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                                                                                THE PRESIDENCY, Page 48

Two Centuries and Counting


By Hugh Sidey


    At 200 tears of age, The White House has never been more
polished, efficient, renowned as a symbol of liberty -- or more
coveted as a residence.

    It has taken 200 years, but at last those protests from
White House occupants -- some real, some mock -- about the
duties and the life in and around the grand old mansion have
faded. George Bush still gets misty-eyed wandering those
corridors of history and confesses, "I love it here." Bill
Clinton never got over his boyhood handshake with John Kennedy
in the Rose Garden -- a quasi-religious experience -- and he has
devoted his life to going back there to live.

    But John Adams, the first occupant, had a brief, cold and
unhappy time in the new White House, and his dyspeptic ghost
seemed to linger there for years. Thomas Jefferson groused about
"a splendid misery." Mary Todd Lincoln understandably called
the place "that whited sepulchre." Calvin Coolidge once said,
"Nobody lives there. They just come and go." And Harry Truman
called it "the great white jail" but loved the place for its
grace and meaning.

    None of the four living ex-Presidents harbor any of these
complaints. Not long ago Gerald Ford thought back over his short
but tumultuous residence, remembering the high of becoming
President and the low of losing to Jimmy Carter. Then he smiled
and said about himself and his wife Betty, "We never got bored
in the White House. It was a beautiful experience. We tried hard
to stay."

    The Fords once took Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip up
to the private quarters before a state dinner. "We got on the
elevator," recalled Ford. "It goes up, gets to the second floor,
the door opens, and there is our son Jack standing with his
shirt off, and he says, `Oh, I'm trying to find my dress shirt
and studs.' Betty apologized. The Queen said, `Don't worry, we
have one just like him.' "

    The label Oval Office has become shorthand for the locus
of power and grave deliberations, but in fact the modern White
House occupants rarely used it that way. "The Lincoln Sitting
Room was my favorite room," Richard Nixon said. "It was a room
for contemplation. I felt we did the best thinking, the most
organized, disciplined thinking there. I got my best ideas in
that room."

    Not a one of the former White House occupants still living
ever saw or heard anything resembling the ghosts that legend
insists sometimes prowl the premises. But hear Ronald Reagan's
story, told in that husky voice of his: "A couple were sleeping
as guests in Abraham Lincoln's bedroom. They were visitors more
than once at the White House. And one morning the lady came
forth and said that she had awakened and saw a figure standing
down at the foot of the bed and looking out the windows. And
when that figure turned, it was Abraham Lincoln. She said she
swore by it. And he -- the figure -- then left the room. Well,
her husband just couldn't believe it. He said, `Oh, you must
have been dreaming.' And believe it or not, sometime later he
was almost on his knees apologizing to his wife because he had
awakened and he saw a figure standing down at the other end of
the room and saw that figure leave and go through the door."

    A listener looks at the President's crinkled eyes for
signs of mischief. There are none. "So you did have a ghost,"
he is asked. "Yes," he said. "And when I told this to some of
the longtime staff there, believe it or not, the first thing
one of them said to me, `He's back again?' "

    The White House of our time, so protected and pampered
behind its high iron fence, has changed very little, physically,
inside or outside. From Administration to Administration it has
been a graceful statement of continuity and durability. It was
not always so. The original structure took eight years to build
in fits and starts. The invading British torched the building in
1814. There were jests that Theodore Roosevelt and his kids
nearly dismantled it in their boisterous play. It was no joke
when Margaret Truman's grand piano broke through the floor;
Harry Truman had the place gutted and rebuilt inside.

    Over the years, wings for offices were added on east and
west, other changes made for convenience or for the pleasure of
the First Family. Franklin Roosevelt installed an indoor
swimming pool for his polio rehabilitation. Nixon drained it and
put press corps offices inside the shell. An outdoor pool was
built for Ford. Bush added horseshoe pits. Those are the thumb
prints of history, and each resident leaves a few.

    But none of the recent occupants want to alter the profile
of the matron of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, which has become a
singular beacon of freedom abroad and a touchstone of confidence
at home. Remembered Jimmy Carter: "In 1980 I was beleaguered
with the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, wondering what they
were going to do next, how I could keep them from expanding the
aggression into Pakistan or to Iran when the hostages were being
held. I looked at some of the other Presidents' portraits and
the furnishings and the mementos we had come to know and
realized that I wasn't the first President who went through
tough times. The main thing is to gain both reassurances and
inspiration from the fact that you are a part of a continuum of
national greatness, that you personify the idea for the hopes
and dreams and achievements of a great country."