Warm best wishes,
George
November 7, 1987
Brandon, Iowa. A tiny little town. More people in the middle of the little town than lived in the town. They came in from everywhere. The firemen, dressed in yellow coats, holding the crowd back. Young kids, banners, homemade signs welcoming the Vice President. I go into the Brandon Feedstore, and just before walking in I was shaking hands with all the people and an older woman said to me, “You look younger than I thought.” I said, “A lot of people say, taller.” She said, “No, I say a lot younger.” I said, “Well, I’m 63.” She said, “No shit?” Everybody heard her. All of the people standing next to her looked shocked, looked kind of held back. I laughed and then they laughed like mad. It was absolutely fantastic. One of the great moments in my life politically. . . .
I took time out from politics to help host the Gorbachevs during their state visit to Washington. It was fascinating getting to know them better. Here are some of my diary notes:
December 9, 1987
Gorbachev is amazing in style. In our meeting he’d grab his pencil, write furiously and then put it down and then look with amusement at some statement as it was translated. A couple of times, he’d flare up, but not really like he did when I talked to him about human rights in Moscow. But, he clearly was in command: He would turn to Shevardnadze43 and let him participate, but, he does it differently than the President. The President will make a broad statement and then Shultz will fill in the details. But, Gorbachev was in on all of it, including a lot of details. He has a ready smile, and a clear wit. You feel he wants to communicate when you first see him across a crowded room, he’d wink or smile. No question, he’s tough. I’m impressed with the man, cause it is so different than Malik or so different than Gromyko. . . .
Dinner at the Soviet Embassy. I sat at the Head table with Dobrynin, Obie Shultz, me, Raisa Gorbachev, the President, Gorbachev, Nancy Reagan, Shevardnadze, Bar, Yakovlev,44 and George Shultz. It was an interesting evening. . . . I talked to [Raisa] at length about who she really was; where her family were from, etc. She told me that her mother was from Siberia; her father was a railroad man from the Ukraine; they met as he was coming through Siberia. She told me that she, her husband, their daughter’s husband, grandchild, her mother, his mother all lived in the same house. She is very domineering, self-assured—telling me about her teaching. I asked her, “Who are you really? What are you really like? What are your main interests?” She couldn’t separate them from her duties in the State. I asked if it was difficult [for their daughter] to have a father who is the General Secretary. She didn’t rise to the bait on that, even though I told her that Jaruzelski told me that it was difficult for his daughter. But she was quite a talker and quite good fun. . . . She told me all about the opera singer who was really very good. Kiddingly, I said to her, through the interpreter, “I think I’m falling in love.” There was a long silence, and then she said, “This is an election year, you shouldn’t do that. You might be like Gary Hart.”45 Pretty interesting, pretty up-to-date.
. . . I talked to her about the Jewish question. She gave me the standard line. I said, “Look, I’m not criticizing you. I just want you to understand that this is a matter of great seriousness to all Americans. And to understand the future of relations, what’s required for good future relations, you have to understand that point.”
We had nine courses. Damned good caviar, tons of vodka, white wine, red wine, champagne, and all in all, it was too much. But, a nice, relaxed evening. . . .
Everyone who loved Malcolm Baldrige—and that’s everyone who knew him—was devastated when he was killed in a rodeo accident in July. He was then serving as secretary of commerce. I wrote his wife, Midge:
Dec. 20, 1987
Dear Midge,
. . . Christmas won’t be easy for you—Bar & I know that. But that special strong sweet guy somehow seems here at my side. . . .
Often in this rugged ugly world of campaign politics—I find myself thinking what would Mac do? How should I react—I wish he could tell me—should I smile? Or should I fight back?
It’s more than the advice department, Midge—it’s the trust, the unquestioned friendship, the humor the joy, the caring. This strong guy more than once picked me up, dusted me off, gave me a touch of his wisdom and sent me back into the fray.
The last time I saw Mac, Jim Baker, Mac & I were sitting in my West Wing Office. Something was up. Some problem facing the Prez. Down the hall beyond the closed door we thought about it, agreed what we’d do or say or recommend—then we reminisced and relaxed. The last time I saw Mac his friendship gave me strength and I’m saying to myself—I love this guy; decency and honor really count.
Bar & I send our love at Christmas. . . .
George
Through the years our great friend Fred Zeder from California was the champion giver of weird gifts. 1987 was no exception.
Dec. 24th ’87
Dear Fred,
How did you know—how could you have known—that what I wanted was a desk top bow and arrow set. I have been firing random shots at daughter-in-law’s behinds—lots of fun at this time of year. Sip a little “Zeder red” or taste a hint of that saucy white, fire your arrow at a passing rump and you have one heck of a Merry Christmas—
Many thanks—Love to all Zeders, Always,
George
December 27, 1987
We drove to Camp David46 in a big motorcade on the morning of the 24th, for a glorious Christmas weekend. We spent the night of the 24th and the 25th there. The first day was warm. We ran outdoors on both the 24 and the 25th. Saw the deer, went bowling, played horseshoes, saw movies, went to the gym and worked out and had a sauna, all three days in a row
. . . The kids were in good spirits. The little ones behaved well. Little Jeb wins the most improvement award. Ellie was smiling and wins the smilingest award—pressed closely by Jenna, who is on stage a lot and is just a joy. Barbara is the serious one. Sam is as cute as he can be, takes an occasional sock at the dog or even a passing cousin here and there. Great little guy. Barbara and Jenna are all excited about going to West Texas. George P. is still very special. He’s got the great form in bowling—loses his temper—but not as much as he used to. Full of competitive zeal. Noelle is very beautiful. Neil’s little family is fine. Pierce, the screamer, adjusted nicely, and ended up winning the short-term improvement award, the 48-hour award. The new guy that came in screaming and went out smiling. It’s tough to jump around and move around that much. Lauren, still beautiful and cozy, and they’re off to N.H. They moved the whole family up there the day after Christmas to work for me. Marvin and Margaret and Marshall are special, unflappable. Little Marshall climbed on her wooden hobby horse and rode and rode and rode. I don’t know what the stewards47 thought at Camp David, seeing the whole gang together—all 22 of them and a couple of screamers in the high-chairs from time to time, but generally compatible. Millie loved it. She ran and ran and ran. Did not chase the deer, but came bounding over falling logs, the leaves—it was great. . . .
December 30, 1987
Grateful for friends . . . Grateful for the peace of mind I get from Kennebunkport. Just seeing a picture of it, as I am now on Air Force II, brings me great relaxation.
Grateful for my health. Grateful that Marvin seems to have come through with flying colors from his operation.
Concerned about the “insiders” in Washington. Recognizing the need for total change, total shaking up of things. The insiders always have a way of ending up on their feet. Insiders in foreign affairs, insiders in staff, insiders in personnel, insiders in whatever it is. . . .
Grateful for the relative peace of mind I have; not fearing the future; not all hyped up with ulcers or sweating what would happen if things don’t go the way I want them to go. I’m confident that I could do the job, recognizing that nobody has the answers to all the problems. Nobody possibly could.
These are just some year end observatio
ns as the new year approaches.
THE VICE PRESIDENT
WASHINGTON
CHAPTER 11
The Long Home Stretch
We began 1988 feeling confident that we could finish what we had started such a long time ago: winning the presidency. But we knew lots of obstacles were still ahead, and like many of my friends and supporters, state senator Roy Goodman of New York wrote me a note of encouragement and concern:
January 13, 1988
Dear Roy,
Thanks for your letter and your advice. I think once in awhile you have to stand up and defend yourself, but I am going to try to stay above the fray and not slug it out with any candidate on a personal basis. I’m going to win this nomination and election, and I want to do it in an honorable way. Thanks, my friend, for continuing to keep me so well informed.
Hastily,
George
After that note of reassurance to my friend, the year really did start off with a bang. Dan Rather asked if he could do a profile for his CBS Evening News broadcast. We were told it would be a biography-type piece, just like the ones CBS was airing on the other candidates. What we got was something else. I dictated to my diary:
January 24th
We’ve been invited to do a CBS “profile.” They wanted me to tape for 40 minutes and [Craig] Fuller wisely said “no, we’ll do it live.”1 We didn’t think they’d do it live, which will be for 4 minutes, but they came back and said they would do it live. But, then we get to New Hampshire and we find the promo on the CBS show for tomorrow is “Dan Rather talks to George Bush about Iran-contra,” or something of that nature. I wonder if it is a straight up deal, or what they’re doing.
I called Teeley2 and told him this and he was going to talk to the producer. They’ve done profiles on every candidate, but the way they are advertising it on this candidate, they want to talk just about Iran-contra.
Nice Sunday, other than that. . . .
January 25th
. . . When I returned from New Hampshire in a big-flake snowstorm, we decided to go right to the Capitol. I was doing the Rather live program from my office right in the Capitol, and I figured if I tried to go home, I wouldn’t have time to get back. Barbara met me and brought some clothes. . . .
We came on the air. There were four minutes of clips—all questioning my word. It was a mean, tough interview. Dan came on, and he and I got right with it. I tried to keep my cool. In fact, I think I did. But, I’d be damned if I was going to let this guy walk all over me. “Your judging my whole career by Iran would be like somebody judging your whole career by the 7-minute walkout when the air time went blank,”3 I said to him.
The interview is now history. When it was over, I felt like I had been through a couple of rounds in the ring. The adrenaline was pumping. The mike was still on, against all custom I might add, and CBS taped me laying in to the producer telling her this is the last time you can deal with me. “Your network can deal with me at press conferences by holding their hand up and I’ll treat reporters with respect, but no more inside stuff.” . . .
The minute the program ended, switchboards lit up all over the country—telegrams poured in, calls flowed to New York—500 calls to CBS—two CBS affiliates called in to apologize. The White House phones were jammed, and all and all, people were glad to see me do what I did. . . . When I climbed on to the helicopter, the pilot says the boys sure salute you for what you did. The firemen gave me a thumb’s up at the helipad. People calling in from Des Moines and all over.
A lively debate as to whether Rather should be fired. I expect there will be back lash, but the initial reaction has been absolutely fantastic and far stronger than I would possibly have imagined.
People don’t like television stars being rude, and a lot of the telegrams cite “rude to the Vice President.” There was a certain respect for the office and they felt that Rather walked across the line. I don’t want to fight with Dan. I’ve liked Dan, but he apparently told somebody that the newspaper people are free to get all of the information and that Rather would go for the knockout. You could sense it the minute I was there.4 . . .
We were focusing most of our attention on Iowa, whose caucus on February 8 would be the first major test of the election. We were not doing well in the polls. My toughest opponent was Bob Dole, then minority leader of the Senate. But television evangelist Pat Robertson was running strong in Iowa. I dictated to my diary:
Feb. 7th, a clear, crisp, Iowa Sunday.
. . . We all went to Church and after church, the question came to me, “Are you trying to lower expectations?” Here we are 15 points back in the poll and someone says “Are you trying to lower expectations?” I said, “Expectations are already lowered, but we’re fighting it.” It’s my hope that if we get wiped out here that it just doesn’t bounce back too much in other states. Also, I’d hate to come in third, with Dole first. I wouldn’t mind being third if Robertson beats out Dole. But, I don’t want to be third in any sense. . . .
Having the kids around and Bar makes me relax a great deal. It makes me feel much, much better. We’re going to have another big day tomorrow, on Monday the 8th, and then fly into N.H. The press asked me why I was doing that and I said, “I want to hit the ground running, win or lose. The action starts in N.H. the minute the people go to the caucuses in Iowa.” I also remember last time talking too much about big momentum and all of that.5
Out in the country, driving in a long motorcade across Iowa, crystal clear, farm houses stand out etched against the sky; Farm machinery around, a light dusting of snow along the cornfields and the abundance of Iowa’s lifeline lies frozen and snow-dusted. What a magnificent country we have.
February 8th
Nervous. Gloom and doom amongst the campaign people. There is a feeling that we are going to get beat. The question is how bad. . . .
We get to New Hampshire, have dinner with Hugh Gregg, and then the first returns come in and they are horrible. I’m running a poor third, and it’s clear that we’ve lost and that it’s Dole and Robertson, and me a distant third, and Kemp back, then Du Pont and Haig.6 I just know how the press will play it. There were already columns about Bush being a hemophiliac, and if he finishes third, he’s through, etc., etc. But, that hasn’t always been the case. It feels like you’ve been hit in the stomach.
It’s really gloomy.
February 12th
I do have peace of mind now. If I don’t make it, I have no excuses. Just go on about my life, which will be an exciting one. I would have no politics, no head table, no Republican Party, a total hiatus, shifting directions of my life. And if I win, and I still think I will, my hands will be full. The biggest job in the world. . . .
February 15th
We have a lot of events in the day. I’m getting awful tired. I’m dictating this on Monday noon. We’ve been to Dunkin’ Donuts. We’ve been to McDonald’s for an Egg McMuffin. We’ve been to the pancake house for pancakes. I’m bloated and very tired.
Ted Williams has been at my side and he keeps pointing out how exhausting it all is. They love seeing him in these shopping centers and malls. Sununu is indefatigable, traveling with me all of the time.
Feb. 16th
. . . . Our people feel good and we think things are moving in the right direction. I know I’m going to be faced with an awful downer if we lose here, but I’ll pick myself up and go South7 and recoup. But, if I win here, then we go South with a lot more confidence and conviction. I desperately want to win. The kids have worked hard, and Bar has worked hard. Everybody has killed themselves. Sununu, Judd Gregg, our friends and supporters and all of them feel genuinely upbeat. There is such a thing as a “feel” in a campaign and this one feels a lot better.
I’m dictating this on the morning of the election day. We’ve been to two polling places and the spirits are up. . . . As I left one of the polling places, [the press] were yelling, “How much do you have to win by? What happens in the South if you lose? Will you be dead? “Are you go
ing to be able to go forward if you lose in New Hampshire?” These were the inevitable questions and the inevitable answer is a thumbs up and a cheerful look, exude confidence, and again, as Mum would say, “Do your best.”
With John Sununu’s hands-on management, we won a huge victory in New Hampshire, which more than made up for the Iowa defeat and gave our campaign a renewed vigor as we headed South. I took some time out to write our friends and supporters.
February 17, 1988
Mrs. Sally Novetzke
Cedar Rapids, Iowa 52403
Dear Sally,
I am back in Washington for one day, about to head out for another 20 days. But now that the dust has settled in both New Hampshire and Iowa, I want to send you and a handful of others this letter.
There is no way I can properly express my gratitude—Barbara’s, too. You worked hard, you stood at my side when the going got tough, and you were with me, your hand on my shoulder, when things looked very gloomy indeed. There is nothing more you could have done; there is probably a lot more I could have done. But in any event, that’s history, and yesterday’s result in New Hampshire has given us an enormous lift.
When I win the nomination, I will be grateful to you not just for your support, but for your friendship.
Barbara sends her love; so do all the Bush kids. We are going to make it!
All the Best, George Bush: My Life in Letters and Other Writings Page 41