” Both Reagans howled with laughter when he presented it. On one occasion, Morgan was playing tennis on the White House court when Chief of Staff James A. Baker III called him. Baker was peeved that Mason was recreating instead of working at his desk. Baker told Morgan that he had “just been with your boss,” meaning White House Political Affairs Chief Edward J. Rollins. Without missing a beat, Mason replied, “Well, I was just with yours,” meaning Nancy Reagan. That was that.
Mason told me, “When I first got to the White House, one of my jobs was to arrange screenings in the family theater for movies such as E.T. and Victory,” which takes place in a Nazi POW camp during WWII. The camp commander (Max Von Sydow) organizes a soccer match between his German soldiers and the Allied POWs. It was directed by John Huston and also starred Michael Caine.
Movie Nights with the Reagans Page 8