DH Among the many photographs that hang on the wall of my loft in Manhattan, there’s one in particular that almost always provokes comments. It’s a picture of me shaking hands with Ronald Reagan. Those who don’t know my political leanings usually tap dance around, trying to determine how I felt about him and his presidency. I eventually let them know that I met Ronald and Nancy Reagan on business, and it had nothing to do with politics.
JK and DH They were high on our list of potential interviewees for the profile we were producing about James Stewart. It was well known that they shared a long friendship with the Stewarts, one which dated back so many years that none of them could recall when it first began. Gloria Stewart did remember that she knew “Ronnie” before she ever met Jimmy, and that she and Nancy were friends long before the Reagans married. The Stewarts were also staunch Republicans, and Jimmy frequently campaigned for Ronald Reagan when he ran for Governor of California, and later for President.
We were aware that arranging an interview in the White House with the President and First Lady would not be easy. They undoubtedly received hundreds of letters every day and read very few of them personally. However, since the one from us involved a good friend of theirs, we thought there was a fair chance it would eventually be brought to their attention.
The response came in about ten days. It was on White House stationery from Frederick J. Ryan, Jr., Director of Presidential Appointments and Scheduling. He said he was writing on behalf of the President, who would not be able to “participate in a program on the life and career of the late James Stewart” because of his full schedule.
Reply to our request for an interview with President and Mrs. Reagan.
1986. Authors’ collection.
At that time, in 1986, Jimmy Stewart was still very much alive. Unwittingly, Mr. Ryan had done us a favor. Had he not referred to the “late” James Stewart, we probably would have believed the excuse. But his blunder not only indicated that our request had never made it past his desk, but it also gave us valuable ammunition for a second attempt.
Our initial reaction was to have some fun at his expense by informing him that Mr. Stewart was going to be rather surprised to hear that two of his oldest friends think he’s dead. But our associate producer, Cindy Mitchell, suggested a more sensible approach. By a fortunate coincidence her fiancé, John, lived next door to Sheila Tate, who had only recently left her White House position as Nancy Reagan’s press secretary. Cindy thought Sheila might be able to give us an insider’s advice, and offered to contact her for us.
JK I soon had a message on my desk: “Call Sheila Tate at 10 am Tuesday morning.”
She came on the line immediately.
“I heard about the letter you received from Fred Ryan. Poor Fred. He’s overworked and obviously didn’t do his homework. I can assure you that the Reagans would have agreed to an interview about Jimmy Stewart if they knew they’d been asked.
“Now if you still want them, let me handle it. But don’t try embarrassing Fred. The staff will protect him and you still won’t get the interview. I’ll call Elaine Crispen, who’s now in my old job as Mrs. Reagan’s press secretary, and ask her to get involved. But when you talk to her, just start from scratch with your request and don’t mention Fred Ryan’s letter. I’ll have already told her the whole story and she doesn’t need to hear it again.”
I remember saying, “But Sheila, is that the way to approach the President—by going through Mrs. Reagan’s office? Our letter was addressed to both of them.”
“Trust me. This is the way to do it.”
I was surprised. Like most people at that time, I was not aware of the extent of Nancy Reagan’s power within the White House. The stories about her far-reaching influence on her husband’s decisions had not yet been made public by some members of his staff who later claimed that she was responsible for them being fired.
Sheila Tate called back within twenty-four hours.
“I’ve spoken with Elaine and filled her in on the background. Here’s her direct line. She’s expecting your call.”
Elaine Crispen was businesslike but friendly.
“I hear you’re doing a profile about the late James Stewart,” she said with a laugh.
“Mrs. Crispen, you said that. I didn’t.”
“I know. Fred made a mistake, but let’s see if we can fix it. I’ll talk to Mrs. Reagan and I should have an answer for you by tomorrow.”
She called the next morning with good news. And then added, “You’ll be hearing from Fred Ryan to schedule the time.”
It was hard not to laugh when he called, and there wasn’t even a hint of recognition that he’d dealt with this before.
“Hello, this is Fred Ryan, Director of Appointments and Scheduling for the President and Mrs. Reagan. How is Monday afternoon, November 10th at 4 pm for your interview? If that works for you, I need you to send me a list of the topics you want them to discuss. Now let me connect you to Elizabeth Board, who is Director of The White House Television Office.”
Elizabeth also asked for the same list “so that I can get the speech writers going on this.” That took me aback somewhat.
I said, “Elizabeth, what speech writers? Everyone else who’s on the program is answering questions in an informal, conversational way. If the President and Mrs. Reagan read a speech from a teleprompter about their old friend, Jimmy Stewart, it’ll feel very odd. They know him so well. Can’t they just talk off the cuff?”
“They almost never do anything without being scripted,” she said, “and they’re very good at making it not look or sound like a speech. But I do see your point. Let me talk to Elaine and I’ll call you back.”
Finally, it was agreed that our questions would be given directly to the Reagans so they would have time to collect their thoughts. But there would be no speeches written for them and no teleprompter.
DH We were asked for our birth dates and social security numbers and, apparently we each now have an FBI file, as does anyone who interviews the President.
Arriving at the White House gate a few weeks later, we were given name tags and clearance passes, and taken upstairs to Elaine Crispen’s office on the second floor. There was another small staircase nearby, which she told us led up to the private living quarters. We expected her office to be large and luxurious. It wasn’t. It was tiny, but well furnished and comfortable, with photos of the Reagan family on the walls and shelves. She gave us the list of questions we’d sent, which now had the President’s and Mrs. Reagan’s check marks next to the ones they were prepared to answer. Among the very few not marked was: “When did you first meet Jimmy Stewart?” The reason became clear later.
Interview questions with the Reagans’ comments.
1986. Authors’ collection.
The crew was setting up in the White House Library on the main floor when Elizabeth Board told us, “You’ll have twenty minutes. That should be plenty.” Obviously she had scheduled more for the President and First Lady to do on camera that afternoon. Twenty minutes didn’t seem like “plenty” to us, but we were in no position to argue.
JK Just before 4 pm, Ronald and Nancy Reagan walked into the library holding hands and smiling. She was wearing a red dress (red had become known as her signature color) with simple, but elegant gold jewelry. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie, looking very dapper. His hair appeared to be naturally black; it didn’t look dyed. (Everyone in our office had asked us to take a close look because most people thought it was impossible for him not to have a gray hair at his age.)
A White House photographer was standing by, and his camera flashed as each of us shook hands with the President and then with Mrs. Reagan. This is most likely standard procedure since almost everyone who meets the President of the United States wants a record of the occasion.
DH Joan remarked to me later that she didn’t see any sign of Secret Service agents.
I told her, “Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not around. Don’t try doing anything to the President or I’m sure they’ll jump out of the woodwork.”
Shooting the interview with one camera meant that for most of it, the Reagans were in a two-shot. Only rarely did I zoom into one of them, since I wanted to capture the reactions of each as the other was talking. Joan sat next to the camera asking the questions.
JK Even though the President hadn’t checked the question about first meeting Jimmy Stewart, I decided to ask it anyway. He explained that under the old Hollywood studio system, actors met at publicity events and parties and, therefore, it was almost impossible to recall where or when he actually first met Jimmy.
However, Mrs. Reagan said, “I can tell you when I first met him.” As a young teenager, she and her family were summer guests at the country home of actor, Walter Huston, whom she referred to as “Uncle Walter.” One day, director Joshua Logan came to try to persuade Huston to star in the play, Knickerbocker Holiday. And Logan brought along his friend, Jimmy Stewart, who played the ukulele and sang “Judy.” Nancy admitted that she was immediately smitten. “By the time he left, I had a terrible crush on him.” Then, looking directly into the camera, she said: “Gloria, you understand, of course.”
The President laughed and, when she had finished the story, he turned to her and said, “You wouldn’t like to tell them how you tried to convince ‘Uncle Walter’ not to do Knickerbocker Holiday, would you?”
She smiled and gently reminded him, “This is for a program about Jimmy, dear.”
That was the first hint that, with only the slightest encouragement, he was ready to launch off the subject. We, of course, were acutely aware that the clock was ticking on our allotment of twenty minutes. Otherwise, we would have been happy to hear whatever stories he wanted to tell.
DH We had found news footage of Stewart campaigning with Reagan when he was running for Governor of California. At the podium, Mr. Reagan told the audience that Stewart’s military rank was “Major General,” which he apparently repeated at every stop along the way. Joan asked him to tell us that story.
He said that the master of ceremonies would usually introduce Jimmy by talking only about his movie career. Then Stewart would introduce him, and he would remind the audience that Jimmy was also a war hero.
“I’d say, ‘He’s actually Major General Jimmy Stewart.’ Then, on one occasion, the emcee did include his military career and introduced him as ‘Brigadier General, James Stewart.’ When it was my turn to speak, I said, ‘My apologies to the emcee, but it’s Major General Jimmy Stewart.’
“Well, later that evening, Jimmy caught up with me and said, ‘R-r-r-Ron, that fella up there t-t-t-tonight was right. It is Brigadier General. I just never corrected you because it sounded so good.’” The President did a terrific imitation of Stewart’s famous hesitations and obviously relished the chance to perform. The actor in him was still very close to the surface.
He also still wanted to believe that Stewart had been promoted. As an afterthought, he said, “And now, I think Jimmy is a Major General in the Reserves.” He wasn’t. And he was no longer in the Reserves either. In 1968, when he reached the mandatory retirement age of sixty, Brigadier General James Stewart retired from the Air Force Reserves, having served in the military for a total of twenty-seven years. Fortunately, Joan thought it would be impolitic to point out to the Commander-in-Chief that he was not only wrong again about Stewart’s rank, but also didn’t seem to know that he had retired from the Reserves over eighteen years ago.
JK I knew it was definitely time to move on to the next question. I said, “Mr. President, we’ve read about your reaction to Mr. Stewart’s appearance at your first pre-inaugural gala in January, 1981.”
He nodded and said, “Nancy and I were sitting in the box seats with family and friends. Jimmy came out on stage wearing his full dress military uniform and, at the end of his comments, he saluted me. Then I, of course, stood up and returned the salute. And yes, it’s true. That was the moment when it came home to me that I actually had this job.”
The interview was going well so far. But then I had a question that had been suggested by Gloria Stewart. A few weeks earlier, I had asked her if she knew of any unusual stories about the friendship between her husband and the Reagans. She said, “Ask about the engraved western belt Ronnie gave Jimmy.”
Now, even though I’d done many interviews over the years, I broke a cardinal rule: never ask a question unless you have at least some idea of what the answer will be. I should have asked Gloria to tell me the story. Unfortunately, I didn’t.
So I dove in. “Mr. President, I understand that you gave Mr. Stewart an engraved western belt. What was the occasion?”
He began: “There were two women who had promised their mother that they’d take care of their mentally-challenged brother. He was a grown man, but he was like a little boy. He had a teddy bear and loved sitting with it in a rocking chair.”
Even at that point, I was getting nervous about his story. But I had no choice. I had to let him go on.
He explained that while he was Governor of California, the agency that provided financial support to the disabled had notified the two sisters that the subsidy checks for their brother were about to be discontinued. The sisters had written letters to various departments within the state government, begging for help, but were getting no results, and time was running out.
“Finally, they wrote directly to me,” he said. “And I’d always told my staff that if a letter came in describing a problem that couldn’t be solved through the usual channels, I wanted to know about it. So I read their letter and immediately assigned one of my aides to see what could be done.”
DH By then it felt as though the story had already gone on for an eternity. Mrs. Reagan, aware that she was on camera, sat quietly staring into space, every now and then looking at her husband, perhaps trying to give him a signal to tie up the loose ends.
Since I was behind Joan, I couldn’t see her face, but I could sense her tension. I knew she was as concerned as I was that the President was using up what was left of our time, talking about something that seemed to have nothing to do with the question she had asked.
JK I remember sitting there with a frozen smile, trying to maintain eye contact and enthusiasm, since I couldn’t bring myself to say, “Excuse me, Mr. President, but what does all this have to do with Jimmy Stewart?”
And so he continued. It turned out that the problem had been caused by a bureaucratic snafu and, when he sent word to the sisters that it had finally been corrected, he also sent one of his own rocking chairs as a gift for their brother—hand-delivered by a highway patrolman.
In some perverse way, I was now fascinated by how he planned to end this tale.
He said the family was so grateful for his intervention—and the rocking chair—that they sent him a beautiful engraved western belt. “The engraving work was some of the best I’d ever seen.”
After writing to thank them for it, he received another, just as beautiful as the first. “Well, it got to the point where I couldn’t use any more belts myself, so I asked if I could buy one for a friend. And that’s the one I gave to Jimmy Stewart.”
I finally felt my stomach muscles relax and breathed a sigh of relief that he’d actually connected the dots. But I already knew that this story would never make it into our show. Indeed, it remained on the cutting room floor, and I still kick myself for not asking Gloria for the details when she suggested it.
DH The interview went on for longer than twenty minutes, much to Elizabeth Board’s dismay. But there was nothing I could do about it. The President just kept talking, telling us that because of his current position, his favorite Stewart movie was Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.
When it was finally over, I asked each of them to do cut-aways for editing purposes: close-ups of them looking at each other, nodding, and then turning back to look at Joan. The President seemed a bit hard of hearing at one point, so Nancy said, “Look at me, dear.” He laughed and said, “All right.”
Even after the camera was turned off, they continued to talk about Jimmy and their days in Hollywood together. They were certainly friendly and charming. It was as if they had nothing else on their minds that Monday afternoon.
JK As David and I were on our way out, I stopped in the ladies room and noticed that the paper towels were embossed in gold with the presidential seal. So I took a dozen of them, put them in my purse and gave them as souvenirs to our staff in New York. I did wonder if I’d be searched and accused of stealing, but, as with Frank Sinatra’s paper towels, I assumed that if they’re available for people to use and throw away, I was probably safe in taking them.
Two weeks later, our official White House mementos arrived—an envelope containing the photos taken of each of us with the Reagans.
JK and DH It was only a few days after we returned to New York that the Iran-Contra scandal broke with full force. The papers were filled with the story, accusing Reagan of a cover-up. And we realized how lucky our timing was. Had our interview been scheduled any later, it would never have happened. By then the President had more important matters to deal with. It occurred to us that, based on our experience with Fred Ryan’s mistake about the “late James Stewart,” it’s just possible that Ronald Reagan never knew how the Iran-Contra situation spiraled into a debacle. His aides could have been “handling it” without him knowing what they were doing, just as Mr. Ryan had initially “handled” our request for an interview. Maybe that’s too simplistic an analogy. We’ll never know.
When the Reagans left the White House in January, 1989, we read that Fred Ryan was among only two top presidential aides who would remain on their staff and move back with them to California. He eventually became Chairman of the Board of Trustees of The Ronald Reagan Presidential Library and Foundation. And in 2014 he was named publisher of The Washington Post.
In the Stewarts’ garden: David and Joan with Jimmy and Gloria Stewart.
Beverly Hills, CA, 1986. Authors’ collection.
