Reagan: The Life (106 page)

The audience wasn’t buying. They wanted their hero. “Four more years! Four more years!” they shouted.

“No, you haven’t heard it all yet,” he insisted. He described his administration’s efforts to reduce red tape, and declared, “George Bush headed up the task force that eliminated those regulations.”

From a man who had recently completed his fourth superpower summit, this was almost damning with faint praise. But the delegates eventually took their cue. Some began chanting, “Bush in ’88.”

Reagan nodded approvingly. Yet he made no more than a passing effort to promote Bush as a leader in his own right. And he undercut even that effort when he told Bush, “Go out there and win one for the Gipper.”

He concluded with more of the imagery the Republicans had learned to love. “We lit a prairie fire a few years back. Those flames were fed by passionate ideas and convictions, and we were determined to make them burn all across America.” And so they had burned. “But we can never let the fire go out or quit the fight, because the battle is never over. Our freedom must be defended over and over again—and then again.”

Reagan said he would be spending more time in California. There was brush to clear on the ranch and fences to mend. “But I want you to know that if the fires ever dim, I’ll leave my phone number and address behind just in case you need a foot soldier. Just let me know, and I’ll be there, as long as words don’t leave me and as long as this sweet country strives to be special during its shining moment on earth.”

The delegates were delirious. To a man and woman they applauded and yelled and wouldn’t stop. Nearly all wished they could have nominated Reagan again. One delegate waved a sign that read, “
Reagan for
King.”
Phil Gramm, a fellow Texan of Bush’s and the designated nominator of the vice president, didn’t bother disguising his greater devotion to Reagan. “I’ve worked with Ronald Reagan for eight years,” Gramm said. “I love the president. There won’t be another like him for a long time.”

R
EAGAN
’
S AIDES FREELY
acknowledged that his convention appearance was in the genre of political valedictories. None expected any signal accomplishments in the five months left to the president. All realized that his final contribution to the reforms he had set in motion would be the election of his protégé.

Yet some work remained. The political season in America coincided with a renewal of troubles with Iran, triggered, as before, by the bloody stalemate between Iran and Iraq. Reagan’s disclaimer in the Iran-contra case that the American weapons shipped to Iran were insufficient to shift the strategic balance between the two Gulf antagonists had been true, if also self-serving. The continued deadlock prompted Tehran to try new tactics. Iranian warships began targeting oil tankers in the Gulf, particularly those loading at
Kuwait, which was bankrolling Iraq’s war effort. Tehran reasoned that scaring Kuwait’s customers would cut the emirate’s revenues and curtail its support of Iraq.

Kuwait had no navy to speak of, and so it turned to countries that did possess fleets. The Kuwaitis cannily called on both the United States and the Soviet Union. The Kremlin indicated assent, prompting the Reagan administration to try to preempt the Soviets. “
I knew that the Soviet government had already told Kuwait it would help,”
Caspar Weinberger recalled. “And I was, and still am, convinced that it was not in our interest for Soviet forces to move into an area so vital to us.” Neither Weinberger nor anyone else in the administration cared to credit Jimmy Carter by name with the doctrine asserting that Soviet penetration of the Persian Gulf would gravely endanger American security, but they acted on the principle that inspired the
Carter Doctrine. “From the outset,” Weinberger continued, “I was quite sure that if we did not respond positively to the Kuwaitis, the USSR would quickly fill the vacuum.” Weinberger made this case to Reagan, who approved the reflagging of some Kuwaiti ships to American registry, justifying their protection by U.S. Navy vessels.

Administration officials denied that the reflagging suggested any shift in the American policy of neutrality between Iraq and Iran. Kuwait was a
neutral, they said, and the United States had long defended neutral shipping rights during wartime. Iran didn’t accept the argument, however, and it denounced the reflagging as further evidence of America’s malign intent toward the Islamic Republic.

The Iranians weren’t the only critics. Democrats on Capitol Hill complained that Reagan was committing America to a conflict that had nothing to do with American security. The war in the Gulf had already swallowed hundreds of thousands of lives, they pointed out, and it might start swallowing Americans if Reagan’s new policy was implemented. The warnings gained believability when an Iraqi warplane unexpectedly attacked the USS
Stark
, killing thirty-seven American sailors. Reagan accepted the Iraq government’s claim of mistaken identity, not least because no other explanation made sense. But he took precautions that another such accident not occur, ordering American ships to fire on any aircraft that appeared threatening.

The new policy had tragic consequences. The convoy operation inspired the Iranians to send gunboats against American ships. The American vessels responded with force against the gunboats and against Iranian communication facilities on offshore oil platforms. In the summer
of 1988 the American guided-missile cruiser
Vincennes
spotted a plane approaching on what seemed a threatening trajectory. The captain ordered the launch of missiles, which destroyed the plane. Only later did the captain and crew discover that they had shot down a civilian Iranian airliner and killed the nearly three hundred passengers and crew. “
It’s a terrible tragedy,” Reagan recorded. He said as much in public, and he ordered an investigation. But he didn’t fault the commander of the
Vincennes
. “I don’t believe the captain had any other choice but to fire on the plane.”

The shoot-down revived memories of the Soviet destruction of the Korean airliner in 1983, though Reagan declined to acknowledge any equivalence. It might have provoked new attacks by the Iranians against American vessels, but after eight years of sanguinary futility the Iranians were ready to quit. So were the Iraqis, and the two belligerents accepted a United Nations–brokered cease-fire.

T
HE
R
EPUBLICAN REACTION
to Reagan’s convention speech revealed a serious risk that the president would overshadow the nominee. George Bush, understanding the problem but not knowing how to solve it, vacillated between comments designed to establish his independence of Rea
gan and remarks that made him sound more Reaganesque than Reagan himself. “
I want a kinder, gentler nation,” Bush said, suggesting that the program cuts of the Reagan years had gone too far. Yet in the next breath he channeled Reagan the tax cutter, via Clint Eastwood’s character Dirty Harry: “Read my lips: No new taxes.”

Reagan let Bush find his way. He offered support when the nominee shocked the nation by naming
Dan Quayle, a young and undistinguished senator from Indiana, as his number two. “
Vice President Bush has made an outstanding selection of Senator Quayle as his running mate,” Reagan said, albeit in a written statement released by the White House rather than in person. “I know he will be a great vice president.” Reagan made strategic appearances on Bush’s behalf, reiterating the accomplishments of his own administration and asserting that only a Bush victory could prevent the Democratic nominee,
Michael Dukakis, and the liberals from reversing the good work of the last eight years. He offered Dan Quayle debating tips ahead of the senator’s one on one with the Democratic vice presidential candidate,
Lloyd Bentsen, and when most observers awarded the victory in the debate to Bentsen, Reagan loyally blamed the media. “
Quayle did very well and Bentsen got away with some blatant falsehoods,” he wrote.

The Bush team, led by Jim Baker, who had resigned from the Treasury Department to rejoin his old Houston friend, surmounted early questioning of the Quayle nomination to run an aggressive, effective campaign. They portrayed Dukakis as distant and cold, and the Democratic nominee did little to counter the impression. Bush built a lead he carried into the election, which he won handily: 53 percent to 46 percent in the popular count.

Reagan was delighted. “
A great evening,” he wrote after watching the returns. “About 11 p.m. to bed—happy.”

W
ITH
B
USH SAFELY
elected, Reagan completed his celebratory final lap.
Margaret Thatcher came to Washington to measure the president-elect; she took time to toast her departing comrade-in-arms. “
Mr. President, you’ve been more than a staunch ally and wise counselor,” she said. “You’ve also been a wonderful friend to me and my country.” Citing an observation by
Winston Churchill that Americans seemed to be the only people who could laugh and fight at the same time, Thatcher added, “Mr. President, you are one of those men—a combination of true valor and gentle good humor.”

He visited Simi Valley, California, where on a hilltop not far from his old Malibu ranch he helped break ground for the
Ronald Reagan Presidential Library.
Charlton Heston led the group in the Pledge of Allegiance, after which Reagan quipped, “
Thank you, Chuck. I hope everyone here is suitably honored by your presence. After all, it’s not often that you get Moses to lead you in the Pledge.” The Southern California crowd chuckled at the reference to Heston’s signature part. Reagan rode the laughter with a gibe at his own age: “When I first knew him, he didn’t even speak English.”

The Senate Republicans threw him a dinner. “
What a team we’ve been, and what a time this has been,” Reagan told the diners. “You faced the opposition and fought the tough battles. In fact, when I told
Bob Hope I was coming here tonight, he thought I was to do a U.S.O. show.” The Democrats had increased their majority in the upper house in the recent elections, disappointing Reagan but allowing him another one-liner this evening. “I think you all know the difference between a Republican Senate and a Democratic Senate,” he said. “It’s the difference between a super majority and a simple majority.” Perhaps the wine had dulled the reflexes,
for the laughs were slow. “I’d better just let you think about that one,” he said. More laughter, slightly self-conscious.

In early January 1989, Reagan attended a fiftieth-anniversary celebration of the
Franklin Roosevelt Presidential Library. More openly than ever, he drew the connection between himself and his political model. “Franklin Roosevelt aroused the interest of young men and women in politics and government and drew them into the national service,” Reagan said. “From the brain trusters to the many idealists who staffed the agencies and bureaus of the
New Deal, his magic brought thousands to Washington. But I can tell you from personal experience that it didn’t stop there. All across the nation, millions of new voters looked at this president who was filled with confidence in the future, faith in the people, and the joy of the democratic rough-and-tumble, and they said to themselves maybe someday they, too, would like to serve the nation in public life. I was one of those millions.” Reagan had built a political career bashing what Roosevelt had created, but with his political career ending he acknowledged his debt to FDR. “Franklin Roosevelt was the first president I ever voted for, the first to serve in my lifetime that I regarded as a hero.” Reagan told of seeing Roosevelt when the president visited Des Moines in 1936. “What a wave of affection and pride swept through that crowd, as he passed by in an open car—a familiar smile on his lips, jaunty and confident, drawing from us a reservoir of confidence and enthusiasm some of us had forgotten.” Reagan recalled his own reaction, and his debt to Roosevelt. “It was that ebullience, that infectious optimism that made one young sportscaster think that maybe he should be more active as a citizen.”

In the decades since then, Reagan had reflected on what else he and Roosevelt shared, and he concluded that the most important thing was their faith in the American people. He told of listening to Roosevelt’s
Fireside Chats in the depths of the
Great Depression. “I remember how a light would snap on in the eyes of everyone in the room just hearing him, and how, because of his faith, our faith in our own capacity to overcome any crisis and any challenge was reborn.” He said he would like to be remembered similarly. “To my mind, as one who has served in the office FDR once graced so magnificently, no higher tribute can be given a president than that he strengthened our faith in ourselves.” Policies went in and out of favor; presidents stepped on the stage and stepped off. But the American people remained. “When the American people are strong and confident, when their leaders hear their voices, America, whatever storms it might be weathering, will make it through. It will survive, and it will prevail.”

R
EAGAN
’
S DEPARTURE FROM
the White House inspired him to seek paying work in the private sector. Fortunately for his bank account, he lacked qualms about capitalizing on his government experience. He and Nancy had scarcely landed in California before the speakers’ agency he enlisted began hawking his services on the lecture circuit. His fee was $50,000 per speech, and interest was strong. “
You’ve got to put this into context,” a spokesman for the agency explained. “If a business or convention goes out and gets entertainment for a night, they may spend $100,000 to $300,000.” At those rates the former president would be a bargain.

Sometimes he received much more. After warming up with events around California, Reagan flew to Japan, where he spoke in favor of Sony’s recent acquisition of
Columbia Pictures. The deal symbolized the free market in action, and besides, Reagan said, he was “
not too proud of Hollywood these days” for producing filthy dreck instead of the good, clean pictures of the golden age. Sony’s influence might be healthy. When Reagan’s remarks were reported in the United States, he felt obliged to take back what he had said about Hollywood. He told a crowd of industry executives at the Beverly Wilshire that the menu for him that day listed “crow soufflé followed by humble pie.” He praised Hollywood’s role in broadcasting American values and said, “You are truly great communicators.” Yet though he took back his words, he declined to return his speaking fee of $2 million. He defended the payment as justified by what he delivered. He compared it favorably with the $3 million fee an American actor had received for being in a Toyota commercial. Anyway, he needed to regain the ground he had lost while on the government
payroll. “I just thought that, for sixteen years, I hadn’t made any kind of money,” he said.