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Troubling Eyes. Beyond these already severe stresses is one that plagues every political family: the hatred that even the well-motivated, understated politician arouses. "I'm no stranger to hard-fought politics," says Jo Hall, wife of Oklahoma Governor David Hall. But she was appalled at the vehemence of the attacks on her husband, who lost a recent bid for reelection. "You can't imagine how troubling it is to look into the faces of people with absolute hatred in their eyes. I've caught myself remembering that these were the people who cheered when President Kennedy was assassinated. If you love someone, be prepared to be hurt, and hurt often, in today's political climate."
Though it is something of a minor miracle, given the problems, some wives survive and even thrive in politics. To do so, they must set some of the rules and reserve some time, space and independence for themselves. One way is to insist on the primacy of the home. Except during a crisis, Mary Lindsay took the phone off the hook at Gracie Mansion for 1½ hours every night of the week during her husband's mayoralty. While all callers—county bosses, job seekers and cranks—got busy signals, John Lindsay had an interval of enforced leisure during which he could catch up with his family.
When he is not embroiled in campaigning, Pittsburgh's Democratic mayor, Pete Flaherty, makes a habit of coming home for dinner every night so that he can chat with his five children. Once he is finished, he usually goes off to an officially scheduled dinner. "He gets there after everybody has eaten," says his wife Nancy. "But they don't seem to mind." And meanwhile, she adds, "Pete has told me and the children what is going on." Junie Butler, wife of a Virginia Congressman, states this creed for the wife determined to avoid being submerged by the political life: "If my husband doesn't like my image, he can get a new model. If his constituents don't like my image, they can get a new Congressman. I feel my part is to have a solid family."
Other wives are striking out on independent courses of their own. Betty Talmadge, wife of Georgia Senator Herman Talmadge, manages a meat business, Talmadge Farms, which grosses $3.5 million a year. "I have shaken hands," she says, "but I have never made a campaign speech in my life." Even Muriel Humphrey, a notably docile political wife, recently declared a measure of independence from the indefatigable Hubert. She now spends most of her time at their lakeside house in Waverly, Minn. "What is the life of a Senator's wife anyway?" she muses. "I find more satisfaction in doing the things I really care about, seeing my children and grandchildren, playing the piano, the artistry of needlepoint. I love being alone."