Learning the Preferences and Quirks of Power

By Hugh Sidey

The Presidency

When he was Secretary of State, Edmund Muskie tucked a hand-penned message into Jimmy Carter's evening reading "to keep the personal touch." In secret deliberations when the tide seemed to be running against the interests of President Kennedy or Johnson, Secretary Dean Rusk often would scribble a short plea on note paper and slip it unobtrusively to the man beside him. The message: "Don't make a decision now, Mr. President. Let me see you later." Henry Kissinger had a pact with Gerald Ford to meet at least a half-hour every working day the two were in the same city. "It could not be that a President and a Secretary of State, who between them hold the predominant position in Government, had nothing to say to each other," recalls Kissinger.

Were such experiences compiled in a handbook, it would save time and anguish for George Shultz, the new Secretary, who is now devising his own approach to Ronald Reagan on a trial-and-error basis. Recent history shows that the risk of failure is high. Of the past six Secretaries, three resigned because of dissonance over policy or the manner in which it was executed. Rusk, Muskie and Kissinger finished their assignments convinced that personal harmony with their Presidents was the key to survival.

Shultz's start is encouraging. Two weeks ago, the question of who should chair a Cabinet group on international economic policy came before Reagan. It held the potential for a turf battle, the kind former Secretary Alexander Haig fought continuously, to the discomfort of the President. Shultz spoke up. "When I was Secretary of the Treasury, I felt I should chair the council. Just because I am Secretary of State, I see no reason to change that. Let Don [Regan] have it." Controversy was avoided; Shultz's influence subtly enlarged.

"You cannot get authority formally on paper," says Kissinger. "A President feels he needs you or not." How to feel needed is in Rusk's words "the art of the matter." To begin with, a Secretary of State should be compatible, both philosophically and personally, with his President. "Fundamental disagreements simply should not arise," says Kissinger, adding that the selection process has always been too haphazard.

Once chosen, a Secretary must become intimate with the President, yet keep a certain professional distance. Muskie, for example, never called Carter "Jimmy," though others around the White House always did. Rusk was the only Cabinet member Kennedy addressed as "Mr. Secretary," and he took pains to nurture this special respect. "We were very close officially," recalls Rusk. "But I never played touch football with the Kennedys. I never got pushed into their swimming pool." Kissinger cannot remember ever going into the presence of Nixon at the White House without a coat on.

Knowing Nixon's fascination with other people of power, like Mao Tse-tung, Kissinger stocked up on personal information about world leaders. He also supplied stories about the Ivy League, both good and bad, which the boss relished. Muskie twitted Carter about his inept fly casting but praised him for superb fly tying. Rusk bent to Kennedy's appetite for humor. Ordered to track down and fire a leaker, Rusk traced the culprit to the Oval Office. "I can't fire him, Mr. President," phoned Rusk. "It's you." They both roared.

Kissinger found it best to meet the President in the morning. "He was fresh and he felt he was a part of the decisions and that I was not just informing him." Muskie learned that Friday breakfast with Carter and his White House staff was the most productive time. Events of the week had run their course. Reports from the departments were complete. The President and Muskie felt informed

enough to act. At the end of every day, Rusk sent Kennedy, and later Johnson, one piece of paper with short items explaining minor actions taken that day and those that he planned to take in the next couple of days without presidential consultation.

Carter craved detail on every problem, and Muskie soon prepped for his encounters with the President like a college student.

Kissinger explained broad historical concepts that interested Nixon but was careful not to bore the President with excessive detail. "A Secretary should never allow himself to be put in a position where he opposes his President in front of others in a meeting," says Kissinger. Silence or deferral of the issue is the ploy of restraint.

Muskie had 24-hour access to Carter either by phone or in person, but often resisted the impulse to call the President. "I decided that if I ever overdid it, I would become less effective," Muskie remembers. Rusk calculated that two-thirds of the world was always awake creating mischief and a President had to be shielded from too many crises. Rusk also worked at "not bothering the President or abusing my access." Result: "When I saw them, both Presidents always took me seriously."

All Presidents at first tend to be impatient with diplomatic protocol, indifferent to these rituals that prevent nations from constantly bickering over trivialities. "Presidents have to learn that ambassadors to Washington from other nations actually have a right to see them," Rusk says. Nixon loved protocol that was glamorous, but often balked at routine receptions and meetings. Kissinger soon learned that if events were simply inserted into the President's schedule, the quiet authority of the printed word subdued his protests and Nixon performed the required rituals without complaint.

George Shultz's challenge is to avoid straining Reagan's geniality while translating the President's often vague instincts into policy and practical diplomatic action. While Shultz counsels his client, he must never forget that power flows only one way--from the President to his Secretary.

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