My Father, My President

by Doro Bush Koch

  Within a couple of days, my children and I had Secret Service protection. I remember shortly after that, Robert fell on the playground at his all-boys’ school. Within minutes, the Secret Service had rushed across the lot with a first-aid kit—to Robert’s surprise and the teacher’s chagrin. The school’s motto is “Play hard, pray hard, be a good guy.” Usually, if Robert falls at school, the teachers tell him to shake it off—and while he’s at it, get a haircut.

  There was great turmoil and uncertainty across the country as well, and my brother—and our First Lady—sought to comfort our nation while also showing our resolve to the world. I was particularly proud of Laura, whose calm demeanor and nurturing personality reassured us all. One of the media outlets dubbed the First Lady the “Comforter in Chief” for the way she helped to pull us all through, and for once I think the media got it right!

  On September 14, the president and First Lady led the nation in prayer at a service held at the National Cathedral. I felt very fortunate to be able to attend that service with Mom and Dad. Also present were Vice President and Mrs. Cheney, most of the cabinet, President and Senator Clinton (with Chelsea), President and Mrs. Carter, President and Mrs. Ford, and other national and international dignitaries.

  I remember sitting in the National Cathedral, where I had gone many times as a schoolgirl, and thinking how much our nation had changed since those innocent days. Our nation was under attack. There was a tremendous amount of emotion within those stone walls that day. After the president delivered his remarks, he returned to his seat, and Dad reached over to squeeze his arm in a silent show of support.

  From there, the president flew to New York to see for himself the wreckage at Ground Zero. There, overcoming concerns for his safety raised by the Secret Service, he stood on the rubble of the towers and, using a bullhorn, promised that “the people who did that will be hearing from all of us soon.”

  Then on September 20, my brother went to Capitol Hill to address a joint session of Congress.

  “I was very proud of his leadership,” Dad said, “and I thought his statement to the joint session of the U.S. Congress made very clear to the nation what our priorities are and what he was determined to do. The country saw a man who was in charge, who wanted to do what is right, and wanted to do it in a just manner. He did not want to hurt innocent people in the process, but he was determined to root out this terror. And I think that statement to the country was perhaps the proudest moment Barbara and I had—sitting there watching him with tears in our eyes.”

  In the weeks that followed, Washington was a different town. People displayed American flags everywhere—on cars, in front of homes, on lapel pins—and people were far more courteous to each other than usual. Like everyone else, I felt the need to do what I could to support our president and our troops. That Christmas, I joined a group of friends who had figured out what we could do in our own small way: we partnered with a computer company to videotape messages from families to the troops overseas, and they made sure the tapes got to our soldiers in Afghanistan in time for the holidays. We felt it was the least we could do for the brave men and women who were protecting us.

  Two quick postscripts to 9/11: About a year later, I was at the White House visiting the president with family and friends in the private quarters when a Secret Service agent approached the president. The agent had broken into a sweat, and after taking one look at him, my brother immediately asked what was wrong. The agent explained that an airplane had unexpectedly flown into the restricted airspace near the White House. The president turned to us and said, “Everyone, we have to leave right now. Let’s go!”

  Children were rounded up, the presidential dogs were grabbed, and we all started running as fast as we could down the back stairs of the White House to safety. I grabbed my youngest daughter Gigi’s hand in a death grip and led her downstairs with the other children right behind. In the rush, Sam called out, “Hey, Mom, do you want me to grab that painting of George Washington off the wall?” He was a history major, and I guess he was thinking of following in Dolley Madison’s footsteps when she rescued the painting when the British burned the White House. Sam’s humor was not appreciated by his mother at the time, although now it does seem funny. Thankfully, the whole episode turned out to be a false alarm.

  September 11, 2002—the first anniversary of the terrorist attacks—was a beautiful day in Kennebunkport. At 8:15 a.m., Dad called the staff office and Secret Service command post on Walker’s Point and asked everyone to come to the Big House. Jim Nantz and his wife, Lorrie; pro golfer Davis Love and his wife, Robin; and the head pro at the Shadow Hawk Golf Club in Houston, Paul Marchand, and his wife, Judy, were all visiting. The night before, the group piled into Mom and Dad’s bedroom at the Big House in Kennebunkport and watched a DVD about a man who lost two sons on that awful day in New York City—one a fireman and one a policeman. The film left everyone speechless.

  “At 8:46 a.m., we gathered around the flagpole overlooking the ocean with the flag waving in the light morning breeze and bowed our heads for a moment of silence,” remembered Paul Marchand. “There were no cameras—just a personal moment of grieving.”

  From there, they watched the national service that included my brother George and Laura and then the group attended a church service in Kennebunkport conducted by several area ministers. Paul noticed that, upon arriving at the church and before entering his pew, Dad genuflected on one knee and lowered his head. For maybe thirty seconds, he was lost in prayer before taking his seat.

  The service was short with prayers, homilies, and hymns.

  “As it happened, I was the only one to drive back to Walker’s Point with the president from the service,” Paul said. “In the car, President Bush’s tears were flowing. I said, ‘Are you okay?’ He said, ‘I think about the families of those who were lost and I think about George and how difficult these times are.’”

  Just as Dad fulfilled a long-held desire to make a parachute jump in 1997, he also completed another special mission in July 2002 when he traveled back to the Pacific island of Chi Chi Jima where he was shot down in September 1944. Jean Becker and CNN’s Paula Zahn made the journey with Dad, as did author James Bradley, whose book Fly Boys detailed eight navy and marine airmen who were shot down, captured, and executed by the Japanese forces on Chi Chi Jima. The ninth airman in Bradley’s book, Lieutenant George H. W. Bush, escaped capture.

  Before they left, Dad told Paula, “This is something I have thought about every single day since the day I was shot down.”

  “He said that there were all these unanswered questions that troubled him that he was hoping this trip would answer for him,” Paula recalled.

  Because his trip was facilitated in part by the Japanese government, Dad first visited Atsugi on the Japanese mainland, a facility near Tokyo shared by the U.S. Navy and Japan’s Maritime Self-Defense Force. From there, they flew to Iwo Jima, where they stayed for the night.

  The next morning, Dad took part in raising a ceremonial U.S. flag on Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima, site of a vicious 1945 battle where the U.S. Marines suffered some 28,000 casualties [killed and wounded] and where Japan lost some 21,000.

  His hosts asked him if he would mind stopping at a memorial for the kamikaze pilots. “I felt funny at first, since my own ship had been attacked by kamikaze pilots, but I am glad I did it. Those Japanese pilots were not terrorists. They were uniformed officers who paid the last full measure of devotion attempting to save the lives of their embattled compatriots,” Dad said to me.

  Then the group jumped into helicopters, and some of the Japanese military officials handed Dad a map of the coastline they would be flying over.

  “Once we landed on Chi Chi Jima, his mood changed tremendously,” Paula said. “In the helicopter, we were in the air for about an hour and he was looking at maps of the coastline very, very carefully with a couple military officials pointing out to him what some of the bombing runs involved; and as we got closer and closer t
o Chi Chi Jima, they actually flew over the exact spot where his Avenger went down. I could see he was thinking very intensely about that day.”

  When they landed on Chi Chi Jima, roughly a hundred people with beautiful leis around their necks waved American flags, and it seemed every woman who came to honor Dad placed a lei around his neck as well. At one point, he was wearing about fifteen leis.

  From the airport, the group traveled in a very small motorcade to what would be the equivalent of the island’s town hall, where the local politicians held a reception for Dad and talked about his war experience.

  “As I watched this lunch unfold with local politician after local politician honoring him and saying incredible things about his valor, I was trying to imagine how many of them had relatives who perhaps targeted him when he was doing his bombing runs,” Paula recalled. “As it turned out, we actually united the president with a man now who must be in his late eighties who was on duty the day President Bush was shot down, training his guns on the president’s plane.”

  The Japanese military officials did a lot of research before this trip and were able to pinpoint the exact spot where Dad’s TBM Avenger was shot down—not far off the coast. So they took boats a half mile out, and Dad got into a rubber dingy by himself and floated out to the spot where he landed in the water.

  “He wanted to try and remember what it was like to be in the water that day,” Paula explained. “He wanted to be able to focus on the coastline, remember how far out he was and how terrified he was. More importantly, he was coming to this exact spot to pay honor to his fallen friends, John Delaney and Ted White.”

  Dad took a couple of wreaths with him in the rubber dingy and spent ten minutes reflecting before he very slowly placed the wreaths in the water in honor of his two fallen comrades.

  “During that trip, I saw the sands on which so many gave their lives,” Dad said. “I hate the word ‘closure’—it’s overused these days—but maybe the whole trip was about closure. It was certainly about reconciliation.”

  Lud Ashley once said that Dad’s greatest accomplishment in life is his family. Mom and Dad now have seventeen grandchildren. I’ve spoken with some of the older ones while working on this book. Each of them has their own unique relationship with my father—all of them tender and sweet in their own way.

  As Dad has become more computer literate, he has found that a great way to keep in touch with his grandchildren is by e-mail. He uses the technology to stay in touch with them from wherever he is in the world, and wherever they are in their lives.

  “He e-mails all the time, so he’s always caught up with everyone,” my niece Barbara said. “He definitely knows what’s going on in our lives. For example, once when I broke up with my boyfriend, he made me reenact the breakup. Gampy played my boyfriend, and I played myself doing the breakup. It was at the [Crawford] ranch. He just wanted to see how I handled that. He was curious how it went and wanted some serious details.”

  Dad also wrote to my nephew Jebby, Jeb and Columba’s youngest son, after he got into trouble while at college.

  Jebster,

  I, of course, was disappointed to hear about your woes. Just vow not to do it again. I think of the worries that your Dad, and probably your Mom have. But you can make all that right by making a good record as you finish out UT.

  Advice from Gampy: Remember to be a good sport when the Aggies beat UT.

  When we get back (leave here October 11) we want you to come stay with us either in Houston or up at Aggieland.

  I love you, and except for this incident, I am very proud of you. You are a good man, so don’t let ’em get you down.

  Devotedly, The one, the only Gampster

  Here’s a note from Dad to Lauren, Neil’s daughter, who had asked if she could have a few friends from Princeton University up to Kennebunkport before the summer:

  Darn it, darn it, darn it. The plumbing at the point is all off, no water running, no flushing, no washing. The houses do not get opened up until the second week in May when we get up there (hopefully). I am so sorry we can’t have those other tigers there. I would have sung “Boola Boola” and in other ways tried to make them feel at home, too.

  How is your thesis going? How are your marks over all? Any Ables? Any Dogs?

  Do find time later in the summer to come up to Kport after we are all settled in on “the Point.”

  This from your devoted, Gampy, with tons of love.

  At the end of the summer of 2003, he wrote to George P., Noelle, Jebby, Lauren, Pierce, Ashley, Barbara, Jenna, Marshall, Walker, Sam, Ellie, Robert, and Gigi. He refers to his English springer spaniel, Sadie, at the end:

  In exactly 69 minutes we drive out of the gate of the point we love so much. The trek back to Houston begins. We speak at West Virginia Monday, then fly back to Houston Monday evening.

  Yesterday Bill Busch and I took a final run in Fidelity. It was heaven. Swells but no real chop on the sea. There were tons of mackerel breaking the water but no blues, no stripers chasing them. We did see some tuna, obviously in quest of a mackerel lunch. I left Bill off on his boat here at the point then roared back to the river—going full blast. I am sure it was over 60. I felt about 19 years old.

  The only thing wrong with the last five months is that none of you were here enough. Oh I know some got to stay as long as usual, but there never can be enough of having all of you here. Next year, promise this old gampster that you will spend more time with us here by the sea.

  I am a very happy Gampy. My legs don’t bend too well. As you know I have had to give up fly fishing off the rocks, but there is plenty left to do—plenty of wonderful things.

  I think of all of you an awful lot. I just wonder how each of you is doing—in life, in college, in school.

  If you need me, I am here for you, because I love you very much. This comes from your devoted, Gampy.

  PS—I never went in the ocean this year. The first time in my 78 years here (I missed 1949) that I haven’t gone in. Sad am I, but I got huge kicks of seeing you dive off the pier. I got a clear shot at that from Jean’s office window.

  Sadie just came in. She is very nervous. She sees the bags. She knows Ariel, Paula and Alicia left a week ago. Now she prances around viewing the horrid suitcases wondering what’s next for her. She’ll be OK in Houston but she’ll miss Kport—of that I am sure.

  The grandchildren can tell how much he is enjoying life after the White House. “After he was past the presidency, Gampy just became very carefree and let all of the burdens that he had as president go,” my niece Jenna said. “He loves to travel and do fun things. Gampy has given us so many opportunities after he’s been president to be together as a family.”

  Jenna’s right, and as a result the cousins have grown especially close over the years despite how public their lives have been at times. “There are always reasons for us to see each other and stay in touch, but also I think the whole political environment makes you cautious sometimes about who you trust and who you are going to choose as your friends,” her sister Barbara added. “No one has ever had to be like that in our family because everyone trusted each other and everyone depends on each other. I don’t really have that many issues with it, because I have really great friends. All of our family members have really great friends, too, but that’s something you have in the back of your mind.”

  On June 5, 2004, President Reagan passed away after a ten-year struggle with Alzheimer’s disease. Thousands of mourners filled the streets of Washington, D.C., after his body lay in state in the U.S. Capitol and was taken to services at Washington National Cathedral. Both my brother and my father spoke at the service, and in his eulogy, Dad said, “As his vice president for eight years, I learned more from Ronald Reagan than from anyone I encountered in all my years of public life.”

  It was an emotional moment for Dad, as he has a difficult time getting through any funeral, but especially for a good friend like President Reagan. Seeing the Reagan family hold up so strongl
y helped him get through his remarks without choking up.

  After the services concluded, Dad and Mom left immediately for Dad’s long-scheduled eightieth birthday celebration in Houston.

  The birthday extravaganza was named “41@80” and thousands of old and new friends were invited to Houston for an elaborate celebration at Minute Maid Park. Larry King emceed, and entertainers such as Crystal Gale, Ronan Tynan, and Amy Grant and Vince Gill performed. Dad’s friends from the sporting world spoke—Chrissie Evert, Greg Norman, among others. Many current and former world leaders who had been previously invited to Dad’s celebration joined him at President Reagan’s funeral and then came to Houston. There were fireworks, and, to the delight of the crowd, the Golden Knights, the elite skydivers from the U.S. Army, sailed through an opening in the stadium roof.

  Larry King told me, “The proudest thing I did was when he asked me to host his eightieth birthday. That was the night I had to settle things when every foreign leader wanted to talk.”

  Larry continued, “We’re running late, so I said to them all, ‘Listen, fellows, why don’t one of you speak for all of you?’ So Mulroney said, ‘Well, I know him the best. I’ll speak for two or three minutes, represent all of us.’ Gorbachev goes, ‘Nyet! I will speak or no one will speak.’ And then Gorbachev sits down. I’ve got them all standing back there and now I don’t know what to do. I go over to your father and I said, ‘Listen, I’ve got a problem here. I got them all, it’s running close to eleven o’clock, what do I do?’

  “Your father said, ‘Gorbachev saved the world. We can’t dump Gorbachev. This is a diplomatic thing.’ Then he said to me, ‘Figure it out.’ I went back and said, ‘Okay, come back, Mr. Gorbachev, you speak and the others will stand behind you. You’ll represent them all, two or three minutes.’ He said, ‘Three minutes? Nyet. Don’t limit me to three minutes.’