Living History by Unknown (best non fiction books of all time .txt) 📕

we now know about the political advice Abigail Adams provided her husband, which earned her the derogatory nickname “Mrs. President”; the behind-the-scenes role Helen Taft played in pushing Theodore Roosevelt to choose her husband as his successor; the “unofficial Presidency” run by Edith Wilson after her husband’s stroke; the political firestorms ignited by Eleanor Roosevelt; and the painstaking review by Bess of Harry Truman’s speeches and letters.

Like those of many previous White House inhabitants, the relationship that Bill Clinton and I had built was rooted in love and respect, shared aspirations and accomplishments, victories and defeats. That wasn’t about to change with an election. After seventeen years of marriage, we were each other’s biggest cheerleaders, toughest critics and best friends.

Yet it wasn’t clear to either of us how this partnership would fit into the new Clinton Administration. Bill couldn’t appoint me to an official position, even if he had wanted to.

Anti-nepotism laws had been on the books since President John F. Kennedy appointed his brother Bobby to be Attorney General. But there were no laws to prevent me from continuing my role as Bill Clinton’s unpaid adviser and, in some cases, representative. We had worked together for so long, and Bill knew he could trust me. We always understood that I would contribute to my husband’s administration. But we didn’t know precisely what my role would be until late in the transition, when Bill asked me to oversee his health care initiative.

He was in the process of centralizing economic policy in the White House and wanted a similar structure for health care. With so many government agencies claiming a stake in reform, he worried that turf wars could stifle creativity and new approaches. Bill decided that Ira Magaziner should coordinate the process inside the White House to develop the legislation, and he wanted me to head up the initiative to make it law. Bill intended to announce our appointments right after the inauguration. Because of our experience in Arkansas, where Bill had appointed me to lead committees on rural health care and public education, neither of us spent much time worrying about reactions my involvement might provoke. When it came to political spouses, we certainly didn’t expect the nation’s capital to be more conservative than Arkansas.

We were running late when we left Little Rock on the evening of January 16, 1993.

Thousands of our friends and supporters jammed into a huge hangar at Little Rock Airport for an emotional farewell ceremony. I was excited about what lay ahead of us, but my enthusiasm was tinged with melancholy. Bill was on the verge of tears as he recited the lyrics of a song to the crowd of well-wishers, “Arkansas runs deep in me, and it always will.” What seemed like a thousand hugs and waves later, we boarded our chartered plane. Once we were airborne, the lights of Little Rock disappeared beneath the clouds, and there was nothing to do but look ahead.

We flew to Charlottesville, Virginia, to continue the journey to Washington by bus, following the 121-mile route Thomas Jefferson had taken to his inauguration in 1801. I thought it was an appropriate way to initiate the Presidency of William Jefferson Clinton.

The next morning, we met up with Al and Tipper and toured Monticello, the great house Jefferson designed. Then we boarded another bus together, just as we had during the campaign, and headed north to Washington. Route 29 was lined with thousands of people cheering us on, waving flags, holding balloons and banners. Some held homemade signs to encourage us, congratulate us or chastise us: “Bubbas for Bill.” “We are counting on you.” “Keep your promises―AIDS won’t wait.” “You’re socialists, stupid.”

My favorite was a plain, hand-lettered sign with two words: “Grace, Compassion.”

The sky was still clear, but the temperature was dropping as we pulled into Washington, D.C. By some act of providence, the punctuality-impaired President-elect was running on time, and we arrived at the Lincoln Memorial five minutes early for the first official event―a concert on the steps in front of an enormous crowd that stretched down the Mall. Harry Thomason, Rahm Emanuel and Mel French, another friend from Arkansas, were the impresarios of the inaugural festivities. Harry and Rahm were so relieved to see us that they hugged each other.

I had never sat in an enclosure of bulletproof glass―a strange sensation and somewhat alienating. I was grateful, though, for the little heaters by our feet because the temperature had dropped precipitously. Pop diva Diana Ross sang a spectacular rendition of “God Bless America.” Bob Dylan played to the packed Mall, just as he had on that August day in 1963 when Martin Luther King, Jr., delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech from the same steps. I felt extremely fortunate to have seen Reverend King speak when I was a teenager in Chicago, and now here I was listening to my husband honor the man who helped this nation overcome its painful history:

“Let us build an American home for the twentyfirst century, where everyone has a place at the table and not a single child is left behind,” Bill said. “In this world and the world of tomorrow, we must go forward together or not at all.”

The sun was setting when Bill, Chelsea and I led thousands of swaying, singing celebrants in a march across Memorial Bridge.

We stopped on the other side of the Potomac River to ring a replica of the Liberty Bell, touching off a celebration in which thousands of “Bells of Hope” were rung simultaneously across the country and even aboard the space shuttle Endeavor as it circled the planet. We lingered a while as fireworks lit up the night sky over the capital. Then it was off to another event, and still another. By then all the celebrations were blending together in a kaleidoscope of faces and stages and voices.

During inaugural week, our families and personal staff stayed with us in Blair House, the traditional guest residence for visiting heads of state and Presidents-elect. Blair