Betty Ford: First Lady

by Lisa McCubbin

  “They went so overboard,” she said. “Everyone made me feel like I belonged; like I was part of their family.”

  With the snow outside, and a roaring fire in the fireplace, Betty and Jerry sat together on the couch as everyone else sprawled around wherever they could find a seat: on chairs, on the floor, on the hearth, taking turns playing Santa to hand out the gifts. There was nothing Betty loved more than having her whole family together, laughing, teasing one another, making memories. It had been one heck of a year, and they’d made it through, their family bond stronger than ever before.

  During the flight back to Washington, Special Agent in Charge Dick Keiser got word that President Ford wanted to speak with him in the presidential cabin. He walked in, and Jerry and Betty were sitting there together, looking very relaxed, having had a nice week with friends and family.

  “Hey, Dick,” the president said. “You guys did an excellent job this week. I felt very comfortable, and we all had a wonderful time.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” Keiser said. “I appreciate that.”

  “There’s just one question I have. You know, you asked me to wear different outfits every day?”

  “Yes, sir. We appreciated you doing that for us.”

  “Well, you know, Dick,” the president said with a smile, “Larry Buendorf had that bright yellow jacket and he wore it every day. Anybody who was looking for me, all they had to do was find the guy in the yellow jacket and know that I’d be right next to him.”

  Betty couldn’t help but snicker as she watched the six-foot-two, fearless special agent blush bright red. “Yes, sir, Mr. President,” Keiser said. “You have a point. A very good point. We will reevaluate our procedures.”

  Ever since Betty had seen the women lining up for breast cancer screenings and mammograms, she had come to recognize the power of her position—a power that could be used to help others. The calendar had turned to 1975, and with her mastectomy behind her, Betty was eager to start the New Year working for the causes she cared about most.

  First on the agenda was the Equal Rights Amendment—something Betty could relate to from her own experiences. It sought to level the playing field for women in all aspects of life—including divorce, property ownership, and employment. Betty felt strongly about this and was determined to use her platform, and her ability to speak directly to the president, to turn the ERA into a reality.

  16

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  The First Lady Speaks Out

  Nineteen seventy-five had been declared International Women’s Year, after nearly a decade of work by the Presidential Commission on the Status of Women (PCSW). The PCSW was established in 1961 under President John F. Kennedy to investigate questions about women’s equality in education, the workplace, and under the law. After much urging from Betty, on January 9, 1975, President Ford signed an executive order establishing a National Commission on the Observance of International Women’s Year. Although this order didn’t have any legal or legislative force, “it had moral force,” Betty said. It meant the president of the United States was standing up for women and the Equal Rights Amendment, and against “legal inequities between sexes.”

  Betty stood next to her husband in the Cabinet Room, packed with press and supporters. With pen in hand, President Ford looked up at his wife and, with a teasing smile, said, “Before I sign this, Betty, if you have any words of wisdom or encouragement, you are welcome to speak.”

  Amid the laughter, Betty didn’t hesitate to respond. “I just want to congratulate you, Mr. President,” she said, grinning broadly. “I am glad to see that you have come a long, long way.”

  More laughter, as the president shook his head with amusement. “I don’t quite know how to respond to that.”

  To get the Equal Rights Amendment ratified as part of the US Constitution required thirty-eight states voting to approve it. Thus far, they were five states short. Equal rights for women was something Betty felt strongly about, and she was determined to use her influence, both privately with her husband—“pillow talk at the end of the day, when I figured he was most tired and vulnerable”—and publicly.

  Her first overt action was to write a letter to a member of the North Dakota State Assembly just a few days before it came up for vote there. The assemblyman read her letter aloud during the session, and it made an impact. North Dakota became the thirty-fourth state to ratify the amendment. Now only four states were needed. Over the course of the next few weeks, as various states were about to vote, Betty picked up the phone and called prominent state legislators urging them to support the ERA. For a state lawmaker to receive a personal phone call from the first lady was impressive, and even those who disagreed with her often bragged about getting the phone call, which gave her side of the issue an elevated position.

  When a group protested that the first lady was using a White House telephone line—suggesting she was using taxpayer dollars to lobby for the ERA—Betty had an outside line installed so she could continue making calls as a private citizen from her “home office.”

  Indeed, the ERA had some formidable opposition, the loudest voice of which was Phyllis Schlafly, a Republican Party activist who had created an antiamendment campaign called Stop ERA. Schlafly believed that family and traditional values were under attack. She opposed the ERA because she believed it would open the door to same-sex marriage, abortion, the military draft for women, coed bathrooms, and the end of labor laws that barred women from dangerous workplaces. She claimed that equality would be a step down for most women, who, she said, “are extremely well treated” by society and laws. Schlafly painted women who were for ERA as bra-burning women’s libbers. She rallied throngs of housewives against ERA and went around the country talking about motherhood.

  Meanwhile, Betty made call after call to lawmakers across the country, explaining her feeling that women should have the option to be homemakers, and there was nothing wrong with that—she herself had raised four children and not had a career—but even housewives should have equal opportunities for education, an equal chance to establish credit, and equal Social Security. If a woman entered the workplace, she should be given the same rights as any man and earn equal pay for the same work. She spoke in her naturally soft voice, employing flattery, gentle persuasion, and charm, using the power of her position to get her point of view heard.

  For legislators with daughters, there was conversation on the cost of raising a girl: “It just isn’t right that we pay so much to educate them, only to find that they don’t have the same chance to use their education.” For those more liberal leaning, she talked about her career before marriage, and for those who thought the ERA would destroy families, she reminisced about the joys of being a mother to four children. It wasn’t about forcing women to give up being mothers or housewives, but about giving them equal rights no matter what path they chose.

  “Frankly, I enjoy being a mother, and I am not about to burn my bra—I need it!” she told one reporter. But she took to proudly wearing a “Ratify ERA in 1975” pin on her lapel, so there was no doubt about which side she was on.

  Not since Eleanor Roosevelt had a first lady been so willing to take an unequivocal position on a controversial, and highly emotional, political issue. Thousands of letters poured into the White House—three-quarters of them against Mrs. Ford’s position on the ERA. When asked about the criticism, Betty told the press, “I’m going to stick to my guns on this. I expected criticism, and I’m not bothered by it.”

  One day Betty looked out the window from the third floor and saw a group of protesters gathered outside the White House holding signs that said “Betty Ford Is Trying to Press a Second-Rate Manhood on American Women” and “Women Want Equal Pay, Not ERA.” This gave her the distinction of being the first president’s wife to be picketed for her own political stance.

  When asked about the voluminous amount of negative feedback, Betty commented that she thought those who were for the amendment were sitting back and not w
riting. That did the trick. Thousands more letters arrived at the White House, and within two weeks, the tide had completely reversed, with nearly 6,000 letters favoring the ERA versus 2,500 against.

  It was around this time that Betty realized there was some inequality at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue too. She was returning to the White House from an event one day, just as the president was preparing to leave. The presidential limousine sat parked outside the South Portico, its flags with the presidential seal on either side of the front hood flapping in the breeze, as the first lady’s driver brought her car to a stop just behind it. As she got out of the car, she turned to Agent Dick Hartwig and joked, “Why don’t I have any flags? I’m the first lady. Don’t I deserve a flag?”

  Everyone laughed, and they went inside.

  That night, Agent Hartwig told his fiancée, Sally, the story. He adored Mrs. Ford, and would often share anecdotes about her sense of humor.

  “We should make Mrs. Ford a flag,” Sally suggested. So, she and a friend got to work designing a special flag for the first lady, and about two weeks later, Agent Hartwig brought it to the White House.

  He arranged for David Kennerly to be there, along with several members of the first lady’s staff, to surprise Mrs. Ford with a tongue-in-cheek ceremonial presentation of the handmade first lady flag.

  It was blue satin, trimmed with white lace and braid decorated with red and blue stars. In the middle of it, carefully stuffed, shaped, and formed was a pair of red and white lace-trimmed bloomers, in honor of Betty’s maiden name. In bold white letters on top of the bloomers it said: “Don’t Tread on Me,” and at the bottom “ERA.” It even had an opening along the left side so that it could be attached to a fender pole on the car.

  “She really got a kick out of it,” Agent Hartwig recalled. “Of course, we couldn’t actually fly it from the car,” he said, but she hung it from the front of her desk in the East Wing, keeping it proudly on display from that day on.

  In the end, the ERA would not get the required number of states necessary to add it to the Constitution—even though Congress ultimately extended the deadline, it officially failed in 1982—but Betty vowed to keep on fighting, and at least she had her own first lady flag.

  Another major issue plaguing the country at this time was high inflation. People were struggling to make ends meet in the stagnant economy, and while President Ford was working on financial policies to get the country growing, Betty announced that she would make her own small contribution by no longer spending money on expensive designer clothing. But with public functions to attend almost daily, she needed far more dresses, both day and evening, than she ever had before. Shortly after they returned to Washington from Vail, Betty read an article in the newspaper about an up-and-coming New York City designer named Albert Capraro who used only American-made fabrics and designed dresses that sold for as little as $70.

  One of the perks of being first lady, she had discovered, was that whenever she wanted to call anyone, all she had to do was pick up the phone and ask the White House operator to connect her.

  Capraro, who had just gone into business for himself after eight years as an assistant to Oscar de la Renta, was sitting in his Manhattan office and sketching some ideas for his summer collection when the phone rang.

  “Mr. Capraro? This is Betty Ford. I noticed your designs in the Washington Star-News, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to come to Washington to discuss making some clothes for me.”

  Two days later, Capraro arrived at the White House with a book of sketches. The thirty-one-year-old designer, who sported what he called a “Renaissance beard,” had an animated personality, and Betty liked him immediately.

  She brought him into her closet, so he could see what she already had in her wardrobe, to show him the styles she preferred. Suits, dresses, and evening gowns were organized by color, and every piece had a card attached to the hanger, on which she or Nancy Howe would write where, when, and to what event the outfit was worn, including the shoes and accessories she’d worn with it.

  “These are two of my favorites,” she said, pulling out two Oscar de la Renta dresses.

  Capraro laughed. “Those are my designs!” he said. “I designed those when I worked as an assistant for Oscar.”

  As they sat down to look over sketches, they bonded with their shared passion for fashion, talking chiffons and jersey, silk and suede. He took her measurements and recorded them carefully in a notebook, and after a few hours, she’d ordered twelve outfits. The best part was that she’d managed not to stray too far over the $1,000 budget her husband had authorized. Additionally, Capraro agreed to design some evening gowns for her out of some magnificent silk fabrics the president had brought back from a recent trip to the Far East.

  As soon as word got out that the first lady had ordered her spring wardrobe from him, Albert Capraro became a household name. Betty was delighted. “She loved helping someone new,” Susan Ford said. And Capraro was equally charmed by his newest client. He noted how her eyes changed from blue to green depending on the clothes she wore and described her as a “perfect model: size six, five feet five and a half inches tall, a hundred and six pounds.”

  Capraro would go on to design many fashions for both Betty and Susan. “We always had fun with Albert,” Susan recalled.

  As in most work environments, there is inevitably discord among coworkers, and the first lady’s office was not immune. Betty had come to rely on Nancy Howe as an all-round assistant—a pseudo chief of staff—but over time Nancy became the center of controversy.

  “I called her the palace guard,” Press Secretary Sheila Weidenfeld said. “She was always upstairs with Mrs. Ford and kept tight rein on who was allowed to see the first lady, and when.”

  Nancy was paid as White House staff, and while her role was undefined, there is no denying she was devoted to Betty Ford. She’d typically arrive at the White House around seven in the morning to handle the personal letters that arrived daily for the first lady. At nine she’d head upstairs to the residence, and with Betty still in her dressing gown, the two would go over everything from the 170 invitations a week to appear somewhere, to Betty’s clothing needs, planned remarks, and guest lists for state dinners or other functions. Unless Betty had a luncheon event, the two would eat together—usually a sandwich or a salad—in the light-filled North Lobby.

  Newspaper columnist Betty Beale had written several articles about Howe and her unequivocal access to the first lady, articles for which Nancy had happily provided comment. Nancy had stated that she was “the only White House staffer regularly in the mansion for a nightly aperitif with Mrs. Ford and the president when he joins the two of them around 7 pm in the North Lobby sitting room,” Beale wrote. The article described Nancy as “vivacious” and “bubbly,” noting that the Southern-talking aide had adopted a private name for Mrs. Ford. She called her “Petunia,” and according to Nancy, the name “tickled” the first lady.

  But Nancy’s control over Betty’s schedule—and the annoying “Petunia” this and “Petunia” that—increasingly became a flashpoint with others. Even Susan started complaining that she’d often get blocked when she wanted to have a private conversation with her mother.

  “It’s not a good time,” Nancy would say.

  “She interfered with our relationship,” Susan recalled. And even though Susan had mentioned the problem to her mother, Betty couldn’t imagine getting along without Nancy and didn’t realize the extent to which Nancy was controlling everything.

  On Sunday, March 2, 1975, the Fords were at Camp David when Betty opened the paper to the Family Weekly magazine supplement and saw the headline “Betty Ford’s Best Friend.”

  It was all about Nancy Howe. “There’s a new job description at the White House these days—best friend to the first lady,” the article began. “Since government service has no such title, however, Nancy Lee Howe, who is the virtual shadow of the first lady, is listed as ‘Special Assistant to Mrs. Ford.’ ”r />
  Betty was furious. She did not think of Nancy as her best friend. Yes, they spent a great deal of time together, and theirs was a friendship that went beyond simply an employer-employee relationship, but clearly Nancy had done an interview, without Betty’s knowledge, and had proclaimed herself “best friend.”

  Betty called Sheila Weidenfeld. “She was hysterical,” Sheila recalled.

  Sheila explained to the first lady that she had discouraged Nancy from talking to the reporter—it was inappropriate, and she’d never endorsed the idea. But Nancy proceeded anyway.

  “She is not my best friend!” Betty sobbed. “I am so mad. I am so mad that right now, as I talk to you, I am rolling this article up into a ball and throwing it into the fire, where it belongs! I’m going to fire Nancy!”

  The worst part, really, was that Susan had been trying to tell her mother for months how controlling Nancy was, how others on the staff had been complaining about her “palace guard” attitude, and how she had isolated Betty from her other friends and even family members. Betty had seen only loyalty and devotion, until now.

  Between Susan, David Kennerly, and a call from her military aide Ric Sardo, whom Betty had come to trust and whose opinion she valued, by the end of the day, Betty had calmed down. She wouldn’t fire Nancy, but she would certainly be more cognizant of how things were being run.

  It had become tradition for the Fords to spend Easter in Palm Springs, where a number of their friends spent the winter. The president liked the golf, and Betty enjoyed the dry, warm weather getaway during what was typically a dreary time in Washington. Normally the Fords stayed at Thunderbird Country Club, but this year Jerry’s close friend Fred Wilson, a wealthy insurance executive, and his wife had offered their home, which would accommodate the needs of the Secret Service for security purposes.