“I understand,” Dart said. Then he said something that was a real eye-opener to my father: “I’ve never met a politician like you. They all take the money.”
“That’s just it, Mr. Dart,” Dad replied, “I’m not a politician.”
In the years that followed, Dad and Justin Dart grew to be good friends, and Mr. Dart was one of my father’s strongest supporters. Why? Because Ronald Reagan was something rare in this world—an honest man in politics, a man of truth and integrity.
My father taught me to be a person who tells the truth and lives the truth. Like so many of the lessons he tried to teach me, I was slow to learn it. I’m still learning it. But as the saying goes, “More things are caught than taught.” He taught me by his example, and that’s why Ronald Reagan was such a good father and such a great leader.
Again and again, people ask me, “What was your father really like?” They want to know: Was Ronald Reagan the real deal? Was the private Ronald Reagan the same as the public Ronald Reagan? Was he authentic? Did he have integrity?
I’m here to tell you that my father, Ronald Reagan, was the same man whether he wore white tie and tails at a state dinner or blue jeans, plaid shirt, and cowboy hat on the ranch. He was the same man whether he was asking for your vote in a campaign speech or sitting across the table from you, offering you a handful of jelly beans. The public Ronald Reagan was seamlessly joined to the private Ronald Reagan.
When I watched my father give speeches on television, I saw exactly the same man who used to pick me up in his red station wagon, drive me out to the ranch, and teach me how to shoot a rifle and ride a horse.
The American people almost never saw my father lose his temper in public. The angriest I’ve ever seen my father was on February 23, 1980, three days before the New Hampshire primary. The Reagan campaign was footing the bill for a candidate debate, and my father wanted to debate all the GOP candidates, not just George H. W. Bush. The debate moderator, Nashua Telegraph editor Jon Breen had declared that it would be a two-man debate. Dad took the microphone and, over Mr. Breen’s objections, made his case for including all the candidates. Finally, Breen shouted, “Turn off his microphone!”
My father leveled an if-looks-could-kill stare at Breen and thundered, “I am paying for this microphone, Mr. Green!” Yes, he got Breen’s name wrong—but he made his point.
My sister Maureen and I were watching that event on television together—I believe we were at her house. When we saw Dad get angry, Maureen and I looked at each other in shock, because we had never seen him like that before.
“Well,” Maureen said, “it’s about damn time!”
That was as angry as I’ve ever seen my father. Believe me, I have given him plenty of reason to be infuriated with me, yet he was always patient and fatherly, more disappointed than angry.
So if you want to know what the real Ronald Reagan was like, I’ll tell you: you already know. His public image and his private reality are one and the same. He didn’t present a false persona to the public, as so many politicians do. He was always the real Ronald Reagan.
That’s what it means to have integrity. That’s what it means to live the truth.
The Importance of Trust
My father nominated the first woman Supreme Court justice, Sandra Day O’Connor. But very few people know the story behind that nomination. Justice O’Connor was elevated to the High Court because Dad kept a promise to my sister, Maureen.
During the 1980 primary campaign, Dad and Maureen were on opposite sides of an issue called the Equal Rights Amendment. Dad believed in equal rights for women, of course, but he believed women were already guaranteed full equality under the Fourteenth Amendment. He worried that the ERA, if ratified, might be interpreted in ways that would tear apart the fabric of our society. And he worried that if Maureen kept pushing the issue during the primary, he might lose the nomination.
So Dad’s staff called Maureen into a meeting with Dad. Dad’s top aides, Michael Deaver and Lyn Nofziger were in that meeting. They were searching for a way to convince Maureen to drop ERA as an issue before it began to erode his support with Republican women. So Deaver and Nofziger, along with Dad, sat down with Maureen and asked her, “What can we do to get you to stop supporting ERA—at least during the campaign?”
Maureen said, very pointedly, “If you can get your candidate to tell me that, if elected, his first appointment will be to nominate a woman for the United States Supreme Court—then I will stop talking about ERA during the campaign.”
Dad said, “Deal.” Maureen shook hands with Dad. My father made that pledge to Maureen, and she knew she could trust his word.
But in July, at the convention in Detroit, campaign officials freaked out when they saw Maureen handing out buttons to Republican women. Maureen was wearing one of the buttons, and it read—in huge letters—“ERA.” At first, the Reagan campaign people thought Maureen had gone back on her word—but when they got closer they saw that underneath the big letters “ERA” was an inscription in smaller type: “Elect Reagan Anyway.”
Dad won the election in a landslide. And on August 19, 1981, he nominated Sandra Day O’Connor to the High Court. He was a man of his word.
Ronald Reagan’s critics and opponents called him a lot of things—but “dishonest” wasn’t one of them. Mikhail Gorbachev squared off against my father in many tough negotiating sessions, and he endured a lot of blunt talk from Dad about the faults and failings of Soviet Communism. Yet Gorbachev called Dad “a man of his word.”
And Democrat Senator John Kerry—who was an implacable foe of the Reagan administration, especially during the Iran–Contra investigation—said, “Even when he was breaking Democrats’ hearts, he did so with a smile and in the spirit of honest and open debate.”2
Dad’s opponents knew that his word was his bond. His reputation for truthfulness and integrity enabled him to get a lot accomplished, even though the Democrats controlled both houses of Congress. For example, Dad made a pledge to Democratic Speaker of the House Thomas “Tip” O’Neill that he would not campaign against Democrat lawmakers who supported his signature legislation, the Economic Recovery Tax Act of 1981. Where did Dad make that pledge? At the White House.
Dad invited Tip O’Neill and his wife to the White House for dinner. Afterwards, O’Neill told his staff he would carry the legislation instead of opposing it. Someone asked, “What did President Reagan say that persuaded you to carry his legislation?”
“He never talked about the legislation,” O’Neill said. “Instead, he talked about the greatness of America, the goodness of her people, and how he and I could work together to make America better for all. Soon we were telling Irish stories and drinking a glass of wine together, and I agreed to carry the legislation on the floor the House of Representatives. He promised he wouldn’t campaign against any Democrat who voted for it.”
As a result of O’Neill’s support, ERTA passed. On August 13, 1981, Dad signed ERTA into law. In fact, Dad signed ERTA at Rancho Del Cielo, and the table on which he signed it is on display at the Reagan Ranch Center in Santa Barbara, operated by the Young America’s Foundation. And yes, Dad kept his word to the Democrats.
Dad had a remarkable ability to win the trust of his opponents because they knew he told the truth. In June 1985, Dad gave a speech in the garden of Ted Kennedy’s home in McLean, Virginia—a fund-raiser for the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library. The JFK Library had no living president to serve as the fund-raiser in chief. So the late president’s children, Caroline and John, asked my father, President Reagan, to stand in for JFK and help kick off the fund-raising event.
Politically, Ronald Reagan and the Kennedys were adversaries. JFK’s brother, Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy, had gotten my father fired from his job as host of General Electric Theater. Yet my father didn’t let political differences poison his personal relationships. Though Dad had not supported John F. Kennedy for president, he admired President Kennedy’s love of country, his ser
vice in World War II, his commitment to tax cuts and small government, and his call to all Americans to “ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”
So when John and Caroline Kennedy—President Kennedy’s two children—invited my father to stand in for JFK at the Kennedy Library fund-raiser, Dad didn’t hesitate. He gave the speech to kick off the fund-raising efforts for the JFK Library.
Years later, when it was time to dedicate the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library, Caroline Kennedy-Schlossberg and John F. Kennedy Jr. were in attendance. Their presence symbolized their gratitude at what my father had done in helping launch the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library. My father wasn’t trying to get applause or recognition; rather, he was always trying to do the right thing. He brought Republicans and Democrats, conservatives and liberals, together, so that both sides could work together for the common good. He spoke the truth, and he lived the truth. As my father said, between nine and five, you can battle full tilt over politics—but at five o’clock, it’s time to sit back, enjoy a glass of wine, and talk about the greatness of America and her people.
Just as Dad always kept his word to friends and foes alike, he expected people to keep their word to him. When he found out that someone dealt falsely with him—look out.
During the 1980 primaries, my father got terrible advice from his campaign consultants, Manafort, Stone, Black, and Sears. Campaign director John Sears told Dad not to campaign in Iowa or attend the candidate forums. This way, Sears said, Ronald Reagan would appear “above the fray” and would easily defeat George Bush in Iowa.
I couldn’t understand that advice. I knew that Dad ought to be a “favorite son” in Iowa. He had spent five years as a radio announcer in Iowa before going on to an acting career in Hollywood. I thought he should build on his special relationship with the people of Iowa.
When I went to Iowa to campaign for my father, I discovered that Dad’s campaign consultants were lying to him. They assured him that his support in Iowa was rock-solid and he was going to win easily. Yet everywhere I went, the people of Iowa were telling me they were supporting George Bush instead.
So I called Dad and told him, “You’ve got to come out to Iowa and campaign. George Bush is going to beat you if you don’t.”
“Well, Michael,” Dad replied, “I just got off the phone with my campaign consultants, and they tell me I’m doing fine in Iowa. They tell me that if I come out and campaign like the rest of the candidates, it will reduce my stature.”
“Your consultants are lying to you, Dad. I’ve been all over this state, and I’m chasing George Bush wherever I go. The grassroots folks are telling me you’ve forgotten your roots. They want to know why you’re so aloof and disengaged. Dad, George Bush can’t talk to these people like you can—he’s not one of them. But George Bush is going to win because he’s here and you’re not. This weekend, WHO Radio, the station where you used to work, is hosting a big event and you’re the only Republican candidate who won’t be there. Dad, if you don’t come out here, you’re going to lose Iowa.”
“Well, I’m paying my consultants for their advice. I think I ought to follow it.”
“You mean John Sears? Dad, he’s all over the local news in Iowa, and if you ask people who’s running for president, they say, ‘John Sears.’ Dad, he’s promoting himself more than he’s promoting you.”
“I’ll look into it, Michael,” Dad said—but I knew he was not persuaded.
Days later, George Bush beat Ronald Reagan, 32 percent to 30 percent, in Iowa. The pundits were saying that Ronald Reagan, the one-time frontrunner, was now in danger of losing the nomination. George Bush, meanwhile, came out of Iowa declaring he had “the Big Mo” (momentum).
Two weeks later, I was at home in California when the phone woke me up. I checked my clock. It was six thirty in the morning on the day of the New Hampshire primary. I answered the phone. It was Dad. I thought, Oh no, what have I done now?
“Michael,” he said, “I want to read a press release to you. Subject to your approval, I intend to give this statement to the press in a few moments. You are probably the only one who will understand.”
Subject to my approval? Why would a press release from Dad need my approval?
He read: “Ronald Reagan today announced that William J. Casey has been named executive vice chairman and campaign director of his presidential campaign, replacing John Sears who has resigned to return to his law practice. . . .”
Then I knew. Dad had just fired his campaign consultants.
When he finished reading, he said, “So Michael, what do you think?”
“Dad, I think it’s great.”
“Then I have your permission to release this to the media?”
“Yes, Dad, you have my permission.”
“Turn on the television. This will be breaking news in a few minutes.”
“Thanks for calling, Dad.”
“Well, you’re the one who was honest with me.” It was Dad’s way of thanking me for telling him the truth about Iowa. Dad valued the truth above all, and he hated being deceived.
Before hanging up, I asked, “Are you going to win in New Hampshire today?”
“Yes, Michael, we’re going to win today.”
And as he predicted, when the polls closed, Ronald Reagan had won more than half of the vote in a seven-way race. He then went on to win almost every primary in the country.
Lessons in Truth and Trust
From my earliest years of watching and learning from my father, and throughout his professional and political life, I saw that he valued the truth. He spoke it, he lived it, and he demanded it from his family members, associates, and advisers. His commitment to the truth made a deep and lasting impression on me.
Here are some of the lessons my father taught me about speaking and living the truth in every arena of our lives:
Focus on being worthy of trust. The American people elected Ronald Reagan president because he told them the truth and they trusted him. My father’s political friends and political foes knew they could work with him because his word was his bond. In order to work together for the common good, we have to be able to trust one another. Trust is the glue that holds any family, any organization, or any society together. Trust is based on truth.
A few years ago, I was leaving the 24 Hour Fitness gym where I work out, and who should I see but actor Alec Baldwin. He is the quintessential Hollywood liberal—yet I never let his liberal activities get in the way of my enjoyment of his acting performances. I’ve enjoyed his work in many films and television shows, from The Hunt for Red October to 30 Rock.
So I said, “Excuse me, Mr. Baldwin. My name is Mike Reagan, and my mother is Jane Wyman.” He looked befuddled, and I could read the unspoken question in his eyes: Why didn’t he say his father is Ronald Reagan?
I answered his unspoken question. “I thought it might be safer to say that Jane Wyman is my mother. I wasn’t sure I’d still be standing if I said that Ronald Reagan was my father.”
He laughed and shook my hand. I told him how much I enjoyed his work on 30 Rock, and I added that my son Cameron has the actual teddy bear that was used in the final scene of The Hunt for Red October—someone had given it to President Reagan, and he had given it to Cameron.
“Well,” Baldwin said, “let me tell you something. You know that liberalism is in my blood—but I wish we had your father back.”
I couldn’t have been more surprised. “Really? But you were against everything my father stood for.”
“That’s right, but I’ve learned a lot since those days. I’m still liberal, but I miss your dad. I’m totally serious.”
“Why’s that?”
“A few nights ago, I was with some friends and we were talking about your dad. They were bashing him, you know? Then I said something that surprised even me. I told my friends, ‘Say what you will, Ronald Reagan had a good soul.’ Mike, what the world is missing today is someone with a good soul. I did
n’t agree with him. I still don’t. But your father had a good soul.”
Why would a political opponent like Alec Baldwin say that about my father? I believe it all comes down to the truth. Dad’s opponents may not have liked what he said or agreed with what he said. But they believed that what he said came from his heart, not from some political calculation or attempt to deceive.
Dad’s political campaigns were always rooted in truth and optimism. When my father ran for governor of California in 1966, his opponent was the Democratic incumbent Edmund G. “Pat” Brown. Governor Brown was leading in the polls when he made a disastrous decision. He filmed a campaign commercial in front of an elementary school class. He told two African American girls in the front row, “I’m running against an actor. You know who shot Abraham Lincoln, don’tcha?” When that ad came out on television, voters and political pundits were shocked and appalled. The premise of the commercial seemed to be, “Don’t trust an actor because an actor assassinated Lincoln.” Within hours, Dad surged into the lead and he never looked back. Dad defeated Brown by a 58 to 42 percent margin.
He made voters feel good about themselves and their country. When my father campaigned, it was always “morning in America”; it was always upbeat. Are there political candidates who make us feel that good today?
Over the years, I’ve encountered many people who said they didn’t like my dad’s politics, but they voted for him anyway because he made them feel good about America and good about themselves. Dad didn’t talk about Republicans versus Democrats. He talked about all of us working together to make America great. I don’t remember a time in my life when my father spoke ill of anyone. Never.
When people trust you to always tell the truth as you see it, then even if they disagree with you, they’ll respect you. They’ll know you have a good soul.
Defend historical truth. Dad never worried about political correctness or the slanders of his critics. His only concerns were as follow: What do the American people think? What is the truth they need to know? His uncompromising honesty gave him a lot of freedom to simply speak the truth as he saw it and let the chips fall where they may. It gave him the freedom to call the Soviet Union an “evil empire” and to demand that Mr. Gorbachev “tear down this wall.” His advisors told him he should mute his rhetoric and soft-pedal the hard truth. But Ronald Reagan was committed to the truth, period.
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