My Turn

Informationen zum Autor Nancy Reagan with William Novak Klappentext The former First Lady discusses her life, the Reagan administration, her shaky relationship with her children and key White House personnel, her husband's involvement in the Iran-Contra affair, and her bout with cancer. "During our White House years I said almost nothing about how I really felt regarding the controversies that swirled around me. . . . But now those years are over, and it's my turn to describe what happened. . . ." About Ronald Reagan: "Although Ronnie loves people, he often seems remote, and he doesn't let anybody get too close. There's a wall around him. He lets me come closer than anyone else, but there are times when even I feel that barrier." About being a mother: "What I wanted most in all the world was to be a good wife and mother. As things turned out, I guess I've been more successful at the first than at the second." About her influence: "I make no apologies for telling Ronnie what I thought. Just because you're married doesn't mean you have no right to express your opinions. For eight years I was sleeping with the president, and if that doesn't give you special access, I don't know what does." About astrology: "What it boils down to is that each person has his or her own ways of coping with trauma and grief, with the pain of life, and astrology was one of mine. Don't criticize me, I wanted to say, until you have stood in my place. This helped me. Nobody was hurt by it-except, possibly, me." About Don Regan: "His very first day on the job, Don said that he saw himself as the 'chief operating officer' of the country. But he was hired to be chief of staff. . . . Although I believed for a long time that Donald Regan was in the wrong job, my 'power' in getting him to leave has been greatly exaggerated. Believe me, if I really were the dragon lady that he described in his book, he would have been out the door many months earlier."1 There's Been a Shooting IT was early afternoon on March 30, 1981, only seventy days after my husband was sworn in as president of the United States. I had just returned to the White House from a luncheon and was talking in the third-floor solarium with Ted Graber, our decorator, and Rex Scouten, the chief usher. Suddenly I saw George Opfer, the head of my Secret Service detail. He motioned for me to come down the ramp toward him. What's George doing here, I wondered. Something must be wrong, or he would have come up to me. There's been a shooting at the hotel, George said. Some people were wounded, but your husband wasn't hit. Everybody's at the hospital. I had started moving at the word shooting. By the time we reached the elevator I was getting panicky, and I told George I was going to the hospital. Although Ronnie was safe, I wanted to be with him, especially if anyone had been hurt. It's best if you stay here, George said. It's a madhouse over there. The president is fine. They'll be bringing him back. There's no need for you to go. George, I said, I'm going to that hospital. If you don't get me a car, I'm going to walk. A White House limousine pulled up to the Diplomatic Entrance, and we got in. As we approached George Washington University Hospital, the street was jammedpolice cars, reporters, onlookers. Without a siren or a police escort, we just had to sit there. I was frantic. If this traffic doesn't open up, I said, I'm going to run the rest of the way. No, no, George kept saying. You can't do that. Finally the traffic broke and we made it to the emergency entrance. The Secret Service had radioed ahead that I was coming, and Mike Deaver met me at the door. Mike was Ronnie's deputy chief of staff, and a close family friend. He's been hit, Mike said. The eme...

Autorentext

Nancy Reagan with William Novak

Klappentext

The former First Lady discusses her life, the Reagan administration, her shaky relationship with her children and key White House personnel, her husband's involvement in the Iran-Contra affair, and her bout with cancer.

"During our White House years I said almost nothing about how I really felt regarding the controversies that swirled around me. . . . But now those years are over, and it's my turn to describe what happened. . . ."

About Ronald Reagan: "Although Ronnie loves people, he often seems remote, and he doesn't let anybody get too close. There's a wall around him. He lets me come closer than anyone else, but there are times when even I feel that barrier."

About being a mother: "What I wanted most in all the world was to be a good wife and mother. As things turned out, I guess I've been more successful at the first than at the second."

About her influence: "I make no apologies for telling Ronnie what I thought. Just because you're married doesn't mean you have no right to express your opinions. For eight years I was sleeping with the president, and if that doesn't give you special access, I don't know what does."

About astrology: "What it boils down to is that each person has his or her own ways of coping with trauma and grief, with the pain of life, and astrology was one of mine. Don't criticize me, I wanted to say, until you have stood in my place. This helped me. Nobody was hurt by it-except, possibly, me."

About Don Regan: "His very first day on the job, Don said that he saw himself as the 'chief operating officer' of the country. But he was hired to be chief of staff. . . . Although I believed for a long time that Donald Regan was in the wrong job, my 'power' in getting him to leave has been greatly exaggerated. Believe me, if I really were the dragon lady that he described in his book, he would have been out the door many months earlier."

Leseprobe
1
 
 
 
“There’s Been a Shooting”
 
IT was early afternoon on March 30, 1981, only seventy days after my husband was sworn in as president of the United States. I had just returned to the White House from a luncheon and was talking in the third-floor solarium with Ted Graber, our decorator, and Rex Scouten, the chief usher.
 
Suddenly I saw George Opfer, the head of my Secret Service detail. He motioned for me to come down the ramp toward him.
 
What’s George doing here, I wondered. Something must be wrong, or he would have come up to me.
 
“There’s been a shooting at the hotel,” George said. “Some people were wounded, but your husband wasn’t hit. Everybody’s at the hospital.”
 
I had started moving at the word “shooting.” By the time we reached the elevator I was getting panicky, and I told George I was going to the hospital. Although Ronnie was safe, I wanted to be with him, especially if anyone had been hurt.
 
“It’s best if you stay here,” George said. “It’s a madhouse over there. The president is fine. They’ll be bringing him back. There’s no need for you to go.”
 
“George,” I said, “I’m going to that hospital. If you don’t get me a car, I’m going to walk.” A White House limousine pulled up to the Diplomatic Entrance, and we got in.
 
As we approached George Washington University Hospital, the street was jammed—police cars, reporters, onlookers. Without a siren or a police escort, we just had to sit there. I was frantic. “If this traffic doesn’t open up,” I said, “I’m going to run the rest of the way.”
 
“No, no,” George kept saying. “You can’t do that.” Finally the traffic broke and we made it to the emergency entrance.
 
The Secret Service had radioed ahead that I was coming, and Mike Deaver met me at the door. Mike was Ronnie’s deputy chief of staff, and a close family friend. …