Majesty in a Democracy

By Hugh Sidey

The Presidency

Mjaesty in a Democracy

We are now going through an orgy of assessing Cabinet posts, White House staff positions, likely bills to be drafted, executive orders to be issued, offices to be assigned, and all the rest of the measures we apply to help size up a new Administration.

The operation at this point is largely mechanical, with charts and lists and numbers and dates--the clanking and wheezing of a new Government trying to recover from the shock of winning an election and actually hauling itself into the White House on Jan. 20 with some idea of how to make the place run.

(A few minutes after entering the Oval Office for the first time, John Kennedy buzzed for an aide, who pounded down the hall, burst in to see the new President behind his desk grinning. "What the hell do I do now?" asked J.F.K.)

Ronald Reagan will be able to get through his first day without losing his way. The trained White House staff that goes from Administration to Administration will have his office decorated, fresh flowers in place, his schedule typed out, phone hooked up, Air Force One ready to fly, the hot line at hand, the Marine band on alert, and the pastry chef set to spin his sugar magic.

Then will come an avalanche of budget figures, Pentagon hardware lists, legislative schedules and priorities, dates for receptions and state dinners. They are the gears and axles of Government, the machinery with which a successful President assembles policy that grows into change and ultimately makes history.

In these next few days there will be less said about some other elements of leadership that, despite their elusiveness and the inability of politicians to put them into box scores, may mean more to a President than even the number of dollars he can spend. A President must hold out hope, must exude an optimism even in impossible circumstances. History is a marvelous collection of stories about men and women who refused to accept the common verdict that certain achievements were impossible. Franklin Roosevelt offered hope more than anything else in the upheaval he brought to our system.

Dignity is another vital ingredient of presidential effectiveness. It is an innate characteristic, but it is manifested in speech, dress, manners and a hundred other things. "The function of ceremony," Henry Kissinger once said, "is to indicate that the President has been given a responsibility by the state that transcends the average citizen. Our people like it, and foreigners insist upon it."

Eloquence is another of those elusive qualities that can influence presidential achievement. It can come in all dimensions, from Harry Truman's expletives to Lyndon Johnson's appeals for civil rights that stirred the entire nation. The essence of eloquence is that behind the language lies commitment: the words count. There are 13 million small businesses in the U.S. employing half the labor force and supporting 100 million people. If Ronald Reagan's promises of relief from taxes and regulation are not sincere, no amount of fancy speechwriting will cover the failure. Dwight Eisenhower, after all, had trouble arranging his verbs and objects, but people always knew what he was saying or at least what he meant.

And then there is majesty, which is composed of pride and perfection and all of the things above and even more. It is the behavior of a President in a manner that reflects the size, wealth and meaning of the nation. Wherever John Kennedy flew in his short years in the presidency, there was a sense of excitement when he walked out of the door of Air Force One and down to the microphone on the tarmac. Those traveling with him and those who came to see and hear him were rarely disappointed. His bearing was precise, his words carefully chosen, his feeling about America palpable. He gave the office majesty. It will be Ronald Reagan's challenge to do the same.

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