(2 of 24)
Not since another Secretary of State, James Byrnes, assailed Harry Truman's foreign policy in 1947 in his memoir Speaking Frankly has a senior Cabinet member published such an attack on a sitting Administration. Haig gives little aid and comfort to Democrats on substance. His view of the world is a hard-liner's, his disagreement with the Administration largely concerns tactics and the policy-making process. But Caveat will certainly add fuel to the campaign debate over foreign policy.
"Al, Join My Team"
When Ronald Reagan asked me to be his Secretary of State, I had spent no more than three hours alone with him. In the fall of 1978, Reagan and I met at his home on the heights above Los Angeles. The evening had been arranged by Richard Allen, whom I had known as an uneasy member of Henry Kissinger's staff on the National Security Council. Allen was now Reagan's foreign policy adviser. I was still Supreme Allied Commander in Europe. I had made some statements about U.S. policy toward the Soviets that the press had interpreted as being critical of the policies of my Commander in Chief, President Jimmy Carter. Thereupon Allen had called me to say that Reagan would like to hear my assessment of the European scene.
Before dinner, Reagan and I spoke mostly about Edgar Bergen. The famous ventriloquist had died, and Reagan had just returned from the funeral. His convivial spirit had been quietened by sorrow. His face was drawn; his thoughts were with his friend; there was a sad smudge of theatrical makeup on the cuff of his shirt, one of the stigmata of the politician in this age of television.
During dinner, Mrs. Reagan skillfully led the conversation. She is, of course, one of the most charming hostesses in America. On first meeting, and sometimes subsequently, she gives an impression of guarded shyness, but she is possessed of a sprightly intelligence, a ready gift for conversation and an unerring sense of her husband's mood. I discovered that she had a well-defined and sensible view of current events.
From time to time, Dick Allen joined in with an observation. He is a comic manque whose speech is marked by a habitual mirthful undertone, and his remarks brightened the somber atmosphere. Reagan himself was a hospitable presence, smiling at the jokes, contributing an occasional phrase, gazing with deep fondness and admiration on his wife.
Mrs. Reagan was attentive to her husband, who was distracted by the loss of his old friend and fatigued, and she sought to lift the burden of the evening as much as possible from his shoulders. In this she was assisted, in a diffident but effective way, by one of the other guests, Peter Hannaford, a partner of Michael Deaver's in a Washington public relations firm. It is common for assistants to shield the great men for whom they work from the importunities of outsiders. The tendency to protect Reagan, even to answer questions that were clearly addressed to him, went beyond the usual. As a result, Reagan was a rather quiet dinner companion.
The evening was so pleasant, and Nancy Reagan's table talk so captivating, that I was somewhat surprised when I realized, while driving back to the airport,