Killing Reagan

by Bill O'Reilly

  His parents are currently building a new home in Evergreen, Colorado, a small mountain town populated largely by wealthy conservatives. They moved there from Dallas just a year ago, as John was beginning his freshman year at Texas Tech University. Having no friends in Evergreen, John Hinckley prefers to spend the summer in scorching-hot Dallas before heading back to school in the fall.

  But Hinckley has no friends in Dallas, either. This is nothing new. Once, his high school classmates called him “as nice a guy as you’d ever want to meet.” He was popular and well liked, a member of the Spanish Club, Rodeo Club, and an association known as Students in Government. But halfway through high school, he abruptly stopped playing sports or taking part in school functions. His mother, Jo Ann, was heartbroken by the sudden change—and confused as to why it happened.

  John Hinckley is no longer one to experience happiness. It has been a long time since he has known that emotion. But here in his room, at least he is content. He listens to the Beatles and plays guitar, day after day after day. Today is a Friday. The president of the United States has just quit. The world is in shock. Outside, the sun is shining on yet another baking-hot Texas summer afternoon. But John Hinckley does not notice. Within these walls, each day is just like any other. Friday might as well be Monday. It does not matter.

  Hinckley’s parents think themselves lucky that their son does not drink, take drugs, or engage in sexual promiscuity. They are deeply religious evangelical Christians, and to know that their son is not violating biblical principles gives them some peace. So they leave him alone.

  One day they will look back and realize that their son’s withdrawal from society was not normal.

  By then, it will be too late.

  11

  OLD SHADOW CABINET ROOM

  HOUSE OF COMMONS

  LONDON, ENGLAND

  APRIL 9, 1975

  NOON

  Ronald Reagan sits on a small cloth-upholstered sofa, his left knee just inches away from touching that of a woman sitting in an adjacent chair. Reagan is now a former governor, having left his office in Sacramento three months ago. The still-handsome sixty-four-year-old senses an immediate chemistry between himself and the forty-nine-year-old Margaret Thatcher, Great Britain’s new House of Commons opposition leader.

  Thatcher is a homely woman, but Reagan considers her “warm, feminine, gracious, and intelligent”—so much so that he will take the unprecedented step of gushing about the British leader to Nancy Reagan when this meeting ends in two hours. For Margaret Thatcher, the feeling is mutual. “When we met in person I was immediately won over by his charm, sense of humor, and directness,” Thatcher will later recall.

  Thatcher wears her graying hair swept up in a high wave. Her dress features wide lapels and a zipper down the front, a style not often seen in the staid world of British politics. She is a complex woman, fond of working through the night and unwinding with a glass of whisky. She owns an American-made Ruger handgun for protection, and there is a growing legend that she helped invent soft-serve ice cream back in the days when she was a chemist instead of a member of Parliament.

  Thatcher is a new breed of politician, eager to break her nation out of the cradle-to-grave welfare philosophy that has thwarted the British economy since the end of World War II. Though she is dedicated to politics, ideology means more to Thatcher than appearance. In time, she will learn to balance the two, burnishing her image by switching to power suits and a simple strand of pearls. Her favorite color is turquoise, but she often prefers the more powerful appearance of black, white, gray, and navy. She will soon begin dying her hair reddish blond, and, at the suggestion of legendary actor Laurence Olivier, she will hire a voice coach from London’s Royal National Theatre to bring her speaking voice down an octave.

  In time, Thatcher will earn the nickname Iron Lady, for her habit of imposing her will on Parliament and her staunch opposition to the Soviet Union and socialism.

  But all this is yet to come. For now, Margaret Thatcher is more focused on talking policy with the man she has just met but who is obviously her political “soul mate,” to use Reagan’s words.

  Thatcher presents her guest with a pair of cuff links. Reagan opens the small box and tries them on as a photographer snaps the moment for posterity. He wears a dark suit, polka-dot tie, and white shirt. The former governor’s successful economic policies have led to an invitation to speak with British businessmen about ways to reduce the size of government and grow the economy. This sort of political proselytizing has become Reagan’s primary occupation since moving from the governor’s mansion in Sacramento back down to Los Angeles. He will make almost two hundred thousand dollars this year traveling the world giving speeches.1 In addition, two ghostwriters help him prepare his weekly syndicated newspaper column, which goes out to 226 papers in the United States. And he personally writes the Saturday afternoon radio broadcast he delivers to 286 conservative stations nationwide.

  Ronald Reagan presents Margaret Thatcher with a silver dollar medallion, April 9, 1975.

  When Margaret Thatcher requested the meeting, she hoped Ronald Reagan might spend forty-five minutes with her. But the two get along so well that they spend more than double that time in this small chamber crowded with many tables and chairs.

  Thus begins a beautiful friendship.

  * * *

  A few days after Ronald Reagan flies home from London to America, there is staggering news: the capital of South Vietnam, Saigon, falls to the North Vietnamese Army. American television cameras capture vivid images of American military and intelligence personnel being hastily evacuated by helicopter from the rooftop of an apartment building near the U.S. embassy. After two decades, the Vietnam War finally ends in defeat.2

  “I have chosen a dark day to write a belated thank you,” Reagan says in a letter to Margaret Thatcher on April 30, 1975. “The news has just arrived of Saigon’s surrender and somehow the shadows seem to have lengthened.”

  Reagan’s grim mood infects the whole country. Secretary of State Kissinger has compared America to the former Greek city-state of Athens, which suffered a long slide into oblivion. Kissinger also equates the Soviet Union with Sparta, the militaristic Greek state that constantly prepared for war. The rotund Kissinger is pessimistic about America’s standing in the world. And he is not alone. Many believe America’s decline began with the assassination of John F. Kennedy in 1963, continued through the antiwar protests of the late 1960s, and then accelerated with the chaos of Watergate in the early ’70s.

  Eight months before the fall of Saigon, new president Gerald R. Ford tried to stanch the bleeding by pardoning Richard Nixon for any and all crimes he may have committed while in office, believing that the nation would not benefit from the prolonged spectacle of a president on trial. “My fellow Americans,” Ford had promised in his inaugural address, “our long national nightmare is over.”

  But it is far from over. And the outrage continues to grow. America, a nation built upon integrity, honesty, and trust, has seen those principles twisted in a way that signals not some future form of greatness but imminent decay.

  And no one seems to know how to stop it.

  * * *

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” intones a booming offstage voice, “the President of the United States.”

  A lectern bearing the presidential seal stands in the middle of the speaker’s platform. The president steps onstage, only to get tangled in the American flag. He drops the typed speech he is carrying. Quickly scooping up the pages, he steps to the lectern and composes himself. “My fellow Americans,” he begins, “ladies and gentlemen, members of the press, and my immediate family.”

  Then things get worse. The president stumbles over his words, repeating himself again and again, bumbling his way through the address. “I do have two announcements to make,” he says, before falling to the ground again. “Whoa. Uh oh. No problem. No problem,” he says, gripping the lectern with two hands to right himself.

&nbs
p; The date is November 8, 1975. The “president” is actually comedian Chevy Chase, playing the part of Gerald R. Ford. Earlier in the year, while visiting Austria on official business, Ford tumbled down the steps of Air Force One. He was not hurt, and blamed the spill on a bad knee. However, the fallout has been immense. The former University of Michigan football star’s perceived clumsiness has become a national joke. A vast national audience roars at Chase’s lampooning of a sitting American president. An office that was once revered and respected out of patriotic fervor has become fodder for farce. Gerald Ford’s most difficult task since replacing Richard Nixon is restoring dignity to the presidency. He is failing.

  Chevy Chase finally stumbles away from the lectern, trips on a folding chair, and falls hard to the ground. “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night,” he yells into the camera.3

  * * *

  Nancy Reagan is not one to laugh easily. She is now decidedly unamused that her twenty-two-year-old daughter, Patti, is living with a rock musician and openly smoking marijuana. Nancy is also incensed that her seventeen-year-old son, Ron, recently seduced the thirty-year-old wife of musician Ricky Nelson in Nancy’s own bedroom.4

  “The bad news is you came home early and caught him,” older son Michael Reagan reminds his father when he hears the news. “The good news is you found out he wasn’t gay.”5

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Reagan responds. “But you’re absolutely right. I guess it’s a blessing. Thanks, Mike. I must tell Nancy.”

  But what really gets to Nancy Reagan’s inner core is the growing celebrity of First Lady Betty Ford. America may not be completely sold on her husband as president, but the country loves Betty. The fifty-seven-year-old represents a huge relief from the heaviness of the Nixon White House. Betty Ford talks openly about premarital sex, abortion, and equal rights for women. Adding to that, she had a mastectomy just one month after her husband took office, losing her right breast to cancer. She speaks candidly about the scar it produced, along with the fact that she likes to have sex with her husband “as often as possible.”

  Nancy Reagan craves that level of celebrity for herself. Betty Ford notices this after dining with the Reagans in Palm Springs during the 1975 Easter vacation. “She’s a cold fish,” Ford later recalled. “Nancy could not have been colder. Then the flashbulbs went off, and she smiled and kissed me. Suddenly, an old friend. I couldn’t get over that. Off camera, ice. On camera, warmth.”

  The purpose of the dinner was to suggest that Ronald Reagan not challenge Gerald Ford for the 1976 Republican presidential nomination. It is an uncomfortable night. This is not the first time Reagan and Ford have met, but they circle each other as if they are strangers. Aides note that both men are “uptight, unnatural, pathetically polite, and acutely on guard” at the dinner. “Betty Ford and Nancy Reagan hit it off even worse.”6

  Ford, a lifelong Republican who served in the navy during World War II, considers Reagan little more than a lightweight actor and former Democrat. However, he knows that Reagan represents the conservative vote, and this concerns him. Rather than marginalizing his potential opponent, Ford has chosen to court Reagan. He has twice offered him a spot in his Cabinet, telling the former governor that he can select almost any position he likes. He has also offered Reagan the job as U.S. ambassador to Great Britain, to which Reagan replied, “Hell, I can’t afford to be an ambassador.”

  In addition, Ford asked Reagan to be part of a panel investigating alleged abuses by the CIA. All this is an effort to prevent Reagan from running for president and splitting the Republican Party in two. Suspicious, Reagan keeps his distance from Ford, accepting the spot on the CIA panel in an effort to gain national exposure, but turning down any scenarios that would make him subservient to Ford. Finally, in an effort to gain conservative support, Gerald Ford strongly suggests that Nelson Rockefeller step down as vice president when his term comes to an end.7 Rockefeller cooperates, and the path is now open to Reagan running as Ford’s new vice president in 1976.

  But it is not to be. Believing he has the resources to defeat Ford for the nomination, Reagan makes it clear that he has no interest in the secondary position. Still, he keeps Gerald Ford guessing as to whether or not he will challenge him. “I tried to get to know Reagan, but I failed,” Ford will later write. “I never knew what he was really thinking behind that winning smile.”

  Gerald Ford quickly finds out what is on Reagan’s mind. On November 19, 1975, Ford is working in the Oval Office at 4:28 in the afternoon, with Vice President Nelson Rockefeller and Chief of Staff Dick Cheney, when the phone rings. Governor Reagan is on the line.

  Ford does not take the call.

  Reagan tries again at 4:57 p.m. This time, Ford picks up. Reagan is calling from his suite at the Madison Hotel in Washington, where he and Nancy have just checked in. In the morning, Reagan tells Ford, he is going to announce his candidacy for president at the National Press Club.

  “I trust we can have a good contest,” Reagan tells Ford.

  At first, Gerald Ford is not upset by the news, for he has anticipated Reagan’s decision ever since that Easter dinner in Palm Springs. He takes a thirty-minute stroll to gather his thoughts, stopping first at the White House barbershop for a quick trim. By the time he returns to the Oval Office, Ford is convinced that he will breeze to victory.

  The New York Times echoes Ford’s sentiments, writing that a Reagan presidential bid “makes a lot of news, but it doesn’t make much sense.”

  However, a Gallup poll shortly after Reagan’s announcement shatters Gerald Ford’s illusion.

  The poll finds Republican voters favoring Ronald Reagan over Gerald Ford by a margin of 40 to 32 percent.

  Let the games begin.

  * * *

  “When you leave the platform, turn to your left,” a Secret Service agent whispers to Ronald Reagan as he prepares to deliver the first speech of his presidential campaign. The new candidate is in Miami. He and Nancy now have a Secret Service detail, offering round-the-clock protection against would-be attackers.

  The whirlwind life of a presidential candidate has already begun for the Reagans. They flew by chartered plane from Washington, DC, down to Florida this morning. After his speech in the main ballroom at the Ramada Inn on Twenty-Second Street, they will be whisked back to Miami International Airport, where they will then fly to Manchester, New Hampshire. Tomorrow it’s on to Charlotte and then Chicago, and finally California. This will be life for the Reagans for the next nine months until the Republican National Convention in August. If they are lucky, they will get to continue the nonstop travel into November, when the presidential election is held. While the pace will be frantic, it will be well worth it. The ultimate goal for Ronald Reagan is being elected president of the United States and thus being recognized as the most powerful man on earth.

  In Miami, Reagan speaks for twenty minutes. At 2:00 p.m. he steps down from the dais but chooses to ignore the Secret Service’s demand that he turn left. Instead, Reagan goes right, hoping to say hello to an old friend he has spied from the stage.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” campaign chairman Tommy Thomas says to Reagan as he plunges into the audience.

  The crowd closes around Reagan. He is unafraid, eagerly shaking hands, working the room like the seasoned politician he has become. All around the governor, people smile and try to catch his eye. Suddenly, a twenty-year-old man with dark hair and dressed in a checkered shirt, who is standing just two feet in front of him, extends his right arm and points a .45-caliber pistol at Reagan’s chest.

  Before Reagan can react, his Secret Service detail surges past him and tackles Michael Lance Carvin. Reagan himself is thrown to the ground for his protection, the agents shielding his body with their own.

  “I feel fine,” Reagan later explains to the press.

  “I hope it doesn’t happen again,” a startled Nancy Reagan tells the media. “I think you always have to keep it in the back of your mind.”8


  * * *

  Nine months later, Ronald and Nancy Reagan are running through the labyrinthine hallways and tunnels of Kansas City’s Kemper Arena. The Republican National Convention is in its final moments, and the Reagans are on their way to the stage. The roar of the crowd echoes down the corridors, and delegates from all over America are in a state of near bedlam as they await the candidate and his wife. This is the first time Ronald Reagan has made an appearance at the four-day convention, and the moment he shows his face, a collective roar shakes the arena.

  Reagan is unsteady. “What am I going to say?” he asks Nancy. He has not prepared a speech. The losing candidate is not supposed to speak at the convention—and as of last night, Ronald Reagan has officially lost the Republican nomination for the presidency. Gerald Ford’s slender margin of 1,187 votes to Reagan’s 1,070 has ensured a Ford victory.9 As he did so many months ago, Reagan has made it clear that he will not accept the vice presidency if it is offered. So Ford has not offered.

  The two candidates were neck and neck at the start of the convention. Ford won fifteen primaries, Reagan twelve. But Reagan committed a major blunder by announcing his running mate before the convention, selecting liberal Republican senator Richard Schweiker. This alienated Reagan’s core conservative constituents. He tried to fix the error by suggesting that convention rules be changed to mandate that Ford also name his running mate early. The matter was taken before the Republican Party’s Rules Committee, where it was voted down. Ford won the nomination on the first ballot. This is the first time Reagan has ever been beaten head-to-head in an election. He will remain bitter about the loss for years to come.

  Gerald Ford’s acceptance speech is masterful. He is interrupted by applause sixty-five times. Watching Ford on television, Jimmy Carter’s campaign manager, Hamilton Jordan, parses no words in describing the strength of Ford’s delivery: “It scares the shit out of me.”