Love and Politics

Pat Nixon urged her husband to burn the Watergate tapes. Muriel Humphrey, who heard secondhand that Hubert had decided to run for President in 1968, sent him a sarcastic telegram: "Let me know if I can be of help." And a woman overnight guest at the L.B.J. ranch was awakened in bed by a familiar drawl, "Move over -this is yore President."

Such gossip is the stuff of Washington politics -and of Myra MacPherson's new book, The Power Lovers: An Intimate Look at Politicians and Their Marriages (Putnam; $10). But MacPherson, 40, a feature writer for the Washington Post, has more on her mind than conventional tattling. In putting together interviews with some 30 famous husband-and-wife teams, she develops a thesis: satisfying marriage and family life are almost impossible in politics, at least at the top.

Out of fear of not being reelected, politicians campaign nights and weekends instead of seeing their families. Wives, who quickly learn to suppress public complaints or any opinions of their own, must fight through a screen of legislative aides and political groupies to get at their husbands.

Says MacPherson: "It's not just the demands, the constant travel, the constituents. It's the inner core of the politician to begin with. The kind of person who picks politics for a career is one who is not comfortable with one-on-one relationships. He prefers, all too often, the roar of the crowd." Among the results of such pressures: Joy Baker, after living most of her life for two Senators -father, Everett Dirksen and husband, Howard Baker -says sadly, "Politics has nullified my personality." Sharon Percy Rockefeller reports that her three-year-old son struck angrily at the TV set when his father, Jay Rockefeller, was interviewed because the child saw him more on the tube than in person. Joan Kennedy offers a one-word self-description: "Vulnerable." Jane Muskie may have cost her husband the Democratic nomination in 1972 by trying to relax with four women reporters after an exhausting campaign day. Her throw-away remark, "Let's just sit here and tell dirty jokes," was published and led to Muskie's celebrated New Hampshire "crying scene."

Though such incidents make Washington wives wary of saying anything, some rebel. Jean Lucey, wife of the Wisconsin Governor, told a demonstrating group of welfare mothers to get off their behinds and get jobs. The wife of one Southern Senator is joining the board of a black college to show her independence. And Betty Ford of the unpredictable opinion, is becoming quite a heroine to feminists.

Other wives listed as mavericks by MacPherson maintain separate identities by refusing to follow their men to Washington. Ruth Harkin, wife of an Iowa Democratic Congressman, who announced that Washington wives are just "pawns" for publicity purposes, stayed home in Iowa, where she is Story County prosecuting attorney. Senator Jacob Javits lives in Washington; his wife, Marion, lives in New York and leads the life of a social butterfly.

MacPherson, who worked for the Washington Star and the New York Times before joining the Post in 1968, grew up in Belleville, Mich., "with people who thought there was nothing worse than being phony." Her book is gamily readable, except for some patches of ponderous sermonizing, e.g.: "A need to alter present-day political priorities seems crucial to many public people if the quality of their personal lives is to be improved." Lady Bird Johnson said it better, "A politician ought to be born a foundling and remain a bachelor."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.