In death we are reminded of timeless truths, among them is that life’s most important gifts are made up in a collection of special moments. I am lucky to recall such a moment in my life in connection to President George H.W. Bush.
In early 1988, I had quit my job and moved to Washington, DC to volunteer on the Bush campaign. In late June, we were told that the Vice President would be hosting campaign staffers at the VP’s residence for an Independence Day celebration. Though I was playing it cool on the outside, I was excited.
As we drove to the Vice President’s residence at the Naval Observatory, I candidly didn’t know what to expect. Would this be cucumber sandwiches with white wine? Formal dress? The Vice President and Mrs. Bush waving from a balcony a la the British royal family?
I had been drawn to Bush as a candidate for a reason that regular readers will recognize – experience. No one running was better qualified to be President from Day #1. No one was better positioned to follow through on the unfinished business of the Reagan administration. With a new and unfamiliar world taking shape, no one was better equipped to be the adult in the room when the hard calls had to be made.
But I also knew Bush’s patrician background. He had come from a family of wealth and status. Old money. He had attended the best schools, and even though he had ventured out and created his own name in the oil business, he still seemed more Connecticut than Texas. On the campaign trail he appeared painfully awkward and stiff. He seemed so comfortable in a suit and tie.
As a president, Bush made complete sense. But as a person, my jury was still out.
I was in for a very big surprise.
The grounds of the Vice President’s residence are beautiful, a hidden gem in DC. As I walked up the long driveway, I could hear laughter and music, and smell BBQ, the first hint that things were not as I had imagined.
Walking around the grounds, I was startled to run into Lee Atwater, the Campaign Manager. He had a wide-eyed look and a big grin, shocking me by introducing himself, as if I didn’t know who he was. As Atwater walked away, off to my left, I saw a huge crowd of people, moving slowly in a counter-clockwise motion. Right in the middle was the unmistakable head of Vice President George Bush.
I made my way to the gaggle, and after a short wait, I was face to face with my candidate for president.
The first thing I noticed about George Bush was his height. On TV, Bush had always seemed shorter. But at 6’2, I had to crane my neck to make eye contact. Then there was the style of dress. There was no suit and tie in sight. The Vice President was dressed down, wearing a casual, light blue shirt and khakis. If you watch the introductory video for Bush’s formal nomination, it’s the same shirt. With the sun beating down on a sweltering June day, he had large, dark blue sweat stains under his arms. His forehead had drops of perspiration, which he dabbed from time to time with a handkerchief. He had a Miller Lite in his left hand, as he reached for mine with his right.
What I remember clearly was that Bush had the most piercing blue eyes. When he locked on you, it was impossible to look away. I had thought this would be quick handshake, and then the Vice President would be on to the next person. But no. Bush locked me in that gaze, and in that moment, all the noise and bustle of the other people around me went away.
It was just me and him.
I don’t remember if I had wanted to say anything more than hello. If I did, it vanished in the moment. I went mute. I couldn’t think of a thing to say. That didn’t stop Bush. He started asking questions, determined to make a connection. He wanted to know where I worked. Bush not only knew my department, (Opposition Research) but the work product that we were putting out and the names of the senior staffers above me. He even asked about the individual issues I had worked on.
I was thunderstruck. Here was scion of one of American’s most famous families, a man who had been working at the highest levels of our government for decades, the Vice President of the United States, and he was taking time not just to greet us, but to take an interest in us. What I did not understand, until that moment, was that this George Bush, genuinely kind, decent and generous, was the authentic George Bush. There was no ego, no airs. Another kind of candidate, a kind we see all too often in DC, would have looked at this “meet and greet” as drudgery. But not George Bush, it was clear that he was loving every minute of it.
And we loved him for it.
At the end of my time, the Vice President asked me if I wanted to take a picture but as chance would have it, I didn’t have a camera. Almost deadpan, he looked at me and said, “Isn’t that always the way…” He thanked me, told me to keep up the good work, and then was on to the next person.
Those few minutes with George H.W. Bush changed everything about the way I saw and felt about the man. It was the beginning of a bond of intense loyalty that has lasted 30 years.
Later that day, Lee Atwater provided entertainment playing his guitar, with Vice President and Mrs. Bush clapping and tapping along. I remembered thinking, if the media, if the American people, could only see the man who I had met this day, they would understand that Bush represented not only unsurpassed experience and judgement, but perhaps more important, a generous heart – a quality that tempered rough edges of life that can be so unforgiving.
Bush gave us a pep talk that day. The polls were terrible. One particularly bleak poll had Bush down 18 points. It was looking like Democrat Michael Dukakis was going to win in a walk. The media were talking about possible appointees in a Dukakis administration.
The Vice President was unfazed. Indeed, he was upbeat, telling us to have faith. That as Vice President, he had a role to fulfill until the convention, but once he was the nominee, we were going to go on offense. That he had not yet begun to fight. That we were going to win.
That was the other quality of Bush that people didn’t see. An iron will.
In the days leading up to the party, I’d heard some staff whisper about leaving, going to other GOP campaigns and getting off a “sinking ship”. In that moment, however, listening to Bush, I knew that I was in this until the end. That I would give the campaign everything I had until the election was over. Life is also a series of choices, and if we were going to lose, I could think of no one better cause to be associated with than that of George Bush. In a political world filled with egos and fakes, this man was the rarest find – the real deal.
Good to his word, a little more than four months later, Bush beat Dukakis by seven points, taking 426 Electoral Votes, a record that no presidential winner has matched since. As president, Bush ably managed one of the most perilous international transitions of the 20th century, as I had always believed he could. Myself, and many of the people there that day, went on to serve President Bush in his Administration, one of the greatest honors of my life.
In those four years, and in the 25 years since, America has gotten a chance to see the George Bush I met all those years ago. As a nation, we are profoundly lucky to have such a leader when the country needed him most.
God speed, Mr. President, you have the eternal thanks of a grateful nation.
And thank you, for that moment 30 years ago, when, through your kindness and compassion, you made a young, aspiring politico feel as if all things were possible. It was a once in a lifetime experience.