From Brickbats to Bouquets

By Hugh Sidey

They are like butterflies, iron or lace, caught in the political turbulence created by their husbands. They can be flashes of beauty and grace in the dark crevices of society or symbols of comfort and quiet hope in times of national despair. First Ladies have an impossible job, and each has a different challenge.

Nancy Reagan was as much of a shock as her husband. Her principal duty as she saw it was to be wife and home manager for the President, something she described as "nesting," which meant "trying to make the White House as attractive and inviting as I can." It was, to her mind, a worthy and rewarding goal.

She collided with a city that for 50 years had based its culture on spending more and more of the taxpayers' money. Her husband came to slow the trend. Nancy Reagan was judged harshly by some lingering partisans of the counterculture: the devoted wife was somehow suspect, the pursuit of everyday excellence often judged a waste of energy, and mediocrity celebrated in dress, manners and mind. Lace butterflies can get crushed. She almost did.

"I'm starting to enjoy it more now," she said the other day in her sitting room, lustrous from the deft touch of her decorator and the afternoon sun. That very act--White House redecoration--was one of controversy. The Franklin Roosevelts continued their aristocratic life of yachts and grand homes. The John Kennedys poured huge sums into clothes and antiques. Neither suffered because Government was expanding to help the underprivileged. Now each dollar the Reagans spend is publicly juxtaposed against a budget cut. Butterflies can get bent out of shape in that house of mirrors.

Nancy Reagan admits now that the attempt on her husband's life hit her harder and the shock stayed longer than she realized. "You are never the same," she says. Then there were four specific controversies that further clouded her dreams: the millionaire Mends, the White House refurbishing, the new china, the loaned designer dresses.

Given the normal dynamics of public opinion, Mrs. Reagan by this time should be locked in her closet. Instead, she is headed out into the world on her Foster Grandparent program and her promotion of drug rehabilitation. Further, something has happened in the press. The stories have softened. There has been a backlash in favor of the resolute First Lady with the Adolfo pattern. After writing a particularly harsh piece, a Washington Post columnist was deluged with mail expressing outrage--at the columnist, not Mrs. Reagan. George Gallup polled Americans and found her the woman they most admired.

Digging in White House mail suggests that the Nancy problems may always have been more media figment than real. Of the 60,000 letters addressed to Mrs. Reagan in the year, 90% are supportive or inquisitive, not negative. The great dress loan episode, believed by writers to be the most scandalous, drew 50 letters, barely a public nod. Decorating the White House with money donated by millionaires was supported 10 to 1. The new dishes were approved 3 to 1. With those results in, it is not much fun for the press to be against nesting.

"I haven't changed," says Mrs. Reagan. "I'm doing what I did in California. I'll continue. I want the White House to be warm and elegant. I want it to be right. I want to show what is best in America."

Among her reasons is the feeling left by a lady from Bangladesh, a desperate corner of world poverty. The guest stood near tears in the glow of a White House dinner, a magic moment in which warmth and beauty bound her to this land. She was inspired.

That, in the end, may be the importance of being Nancy.

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