House of Representatives
Washington, D.C. 20515
CHAPTER 3
Potomac Fever
The task of becoming a congressman began almost immediately, although it would be two months before I took office. The first order of business was vying for committee assignments. The key person to lobby was Gerald Ford, then a congressman from Michigan and House minority leader.
November 26, 1966
The Honorable Gerald Ford
U. S. House of Representatives
Washington, D.C.
Dear Gerry,1
In reply to your letter of November 14th, and keeping in mind our ‘phone conversation of Wednesday of this week, I am attaching a Request For Committee Assignment.
I put down, as you will see, a strong plea for Appropriations. I noticed that the Democrats did put a Freshman on this committee last year. I hope that I have not tried to “oversell” on this matter.
I know you are swamped with all kinds of grandiose requests—perhaps this ranks as the grandiosest of them all, but whatever you decide will be fine with me; and I promise to work like hell to be a good member of whatever committee I get. . . .
I have been delighted with your comments I have been reading in the papers. I hope we’ll be able to be “for” a bunch of things in 90th. It is so important, particularly coming from Texas, that we offer solutions to problems and that we dispel the image of Republicans as aginners.2
Best regards.
Sincerely,
George Bush
November 25, 1966
The Honorable Melvin R. Laird3
U. S. House of Representatives
Washington, D.C.
Dear Mel,
I am very sorry to have missed you when I was up house hunting. Incidentally, we bought Milward Simpson’s4 house in Spring Valley so at least we have a roof for January occupancy.
I am taking the liberty of sending you a copy of a request for committee assignment which I sent to Gerry Ford at his request. Before mailing it, I talked to Gerry lest the request for Appropriations Committee be misinterpreted as an awful grabby thing for a Freshman Congressman.
. . . I don’t want you or any of the others in the leadership to feel that I expect any special consideration,5 but Gerry said to go ahead, under the circumstances, and write it up, so this I have done.
. . . If the idea has any possibility of working out, I’d like to touch the right bases but I want desperately not to offend any of the wiser and older hands around the House. Should such a paper be sent to the Chairman of the Committee on Committees?
Please call me . . . or drop me a line if you care to give me any advice on any of this.
Very truly yours,
George Bush
Before I was even sworn in, I began to be swamped with constituent mail. My most faithful pen pal was a Houston gentleman named Paul Dorsey, who worked as a photographer. Much to my staff’s dismay, I took time every Saturday morning to answer his letters. He was no fan of mine in the beginning, but during our fifteen-month relationship, we actually became friends (although his criticism never stopped). The next group of letters is to Mr. Dorsey, and looking back on them more than thirty years later, I find that they almost provide a diary of my first year in Congress.
December 16, 1966
Dear Mr. Dorsey,
. . . I want to make a confession. When I saw your first letter in the newspaper, pro Briscoe—anti Bush, I immediately said to myself, “There’s a damn crackpot.” Then came your letter with the advice on how to conduct myself in the Congress. I gave it to my very pro-Bush secretary who has also had a lot of experience in politics. She said, “Well, I guess we’ve got this guy all wrong.” She also pointed out, and I agree, that P. Dorsey knows a lot about the Congress and the affairs of the Country.
You’re right about Adam Clayton Powell. Negro or white, no one should flaunt the laws as openly as he has and sit in the Congress of the United States.6 You’re wrong about being for Briscoe over me. You’re right about giving me a chance to show what I can do.
But, lets have a Holiday armistice. Leave the cudgels on the shelf, keep the needle ready, blunt and ready, but don’t use it on me until after January 10th, when the Congress convenes.
I hope you have a great Christmas and prosperous New Year. I know I’ll be hearing from you in ’67, but in spite of the needle, in spite of the cudgels, in spite of your poor political judgment in being for Briscoe instead of me, I must say I’m kinda looking forward to getting the letters. I have somewhat reluctantly concluded, as you can see, that you probably know what you’re talking about and are right more than you’re wrong. After all, isn’t this what it’s all about?
Merry, Merry Christmas,
Sincerely,
George Bush
January 14, 1967
Dear Mr. Dorsey:
We have to establish some ground rules. I know that text books on this job say answer every letter—in your case, tho I’d like to, for your letters are provocative, I can’t answer ‘em all. You studied Civics 2 well and when they said write your congressman you sure do . . . Hell, if I were as rich as the papers say I’d pay to get a jet to bring you up here just to sit down . . .
Things I do like from Dorsey:
1. view on state of union message—you can say more personal things about LBJ than I can but the points I find to be totally acceptable.7
2. knowledge of Washington scene—some day you must tell me where you got all this background.
3. Frankness, even when in disagreement with my mighty views.
Things I don’t like from Dorsey:
1. Suggestion that the astute statesman who sent in letter saying Bush should be President might be on my payroll—surely, sir, you can recognize that bestirring of the grass roots. No, Mr. Jungman must indeed be a shrewd unpaid observer of the national big picture.
2. Canning Secretary—this upset us. Not too much and no action has been taken but what it did was cast a pall over our normally bubbling office staff—“If Mrs. Brown8 can receive the wrath of Dorsey, what about me” kind-of-thing.
3. Criticism for applauding President. There is such a thing as manners. Most of the GOP including yours truly sat on hands much of time. I don’t like LBJ programs, but he’s not wrong on everything—so I clap when I think he’s right and throw stuff when he’s wrong . . .
4. criticism of Kennedy9 Hairdo—It’s swingin’, man. I think it’ll prove to be his undoing. . . .
General Comments on Dorsey
1. He must be quite a guy. . . . We can argue politics, and we can and will agree and disagree—but all this is beside the point. I now have a treasured personal view of a man who obviously can think and feel, and who’s trying to reach for something. . . .
2. I hope he continues to eat me out or holler in rage as I vote or who knows even agree at times. . . .
Best regards,
George Bush
January 27, 1967
Dear Paul:10
. . . I hope you approved of my committee assignment. Let’s face it. There’s a lot of luck involved in this, and I was at the right place at the right time. But no matter how you skin it, it’s a real good break for a freshman Congressman to be on the Ways and Means Committee.11
Life has been hectic. I’ve been briefed by every department on the Hill, and though it’s a liability in Texas, I find that the Ivy League bit is not too big a liability around some of these agencies. I have been favorably impressed by some of the people and rather dismally impressed by others. But isn’t this the way life is?
More later. Best regards.
George Bush, M.C.12
February 3, 1967
Dear Paul:
Thank you for your letter of the 30th about the committee. . . . it takes plenty of time. For the first two days on the debt ceiling we met for six and a half hours a day, and I sat there up to my neck in tables and graphs. Wilbur Mills13 appears to be fair-minded and will give everybody a chance, though
I must say, when it came my time to take a shot at the Secretary of the Treasury, I decided to listen rather than talk.
. . . You won the battle of the mouthwash.14 Now what can you do for the armpit sufferers?
Best regards,
George Bush
I wrote this letter after Mr. Dorsey told me he had been diagnosed with cancer. A short time later he called me at home for the first time. Barbara answered the phone and he showered her with praise; she had no idea who he was.
April 8, 1967
Dear P.D.,
Say—what are you trying to do to my wife—she was teary and grateful and very happy. She was embarrassed about the lack of recognition on the phone, but I took her our correspondence file and let her read it—something I never do, because I keep my business and politics separate from my home life—usually that is. She is not informed on issues and intrigue—perhaps this is selfish on my part but we have a close, close relationship with the kids, et al, and I just want to have that oasis of privacy. However, where friendship is involved we have a new ballgame. Suffice it to say she is your admirer and friend.
No more politics in this letter. I am not happy with the news you sent me. I don’t like the pain, I don’t like the whole damn thing. . . . You must keep me advised on the progress—you must also remember that in this field there is change—there is radical discovery—there is hope. I will never forget when they told me Robin had leukemia—age 4—beautiful, sinless, full of vitality. The lady doctor, our friend, when I asked what we should do—said “Let nature take its course—spare yourself the agony of treatment for this is an advanced case”—then with broken heart I called my uncle at Memorial Hospital in N.Y.
He was a great cancer surgeon, who had been stricken with polio.15 A strong and purposeful man. I told him of our local doc’s advice and he said “You have no choice—none at all—you must treat this child. You must do all you can to keep her alive” and he went on to tell me of the strides in the field and of the importance of hope. So we treated her, and we watched her die before our eyes, but we also saw the wonders of remission and the dedication of the nurses and doctors, and we saw progress and we knew his advice was right. Six months later when it was all over—I thought back with gratitude for this sensible advice—it was tough on Barbara—I guess the toughest assignment a mother could have—for she was there for the bone marrow tests—the ordeals of blood. Someone had to look into Robin’s eyes and give her comfort and love and somehow, Paul, I didn’t have the guts. My point I guess is this—today a kid with leukemia has a much greater chance—and so tomorrow perhaps a gutsy guy with carcinoma might well have it made.
If there is anything a far away friend can do to make this possible you should tell him—you should not hold back for embarrassment sake—you should not be afraid to tell a friend, for you owe it to yourself to battle it with all you’ve got. Never forget that friends, true friends, get pleasure—pure selfish pleasure—from being around when they are needed. Let me know what it is I can do—when-where-what.
Adios,
George Bush
April 21, 1967
Dear Paul,
I got your note about the license plates. I used to have those personal plates but traded them in on ones that say House and also U.S. Congress. They get a good deal of notoriety around town and I guess it’s a good thing except when one of my kids starts to speed.
Things are getting along pretty good here. I have been spending at least four hours a day in the Ways and Means hearings (executive sessions) on the social security legislation. It is tedious and long but I’m sure I’ll have a much better understanding of the problems after these weeks in hearings.
Last night you would have been pleased. I attended a Teamsters’ Banquet . . . How’s this for getting “grass-rootsy”? . . . I learned one thing pretty quick—that is, don’t say anything against Hoffa at a Teamsters’ meeting. I didn’t, but there was a great deal of obvious sentiment for him there.16 The Teamsters have a unique way of campaigning. They send their wives around to the offices laden with tough questions. My approach is to be very frank with them and tell them where I agree with them and where I don’t.
Hope things are getting along good for you there. I don’t like sending this to the hospital. I’d rather have you out there at your own place with your own typewriter and your own wealth of documents.
Best regards,
George Bush
August 23, 1967
Dear Paul:
It was good hearing from you.
As usual, you are screwed up on some of your political thinking, but it almost sounds like you’re your same old mean self again.
You are right about the poverty program and the votes. You are wrong about my comments on the TSU17 rioters. All I was saying was that the innocent should be promptly processed and released. This is the American system, and I’m sure you would agree.
You are right about the midnight program being boring. But look at it this way. There was always Channel 11 or Channel 13 to switch to. You are partially wrong about Francis Williams, the head of the Poverty program.18 He is to some degree a victim of circumstances. I agree that he’s wrong about those indicted for murder. Technically, they are not murderers until convicted. But he has been right in trying to keep the black power elements from taking over the Poverty Program. You are wrong about my wife. She’s not nearly as great as you think she is. Oh well, maybe, on balance, she is. You are right on some of your comments about public stature—not all. I am worried about trying to build a constructive record here and it isn’t too easy.
Get well quick—In spite of your rightness and wrongness, it was terrific hearing from you. Mrs. Smith Brown is fine and so is Jim Allison19 and we talk about you often.
Best regards,
George
[Paul Dorsey died in January 1968. We did finally meet, when I went to visit him in the hospital.]
I sent a copy of this letter to all my friends and supporters. This particular copy went to one of my closest friends and advisers, Jim Baker, a friend from Houston.
January 11, 1968
Mr. James A. Baker, III
Houston, Texas
Dear Jim:
Before making a public announcement of my intentions, I wanted to let you know that I plan to run for reelection to the Congress.
This has not been an easy decision. Many of my friends have urged me to consider the governor’s race, but I feel that I have just begun my work in the congress, to which you helped elect me, and so I have decided against making the race for governor.
I want to thank you again for all you have done, and I hope that I can count on your help and support this year. I am looking forward to being closely associated with you in the campaign ahead.
Very truly yours,
George Bush, M.C.
The day after Christmas 1967, I left on a fact-finding trip to Vietnam. This was during the height of the war, and our country was continuing to sink into this quagmire. Following are some letters I wrote when I returned home:
January 12, 1968
Mrs. R. L. Murray
Alexandria, Virginia 22308
Dear Mrs. Murray:
I am just back from Vietnam. Last week I had breakfast with your husband and then he took me on a tour of some hamlets.
I thought you might like to have these pictures. They are pretty good of him. My feelings will not be hurt if you clip me out. They were taken at Swinwa Village.
The General looked well and gave me a great time. The respect his men have for him was evident. I particularly noted his warmth and affection for those beguiling Vietnamese children in the hamlets.
Don’t bother to acknowledge. I simply wanted to give you this firsthand report on your far away husband. Let’s hope he will be home soon.
Very truly yours,
George Bush, M.C.
January 16, 1968
Major General F. K. Mearns
Headquarters 25th Infantry Div
ision
APO San Francisco 96225
Dear General Mearns:
Thanks so much for your letter of January 10th and those wonderful pictures which I am delighted to have. I do appreciate your kind words.
I called Mrs. Mearns this morning and had a nice chat with her on the phone . . . to give her a firsthand report on you and to tell her how cordial you had been to me. She sounded great, full of pep. She, too, had gotten the pictures from you taken out in the rice cache.
Thanks again for a great day out there. I was particularly interested in the P.S. on your letter about the Mustang Battalion fight. I follow the war with a great deal more interest now, having seen so many of the places involved. I am concerned about the spirit here at home and about the lack of understanding of the kind of job you and your troops are doing. Perhaps in some small way I can help offset this feeling of discontent.
Again, my warmest regards.
Yours very truly,
George Bush, M.C.
Those of you who are old enough to remember the 1960s—no matter your age at the time—have to agree it was a challenging time for America. The Vietnam War was tearing our country apart. The protests were often ugly, violent, and personal. Furthermore, I felt—as did many of my generation—that too many young people used the war as an excuse to break the law, practice free sex, take drugs, and eschew responsibility of any kind. The personal values I had been taught as a child were threatened and, at least for a time, seemed lost. I wrote this note to my friend Bob Blake, an early political supporter.
February 6, 1968
Mr. Robert W. Blake
Lubbock, Texas 79408
Dear Bob:
It was great to get your recent letter and to hear from you, even if what you had to say was sobering.
Things here in Washington look even more glum than the way you see them in Lubbock. The whole list of things you mentioned—the Pueblo, the war, de Gaulle, and the Great Society20—is compounding its horrors at a rate exceeded only by the credibility gap. I fully agree that we Republicans had better come up with a good ticket to take advantage of the situation—and start cleaning up the mess.
All the Best, George Bush: My Life in Letters and Other Writings Page 11
