It was agonizing for me to listen to the jilted candidates hammer Dad. Looking back on it, the New Hampshire debate was the first time I experienced the unique brand of pain that the child of a public figure feels. I was used to hearing my father get criticized in his Texas campaigns and in his Washington jobs. This was different. The stage was bigger, the stakes were higher, and the barbs were more personal. How could anyone accuse George Bush of being selfish and uncaring? Didn’t they know anything about his life? It made me furious.
Over the years, I would have that feeling again. When I was President, people often asked how I could handle all the criticism. The answer was that putting up with criticism of me was nothing compared to listening to attacks on a man I admire and love. There was one thing that lessened the pain: Dad never seemed to be bothered by the attacks. No matter how nasty or untrue the allegations might have been, he never complained or vented his frustration in front of his family. Looking back on it now, I can see that he was trying to send us a message: The critics were not getting to him, so we shouldn’t let them get to us either. I adopted the same approach when my daughters got upset about the criticism that I received when I was in office.
As expected, the New Hampshire primary did not go well for George Bush. Ronald Reagan won in a landslide, claiming 50 percent of the vote. Dad finished second with 23 percent. Bob Dole dropped out of the race shortly thereafter. John Connally, who had pinned his hopes on South Carolina, dropped out when he finished a distant second to Reagan there. By mid-March, the 1980 Republican nomination was essentially a two-man race.
—
THE LOSSES IN New Hampshire and South Carolina returned Dad to his underdog status. Reagan had more money and greater name recognition, and now he was the candidate with Big Mo. Dad’s competitive instincts were strong. He fought hard and held his own. He won primaries in Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Pennsylvania. To have any chance of winning the nomination, Dad had to draw some contrasts with Reagan. But negative campaigning never came naturally to him, especially against a fellow Republican. His campaign slogan was “A President We Won’t Have to Train”—a reminder that Governor Reagan had limited experience outside California. He jogged regularly to highlight his relative youth and energy (and to burn off some of the late-night campaign junk food). He occasionally discussed their differences on policy issues, most famously by labeling Reagan’s plan to cut taxes and balance the budget “voodoo economics.”
The toughest blow for Dad in the 1980 primaries came in Texas in early May. For the third time in his career, Dad campaigned across his home state. But Ronald Reagan was strong in Texas. He had won all one hundred of Texas’s delegates against Gerald Ford in 1976, and in 1980 key elected officials like Republican Governor Bill Clements decided to stay on the sidelines. Like his Senate races, the Texas primary left Dad disappointed. Reagan won 53 percent to 46 percent.
Dad continued to battle. He won an impressive victory in Michigan in late May. However, Reagan was on the verge of picking up a massive number of delegates in his home state of California, which would essentially clinch the nomination. George Bush was not a quitter. His instinct was to finish the race. Jimmy Baker had a different perspective. He strongly suggested that Dad get out before he did irreparable damage to his political future.
Dad finally accepted his friend’s advice. After spending Memorial Day weekend at home in Houston, he announced that he was ending his campaign and endorsing Ronald Reagan. He had a lot to be proud of. A year or two earlier, few would have imagined that he would be the runner-up for the nomination. Even in defeat, he showed his characteristic sense of humor. On the campaign plane’s final flight, he played the Kenny Rogers song “The Gambler”: “You’ve got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em.” George Bush was folding his hand, but he wasn’t out of the game.
—
ABOUT SEVEN WEEKS after the primaries ended, my parents attended the Republican National Convention in Detroit. The big question was whom Governor Reagan would pick as his running mate. The rumor swirling around the convention was that he was considering creating a “co-presidency” by selecting former President Gerald Ford. That idea made no sense to me. No former President had ever returned as Vice President, and I did not see how the sitting President could agree to share power with a predecessor.
Laura and I did not attend the convention. Instead we went to New York, where I had meetings with investors to discuss the oil and gas exploration company that I had started in 1979. One of our friends in New York invited us to dinner at the ‘21’ Club. Near the end of the meal, the maître d’ approached and said excitedly, “Mr. Bush, there’s something on the news that I think you’ll want to see.” He wheeled out a portable television, and Laura and I watched in shock as Lesley Stahl of CBS News announced to the nation that Ronald Reagan had picked George Bush as his running mate. We hurried back to the hotel, where I called my surprised but thrilled dad to congratulate him and booked a flight to Detroit.
The vice presidential selection is the first big decision that a presidential nominee makes. Not surprisingly, I thought Ronald Reagan’s choice sent all the right signals. The pick gave him a running mate with a foreign policy background, experience in Washington, and a reputation for loyalty. Once again, a political career that seemed lifeless had been reborn.
The 1980 race proved to be a transformative election. The country was suffering from crippling unemployment, inflation, and interest rates. The Soviet Union had invaded Afghanistan and Iranian radicals had seized dozens of hostages from the American embassy. Jimmy Carter had few answers beyond lamenting the national malaise. The American people were ready for a change, and Ronald Reagan provided it. With his sunny optimism and confidence in the country, he gave Americans hope for a better future.
On Election Day, Ronald Reagan took 44 states and 489 electoral votes, the most that any nonincumbent has ever received. Mother and Dad headed back to Washington, where George Bush would soon become the forty-third Vice President of the United States.
WITHIN A HEARTBEAT
IN JANUARY 1981, Laura and I flew to Washington for the Reagan-Bush inauguration. Dad had invited the full flock of children, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, and, of course, his mother. The day before the ceremony, some of us attended a luncheon generously hosted by Ronald Reagan’s “Kitchen Cabinet”—l
Of course, the highlight of the lunch was greeting the President-elect. Ronald Reagan had an ease about him that made you feel comfortable. In some ways, he was like Dad: charming, friendly, and warm. Even in our brief meeting, I sensed that the new President and Vice President would enjoy a good working relationship.
The next morning we took our seats on the inaugural platform. For the first time, the inauguration was held on the West Front of the Capitol Building. The day was sunny and warm—the fifty-five-degree temperature far exceeded that of most Washington winter days—and the view over the National Mall was spectacular. I looked out with awe at the huge crowd stretching back toward the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, and Arlington National Cemetery.