March 2016
I realized that Nancy Reagan had lived an amazing and long life, and wanted to be with her husband. She even once lamented to a former aide that she thought God had “forgotten” about her. Still, news of her death was especially sad for me, maybe even more so than when the president died in 2004. He had been ill and away for so long that his passing was “a merciful release,” as Queen Elizabeth II described it in her handwritten letter of sympathy to Mrs. Reagan. But Mrs. Reagan was “with it” until the end, and was the last remaining link to him. With both Reagans gone, a very important chapter of my life ended.
Some members of her family referred to her funeral as “the event.” And they were right. It was very carefully staged and choreographed, in accordance with Mrs. Reagan’s wishes. But I have a feeling that calling it an event was not entirely a term of approval, at least on the part of the Reagan children, Patti and Ron. For their entire lives, they had to share their parents with the country and the world, and now, even as they said good-bye to their mother, they were forced to do so in public with hundreds of others—many of whom they probably did not know—not to mention a television audience of millions. Ronald and Nancy Reagan made a choice that theirs would be public lives, which had to be hard on Patti and Ron. Funerals for most people are held in churches, synagogues, or funeral parlors with a small group of family and close friends in attendance. But most people were not First Lady of the United States.
Nonetheless, the event was a wonderful tribute. I was struck by two things. First was the size of her casket. Matching that of her husband, it was quite large and impressive, but since she was neither tall nor robust, it seemed disproportionate. And, second, to hear the eulogizers speak, one might think that the Reagans did not have children. It was odd. But Patti’s and Ron’s heartfelt words more than made up for that.
The funeral was held in a large tent at the Reagan Presidential Library in Simi Valley, and the rain held off until just before Mrs. Reagan’s casket was taken to the burial site, where she was to be laid to rest next to her husband. The irony was not lost on me. For as long as I knew her, Nancy Reagan was always worried about the weather, sometimes calling aides several times a day for updated forecasts. Once, I got one of the calls and told her optimistically, “Mrs. Reagan, it’s not that bad,” to which she replied, “Well, Mark, it’s not that good.”
It was just drizzling when the ceremony ended, and guests were invited to pass by the casket to pay final respects. Family members and VIPs such as First Lady Michelle Obama, former president and Mrs. George W. Bush, Hillary Clinton, Rosalynn Carter, Caroline Kennedy, Tricia Nixon Cox, former Canadian prime minister Brian Mulroney, among others, went first, of course. By the time my wife and I got close, it was raining pretty heavily, and we did not have umbrellas. I turned to her and said, “If anyone would understand not standing in line in this kind of weather, it would be Nancy Reagan. Let’s go inside.” Which we did.
As we were walking under an awning to the postceremony lunch inside the Air Force One pavilion, I ran into colleagues I had not seen in years. First was the renowned speechwriter and prize-winning columnist Peggy Noonan. We looked at each other, she said “Oh, Mark,” and we embraced. Peggy had been quite close to Mrs. Reagan in her later years. A few seconds later, I saw my friend Jon Huntsman Jr., the former Utah governor (and onetime Reagan advance man), and we shared memories of some of our Reagan travels together.
The buffet luncheon was a lovely reunion of Reagan aides, friends, and family. Of course, Hollywood was well represented by stars such as Tom Selleck, John Stamos, Gary Sinise, Bo Derek, Wayne Newton, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Anjelica Huston, and Mr. T (Laurence Tureaud), the latter of whom had been an active supporter of Mrs. Reagan’s antidrug abuse campaign. In 1983 he came to a White House Christmas party, at which he dressed as Santa Claus, and Mrs. Reagan sat on his lap and kissed his head. Many people at the luncheon had their picture taken with Mr. T, though none sat on his lap. I suspect Mrs. Reagan was looking down and laughing.
Erin and I were among the very last people to leave the Reagan Library that day. I think I was reluctant to let go.
I did not know it at the time, but I would have one more opportunity to bid the Reagans farewell.
September 2016
In accordance with their wishes, most of the household possessions from the Reagans’ home in Los Angeles were sold at auction, with proceeds benefiting the Ronald Reagan Presidential Foundation.
Looking through the glossy catalog was fun at first and brought back many fond memories, but I found myself gradually slipping into sadness at the realization that the Reagans were really gone. Both of them. Forever. And yet, especially because of Erin, I was reminded of how the movie memories they shared managed to echo all the way to the present.
I recalled that President Reagan told us stories about working with Virginia Mayo and Eddie Bracken on the 1949 comedy The Girl from Jones Beach, and recalled how he and Eddie had to hoist Virginia on their shoulders for some of the publicity shots. Many years later, as a former president in Los Angeles, he invited Eddie and Virginia to visit him in his office, and the three reminisced for more than an hour about the movies they made together. No attempt was made to hoist Virginia. When I learned that Virginia and Eddie were scheduled to come in to see former President Reagan, I contacted a dealer in vintage movie memorabilia and bought an original poster from The Girl from Jones Beach, which all three stars were kind enough to autograph when they were together in the office. Ironically, several years after that, I began dating—and ultimately married—a native Long Islander who had spent many summers at Jones Beach. When she saw the signed and framed poster hanging in my apartment, she could hardly believe it. Talk about fate!
Before the auction, my own “girl from Jones Beach” and I attended a reception where the Reagans’ possessions were displayed for would-be buyers, most of whom had never been in their home but were happy to eat sushi and drink sparkling wine as they looked over the lots. The staff from the famed Christie’s auction house had essentially re-created 668 Saint Cloud Road in Bel Air, California, in Rockefeller Center, New York. It was eerie. The couches, paintings, books, china cabinets, and other objects were arranged just as they had been at the Reagans’ home.
Everything was there, exactly as I remembered it.
Only Nancy and Ronald Reagan were missing.
I almost wish I had not gone. The finality of their deaths was profound. But I did notice one thing as I wandered through the gallery made to look like their den. I could finally see the top of the coffee table. The stacks of videocassettes of Ronald Reagan’s movies, which had been piled atop the table as recently as my visit to their home just months before, were not there. Nor were they listed in the catalog. I hope they found a good home.