All the Best, George Bush: My Life in Letters and Other Writings

by George H. W. Bush

  Also please see that no one comes up here unless absolutely essential to the project. It is our oasis and I really want to keep it that way.

  Thanks

  GB

  September 13th

  I feel much more of a frustration. I guess I’m a little tired, but I’m also frustrated by the press treatment about the distortion of who I am. The record is one thing, but when they distort your character and try to make you ugly—that’s a little too much. But you can’t feel sorry, you just have to take the message out, keep plugging away, keep working, working hard, and that’s what I’m doing and that’s what I’ll continue to do. Sunday the 13th—52 more days? I can make it; I can out hustle Clinton; out work him; out jog him; out think him; out campaign him; and we’ll win. But it’s an ugly spot in the road right now. . . .

  Sept 16. 1992

  Rep. Solarz29

  Dear Steve—

  I’ve lost a couple of elections in the past and it hurts. I know that. I just want you to know that I will never forget and always be grateful for your leadership on Desert Storm.

  Perhaps, as the voters went to the polls up there, they’ve forgotten your courage on all that. I never will.

  Good luck in what I’m sure will be a bright & challenging future.

  Most sincerely,

  George Bush

  9-18-92

  Sen. Robert Byrd

  Dear Robert,

  These are ugly, confrontational times; but I’m darned if I’m going to let them ruin relationships. I want to thank you for sitting down so constructively with Dick Darman. I look forward to post-election days when we can all really try to cooperate and get things done.

  These ugly times have not diminished my respect for you nor Barbara’s and my friendship for you and Erma.

  Sincerely,

  George

  October 12th

  The day after the first debate. The bottom line is that after the debate our team, I think, genuinely felt we had won or certainly had not lost, and that Perot would emerge as the big winner with his homilies and that Clinton had lost.

  And then I pick up the papers in the morning and they say that I had come in third. . . .

  The only joy is that if we should lose, there’s great happiness over the horizon, but it will be a very painful process—not for losing but letting people down and being vilified for three more months. The big thing is to conduct myself with decency and with honor. So now we go back to the drawing board dictating this at 5:45 a.m. in St. Louis. I start off now to Pennsylvania and then to Michigan and the hill out there is steep to climb. You’ve got to keep the spirits up for the people around us, got to keep working extra hard, and damn sure can’t let this news get everyone down. But what was joy last night is now a somber assessment this morning. . . .

  This is all extraordinarily tough on Barbara. She is still wildly popular and gets a wonderful response, but I can tell she is hurting for me. She refuses to watch the television; refuses to read the papers; and she tells me to turn it off when I turn it on because it is always hammering away at me.

  The White House staff are wonderful, so sympathetic, so encouraging, so smiling, and so are the boys on Air Force One. I think they really ache for us during this difficult period. I still have this sense of confidence that we’re going to win, but I must say it has been bruised and jarred. . . .

  October 16th

  Colin Powell calls. I mentioned him last night as a possible candidate for President of the United States when they asked me about black leaders, and I saluted him. So he called and thanked me for that and said his relatives were calling from all over. . . .

  He said he knew it was the ugliest period for us and didn’t know how we could get through it, etc.; but I said, “Well, let’s have a drink afterward.”

  October 20th

  Musings from the train: the beauty of this part of South Carolina as we go into North Carolina is something to behold. The leaves are muted with tans and yellows but still plenty of greens. There are no bright reds like up in New England but there are copper tones, muted soft beautiful tones.

  We stopped at the Waffle House this morning, symbolic perhaps, and sit next to two guys one of whom is working hard—a tree pruner, a bearded fellow—and he asks me about health care. He’s got a 2 year old that has cystic fibrosis and he said, “I’m going to vote for you because I like your faith in God.” He said I noticed that you called on God at the end of your speech last night. I thanked him for that. The guy on my left was kind of a small slight looking fellow who works the night shift at Piggly Wiggly, and his girlfriend, Vickie, works the night shift at the Waffle House. His dad has cirrhosis and they help him out as best they can. He’s working hard and feels that life is not particularly fair; but he could not have been more pleasant. I loved his grassroots homilies, and after we were about to leave, some little girl came up with a bunch of funny jokes. Her mother was a waitress at the Waffle House, a tired looking aging blonde waitress—very nice—and she says, “What’s your name? I said, “George Bush,” and she says, “Spell it.” So I said “B-U-S-H,” and she says, “no, no it’s wrong. . . . I told you to spell it I-T.”

  She had about six other knee slappers like that and it was a relaxed fun few minutes.

  October 22nd

  Betty Liedtke died. It’s now Thursday and I’m in yet another hotel—this one next to the Meadowlands—finishing three rallies today in New Jersey and waiting for a “Ask George Bush” session. And I called Hugh and he sounded composed and said the service is on Saturday. There goes another close friend—one that we love very, very much. I’d love to go to the service, drop everything and do it, but it’s pretty hard to do. Barbara may go. My mind goes back to the wonderful times we had—her fantastic humor, her teasing us . . .

  There was the time I got mad at Christmas time and broke one of the children’s toys—one of the things you blow, the roller goes out like the birthday blower thing—anyway, I got mad at George and told him to stop doing it—no, it was one of those flutes that you pull the handle in and out and it makes a lot of noise. So I broke his flute and then for about three days at the office I’d pick up the telephone and there would be that flute sound and I’d hang up and it would be Betty Liedtke. She had a wonderful sense of humor. She was a great and loving mother, a true and loyal friend, and Hugh is going to be desperately lonely. And here I am caught up in this race and I just hope I can be there at this funeral . . .

  October 23rd

  We’re still trying to work it out to go to Betty Liedtke’s funeral. Jim Baker was saying, “Well, can’t Barbara do it?” And I’m saying, “No, this is our friend and it matters and it counts,” so we’re moving the whole schedule around. . . .

  [I attended the funeral.]

  October 29th

  It’s now Thursday morning and we’re in Detroit, I think. Yesterday was an exciting day. We got the report that two polls had closed—CNN and I believe an ABC poll—to 2 points. People were running back and forth on the plane. The rallies had a new zip and life to them. Bruce Willis was with us and he is amazed at the progress. He’s very popular—a little earring in his left ear—an attractive guy that called me out of the clear blue sky and wants to help and here he is.

  November 2nd

  This is the last day of campaigning in my entire life—the last full day of campaigning for myself for my entire life—and I think back to the days in East Texas with 2 or 3 people in the crowd and Bar and I pressed on across that enormous state back in 1964 with the polls showing us decimated and sure enough we were wiped out. . . .

  I gave the same stump speech. My voice beginning to show signs of strain at the end. We have 4 or 5 more rallies to go. It’s a joy having George with us—feisty fighter and campaigner if there ever was one—and he and Jim Baker sit up with me in my office on Air Force One and we talk about the pollsters and we talk about baseball commissioner, and how the job has changed, and we talk about the last hurrah, the last camp
aign forever. We told jokes: “Scrub it with a stiff brush and keep it clean.” We even talked about who should be Chief of Staff in the White house after Jim Baker finishes his job, a job that I think will take 120 days.

  . . . Marlin is fantastic and so is Brent. Brent is getting a little militant, thinking I ought to attack the press more. He knows this Iran stuff is an outrage, after all, he was on the Tower Commission [that investigated Iran-Contra] and he knows we’re getting screwed on Iran-Contra. He knows the truth and the facts and he sees it as just an outrageous political ploy driven by the press.30 . . .

  The Oak Ridge Boys came into my little office on the plane and sang some gospel songs and just a handful of us were there. I sat on the chair opposite my desk and Mary Matalin31 sat on the window sill and the Oaks were on the couch. Almost all of us had tears in our eyes when they sang “Amazing Grace”—so moving, so close, so warm, so strong—and I thought of Dad and I told George, “Boy, would my father ever have loved to have been here hearing these guys sing.”

  . . . I’ve given it my best shot, I’ve run the extra course, and George and Jeb say, “Dad, you’ve run a great campaign—there’s nothing more you can do.” And I’m grateful to them. They are the ones who have done so much work, taken so much flak on behalf of their father. They are the ones, all of them, who have lifted me and given me strength.

  Barbara, of course, is slamming away out on the trail right now—I’m sure the hero of the hour wherever she goes—magnificent. . . .

  November 4th

  It’s 12:15 in the morning, November 4th. The election is over—it’s come and gone. It’s hard to describe the emotions of something like this.

  . . . But it’s hurt, hurt, hurt and I guess it’s the pride, too. . . . On a competitive basis, I don’t like to see the pollsters right at the end; I don’t like to see the pundits right; I don’t like to see all of those who have written me off right. I was absolutely convinced we would prove them wrong but I was wrong and they were right and that hurts a lot.

  I think of our country and the people who are hurting and there is so much we didn’t do. There are so many places we tried, and yes, we made progress. But no, the job is not finished and that kills me. . . .

  Now into bed, prepared to face tomorrow: Be strong, be kind, be generous of spirit, be understanding and let people know how grateful you are. Don’t get even. Comfort the ones I’ve hurt and let down. Say your prayers and ask for God’s understanding and strength. Finish with a smile and some gusto, and do what’s right and finish strong.

  Of course it is impossible not to wonder why. Part of that was answered by an unusual letter from Nestle Frobish, who said my comment “Being called dishonest by Bill Clinton is like being called ugly by a frog” was my undoing.

  Nov. 4, 1992

  Mr. Nestle J. Frobish

  Worldwide Fairplay for Frogs Committee

  Lyndonville, Vermont 05851

  Dear Chairman Frobish,

  You were right. It was the frog lover vote that did me in.

  I’m the kind of guy who admits his mistakes. I apologize to all members of the Worldwide Fairplay for Frogs Committee. From now on as a private citizen I will croak out this message “Frogs are beautiful”! Keep on hopping—

  George Bush

  November 7, 1992

  Dear Dick [Nixon],

  The dust has begun to settle. It hurts still, but we Bushes will do fine.

  I just want to thank you for the Tom Dewey letter and, of course, for your kind words.

  I want to finish the course with no rancor, not blaming of others. Then Barbara and I will go back to Houston. We will try to be helpful and constructive citizens in our great community there.

  As I contemplate private life the way in which one Richard Nixon has conducted himself in his post President private life will serve as a fine example of how to do it.

  My respects always to you and Pat.

  Most Sincerely,

  George

  November 10, 1992

  Ms. Anne Fisher Williams

  Thomasville, North Carolina 27360

  Dear Ms. Williams:

  Thank you for your letter and the news article that you enclosed, which just reached my desk. I was saddened to learn of your loss and extend my sincere condolences to you and your family.

  I regret that our train trip last month interrupted your father’s funeral procession. However, I was heartened to read that the incident helped to ease somewhat the tension of that solemn occasion. You’re right; the Lord does work in mysterious ways. I know that He will keep you and your family strong in the days and weeks ahead.

  Barbara joins me in sending warm wishes to you and yours. You are in our thoughts and prayers.

  Sincerely,

  George Bush

  11-10-92

  Dear Deke32—

  I loved your letter.

  Don’t worry about me; for you see I learned a lot about life’s ups and downs from you—years ago!

  I hate not to finish the job; but we’ve done some good things.

  Thanks for giving a damn about this old friend of yours who will always be grateful to you—

  George

  November 10th

  Bob Dole had called and asked me to come to a Senate Dinner. It’s an annual event and the President goes with all the Republican Senators. . . .

  I dreaded going but then Bob made it fantastic. He choked up, he showed a warm side that many didn’t feel he ever had. He was so generous in his comments and so thoughtful, and I thought to myself, “Here we are, a guy who I fought bitterly with in the New Hampshire primary, and now I salute him as a true leader, a wonderful leader, a guy who bent over backwards to do what the President wanted.” I tried to say that in my remarks. They were unscripted, from the heart and I’m not sure they came through.

  . . . I want to go to the Vietnam Memorial and read some names, but it would appear as show business, it would be seen as sticking it in Clinton’s ear.33 But maybe we can do it. Maybe I can get the agents up, go read a handful of names to participate, tell who’s ever doing it on the around-the-clock basis that we don’t want to be show business but we wanted to participate, do it without the media.

  I’m thinking of it as I’m walking past the fountain. Maybe I should wake up Barbara and we should do it. There’s not much time left to say what is in my heart but one thing I care about is Vietnam.

  The fountain is beautiful and the light on the middle spout makes it stand out in a spectacular way. The other eight little fountains supplement the beauty of the middle one and I think of our ducks. I look out across at the Jefferson, at its stoic beauty. There is the tennis court where we’ve had so much fun, so many challenges, so many dog-eat-dog matches, and around the corner is the obscured horseshoe pit. The joy I’ve gotten from seeing the groundskeepers and the ushers and the electricians battling in the tournaments knows no bounds.

  I walk around the [circle drive] and I decide to go to the Vietnam Memorial. I don’t want any press but the Secret Service sends a guy over and there are about 20 or 30 people there. It’s the 10th Anniversary [of the wall] and tomorrow’s Veteran’s Day and I want to read some names. It’s going to be emotional, I think. Barbara has indicated that she wants to go so I wake her up although she was sound asleep. It’s now 11:35 and the agents call and say, “There are only a handful of people there,” so off we go.

  November 18, 1992

  Dear Trammell [Crow],

  Now, for sure, I feel welcome back to the world. It was your wonderful letter that did the trick.

  Thank you so very much for your most generous offer.34 It is something that Barbara and I would very much like to do at some time. It is a little early to pin down details, though. The main thing is that your offer has been a wonderful tonic. Just thinking about what you have suggested does the job.

  Yesterday we decided to build a small town house on our little lot in Houston. We plan to spend 50% of our time there and 50% in Maine.
I haven’t even begun to sort out what I will do, but the future looks exciting. The disappointment about not finishing the job here is beginning to subside.

  I certainly will not be actively involved in any more politics; but one thing is for sure—I will always be grateful to you and yours who have been at my side for so long.

  My Love to Margaret and, again, my profound thanks to you.

  George

  November 18th

  It’s now the evening of the 18th and my visit with Clinton has come and gone.

  It went well. He’s very friendly, very respectful and asked my advice on certain things. . . .

  We talked about Yugoslavia, Kosovo, Serbia, Bosnia, etc., and the difficulties he might anticipate there. I told him that I thought that was most likely to be the prime trouble spot. . . .

  He was grateful and I took him to see the White House second and third floors, and Barbara coming out with her hair almost in curlers, to say hi. His reaction to the White House was “wow” . . . Gary Walters35 was there and went on the tour with us. I introduced him to some of the people that were there in the house, some of the maids, etc. . . .

  I told him walking out, “Bill, I want to tell you something. When I leave here, you’re going to have no trouble from me. The campaign is over, it was tough and I’m out of here. I will do nothing to complicate your work and I just want you to know that.” And he was quite appreciative and I’ve got to try to do just that.36

  Nov. 19, 1992

  The Right Honorable John Major, M.P.

  Prime Minister

  London

  Dear John,

  I saw your kind comments made at the Lord Mayor’s Banquet on Nov. 16th.

  You are a loyal friend—a true and generous friend—

  Yesterday Bill Clinton told me of his talk with you on the phone. He said, “You know I already have great respect for John Major, for in our phone conversation he told me up front of his wonderful personal relationship with you—I respect that”.