The Presidency

By Hugh Sidey

In his book For the Record, Don Regan manages to violate almost everything he claims to champion -- his sense of loyalty, his dedication to his nation. "He is a brilliant man when it comes to analyzing financial matters," says one of his staunch supporters, "but when it comes to himself, he fails."

There is something slightly jarring when one picks up the book and sees the gaudy portrait of the handsome Regan on the cover, then flips it over and sees a photo of Reagan whispering into Regan's ear. The prose carries on the visual epic. Don Regan travels the heights undoubting, unerring, all-seeing of the foibles of others, resolute and -- hint after hint -- the fellow who ought to be running the country and on some dark occasions was.

. But Don Regan failed. In politics the only thing that succeeds is success. Regan was canned. That did not happen to his predecessor James Baker, or to his successor Howard Baker. And at the moment, the President retains a great deal of public affection and presides in peace and prosperity. How could the monstrous events Regan describes have taken place without demolishing the Reagan presidency, which Regan suggests was headed by a lazy, henpecked Chief Executive and driven by the constant conniving of his wife, a stargazing kook? Regan never solves the equation because it would take an admission that he could not understand or tolerate what was going on in the political world.

His tattling is good reading, factual in its details, grotesquely distorted in its larger view of the meaning and importance of events, and finally, being an act of vengeance, the book tells as much about its narrator as about its intended victims. Aside from the revelation about the astrologer, For the Record is of modest note. The President's detachment, lack of curiosity and lassitude have been documented from Day One. The First Lady's cunning and meddling in the West Wing affairs are old hat. The confusion, backbiting, scheming and clashing in the corridors of the White House are a staple of democracy. Regan's repeated whining about fitting the President's schedule to the stars hardly merits his apocalyptic hand wringing. Can anyone imagine the difficulties John Kennedy's scheduler must have had running his girls in and out so none confronted another or the family? That person never complained, never explained. The republic survived not knowing until later.

Don Regan's firing, while traumatic to such a self-centered man, is not that much more cruel or bizarre than what happened to Ike's chief of staff Sherman Adams, L.B.J.'s Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, Nixon's Secretary of the Interior Wally Hickel and White House Bunglers Haldeman and Ehrlichman. Regan's banishment has its own twists and turns, but such is life at that level of proud power. Regan's book is a testament to his belief that indulging his anger was more important than the presidency, the White House and the country.

The most damning revelation for Regan has to do with the Geneva summit in 1986. After the bright, bold Raisa Gorbachev had lectured the President on Marxist-Leninist theory at dinner, when the Soviet couple had gone off into the night and the door closed behind them, Regan revealed that Nancy then ) said, "Who does that dame think she is?"

Does Regan allow no unguarded confidence to remain buried, no tiny measure of trust to be secure? Who has not said something like that at a weary time? But who would print it a few days before the Reagans go to Moscow? Regan's is a long and successful life filled with honor and achievement, including some of his days in the White House. But this book is a dreary and contemptible chapter.