July 2003

FLFW Will See You Now

(Page 2 of 2)

Did you spend much time seeing friends from your private life while you were in office?
Not out so much, but they'd come in. I have a friend named Lud Ashley, who was a Democratic congressman and a classmate of mine in college. We have been very intimate friends since college days. When our daughter died, he was there. I could call him up, or Sonny Montgomery, a congressman from Mississippi, and say, "Come on over. Let's have lunch." It's more difficult to go out because of the press van and the Secret Service; so when you get there, it's not as informal as it is when you go over to a neighbor's house without the trappings of the presidency.

Today, with the security issues what they are, is life as a president and as a former president a little bit more constrained?
It is more constrained, but again, we're used to the Secret Service protection. And they're like our sons, except they transfer out after three years. Barbara knows them all, knows all about their families, so you don't feel like you're in a scary kind of environment. I think the president feels comfortable with the coverage he has. You have to have it. You can't try to elude it. You can't do what these novelists talk about, hiding in the bottom of a car to get away. That's all entertainment.

I see the current first lady occasionally in Austin, eating lunch with Reagan Gammon and other old friends at Las Manitas. She seems quite comfortable, actually, returning to Texas.
Well, she is. We go to Crawford at Easter, and there's Reagan and [her husband] Billy, wandering around looking at the flowers. The president has a good way of separating out the responsibilities and not burdening the couple of friends who might be there to go fishing with him. It's amazing how he does it. He's probably better at that than I used to be. He does his business and then goes off and relaxes and exercises or calls his friends. He does what normal people do.

Let me come back to your life here, Mr. President. Leaving aside the issue of your commenting on what's going on nationally or internationally out of deference to the president, how reluctant are you to comment on things that don't relate to the nation or the world but to Houston or Texas?
I don't necessarily feel constrained, but if it has to do with public life—what I think about the education plan before the Legislature—I wouldn't comment at all. Honestly, at my age, I don't keep up with it that much.

It's not on your radar screen?
It's not on my radar screen, and it's not something that I'd be particularly interested in. It's funny, when you get older, your interests go right back to the fundamentals, and for me the fundamentals relate to family and, to some degree, sports. Sunday I was out there [at the Shell Houston Open] greeting Freddy Couples, who visited us in Maine. And watching other guys we like, [Phil] Mickelson and [Ernie] Els.

You did a little commentary on television.
That's right. Jim Nance is a great friend. I love doing that. I still like the name-dropping. And when I get around those guys, they all make me feel wonderful. I just had an e-mail from Davis Love this morning, and I like that. I like staying in touch with the ones who are friends, whom I know personally. Then we went over to the U.S. clay court championships and watched [Andre] Agassi win. We've known him for years; he visited us at Camp David. Then he came to the White House to play and got rained out. Those things I love.

Are you playing golf yourself regularly?
Not regularly, but I'll start when I get up to Maine. I play badly, but I still love it. I love the game.

What's your handicap these days?
Oh, I don't turn in a scorecard ever. But I'd probably put it in the high twenties, which is embarrassing.

Back to the non-sports world, Mr. President. Is it difficult to be in your particular situation at times like the ones we've seen in the past few months, with the war and all?
Oh, yeah. I worry. I do. I think I worry more about it than the president does, just as I worried more about Jeb's election than he did. I say to the president, "I worry about this." And he says, "Dad, don't worry." They're engaged. They're doing their jobs. And they can work off their anxiety by hard work, whereas I sit around and talk back to the TV set. Though I'm disinclined to call up some TV person and say, "You've got that wrong" or "You ought not to be treating the president this way." I churn inside, particularly when I read or hear stuff that is grossly unfair or untrue.

Has the press been fair, in your mind, to this president?
I think he's gotten pretty good press. There are certain exceptions to the rule, but I think it's been pretty good. Where it's not, it's predictable—that so-and-so's writing that. You don't expect Paul Begala to worship George W. Bush. So I just tune him out now. He was a fairly engaging person back in the old days, but he's off my list. As are the Dixie Chicks, which may surprise you.

I want to ask you about that, Mr. President, since you brought it up. There are people who would argue and have argued that the Dixie Chicks flap is an instance of somebody exercising a right that we were fighting to ensure for the Iraqi people.
I think you can make that argument. The problem with the Dixie Chicks, as I understand it, is that they were out in front of an anti-war audience in England. They're young kids, and they got carried away. There's a tendency at political gatherings to jump out ahead of the hounds. That's what I think. And now they regret that, because they used to say pleasant things about the governor of Texas, as I understand it. They couldn't have reversed that much based on Iraq; they're not foreign-policy experts. I think, and maybe this is too kind, they just got carried away and told the audience what it wanted to hear. Hey, right on!

Could they get back on your list?
They're on my shit list. Which list are you talking about?

I mean, can they redeem themselves?
Sure. You've got to forgive. You've got to. A friend of mine, a very famous journalist, knowing I like country music, sent me a Dixie Chicks CD. I thanked her. And then when the Dixie Chicks did their thing, I took the CD and, just as a joke, because I didn't give a damn about it, I took my penknife and crossed through their name and sent it back to her. It wasn't anger; I just thought it would be funny. She sent it thinking I would love them, and I did like their music, but then they said what they said. But they're young kids. Why not be open about it? It's nothing compared to . . . Let's put it this way: I feel differently about the Dixie Chicks than I do about Martin Sheen.

What about Martin Sheen?
Dennis Miller says, "You know, Martin Sheen is not the real president of the United States." He gets a huge laugh. If you asked me "What did Martin Sheen say that you don't like?" I couldn't tell you, except I keep seeing on Fox News that Martin Sheen is always listed as the guy who's strongly opposed to the president. Therefore I don't like him.

There have always been people like this—Barbra Streisand. I mean, we went through it. We went through the same criticism about the first Gulf war. My Episcopal bishop was out there then, just as the Episcopal bishop is out there now, but I'll tell you one thing: It hurts more when it's your son they're taking on than when it's you yourself. That's where the father comes out. It's much more personal for me. The people [who were after me] I just gave up on. Screw 'em. Let them go do their thing and I'll do mine. But when it's your son, you're hoping that they'll moderate.

Let me come back to the family. The saying around Austin these days is "Eight years of W., eight years of Jeb, and then [Jeb's son] George P. will be forty." Do you subscribe to the theory that Jeb might be president, that P. might be president, that there's more life to the Bush presidential dynasty?
I don't have hopes of that, but I'd say that looking at the state of Florida—he's the governor of the fourth-biggest state—and looking at where Jeb is and looking at the great job he is doing and has done and looking at the fact that he was singled out as the number one target to beat by this guy [Democratic National Committee chair Terry] McAuliffe and blew his opponent away by thirteen points—leave out the name Jeb Bush. Does the person who has done those things have potential for national office? The answer would be, "Hell, yeah." But does he even want to consider it? I've never, ever discussed that with Jeb.

George P. is a modest rock star who has a charm about him. I couldn't ask for a more wonderful grandson. But I don't think he's sitting there now—he's getting ready for his bar exam at the University of Texas—plotting what comes next, like some of these upwardly mobile guys. At graduation from high school, they're thinking, "I can now run for the legislature. I can be the youngest state rep from someplace." That's not what he's about, and so I have no idea. I do know he's interested in the political world, and he's done an awful lot for his uncle and for his dad in that regard. I was so proud of him at Jeb's inauguration, when he presided as the master of ceremonies. I was sitting there watching and thinking, "This guy's got a real presence." He wasn't overbearing about it, but he was assertive and did a good job. I don't know what will happen.

I guess I was wondering less whether they are looking to it than whether it's something you wish for.
I wish them great success if that's what they want to do with their lives, but I don't think Jeb spends a lot of time thinking about what his next step is. I know George P. isn't plotting whether or not to go into politics. If they came to me and said, "Gampy, I want to tell you something. I really someday . . ." I wouldn't say, "Here's what you ought to do." But inside, I would say, "Gee, that's wonderful." I mean, I'm a grandfather. I'm a father. I'm proud. I love my kids and my grandkids. So there it is. Barbara might give them a little advice, whether they ask for it or not. It's marvelous the way she lectures them.