The camera began to pull back, moving backwards through an open door flanked by two 'Secret Service agents' who closed the door and stood there stone-faced. From behind the door could be heard loud sounds of passion. After about thirty seconds the door opened and Tina Fey came through, her hair messed up and her lipstick smudged, her blouse half buttoned, and carrying her high heels in her hands. She was panting, and gasping out, "You have my vote, President Buckman, but first ... LIVE FROM NEW YORK, IT'S SATURDAY NIGHT!"
Marilyn was dying of laughter while this was going on. We didn't normally watch the show, but I knew something was bound to happen. The next morning the Sunday morning talk shows made hay out of this. John Boehner, who was on ostensibly to talk about the Airline Safety and Security Act and was known to be a friend of mine, was asked if he knew about the Experience and if it had ever been necessary for me to use it. He just started laughing and said, "Not with me! Maybe you should ask one of the lady Congressmen or Senators." Barney Frank, the openly gay Massachusetts Congressman who was talking on another show about financial reform, reported that I wasn't his type in any case, and they needed to ask some of the ladies on Capitol Hill. Finally, Frank Stouffer, who was appearing on behalf of the airline bill, upon being questioned about it by Tim Russert, admitted that when Marilyn and I went on our next vacation the Oval Office was to be remodeled to include a disco ball and a Murphy bed.
Wonderful!
On the plus side, and it was the only plus side I could find, Marilyn's reputation soared! She had come across as funny and loving and a good wife and mother. Most First Ladies have higher approval ratings than their husbands (with the exception of Hillary) and Marilyn was going to be no different. By the time we left on our Christmas vacation, the networks were clamoring for interviews just with her.
The Christmas vacation was a disaster. One year ago I had been a simple Congressman, the Vice President Elect. We had a Secret Service detachment, but it wasn't too big, and we had used my Gulfstream, first to go to Utica and see Marilyn's family and drop off the girls, and then to fly to Nassau. Nobody gave a shit. Now, one year later, I was the President of the United States of America, and they don't just take vacations!
On Sunday, December 23, we flew in Air Force One to Griffiss Airport in Rome, New York. This was an old SAC base which had been shut down, and was being considered to replace the Oneida County Airport in Oriskany. They actually sent a crew up there to reactivate the tower and runway ahead of time. No little visit this, I was greeted by the Governor of New York and the Mayor of Rome, despite my request that I didn't need any formality. Then it was off in the limo to the Radisson in Utica, where I was greeted by the Mayor of Utica. WKTV covered both locations. We probably were renting out half the Radisson. We debated visiting Marilyn's family at their home on the Parkway, but that would just be crazy. We dined on room service that night.
The next morning, Christmas Eve, we went over to the house. Security was over the top! It had snowed overnight, and some of our nephews decided to toss some snowballs at Aunt Marilyn and Uncle Carl; one agent actually began to reach for his gun and stopped in time to keep from shooting our relatives. That was just a sign of things to come. An advance team had come through and ordered everybody off the street, and somebody had complained to Harriet, who complained to Marilyn, who complained to me. Shit flows downhill, I guess. I ordered the Secret Service to lighten up. They simply were not set up to handle the giant family coming and going. We had agents patrolling around the yard, an agent at each door, checklists of who was invited ... one of our nieces decided to bring over her boyfriend and they almost didn't let him in.
The only thing remotely amusing was that the Lieutenant Commander with the football parked himself in the downstairs family room, where he was found by some of the littlest kids. They found it fascinating that he had a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist, and the little girls promptly decided to have a tea party with him. I wandered through at one point to find him sitting in his shirtsleeves drinking fake tea with a pair of four-year-olds. I told him he was having more fun than I was.
It became too much. Nobody was enjoying themselves, and by mid-afternoon we had apologized and gone back to the Radisson. We managed to have dinner in the restaurant, which got us a lot of stares. By that time the Observer Dispatch had a reporter tailing us, too. After dinner we called Marilyn's parents and apologized for the foolishness. We couldn't put them through this! We passed the word to the 89th and cut short our visit by a day. We dropped our daughters off with their grandparents, along with their detachment (a shitload smaller than ours!), and flew to the Bahamas on Christmas Day.
It was the first time we had been there as President and First Lady. I knew they had upgraded the security when I became the Vice President, and that must have been adequate. I didn't see anything obvious about the changes, although we had more of a permanent staff. Also, the Coast Guard cutter off the beach had been replaced with an Arleigh Burke class destroyer. The Prime Minister greeted us at the airport, but we told him to go back to his family and then call us in a couple of days. He refused, and insisted that we come by Government House in the morning and join him in watching the Junkanoo, the Boxing Day parade. We didn't have a reason not to, so we agreed to visit and participate. We had seen the parade a few times over the years, but it was the first time we would see it with such an important guide. We also agreed to a small dinner, and invited him and his wife to Hougomont in return.
I told Marilyn that next year we would stay home. This was simply too much.
Marilyn was still teasing me about the Carl Buckman Experience, so as soon as we got to Hougomont and were alone, I undressed her and tossed her clothing in the closet. All she was allowed to wear was a long silk robe. She protested some, but not too hard. The next morning she did protest when I made her attend the Junkanoo commando style, in a long halter topped sundress.
This turned out to be a remarkably short-lived idea. It turns out that even on vacation I am surrounded by advisers and people who have to see me right away. I had the National Intelligence Officer every morning with the Daily Brief, Deputy Chief of Staff Frank Stouffer, Deputy Communications Director (Ari had picked a guy from the Cato Institute to back him up) Will Brucis, Secret Service agents, and so forth. Marilyn tried hiding in the bedroom the first time somebody barged in, but after that she just laughed and got dressed while I grumbled. So much for romance, or any facsimile thereof.
We flew back to Washington New Year's Day and spent the night on our own, and the next day the twins flew down on an Air Force C-20, a Gulfstream much like mine. It's a damn good thing I'm rich. The rules are such that since it isn't fair for the taxpayers to have to pay for the President's vacations and travel, he has to pay for his trips – on Air Force One! However, if he can come up with any sort of excuse – giving a speech or 'foreign relations' or 'fact finding' – he doesn't. That's why, no matter where they go, Presidents always give a speech. As a result, every time I flew home to Hereford, or Marilyn and the girls flew around, I footed the bill. At least I didn't have to pay for all the support personnel and Secret Service agents. Since they were all required by Federal law to accompany us, the taxpayers paid for them. As it was, I suspected that being the President was going to cost me a damn sight more than they paid me, and since my paycheck was going to the American Red Cross, the experience was going to cost me dearly.
And then it was back to work. My next big project was going to be the State of the Union Address. This was scheduled for Tuesday, January 29, which had already been selected by George Bush before his untimely demise. I could change it, since there is no specific Constitutional date for the Address. Theoretically I could have simply mailed it to them. The Constitution simply states that 'He shall from time to time give to Congress information of the State of the Union and recommend to their Consideration such measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient.' From Jefferson through Taft the Presidents simply sent a report to Congress and had a clerk read it into the record. Wilson revived the practice of making a speech, and I suspect if I tried to mail it in I would probably be impeached.