I am sure the Kerry people can point to some of our folks as junk yard dogs, mean liars about their man, John. Whatever! But the whole atmosphere is horrible and for this loving Dad it is impossible. I cannot run away and hide.
Though I finished campaigning on Saturday and got to go to a great Texan football game on Sunday it was almost a relief when someone in the campaign—perhaps [campaign manager] Ken Mehlman—called Jean and asked if I would fly to Green Bay for a rally on Monday. I did.
Monday morning I flew the 2hr 20 minute flight to Green Bay. I spoke for 20 minutes or so, shook a few hands, saluted the veterans who were putting on the event, reboarded the lovely jet and flew back to Houston. I am not sure that quick trip helped the cause, but the campaign hierarchy seemed pleased.
This trip though on a much smaller scale for me now, reminded me of my final campaign flight in 1988. We were heading back to Houston. Jim Baker came to me on our plane and said “[Bob] Teeter wants us to turn around, and go back to Illinois (or was it Missouri) for one last rally.” I said “No”, so we flew on to Houston.
(In this election I am a bit player. I want to do my part but now on this election day I do not feel that I have done my part.)
This morning “overnights” are much stronger than yesterday’s. I get a call from Florida with an upbeat appraisal—“up 5.” I call Jeb our realist, our expert on Florida and more. “Dad, we will carry Florida”.
Then I flip on some CNN talking heads who say we are behind by a smidgeon in Florida. Had they seen the tracking polls, the “overnights”? I figure they haven’t seen them. Ohio looks good, but I hear some Kerry minion proclaiming “We will win Ohio.” The Kerry campaign had their hopes sky high because of these ghastly inaccurate exit polls.
I like to watch Don Imus. He knows nothing of exit polls, overnights, you name it; but in his early morning show before the exit polls trickled in he proclaims “It is over, my man Kerry is in. I’ll bet anyone $10,000”. He then gets others on his program. Chris Matthews, [Tim] Russert, two or three other “experts”. None predict a clear cut victory for The President.
This letter ends here. We are arriving at Reagan Airport. Excitement is high.
Later on election afternoon . . .
I feel like I have been hit squarely in the gut—hard. The exit polls that we now hear about as I drive from Reagan to the White House look bad—quite bad. I feel a physical pain in the solar plexus. I cannot believe these numbers. And I certainly do not want to believe them.
White House experts and Ron Kaufman38 by phone tell me not to worry. The exit polls, particularly the first tranche, have historically been wrong. “Wait ’til the 4 o’clock cut.”
I checked in with the President, who was in his sweaty clothes having just vigorously exercised and then gotten a rub down. I also checked in with serene, wonderful Laura. Bar and I then got our modest luggage settled in at the Queens bedroom. I tried to nap, but a total nervous wreck by then, I decided to troll around the West Wing, determined of course to seek out Karl Rove. I checked first in the Oval Office and chatted with Ashley Kavanaugh and Linda Gambatesa who do so much for the POTUS day in and day out.
Ashley was at her desk just outside the Oval. So was wonderful Linda Gambatesa. They didn’t know more at that point than I did. The damn exit polls had cast a bit of a pall over the West Wing, though the more experienced political pros said “Not to worry.” But I did worry.
I said “hi” to Joe Hagin, to Condi, to Al Gonzales39 and then barged into Karl’s office. There he was with all the exit poll data. He was sitting alone at his computer. I sat at his table and he explained to me in great detail why I should not be concerned about the exit polls. Later in the evening he was proven to be 100% correct.
I left Karl’s office feeling a little better about things. I went back to the Residence and tried to nap. No luck. The Talking Heads background first on Fox then on CNN only made my gut start to hurt again.
Then the long night began.
I sat with the President in his Residence 2nd floor office. He fired up a great big cigar, and he made a few quick calls. From his desk on the second floor of the Residence, the same one I used to work from, I called Governor Jeb. He gave us great assurances about Florida’s outcome. “Dad, it will be 51—47. We are going to win Florida for sure.”
He was right. The pundits, who dominated the screens, had Florida “in play”. None at that point predicted a clear win.
In one of the three conversations with Jeb, he told us that Michael Moore . . . had left Florida taking his cameras with him. He had hoped to record controversy and fraud, but Jeb said he left and said he was taking his hit men to Ohio because Florida was fraud free. This is the first time I have ever felt anything remotely positive about “Fahrenheit man.”40 . . .
Ohio soon became the focal point. The fact that the President had done so well in helping many of the newly elected Senators got little focus. It was Ohio, Ohio, Ohio. Fox was the first to call Ohio. The big feet at CBS and ABC refused to give the state to us. NBC did follow Fox after a while. (I may be off on this timing.)
Word came to the President that the margin in Ohio was large enough that he had no worry about the “provisional ballots”. Even if they all went for Kerry this would not change the results. Bush wins Ohio.
We hoped that Ohio’s Secretary of State would so state, but Secretary Blackwell was not to appear, not to say anything.
There was discussion about whether the President should just go out and declare victory. I feared that without the remaining major networks declaring that we had won Ohio, the President would be taking on not only Kerry &Co but the network anchors as well.
John Edwards came out, and we were glued to the TV as he stated in essence that they would fight on, that every vote would count. Those words invoked the Florida situation of 2000. I felt it was strange, a rather sorry performance. I am sure the Kerry campaign had given this unwelcome assignment.
The President decided to go to bed and not claim the victory that we all felt was his. I was totally in accord with that decision.
This morning early, very early, after 2 hours sleep the President was awake getting his coffee. I padded down the hall to get my coffee just as he was going back into his bedroom, coffee in hand. He filled me in on the latest details.
Shortly thereafter he asked me to come over to the Oval Office. I threw on my clothes and went over there. The two of us sat alone in that historic office. For me it was magic.
Then the phone calls to newly elected Senators began. The President also called and thanked some top campaign and White House staffers. Dan Bartlett, the able Communications guy, came in with the very latest.
Andy Card had contacted Mary Beth Cahill, Kerry’s top campaign person. Andy reported that she had been very nice. No word though on if and when Kerry might “fold ’em”. Condi stuck her head in and embraced the Presidents, father and son.
Thought was given to getting some respected Democratic elder statesman to talk sense to Kerry, it being so obvious, to us a least, that he was toast.
I felt Bob Strauss would be the ideal person to call, but none of us wanted to look like it was a White House pressure move. Strauss was totally trusted but I for one worried that some Kerry minion would find out about the call and leak it to the press as an example of unacceptable pressure and/or of trying to deny the people’s right to know or right to have every vote counted.
Andy Card, wonderful, loyal, able Andy Card, came in to fill the President in on the very latest.
I said goodbye, getting a warm abrazo from the President of the USA. I began to tear up a little. I went out the side door and headed for the diplomatic entrance on the ground floor of the Residence. The President followed me. I had a chance to tell him that I loved him and that I was very, very proud.
I went over to get Barbara who was boarding the limo. Together we walked back to the path just outside the Oval Office and she said goodbye to her son. Neil and Maria41 had a c
hance to congratulate the President, too. The President walked past the cars which by then had pulled up. I started to wave goodbye. He asked me to come over to the putting green where Barney, the Scotch terrier, was picking the golf balls out of the holes as the President sank the putts.
As I stood there along with him on the green, I was thinking to myself what lies ahead. Will God continue to give him the strength and perseverance he needs? What comes next in the fight against terror, in working with the Congress, in bringing our divided country together? What can he do to lower the decibels of hatred and anger?
And then to myself I was saying, I wish I could help this son of ours. I wish I could do something to help ease the burden, a burden incidentally that he never ever complains about.
But I cannot. I am an old guy. My experiences are out of date. Perhaps my instincts aren’t as good as I once thought they were.
The President said to me “Dad, do you realize that this is the first time since 1988 that a President has won with a clear majority of the vote?” My mind raced back to my win over Dukakis in 1988. Who would have thought back then that I would be bonding with my own son in that manner?
As we drove out the White House gate I thought back to many of the things I loved about living in that special house for four years. And I thought about how blessed we are to have a fine son who will now live there for four more years.
Now back to our tiny house in Houston, back to watching Crime TV, to listening to Imus, to reveling in the wonders that our grandkids bring us, and to counting so many blessings that have come my way over the last 80 years.
Your now relaxed friend, his gut quiet, his horizons bright sends his warmest wishes.
Victory. How sweet it is.
GB
I sent this e-mail to Marlin Fitzwater right before Christmas.
December 20, 2004
. . . All is well here. Bar and I and Neil’s family go to Camp David from here on the 23rd; and then, the day after Christmas, we take all the families back to Boca Grande [Fla.]. POTUS and FLOTUS go quietly off to chop cedar at Crawford.
No, life is good, Marlin. I miss friends from our Presidential past. I miss making decisions that matter; but I rejoice in the blessings of family; and I find that if you keep moving no one can lay a glove on you; so I still do “white collar crime” speeches. I avoid yellow pad conferences; and I am cutting back on going out whether to friends’ houses or to events. I rent Blockbuster oldies, mix a nice dry one, then sit with Bar alone reflectively in front of our TV. Our dog Sadie begs for the popcorn or pretzels or parmesan that we nibble on during the movie. We then put her on the leash and walk her like the two oldest most predictable farts imaginable.
I am already thinking “Kennebunkport”.
Have a wonderful Christmas and just know that Bar and I talk about you, think about you, and that we treasure our friendship with you.
Love at Christmas,
gb
A letter to one of my favorite authors.
January 8, 2005
Dear Mr. Wolfe or, since I am 80, is it OK to say
Dear Tom,
I write with a request. I would love to have your signature for my copy of “I Am Charlotte Simmons”. Could you possibly sign the attached book-plate?
I write also as a Book Reviewer, a new role for me. I loved the book. I recommended it to all my family. Three of our college age “grands” are reading it now. This may be confidential, but the President read it too. My Barbara read it, and like me, she loved it. She got past the bad language and the sex stuff, realizing that you were telling a profound tale.
The elitists back in New York’s Sutton Place high altitude simply do not get it. They did not “get” that anyone could vote for my son. And, from some reviews, it seems they did not “get” or want to get the fact that innocent Charlotte was subjected to elite pressures that in a sense overcame her. Charlotte was red state. The book’s negative critics were blue states.
I have often been accused of betraying my own elitist past simply to curry favor down here in Texas. Wrong! I am at home here and have felt that way since 1948 when we first moved to Odessa, Texas. I am Charlotte Simmons not Frank Rich.42 My Presidential library is at Texas A&M not at Yale. I loved Yale but I am at home on the Aggie campus.
I just wanted you to know that you did all readers a great favor by writing about the arrogance and snobbishness of Charlotte’s room mates and about those smartass fraternity boys. Jojo became something of a human being, too. As for the bright nerds they did some good, but they came off to me as trying too hard to be different, and, in their own way, above the others there at Dupont U. They were bright but not loveable. Their woman spokesperson tried to be foul mouthed just to impress. I disliked her, but empathized more with her than with Charlotte’s tormenters.
Thanks so much for a great read. It ranks with your very best and that, dear sir, is high praise for I have loved your other works.
Most Sincerely,
George Bush
PS—Pardon my sloppy typing. My handwriting, at age 80, wiggles like a seismometer (new word) in Sri Lanka.
A devastating tsunami in the Indian Ocean struck Southeast Asia on December 26, 2004. More than 230,000 people lost their lives, and millions more lost their homes and their livelihoods. The President asked President Clinton and myself to head up fund-raising in the private sector—the first of several “disaster” projects we undertook. I wrote this letter to Hugh Sidey after President Clinton and I visited some of the countries devastated by the tsunami.
February 22, 2005
Dear Hugh,
As I sit down to type we have just left Manila, now enroute to Guam, then enroute to Honolulu, then on to the final leg back to Houston. About 8 hours ago we left the Maldives, the final stop on our 4 country swing to inspect Tsunami damage.
It has been an amazing trip. The distances have been mind boggling. On Thursday evening I left Houston and flew to L.A. to join up with President Clinton. From there the Odyssey started. . . .
It is now Monday afternoon back there in Houston; and we have spent only two nights in hotels in the 4 countries we visited. One was in Phuket, Thailand. The other in Colombo, Sri Lanka. The other nights have been on board this plane.
The plane has one very comfortable VIP stateroom complete with private bath and a nice fold-out bed. President Clinton’s staff informed Jean [Becker] that he liked to stay awake at nights playing cards and chatting, so they insisted I take the state room while he took over the next cabin which had 8 seats in it but no place to stretch totally out. I worried about this, but when I offered him the bed along the way he politely declined.
Let me start by commenting on what it has been like traveling with Bill Clinton. I thought I knew him; but until this trip I did not really know him.
First of all, he has been very considerate of me. I think my old age had something to do with it. He always waited so we could go off the plane together, giving the greeters the old familiar “wave from the top of the stairs”. You’ve seen that a million times. You wave even if there is no one there to wave at.
The biggest problem was staying right on schedule so we would not inconvenience others who were waiting or holding traffic, or getting us to the various events.
I had always heard that Bill Clinton had his own time—Clinton Standard time. He does. I on the other hand am compulsively “on time”. It’s a mother thing. Mother used to lecture us about “being considerate of others” or about “not keeping others waiting.”
Our own kids all are good about being on time. The President is a real on time guy; and he has seen, as I did, that the staff stays on time. I’ll never forget one particular trip that helped my own staff realize that being on time was important. As V.P. I was heading off for Yugoslavia leaving out of Andrews AFB. One staffer manifested on the flight was not at the plane when I drove up.
We waited a little while and then I told the Colonel in charge of the plane to take off. Barbar
a was not happy since we were leaving her staff member in the dust.
We left, and it never happened again.
On the Tsunami trip it was hard to stay on time. President Clinton is very gregarious. He loves interacting with people. (I do, too, but not if it inconveniences a lot of other people.)
Example. Before leaving our hotel in Colombo we told our Ambassador that of course we’d like to meet with his staff and their families. We were told that we were to be downstairs at a certain time. I was there, my staff was there; but no sign of Clinton. The poor State Department advance guy was trying to keep us on schedule. He called and was told “We’ll be right down”. After another 7—10 minutes the Ambassador, worried that we would get off schedule for our helicopter tour ahead, said “Maybe you should go in and start by saying a few words.” I entered the ball room, went to the podium and just then the door flew open and bigger than life itsownself Bill Clinton strode in. “George, sorry if I’m late but I had to stop by the kitchen to say hi and thank all those good people.”
He loved meeting the people all along the way, and they gave him a very warm welcome whether it was the crowds in Malle, the Maldives or school children in ravaged Sri Lanka. He was far more easily recognized and to be frank got a warmer reception than I did, and mine was pretty darn good. Rationalization: Not to detract from Clinton’s star power with the crowds, but I have been out of office for a long, long time.
Bill did have an opinion on everything and asked questions on a lot of things. When the questions were answered he would then opine based on some experience of his own, somewhere, sometime ago.
Does this purification system use reverse osmosis? This is diesel driven isn’t it? I remember the hurricane damage I saw in Xland, or this reminds me of my trip to the Sudan, or I used to love to watch the kids singing in Ulan Bator. Boy, you haven’t seen a wedding til you’ve seen one in Swaziland. These are made up examples, but the point is on every subject at every place he went on about his own experiences. I do think people were fascinated.
All the Best, George Bush: My Life in Letters and Other Writings Page 74