My Father, My President

by Doro Bush Koch

  “Now the world leaders are all looking at each other, like, oh, boy. Then Dan Quayle leans over and says to me, ‘I told you.’ It was a comedy. Gorbachev got up, but they couldn’t stand next to him, they had to stand behind him. And he gave a very witty seven-minute speech. Prime Minister Mulroney was very sporting. They all understood. They said, ‘Listen, this is what we’ve got to do.’ That was a terrific moment.”

  The next day, everyone boarded buses and a special Union Pacific train to College Station, where the Bush Library is located. The Oak Ridge Boys sang under a big tent, the Texas A&M Wranglers danced, and everyone ate barbecue. The highlight of the day, of course, was when Dad jumped out of an airplane with the Golden Knights.

  On the day of the big jump, my niece Lauren went out at dawn with Dad for a practice jump. (Some members of our family had done a jump the day before, without Dad, and she wanted to go again.) “I drive out to the airfield and it’s just Gampy and me jumping, because he wanted to prove to them that he could go alone. I’d gone the day before, so I wasn’t panicked. There were all these younger guys who obviously idolized Gampy. They’re in the plane, too. Gampy and I were at separate ends of the plane so it’s hard to talk. It was a really special moment. It was really early, so the light was beautiful. I just liked being there with him.”

  Dad’s big jump at the party—in front of the crowd—went off without a hitch, and the entire weekend was a great success. Overall, it raised almost $60 million for my parents’ favorite charities and brought together an international cast of dignitaries.

  “George really wanted me to jump with a parachute together with him on the day of his eightieth birthday,” President Gorbachev told me. “I replied, half in jest, that he shouldn’t subject my life to such a risk, since I had not had the same practice that he had. I promised him that after his landing I would meet him with a bouquet of flowers. I kept my promise, adding a bottle of vodka into the bargain.”

  George’s 2004 reelection campaign was approaching, and Barbara and Jenna were thinking about going out on the campaign trail for the first time. In 2000, they were just freshmen in college when their dad ran for president. He never wanted them to be in the public eye if they didn’t want to. This time around, however, they were at a good time in their lives to help and didn’t want to feel that they hadn’t helped if their dad lost. They traveled together and were very effective letting people know more about the president.

  Many of the grandchildren were old enough to participate in the campaign. George P., who was a star in 2000, was not able to campaign as much as he wanted because of his job as a law clerk; but the campaign sent Sam and Ellie to Colorado, to put up signs and pass out brochures.

  I was happy to join Jenna and Barbara on the campaign’s “W Stands for Women” grassroots effort aimed at getting out the women’s vote. Every vote counted. George thought the women’s vote was key—naturally, because he’s surrounded himself with so many strong women, like his chief political adviser, Karen Hughes, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, and Margaret Spellings, his former domestic policy adviser and now secretary of education, to name a few.

  My sister-in-law, Tricia Koch, and I packed our bags—that way, when a call from the campaign came, we were ready to go at a moment’s notice. The eight children between us whom we left behind were well taken care of, and when we were gone, they wore their George W. gear. My mother was worried about our husbands, but thanks to the miracle of microwaves and frozen food, we knew everyone would be fine. This was a close election, and as we later found out the hard way, everyone’s efforts made an enormous difference.

  My favorite part of being on the campaign was traveling to places I’d never been and meeting all kinds of people who genuinely care about their country. I marched in parades and rode on fire engines. Along the way, I experienced the innate decency of the American people.

  Here’s an e-mail Dad sent to my nieces Barbara and Jenna, George and Laura’s twins, just before the 2004 election.

  After leaving you I went to a good rally with Gov Jeb. Now I head to Houston on this great plane. But it is lonely here now. No twins to brighten my life. No cute and stylish introducers. No sleeping beauties to look over at saying to myself “are those 2 sleeping beauties the same two who bugged me about the aliens and sic-ed that cat on me in Austin?”

  I am getting older, girls. Maybe you noticed that I walk a little different and that my hearing is less able to handle the diphthongs and the decibels.

  But what you cannot possibly know is what is deeply ingrained in my heart. I tease you. I show off in front of your friends. You name it.

  But you can’t really know the depth of my pride in you. And you cannot possibly know how much I love you both.

  I am an old man now. I hate to admit it, but one reason I want to stay alive a lot longer is to watch you go on now to your exciting lives ahead and maybe, just maybe, get to hug your kids.

  Win or lose on Tuesday, and I am now more confident it is “win,” I will be there for you. You have your own great Mom and Dad but if you ever need a shoulder to cry or an old guy to laugh with count me in.

  I just want to be sure that you both know of my pride in you and of my love.

  This from the one, the only Gampy aka The Gampster

  On election night, November 3, the early exit polls looked terrible. I was so worried that I told Mom I’d rather not come down to the White House where everyone was gathering. I had been doing satellite television interviews up to the final hours and couldn’t stand the thought of my brother losing. But Mom ordered me to come, in that voice from my childhood: “Get. Down. Here. Right. Now.”

  After 2000, the last thing my brother, the First Lady, the nation, and the rest of us needed was another cliff-hanger. After Minnesota was called for Senator Kerry at 4:38 a.m. the next day, as well as Michigan at 5:30 a.m., my brother was leading 269 to 238. Only Ohio and its 31 electoral votes hung in the balance. Thankfully, Senator Kerry spared the nation another contentious recount. He decided not to legally challenge the Ohio results and called the president at 11:00 the morning after the election to concede. Upon hearing the news, we took the kids out of school and joined thousands of supporters at the Reagan Building in Washington, D.C., for the president’s victory speech.

  In all the excitement of the night before, Laura remembered seeing Dad in a touching scene: “Little Kate Cheney, the vice president’s granddaughter, was here. Kate was in second or third grade. She was the only little person there. Gampy had this very long conversation with her. She was telling him about her teacher who had fifteen cats. On the night of such an emotional roller coaster, here was the father of the candidate centered enough that he could have a conversation like that.”

  Chapter 25

  CEILING AND VISIBILITY UNLIMITED

  “I can’t see the notch in the hills across the ocean, the notch that I navigate by to get to Perkins Cove, so in that sense visibility is less than perfect; and yet I can confidently tell my kids my life is CAVU—ceiling and visibility are truly unlimited for your devoted dad.”

  — my father in a letter to his children, preparing to leave Maine for the winter

  On December 26, 2004, an underwater earthquake off the coast of Sumatra measuring 9.0 on the Richter scale triggered the most devastating tsunami in recorded history, unleashing waves of death and destruction around the entire Indian Ocean perimeter. As word reached our family in Florida, where we had gathered for Christmas, the horrible news and video images shattered the Christmas calm of the holiday season in the wake of my brother’s grueling reelection campaign.

  The initial reports suggesting that 3,000, then 30,000, then 100,000 were lost didn’t begin to tell the whole story. In the end, over 273,000 lives were lost—more than a third of whom just vanished without a trace. The physical damage to homes, schools, roads, and mosques was just as profound.

  A week later, the president stood in the Roosevelt Room of the White House with Dad and Pre
sident Clinton and announced that his two predecessors would team up to raise awareness of various groups helping victims recover from this catastrophe. Thus was born the political “odd couple,” as Mom calls Dad and President Clinton.

  Six weeks after the White House announcement, Dad and President Clinton boarded a U.S. government plane, a 757, and hopscotching to Hawaii and Guam, made a five-day visit to Thailand, Indonesia, Sri Lanka, and the Maldive Islands to tour some of the most devastated areas.

  By all accounts of that trip, a genuine friendship was solidified.

  “When President Bush and I took that trip, it meant something to me,” President Clinton said. “Whatever there was left from the ’92 campaign, it gave us a way to erase it. His willingness to do this and what we’ve done and how well it’s worked out has been a joy to me and a personal sort of relief.”

  “I was very touched a couple of times when I saw President Clinton help President Bush make a hard step up or grab his elbow when we were walking over unsteady ground,” Jean Becker recalled. “He didn’t make a big deal of it. He just did it very casually.”

  Dad described the trip in a letter to his friend Hugh Sidey, which read in part:

  About eight hours ago, we left the Maldives, the final stop on our four country swing to inspect Tsunami damage. It has been an amazing trip . . .

  Let me start by commenting 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 to wave at . . .

  Clinton went out of his way not to criticize the President. He talked about the generous commitment of the USA, of our effective military support, of the money the private sector had given.

  Now on to the trip of tears:

  I have never seen such devastation. We started off in Thailand at Phuket. Many of the big resort hotels in Phuket are still in operation. But soon after we boarded our helicopters we began to see the real ravages of the tsunami. Many buildings were flattened. Only rubble and cracked foundations remained. Those left standing had been gutted.

  We flew to tiny Pukua Pa then drove to Baan Nam Kem village. We chatted with some kids. We watched the building of some new fishing boats, the fishing fleet having been totally demolished. We saw firsthand the good being done by U.S. aid workers and NGOs (non-government organizations) of all sorts.

  But it was not until the next day when we landed in Aceh (pronounced Ah-chay) that we began to feel the human side of this tragedy. Our helicopter made several turns over the hardest hit area. Where there had been hundreds of private homes, there was nothing. Much of the rubble and debris had been cleared, the bodies removed; but I kept thinking what this must be like for the families. Mostly fishermen, they lived by the sea, living humbly in tiny homes, but at least they were safe and free to make a living.

  Now as we walked from the chopper a few hundred yards to our briefing point, we went through lines of people. The old and the young, men and women, all lined up as we came in. The saddest part related to the little children. I saw one father holding his six-year-old son’s shoulder. He was standing, emotionless, just holding his boy and staring. I asked the translator with us exactly what happened to this man. His wife and several of his kids were all killed, only this one boy alive, with him, at his side. On and on these tales of sadness went. Kids watching their parents drown, tales of fear, tales of hopelessness. It was so moving and so desperately sad . . .

  The news stories from this historic visit to the region together with the TV ads Dad and President Clinton did—to say nothing of the efforts of other nonprofit groups—helped to raise an estimated $1 billion in private donations for tsunami relief.

  In the meantime, Dad—with President Clinton’s approval—also started a local Bush-Clinton Tsunami Fund in Houston, Texas, that collected donations mostly from local companies, schools, and private citizens.

  Dad wanted to thank everyone who gave money, so his office set up two or three days where they had everyone from CEOs who gave $100,000 to a group of kids who raised $1,000 at their lemonade stand come by. One day, twenty-six different groups came and presented their checks to Dad. One was a group of tattoo-bearing motorcycle riders who had done a bike-athon to raise funds. The Secret Service said that one of the guys had a pretty bad history involving drugs, but Dad didn’t care.

  “That’s the kind of stuff he does all the time,” Jean said. “It totally amazes me how he’s so willing to give and give of his time. I’ve been trying for years to tell him that it really is okay to quit. He doesn’t have to raise money; he doesn’t have to lend his name; and he shouldn’t feel obligated anymore. Every time we have this conversation, he’ll totally agree with me—and then the first thing I know, we have two new projects. He’ll say, ‘Well, Jean, how can we say no to them?’”

  In May 2005, President Clinton came to Houston, where the local tsunami fund there announced they had raised $11 million. At the Houston event, Mom joked that she had become so accustomed to seeing Dad and President Clinton together that she was going to start calling the latter “son.”

  “Those Bushes,” President Clinton replied a few days later. “They’ll do anything to get another president in the family.”

  At the Alfalfa Dinner in January, my brother George joked that when President Clinton had awoken from his recent heart surgery, “all of his loved ones were gathered around: Hillary, Chelsea . . . Dad.”

  President Clinton also sent Dad and the president copies of a cartoon that came out around this time. One panel showed the president saying, “I oppose gay marriage.” The other panel showed 41 and 42 on a couch holding hands. The president sticks his head in the room and screams, “Dad!!” Later, Bill Clinton sent Dad a copy saying, “George, maybe we’d better cool it.”

  The banter continued in April of 2005 when the three traveled together to the Vatican, for the funeral of Pope John Paul II. They were at the U.S. ambassador’s residence. The three presidents were sitting together on the couch when President Clinton, who was sitting in the middle, told my brother, “This is all your fault. You started this.”

  The president put his arm around President Clinton, and they took a picture of it. Dad sent a copy of the photo to President Clinton inscribed, “Bill, I don’t like being jilted; but I’m still your friend.”

  After Dad and President Clinton started working together, a friend of mine said, “If your dad invites President Clinton to Kennebunkport, then I know he’s really lost it.” Fast forward to June 2005, and sure enough, Dad had extended the invitation.

  As Dad told his friend Jim Nantz, the CBS sportscaster, “I’ve invited President Clinton to come over to Kennebunkport this summer. We’ve been spending a lot of time together on tsunami relief, and I thought it would be fun if he came to Maine, played some golf, relaxed—strictly a social visit.”

  Dad had been thinking about the meeting, he told Jim, and wanted it to be very comfortable. He wanted President Clinton to have a good time, and he didn’t ever want it to be awkward. Bottom line: Dad thought it would be more fun to include another golfer, Jim, in the group. Jim enthusiastically agreed.

  Typical of Dad, President Clinton’s arrival had to be something out of the ordinary. A motorcade wouldn’t suffice. Dad wanted to pick him up by boat at a harbor outside of Portland, Maine—a forty-five-minute boat ride in smooth seas.

  On Monday, June 27, however, the conditions were anything but calm.

  “The trip up there was almost frightening,” Jim said. “It was raining sideways with the wind and choppy conditions. We would go up over a wave and, boom, we’d bottom out into the next wave. It took a special mariner to figure out how to get up the coast. President Bush was using all the electronics he had on board.”
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  At a couple of points, it was so foggy and rainy that the group couldn’t see the Secret Service boats that were flanking them.

  “Next thing you know,” Jim continued, “according to the navigation system, we were in the area where we were supposed to make a turn toward the coast. So he slowed the boat down, and we came to a crawl. With all the fog, it looked like a scene out of a movie—or a spy novel.”

  President Clinton had come off heart surgery the previous fall, so after he arrived, Dad explained how he was concerned that the boat ride going back might be a very rough ride, and President Clinton right away properly opted to go by car.

  Walker’s Point was abuzz waiting for President Clinton and Dad to arrive. Tricia Koch, who helped me with this book, came with me for this historic visit as part of our research, and our kids decided to make welcome signs. When we saw the motorcade approaching, everyone on the Point came out to greet them.

  Out of the car came 41 and 42—a sight I never expected to see in Kennebunkport. Jim Nantz followed, videotaping the visit (the first time I had seen Jim behind the camera!). President Clinton smiled and greeted everyone warmly.

  Upon the first ten minutes of meeting President Clinton in this private setting, everyone was mesmerized. He is engaging, and knows a lot about everything. Simply put, he fascinated us to no end.

  What I love about Dad is that, whether or not his guest is a head of state, you get the same welcome—“my house is your house.” That night, he and Mom hosted a small cocktail party for President Clinton. The party had barely started when suddenly Dad decided to show his special guest the “You da man” video, which I should explain.

  A few years back, Dad convinced himself that he actually coined the phrase “You da man” back in the early 1960s. He maintains he was inspired to shout it to the Houston Astros’ Rusty Staub as he rounded third base following a home run, and it slowly caught on from there.