smooth-talking former sportscaster and mayor of Odessa. He had run against George Mahon in 1976 and felt entitled to the nomination in 1978. He was very unhappy that I had outpolled him in the first round of the primary.
Reese had a hard edge, and so did some of his supporters. Their strategy was to paint me as a liberal, out- of-touch carpetbagger. They threw out all kinds of conspiracy theories. Dad was part of a trilateral commission campaign to establish a one-world government. I had been sent by the Rockefeller family to buy up farmland. Four days before the election, Reese produced a copy of my birth certificate to
Reese received an endorsement and campaign contributions from Ronald Reagan, who was seeking an edge on Dad in the 1980 presidential primary. Despite all the innuendos, I was optimistic about my chances. My strategy was to build up a bulkhead in my home county of Midland. Laura and I attended coffees across town, organized the county block by block, and persuaded friends who had never been involved in politics to help us.* On election night, our grassroots effort in Midland produced a massive turnout. I lost every other county in the district, but took Midland by such a huge margin that I won the nomination.
Dad had predicted that Reagan would call to congratulate me if I won the primary. He did, the next day. He was gracious and volunteered to help in the general election. I was grateful for his call and bore no hard feelings. But I was determined to run the race as my own man. I didn’t do any campaigning with Reagan, nor did I do any with Dad.
The race against Reese toughened me as a candidate. I learned I could take a hard punch, keep fighting, and win. My opponent in the general was Kent Hance, the state senator Governor Shivers had warned me about. Hance’s strategy was the same as Reese’s—turn me into an East Coast outsider—but he executed it with more subtlety and charm.
One of my first TV ads showed me jogging, which I thought emphasized my energy and youth. Hance turned it against me with one line: “The only time folks around here go running is when somebody’s chasing ’em.”
He also ran a radio ad: “In 1961, when Kent Hance graduated from Dimmitt High School in the Nineteenth Congressional District, his opponent, George W. Bush, was attending Andover Academy in Massachusetts. In 1965, when Kent Hance graduated from Texas Tech, his opponent was at Yale University. And while Kent Hance graduated from University of Texas Law School, his opponent … get this, folks … was attending Harvard. We don’t need someone from the Northeast telling us what our problems are.”
Hance was a great storyteller, and he used his skill to pound away with the outsider theme. His favorite story was about a man in a limo who pulled up to a farm where Hance was working. When the driver asked him for directions to the next town, Hance said, “Turn right just past the cattle guard, then follow the road.” The punch line came when the driver asked, “Excuse me, but what color uniform will that cattle guard be wearing?” The West Texas crowds loved it. Hance would twist the knife by adding, “I couldn’t tell if the limo had Massachusetts or Connecticut license plates.”
Laura and I moved temporarily to Lubbock, the biggest city in the district, about 115 miles north of Midland. An important hub for the cotton business, Lubbock was home to Texas Tech University. We used the city as our base to campaign in the district’s rural counties. Laura and I spent hours in the car together, stumping in towns like Levelland, Plainview, and Brownfield. For someone who didn’t particularly care for politics, Laura was a natural campaigner. Her genuineness made it easy for voters to relate to her. After our wedding, we had taken a short trip to Cozumel, Mexico, but we joked that the campaign was our honeymoon.
On the campaign trail with Laura.
On the Fourth of July, we campaigned in Muleshoe, in the far northern part of the district. In the May primary, I had received 6 of the 230 votes cast in Bailey County. The way I saw it, I had plenty of room for improvement. Laura and I smiled and waved at the spectators from the back of our white pickup truck. Nobody cheered. Nobody even waved. People looked at us like we were aliens. By the end I was convinced the only supporter I had in Muleshoe was the one sitting next to me.
A campaign ad during my run for Congress.
Election night came, and it turned out that old Governor Shivers was right. I won big in Midland County and in the southern part of the district, but not by enough to offset Hance’s margins in Lubbock and elsewhere. The final tally was 53 percent to 47 percent.
I hated losing, but I was glad I’d run. I enjoyed the hard work of politics, meeting people and making my case. I learned that allowing your opponent to define you is one of the biggest mistakes you can make in a campaign. And I discovered that I could accept defeat and move on. That was not easy for someone as competitive as I am. But it was an important part of my maturing.
As for Congressman Kent Hance, he deserved to win that race, and we became good friends. Two gubernatorial and presidential victories later, he is still the only politician ever to beat me. He went on to serve three terms in the House before losing a bid for the Senate. Then he became a Republican and contributed to my campaigns. Kent is now the chancellor of Texas Tech. He says that without him, I would never have become president. He’s probably right.
Six months after my campaign ended, I had another race to think about. Dad announced his candidacy for the 1980 presidential election. He was a long shot against Ronald Reagan, but he ran a strong campaign in Iowa and won an upset victory in the caucus. Unfortunately, his hot streak ran out amid the cold winters of New Hampshire. Reagan defeated him there and continued on to the Republican nomination.
There was a lot of speculation about whom Reagan would choose for vice president. At the convention in Detroit, he was in discussions with Gerald Ford about some sort of co-presidency. They agreed it wouldn’t work—a good decision. Then Reagan called Dad and asked him to be his running mate—an even better decision.
Dad with President Reagan.
On election night, the Reagan-Bush ticket crushed Jimmy Carter and Walter Mondale 489 to 49 in the Electoral College. Laura and I flew to Washington for the Inauguration on January 20, 1981, the first time the ceremony was held on the majestic west front of the Capitol. We beamed as Justice Potter Stewart swore in Dad. Then Ronald Reagan repeated the oath administered by Chief Justice Warren Burger.
As a history major, I was thrilled to have a front-row seat. As a son, I was filled with pride. It never crossed my mind that I would one day stand on that platform and hold up my right hand at two presidential inaugurations.
The early 1980s brought tough moments, from a painful recession to the bombing of our Marine barracks in Lebanon, but the Reagan-Bush administration accomplished what it had promised. They cut taxes, regained the edge in the Cold War, and restored American morale. When President Reagan and Dad put their record before the voters in 1984, they won forty-nine of fifty states.
Dad was the logical favorite for the 1988 presidential nomination, but the race would not be easy. He had been so loyal to President Reagan that he had done almost nothing to promote himself. He was also battling the infamous Van Buren factor. Not since Martin Van Buren followed Andrew Jackson into the White House in 1836 had a vice president been elected to succeed the president with whom he had served.
Early in his second term, President Reagan generously allowed Dad to use the presidential retreat at Camp David for a meeting with his campaign team. It was thoughtful of Dad to invite all his siblings and children. I enjoyed meeting his team, although I had some reservations. Dad’s top strategist was a young guy named Lee Atwater. A fast-talking, guitar-playing South Carolinian, Lee was considered one of the country’s hottest political consultants. No question he was smart. No doubt he had experience. I wanted to know if he was loyal.
When Dad asked if any of the family members had questions, my hand went up. “Lee, how do we know we can trust you, since your business partners are working for other candidates?” I asked. Jeb chimed in: “If someone throws a grenade at our dad, we expect you to jump on it.” Our tone was tough, but it reflected our love of Dad and our expectations of his staff—an agenda that put the candidate first and personal ambition second.
Lee said he had known Dad at the Republican National Committee, admired him a lot, and wanted him to win. He added that he was planning to sever his conflicting business connections. Yet it was obvious that our
