The Triumph of Nancy Reagan Karen Tumulty (motivational novels .TXT) 📖

Fortunately all these women in my life are you—fortunately for me that is, for there could be no life for me without you. Browning asked; “How do I love thee—let me count the ways?” For me there is no way to count. I love the whole gang of you—Mommie, first lady, the sentimental you, the fun you and the peewee power house you.

And oh yes, one other very special you—the little girl who takes a “nana” to bed in case she gets hungry in the night. I couldn’t & don’t sleep well if she isn’t there—so please always be there.

Merry Christmas you all—with all my love.

Lucky me.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nancy’s initiation into being first lady could hardly have been rockier, but she was not unappreciative of the amenities that came with the job: a plumber arriving the moment there was a problem, a man to wind the clocks, a maid to take away her soiled clothes while she was bathing—and most usefully, given her addiction to the phone, switchboard operators who could track down anyone she cared to talk to. Her son, Ron, called the White House an eight-star hotel. Living over the store also meant plenty of time for Nancy and Ronnie to be together alone—or, at least, as alone as any first couple ever is. Two butlers served them dinner, which they usually ate on tray tables in Ronnie’s study as they watched the evening news. Most nights, they were in bed by ten. Nancy pushed a button twice to let the usher know it was time to turn out the lights and to hold any calls that were not urgent until the morning.

But there wasn’t freedom to do something so ordinary as take a long walk. That is why one of the side benefits that both Reagans found they loved the most was the rustic solitude of Camp David, about an hour away from Washington on the Catoctin Mountain ridge in northern Maryland. “I never expected that we would use it practically every weekend, but it became a regular and welcome part of our routine,” Nancy recalled.

Built in 1935 by the Works Progress Administration, the site was converted to a retreat for Franklin D. Roosevelt shortly after the beginning of World War II, giving the president, disabled by polio, a place to escape the pressure and heat of Washington. So enamored was FDR with the setting and the view that he christened it Shangri-La, after the fictional Himalayan paradise in the 1933 novel Lost Horizon. The existence of the retreat was still a state secret back then. For FDR, it became a secluded venue not only for relaxation but also for sensitive business. He and British prime minister Winston Churchill did some of the planning for the D-day invasion there. Years later, President Dwight Eisenhower, who had grown up on a Kansas farm, decided that the name Shangri-La was a tad too fancy for a place where he went to kick back. He changed it in 1953 to Camp David, after his five-year-old grandson. The retreat’s most famous moment came in 1978, when Jimmy Carter hosted weeks of summit negotiations there that produced the Camp David Accords, a framework for Middle East peace signed by Egyptian president Anwar Sadat and Israeli prime minister Menachem Begin.

The Reagans used Camp David more than any other first couple before or since. Occasionally, they would entertain foreign dignitaries there. But the routine most weekends was far more quiet and intimate. For Nancy, it was a release, a place to get their thoughts in order, a place to focus on each other. Security was more relaxed. “She loved Camp David. They were alone. We gave them fifty yards,” said Joseph Petro, who was on Ronnie’s Secret Service detail for four years. As often as possible, the Reagans headed there from the White House on Fridays around three. If the weather was good, it would take just a half hour to get there by helicopter, though Nancy preferred to drive and enjoy the scenic countryside as they put Washington behind. They allowed only a small retinue of aides to accompany them.

Each of the lodges at Camp David was named for a type of tree. The Reagans stayed at Aspen; there was a conference center in Laurel, from which Ronnie gave his Saturday radio addresses. Nancy, as was her wont, went to work redecorating throughout, sometimes enlisting her husband to help her hang pictures. The president also ordered some renovation of his own. He was appalled to discover that Richard Nixon, who tooled around the place in a golf cart, had paved over the trails. So, he had them ripped up and restored to paths suitable for the horseback riding that he loved.

At eight o’clock every Friday and Saturday night, they invited a few people who were staying there to watch movies on a screen that came down from the ceiling of the Aspen living room. Among those who most often joined them were John Hutton, who was White House physician during Ronnie’s second term; assistant press secretary Mark Weinberg; executive assistant Jim Kuhn; presidential valet Eddie Serrano; their helicopter pilot; the camp commander; and their Secret Service agents. Ronnie and Nancy alternated classic pictures with the newest releases. The Reagans preferred movies with sunny plotlines, strong heroes, and patriotic themes, and frowned on ones with a lot of sex and profanity. As Nancy and Hutton’s wife were often the only women there, they saw a lot of Westerns. And, yes, Ronnie and Nancy’s own movies occasionally made the playlist.

After each film, Ronnie would start the conversation by offering his critique, which often led into behind-the-scenes stories about actors and other characters he had met in the business. He fixated on the technical details. The president once told director Steven Spielberg that