The steely core of Barbara Bush
First lady was never just ‘a nice, fat grandmother’
Barbara Bush came across to Americans as a model of unthreatening, matriarchal wholesomeness. That was how the country liked its first lady then, and that was authentically Barbara Bush. To a point.
She had a public image to polish — and polish it she did. When I asked about her popularity in 1990, she replied, “I don’t threaten anybody. I’m just a nice, fat grandmother.”
But beneath the Aunt Bee sugar was a steely core forged across a life of politics. An independent thinker, she was a sharp-eyed and sometimes sharptongued Washington observer, one who created a firestorm by jokingly describing her husband’s 1984 vice presidential opponent, Geraldine Ferraro, as “I can’t say it, but it rhymes with ‘rich.’ ”
By the time she arrived in the White House, Mrs. Bush, though clearly opinionated, was sticking more to banalities. So it was noteworthy when she chose to go further. Asked by veteran journalist Helen Thomas in 1990 whether women should serve in combat, the first lady replied that if they could prove themselves physically, “I would say fine, because I think certainly emotionally and mentally they are more than able to compete with a man.”
She also said assault rifles should be outlawed. And, bucking Republican orthodoxy, she objected to the party’s 1992 anti-abortion plank. She said this was a personal issue that did not belong in the platform “either pro or con.”
The first lady talked most passionately about her altruistic causes, traveling nationwide to spotlight literacy programs, AIDS awareness and homelessness. She set an example by visiting and embracing AIDS patients at a time when they were still seen by some as untouchables. And when airlines reported a drop in passengers apparently due to fears of Persian Gulf War-related terrorism, Mrs. Bush parked her government Gulfstream and boarded a commercial flight to bolster confidence in airport security.
Although not known as a fitness icon, Mrs. Bush shared her husband’s devotion to athleticism. Both were active in their White House years. He was known for his jogging and speedboating, his horseshoe prowess and his and rabid efforts to round the golf course in record time. She often swam a mile a day, even while battling Graves’ disease that blurred her vision, and took up a treadmill regimen. Both fished and played tennis. At 65, the first lady hit a tree while sledding at Camp David with Arnold Schwarzenegger and other friends; she broke a leg bone.
Mrs. Bush didn’t have the president’s patience with reporters, but she was cordial. She did not seem to appreciate it when he one day dragged an entourage from a press conference at their Kennebunkport, Maine, home to the tennis court where she was playing doubles. She said wryly that she had assumed her husband would not “stoop to” this, but it all seemed like part of their longtime-couple banter.
Eventually, one reporter or another was allowed on Mrs. Bush’s plane. She did not see the press as enemies of the people, but she strove to shield her family’s privacy. I learned this early on, when the Bushes took a post-election break in Florida and I jogged past their seaside lodgings, hunting for something to write about. The something turned out to be Bush himself, who was outside and spontaneously invited me to join him and his wife as they headed offshore to thank the Coast Guard crew protecting them. Mrs. Bush said little on seeing me, but I sensed a grimace.
On one trip to Kennebunkport, I spotted a familiar white-topped head moving down the main road leading into town, Secret Service agent in tow. The first lady was heading to her favorite dress store, a tiny, unpretentious place set back from the sidewalk. She didn’t want to talk, but I tagged behind as was my occupational habit. Mrs. Bush ducked into the store, where she appeared to know the owner. I hesitated outside, but the first lady made her wishes clear: “We’ll see you later, Rita.”
I turned and left as the door closed. No one had noticed her, a regular grandmother out shopping, her authenticity intact.