A MATTER-OF-FACT BUSH TAKES HIS NEW PLACE IN NATION'S HISTORY
By Ann Devroy
Washington Post Staff Writer
Column: THE INAUGURATION
Saturday, January 21, 1989
; Page A07
If he felt any sense of his new place in history, of burdens descending,
George Bush, who woke up as vice president yesterday and went to sleep as
president, showed little of it.
"History?" asked Bush's eldest son, George, enjoying his first feel of the
White House hours after the swearing-in of his father. "I don't think so. I
didn't feel it. He's up. He's really in good spirits. He's relaxed. He's not
any different, except he's president."
Bush may end up having some of those days of lonely solitude in the Oval
Office that Jimmy Carter once spoke of, but this day would not be one. When he
awoke before 6 at Blair House to watch the morning news shows, read the papers
and drink coffee with his wife, Barbara, the remnants of his 10 grandchildren
-- toys, coloring books, Bigwheels, computer games and more -- were already
being scooped up for shipping across the street into the White House.
"There were people charging all over the place," son George said of the
morning scene at Blair House, as bags were packed for the trip across the
street, children were readied for the morning church service that officially
began the day and others in the huge Bush clan streamed in and out.
Before 8:30 a.m., Bush was sticking his head out the door of Blair House to
kid photographers and reporters and invite them -- 28 of them -- in for a
relaxed cup of coffee.
As they were coming in, Bush children and grandchildren were trickling out
to take their places in St. John's Church on Lafayette Square, across from the
White House for a short prayer service of hymns and readings.
As the Rev. John C. Harper, rector of St. John's, was invoking Bush's
language in calling for a "kinder and gentler" nation, President Reagan,
across the park, was taking one, final look at the Oval Office stripped of all
the signs of his eight years of residence. Into the top drawer of the historic
desk, he slipped a note for his successor that he described later as "Very
good wishes and so forth." Another note to his successor was left in the
family quarters, in what will be Bush's dressing room.
Marlin Fitzwater, who was Reagan's spokesman and is now Bush's, said Reagan
was handed his last daily schedule by his secretary, Kathy Osborne, and noted
aloud that it listed the plane he would board to leave Washington that day as
Plane 27000, not Air Force One. Whichever of several planes the president is
in is called Air Force One and Reagan, by then, would no longer be president.
Reagan was told by national security adviser Colin L. Powell he was leaving
Bush a world that was mostly quiet.
Slightly after 10 a.m., Reagan left the Oval Office to George Bush.
As the Bushes drove up to the north portico of the White House from the
church a few minutes later, the Reagans, coatless in a brisk breeze, were
waiting to greet them. Bush waved from the window of the new $600,000
presidential limousine, and leaped from the car. He kissed Nancy Reagan and
shook the president's hands.
Inside the White House, the Reagans and Bushes and the congressional
delegation to escort them down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol sipped
coffee. Outside, Secret Service agents were changing the license plates on the
presidential limo to USA 1, Bush's official inaugural plate.
As the Reagans and Bushes and their congressional escorts headed toward the
swearing-in ceremonies, an army of workers began the changes that will turn
the Reagan White House into the Bush White House. "We made sure he had left
the complex first," said White House official Frank Posey, noting the respect
the staff had for Reagan.
In an hour's time, some 70 pictures of Ronald and Nancy Reagan were
stripped from the walls and replaced with pictures of George and Barbara Bush,
their children and grandchildren.
In the Cabinet Room, the chairs, except for those belonging to holdover
Cabinet members, were gone, purchased by those officials who left the
government as of noon. From the Cabinet Room wall, the pictures of Coolidge
and Taft were taken down. Bush asked that the picture of Theodore Roosevelt
join those of Eisenhower, Jefferson and Lincoln on that wall.
At the Capitol, Bush, shaking hands, chatting, grasping the arms of
well-wishers, made his way through the labyrinthine building to the West Front
for his swearing-in and inaugural address. Planners had boasted that the
ceremony was scheduled to the second so that at exactly noon Bush would finish
the final "so help me God" words of his oath of office and the cannons would
boom. They were three minutes off.
As some of the 200,000 gathered for the ceremonies swarmed down
Pennsylvania Avenue for the parade, or into the Capitol for a luncheon,
President Bush, his wife Barbara holding his hand, emerged on the other side
of the Capitol, the East Front, where a sparkling carpet reached 30 yards from
an Army helicopter to the steps. The president and the former president and
their wives descended the steps; the Reagans headed across the ceremonial
carpeting.
Far behind them, off to one corner, James A. Baker III, who had joined with
Bush 10 years before in his first, failed quest for the presidency against
Ronald Reagan, watched the former president he had first battled and then
served for eight years, salute the new president he helped put in office and
will serve as secretary of state. From a distance it appeared that Baker and
his wife, Susan, brushed tears from their eyes.
On the steps of the helicopter, Reagan looked across to Bush and saluted,
then waved. Bush saluted, waved back and the helicopter was gone. Asked later
of that moment, Bush said, "I tried to keep the tears from flowing down my
face. After eight years of friendship, it's pretty tough."
Inside the Capitol again, Bush, working his way through well-wishers to a
luncheon before the parade, was moved on his way by the sergeant-at-arms, who
said, "Mr. President, this way, Mr. President."
Bush joked later that he stood there, waiting for the president, Ronald
Reagan, until "I feel something that was between an affectionate hug and a
kidney punch." It was Barbara Bush, nudging him to get moving, and he realized
that Mr. President was not Reagan but himself.
When the luncheon was over, a huge, blue bus pulled up closer to the
Capitol, and the Bush brood, free from officialdom at last, poured out the
doors and into the bus. Son George Bush gleefully chomped a huge cigar and
shouted to reporters that he felt kind and gentle and ecstatic.
Down Pennsylvania Avenue on the mile to the White House, Bush sprang from
his limousine three times, waving huge waves to spectators, grabbing Barbara
Bush's hands to virtually pull her along in a near run. Then the Bushes
watched the parade from the reviewing stand in front of their new home.
Inside the White House, the parade still going by, son George, who had
served as one of his father's political advisers, had never tired of saying
his father would become president and seemed never to have doubted this day
would come, slipped into the family quarters to take his first look around.
It did not look like a Bush family home yet. "But, God," said Junior, as he
is often called, "it is so beautiful. It is just beautiful."
Scratch One Promise
Sorry, New Hampshire.
In his primary campaign there last year, George Bush vowed that if elected,
he would include "four simple words" in his inaugural address:
"Thank You, New Hampshire."
But the words were not in Bush's speech yesterday.
An aide said Bush fulfilled his promise on election night in Houston, when
he thanked Granite State voters.
Articles appear as they were originally printed in The Washington
Post and may not include subsequent corrections.
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