A special bully pulpit
George H.W. Bush never lost sight of the simple things
The moving services celebrating the life of George H.W. Bush in Washington, D.C., and Houston, Texas, reminded us that a part of presidential leadership involves what Theodore Roosevelt termed “the bully pulpit.” Roosevelt used the word “bully” as an adjective meaning “superb” or “wonderful,” a usage common in his time. The wonderful pulpit with which our 41st president used to communicate was as much by his example as by his words. He reflected Ralph Waldo Emerson’s wisdom that what you do rings so loud in my ears that I cannot hear what you say.
Mr. Bush was guided by the three pillars of his life — faith, family and friends. He had a host of friends in part because he was genuinely interested in and sensitive to the needs of others and instinctively responded to them.
I learned that lesson in a memorable way in August 1990. Early that month, Iraqi troops had poured across the border into neighboring Kuwait and quickly occupied the country seizing its assets and oil, terrorizing its population. As he did each year, Mr. Bush spent much of August at his home in Kennebunkport, Maine, holding meetings with a succession of leaders and advisers, and putting together a coalition to reverse this aggression.
Even in the midst of an international crisis, the president’s other responsibilities continue, and soon a call came to me and Richard Darman, the Director of the Office of Management and Budget (OMB), that the president would like a day of briefings on economic and domestic policy. Two days later, we were on our way to Washington’s National Airport for a flight to Boston where we rented a car for the drive to Kennebunkport.
When I rolled out of bed early that morning, I dressed quickly as I did each work day in a suit, white shirt and tie, drove to the White House and gathered the materials I would need for the briefings before leaving for the airport with the OMB Director. Dick was dressed with an open collar shirt and sport coat but, preoccupied with the substance of the briefings, I thought little of it.
When we arrived at the president’s home at Walker’s Point, it became apparent to me that casual dress was the order of the day and that my business attire was unique. I had not brought a change of clothes since we would be traveling back to Washington late that evening in order to make a long scheduled commitment the following morning. I was feeling overdressed and out of place.
When we entered his residence, the president was seated at the far end of the living room. Others were beginning to assemble for the meeting which would begin in a few minutes. Quickly sensing my situation, Mr. Bush strode across the room, took me by the arm, ushered me into their ground floor bedroom and began opening drawers pulling out polo shirts of various colors. Soon he found one he thought would look good on me and said: “What do you think of this color? We will be pitching some horse shoes later this afternoon and you will feel more comfortable in this. You are welcome to leave your jacket and tie in here. We won’t be starting the meeting for another five or 10 minutes.”
He did not comment on my lack of forethought or tell me that I was overdressed, but graciously sought to make me feel comfortable and at home. He helped me deal with a potentially embarrassing situation in a quiet and unobtrusive way.
Each of us has found ourselves in embarrassing situations from time to time. The embarrassment usually does not last long and is quickly forgotten. But now, many years later, I still remember his thoughtfulness and kindness. It is the kind of help that a friend extends when they are sensitive to our needs, however modest those needs may be. It was a gesture that taught me a great lesson about how we should treat one another.
George H.W. Bush understood that no matter how high one climbs, how many positions one holds, how many possessions one acquires, how much power one exercises — all these things are temporary. He never lost sight of the small and simple things out of which greatness is made.